der spaziergang
So I still haven't written that paper (tonight, tonight!), but I have kept good and active these past few days, and done practical things like 1) securing my return to the Home-Territories {which will be substantially sooner than anticipated}, 2) re-arranged my travel plans, 3) gone to a pretty smashing exhibition at the Real Academia de Bellas Artes, and 4) attended to less pressing domestic matters.
I've decided, rather spur of the moment, to spend the weekend in Pamplona, and I'm quite thrilled by this prospect; atleast an entire day will be spent on the river, and I'm ridiculously excited about spending the day swimming and going bridge jumping, as well as the general Pamplona excitements of hanging about the city and catching up with Caroline {the Bourbon}, Elizabeth and Susanna I {who has apparently published a book}.
I promise to do my very best to avoid meeting my unfortunate demise by falling off the city walls whilst entangled in a compromising position during this sojourn, or at the very least not to wear a red bandana if I must condescend to doing such things.
When I get back, Claire, I want to go have an afternoon drink at the Café del Núncio.
I actually have a number of things to write about, but they'll have to wait until later; this Public Relations paper won't write itself, unfortunately. Instead, enjoy a few snaps from one of my early-morning treks to school, followed by a more extensive chronicle of walk that occured during Ashley's visit last month.
(Later, that afternoon...)
(I kind of want to go check this place out as well, if only for the awesome name.)
(As much as I loved Gables, I'm immensely jealous of these kids, who go to public school inside of the XVIth century palace immediately behind them, and do P.E. in the calm plaza outside.)
(The hippest corner in the city.)
(Ashley graciously alerted me to this outrageous balcony; no idea as to the motivation behind it.)
(This is La Eskalera Caracola, an exclusively female squatter's place.)
(This used to be the base of the cupola of a convent which the anarchists burnt down during the Civil War; Franco ordered that it stay as-is as a desolate reminder of the most barbaric qualities of the "anarcho-communist hordes" {Franco never did learn to differentiate Marx from Bakunin}, but a post-Franco municipal government converted the building into a public library, adapting the ruins to this new function. Hoorah, Madrid; despite the very real danger of getting mugged regularly were I to so, I still want to live in this particular neighbourhood {Lavapiés - one of the most reputedly dangerous in the city-proper} next year, if it's possible.)
(Yurislav!)
(That's for you, Claire - referencing the anti-capitilist slant, not, you know, the coke. I just heard Danny Wood report on ETA on the BBC, by the way.)
(They're anti-hats.)
(Ashley speculated that this might have been an anatomical {"A-NA-TO-MIIIIIIIIIA!"} drawing of the disection of a penis which, tho a reasonable hypothesis, I find too upsetting to actually consider as being a real possibility.)
