Guns, Bombs, Car Chases, and Pretty Girls Who Get Killed Off in the Sequel

The new Bruce Willis Diehard movie is called La Jungla 4.0 here in Spain, presumably because there in no way to translate something as stupid as Diehard, at least not four different times as this is the fourth in the series. I was able to download it. I’m a sucker for actions movies even though most insult my intelligence even though I manually lower it to watch these films. I also saw the most recent Bourne film and, like the character in the movie, I have lost my memory as to why I continue watching Bourne movies. What’s that saying about a fool does the same thing over and over expecting a different outcome?

The biggest problem that I have with action movies is that they make the bad guy out to be cartoonishly evil. I always thought that the principal in Ferris Beuller’s Day Off was a better bad guy than all of the villains in action movies. He was really mean, ditto with the coach/detention monitor guy in The Breakfast Club. The villains in action movies have a lot to learn from those two.

Bad actions movies all have the same plot which they seem to have lifted off an Itchy and Scratchy cartoon from The Simpsons. On paper they look something like this: run, run, run, fight, fight, fight. On film they are even more tedious than they are on paper. They are billed as containing nonstop action but I usually get so bored watching them that I feel like fainting. The mayhem and bloodshed are so indiscriminant that after the first scene you become immune to gun battles, explosions, and car chases. I have a theory that if the trailer for the film has more than two explosions then the actual movie will be a complete piece of shit. I didn’t see the trailer for either Diehard 4.0 or the new Bourne thing but I’m sure they had explosions totaling in double digits.

In fact, I’m not even sure whether or not these movies even bother with plots and stories as I can’t seem to remember them five minutes after the movie is over. They are usually about a good guy getting chased by really, really bad guys until the good guy almost gets killed but ends up gutting all the bad guys like so much fresh fish. Throw in a pithy line like “Hasta la vista, baby” (preferably in a Cro-Magnon accent) and call it a wrap.

It also seems necessary to forget all about the laws of physics when making a bad action movie, like the speed of explosions which are usually measured in thousands of feet per second yet movies insist on showing the hero dive away from an explosion to save himself. Movie makers must really think it looks cool to have the hero dive away from an explosion with a gas expansion rate of 26,000 per second because they show it all the time. Maybe we need to teach everyone in Iraq to dive out of the way when one of those massive car bombs goes off.

Instead of romance in the Diehard movie we had Bruce Willis bonding with his daughter. I can’t remember if there was any love interest in the new Bourne movie, perhaps Matt Damon had sex in the backseat during one of the chase scenes.

The worst thing about actions movies is that no matter how many chase scenes, or fights, or explosions, people need to talk once in a while. When they do talk they say ridiculous crap like, “We have a situation,” or some other corny jargon. Instead of using these stupid, boiler plate lines perhaps action movies should just do away with human speech and just stick with explosions.

My favorite dumb part of the new Bourne movie was the hired assassin that was called up to kill the hero. One time he was in London and the other was in New York. It wasn’t explained very well how they knew to have him in place in these two cities. I guess he is like the Dominos of hit men: You get your guy dead in 30 minutes or it’s free.

Barcelona, Barça, Barcelonés

Pictures can be found on my picture page to the left. I have had problems taking pictures here because the computer I brought along can't download my photos. I have to go to an internet cafe and do it there which is a bit of a hassle and I don't have time to monkey with them.

You will often see Barcelona abbreviated as Barça, which is from Catalan which uses a “ç” like an “s.” They don’t lisp this sound as is done in Castilian Spanish. Someone from Barcelona is called a Barcelonés or Barcelonesa. Just in case you were wondering.

Along La Rambla, the main pedestrian path in Barcelona, the street performers are as numerous as they are mediocre: not much to see and little reason to stop and watch. In the Ciutat Vella, or the old city, the street musicians seem to be of the highest caliber. Maybe they are the only ones who get permits to play in this part of the city. I don’t know how it works; I just know that it sounds better. There are a couple of Brazilian guitarists that are very good and their music echoes well along these narrow streets. They are definitely worth at least a few minutes of you time as you wander around. As long as you are just lost anyway you may as well listen to some great music.

There was a group of Cuban musicians playing just of the square in front of the cathedral off of the Avenue Portal de L’Angel. This busy shopping thoroughfare funnels thousands of people into the old city and many were stopping to check out the great Cuban music coming from a couple of guitars and vocalist. I think they had a couple of ringers in the audience who were trying to get people to dance, guys who really knew how to dance to this stuff. They weren’t having much luck inducing the crowd to mambo. If musicians this talented were playing anywhere in Latin America or Miami, everyone in the square would have been dancing, even the dorky white folks, even the Scandinavians—the dorkiest of the white folks, or at least the whitest.

La Vanguardia is the name of one of the main Barcelona daily newspapers; a cool name for a newspaper. I’ve never read it before so I picked one up on the bar top as I was having a coffee. I came across quite a few articles that I wanted to read later so I asked the bartender if I could buy the paper from him. It was about 8:30 in the evening and a lot of kiosks would be closed. He told me I could have it so I carried it with me to the Plaza Diamant near my apartment. I found an empty park bench and began a more careful reading of La Vanguardia.

I came across an interesting article by Albert Manent lamenting the loss of the formal usted form of the personal pronoun for “you.” I have always found this an interesting topic since I first learned about formal and informal address when I started learning French in the 10th grade. The author says that with the loss of the formal pronoun and young people addressing their elders with the informal “tú” form it means a loss of gradations in the language and imposes a forced egalitarianism. I’m all for treating elder with respect but I think there is a better way to do that than with this awkward split in the use of the personal pronoun, and I’m all for egalitarianism—forced or otherwise.

One thing about reading a newspaper on a park bench in Spain that you have to remember is that it’s like being at a baseball game: Fans must be aware that balls and bats may enter the seating area. As I read the pages of La Vanguardia with one eye, I kept the other on the ball being bounced around the square by four young hoodlums. On two occasions I had to raise a foot to fend off an errant attempt on the goal, which for the sake of this makeshift pitch was the door of an underground parking garage. A woman took a seat next to me and she also had to block a ball. She used her hands and I had to remind her that as we were midfielders (being equidistant from the two goals), we were only allowed to use our feet and head.

Plaza Real

Barcelona Day 3

Barcelona is so big and there is so much to see that I am completely overwhelmed thus far. 11 days won’t be enough to do and see everything that I want to do here. I will have to come back, probably to live. Forever?

One thing at a time and at the moment I have a bit of tourism to accomplish, something that always seems to come at the expense of my feet. I went on another extended walking tour of the city yesterday until I almost dropped from fatigue. Yesterday’s walking tour from hell started from the metro stop in Plaza de España. I wanted to see as much of the Monjuïc section of Barcelona as I could after being completely overwhelmed by the beautiful National Museum of Art of Catalonia from the night previous. Montjuïc occupies a mountaintop on the southern flank of the city and is loaded with parks, gardens, museums, theaters, as well as the Olympic Stadium.

You can take the day off from the stairmaster when you do this city walk. To get from the Plaza de España and the Exposition Towers at street level to the National Museum, you’ll need to climb a few hundred stairs. There are escalators for anyone who isn’t out to double the size of their thigh muscles, at least for some of the climb. You can read about this area in any guide book and they may actually have the facts straight—something I would never bother with.

I did get out with a local resident last night and saw a bit of my neighborhood here in the Gracia district. There are wonderful areas here that you would easily miss if you didn’t know what to look for. The Carrer de Verdi is a narrow little passage that would be easy to pass by during the day, and I did walk right through it without taking much notice on my first day here. At night this area is full of people going in and out of a few dozen nice little restaurants and bars. This area is probably in the guide books but if it isn’t, it should be.

Just another block from Carrer de Verdi is the Plaza de la Virreina (vice queen?) with the Cathedral of Sant Joan (that’s John, not Joan). This modest little plaza in this quiet little neighborhood exemplifies everything that is wonderful about Spanish life. It is shaded and filled with benches, my favorite are the little individual chairs that you see all over Barcelona. The perimeter is lined with cafes. It is a place to hang out both night and day. During the morning and early afternoon people on their way to work or shopping can sit down for a coffee and a bite to eat. For the kids of the area it’s a football field, a skating rink, and a playground.

As the day wears on the square changes character a bit and becomes more of a destination than a way station. By nightfall everything is in full swing and the cafes are completely full. The main attraction, other than conversation, seems to be the pack of dogs running wild in the center of the plaza. The weather at this time of year is perfect for hanging out and no one seems in any hurry to go anywhere else. Later at night the square takes on the aspects of a night club as it fills to the brim with young people. Immigrants looking to make a few extra euros sell cold beer out of plastic bags which adds to the party atmosphere. This was on a Sunday night so I would imagine that weekends and holidays are even livelier.

This is just one small corner of Barcelona that happens to be two blocks from where I am staying. I wonder how many other great little neighborhoods there are in the city?

The Barrio Gótico, or Gothic Quarter, is frightfully mobbed with tourists at this point in the season, although I’m sure that visitors here don’t ebb much in the winter months. I have taken a few walks through here already and plan on it again today. I would know this like the back of my hand if I had a bicycle. Most of the streets are way too narrow even for bike access unless you go early in the morning before everyone else is out. I’ll just manage on foot today like the rest of the chumps.

Art Museum above Plaza de Espanya.

Beat Feet

Have you ever heard of the Bataan Death March? Well, I mean those poor souls no disrespect but after the amount of walking I’ve done these past two days, I would have done the Death March skipping and humming. I don’t know if your legs can actually fall off from too much walking but I thought mine were about to secede from the rest of my body at the end of the day yesterday. I hiked around town yesterday for a solid seven hours. That’s a lot of walking and especially for someone who hates walking as I do. I need a damn bike.

They have a rental bike system here in Barcelona that you can subscribe to but it’s only for residents. Bicing is what they call the system and they have racks of distinctive-looking at various locations around the city, near the train station, for example. You just swipe your subscriber card and unlock a bike to use for a short trip around town. You can only use the bikes for a maximum of two hours which seems like a pretty short period. Two hours these days if a good warm-up for me. I’ll have to find another place to rent a bike. I’ve only come across one place thus far and I wasn’t impressed with their stock.

I have been trying to hump around to all of the usual tourist haunts but I just enjoy looking through all of the great neighborhoods. I have only been on one street (it’s called Paral•lel—that’s how they write it in Catalan) that was less than charming. It’s not spectacularly ugly or anything; it is just a main thoroughfare. Other than that one street, almost every place I’ve been, every single neighborhood I have stumbled upon, would be a great place to live.

Where I am staying in the Gracia district, the street is so quiet that I don’t have my regular morning clues that it’s time to wake up. The buildings are all historic apartments with no businesses on the ground floor which means you don’t hear the shutters opening up in the morning, nor is there the low roar of customers filing along the street. The street in front of the building is so narrow that cars rarely pass by. It’s like living in a little Spanish village except I’m only two blocks from the Fontana Station on the green #3 line of the incredibly extensive Barcelona metro. I will be taking full advantage of the metro today in an attempt to give my biker’s legs a break from walking.

I haven’t done this much walking since I bought my bicycle in Valencia last December. I went out yesterday with only a couple of euro notes in my pocket and a metro card; no camera, no map, no guide book, and not even a wallet. Note to self: if you leave your metro card in your pocket it gets fucked up and doesn’t want to work in the newer turnstiles.

I have never liked walking mostly because my feet get hammered no matter what kind of shoes I am wearing. Sneakers, hiking shoes, comfortable shoes, it doesn’t matter; if I walk a lot my feet get destroyed. I have discovered that my feet get along with flip-flops during a long voyage so I guess all of my heavy walking needs to take place during the summer.

As comfortable as my feet were in the flip-flops, I still fantasized about jumping someone on a bike and high-jacking their wheels, like a cheetah taking down a gazelle. Then I woke up and remembered that as slow as I run these days I’d have a hard time running down a Spanish grandmother dragging her grocery cart. I still haven’t ruled out stretching a length of piano wire across a bike path and inheriting a bicycle. It would a cool, sort of Visigoth thing to do if I kept their head in the front basket of the bike as I rode around town. Visigoths still get a lot of respect in this area of Spain.

I just made a day of speed tourism, or just making the rounds and getting an eyeball of all of the major sights. I was like one of the double-decker tour buses except in my crappy pair of Chinese Wal-Mart 2.50€ flip-flops.

Barcelona is absolutely the coolest city I think I have ever visited. There is public art everywhere and the architecture has been on the cutting edge for centuries. Like Valencia, it is a major city with a great city beach that you can reach by metro. The climate is wonderful. Why don’t we all move here?

Barcelona

La Rambla, Barcelona

When I tell people that I am writing a book about living in Spain almost everyone is quick to remind me that Valencia is just one part of Spain and that people are very different in other regions of the peninsula. The regional peculiarities in Spain seem to be as important as DNA in their identity—at least according to them. You are defined as much by the very specific ingredients of the local cooking as you are by the characteristics of your parents.

When you read the biography of a Spaniard on a book jacket the most important aspect seems to be their place of birth. I think that Spaniards sincerely believe that people from another area of the country are almost as foreign as citizens of other countries. I guess that the longer I live here the more I can agree with the cultural differences within the country, but at the same time it isn’t as if the people around Spain are that different.

Barcelona, the capital of Catalunya, is only 293 kilometers from Valencia. Both cities have their own unique dialect, although from what I have been told Catalan and Valenciano are pretty much the same thing. Upon entering Barcelona’s Sants station it is immediately obvious that Barcelona is more deeply committed to its language than is Valencia. Catalan is on all of the billboards. Catalan is heard over the loudspeakers.

Not that I got much of a chance to look around at all inside the station as I was carried away in the currents and riptides of fellow travelers. I paddled through the station and made my way down into the extensive Barcelona metro system, purchased a 10 ride pass, and washed up on the number 3, green line as it cascaded towards Fontana Station in the Gracia District.

I feel like such a country mouse coming from Valencia as Barcelona is like an enormous beehive of activity. The metro system is very extensive here and, unlike Valencia’s tiny system that runs just beneath the surface, you are led through long passageways deep I the bowels of the city. I felt like I should have been wearing a miner’s helmet at times.

I had been looking for a new apartment in Valencia almost the entire month of August which meant that I had looked through countless ads online. This got me thinking that this would be a good idea when I travel around Europe. Instead of booking a room in a hotel I would rent a room in an apartment. I lined up a place here in Barcelona for the 11 days I will be here. I was given directions which turned out to be extremely easy to follow.

The neighborhood around the Fontana station is unbelievably charming. The streets are so narrow that some don’t even support automobile traffic. Almost all of the architecture is older, most dating back to the very early 1900s. I gave my host a heads up that I was coming on my new cell phone. I can’t believe how long I resisted buying one in the first place. I think that I was too timid to speak Spanish on the phone.

My new home for the next 10 days is on the top, fourth floor of a 100 year old building. I didn’t know if I would fit in the old elevator with my bulging pack so I hiked up the narrow stairway. After dumping my pack in my room I was given a quick tour of the flat. It’s a beautiful place with high ceilings and floor to ceiling windows that open up on to a small balcony. The best part is the roof that has a commanding view over the entire city. It will make a good perch for smoking a cigar and having a glass of brandy.

I still had a few hours of daylight so I immediately went for a very long stroll along some of the major thoroughfares in Barcelona. The good thing about this city is that the streets are on a grid, unlike the spiraling insanity of the streets in historic Valencia. From where I am staying I just had to walk down the hill to the east to intersect with some of the main attractions of Barcelona.

By the time I got to the Plaza de Catalunya there was a tremendous crush of pedestrians all channeled towards La Rambla, the main pedestrian attraction in Barcelona. I didn’t notice anyone speaking Catalan but I hardly heard any Spanish for that matter. I heard every other language on the planet as it seems that everyone in Barcelona on this last day in August is a tourist.

I don’t really miss not having my folding bike on this trip because the sidewalks are too full for bikes and the streets are too narrow. I’m sure that I will rent a bike while I am here but walking seems a sensible way to get around with a bit of metro thrown in for a rest. I would like to rent a bike and ride around early on Sunday morning like I do in Valencia while everyone else is sleeping off the late night before. I’ll work on that today.

I had a map I borrowed from my host and nothing more to guide me but it is all pretty self-explanatory right from my front door. My favorite site so far was the Plaza Real that I came upon right at dusk.