A Busking We Will Go.

We strolling down La Rambla toward Barcelona's harbor where Christorpher Columbus watches over the harbor from atop his lofty pedestal, and bouys look like little boys, when I clutched Claudette's arm in disbelief.  On the sidewalk was a huge creature  with wings and golden horns.  Except for his horns and the whites of his eyes, he was completely black.  There was a forked tail and boney fingers with long nails.  The muscular black arms  held a pretty English girl in shorts and halter top, while her boyfriend took their picture with an iPhone.  This demon was one of many street performers on the street that day.  We enjoy the street performers where ever we encounter them. There are a variety of acts.  Perhaps the newest is the person representing a statue.  One of the first I saw was a trumpet player in silver.  Every inch of him was covered in silver paint.  He sat motionless in front of his tip box. We've seen many different "statues", but the most interesting  was in New Orleans on Royal Street. He was unpainted, looked like a regular construction worker climbing a ladder with a six-foot length of wood on his shoulder. He was motionless, balanced on his latter about three rungs off the pavement.  I did hear of a "statue" that was not a "statue".  It seems a clever young man posed a well dressed and made-up manikin in front of a tip jar.  He would place the manikin on the street in the morning  and check the tip jar during the day. At the end of the day he would collect his earnings and manikin.  Probably one of the most famous street entertainers is the naked cowboy of Times Square.  Although not quite naked, he wears a cowboy hat, boots, BVDs, and plays a guitar, he his quite entertaining. There are quite a variety of performers on the street.  We've seen opera singers, string quartets, folk dancers, performing marionettes, glass players,  fire eaters, and musicians of all kinds.  Another memorable sight was the fire eater near the Eiffel Tower in the early evening. I've always been fond of fire eaters ever since a shipmate filled his mouth with lighter fluid and ignited the stream he squirted from between his two front teeth.  The event took place in a berthing compartment, after taps, aboard the USS Intrepid while steaming in the South China Sea. He was reluctant to repeat the performance. We were on the train from Paris to Vernon when we were entertained by an impromptu performance in our car. At one of the stops a man with an accordion boarded the train and began playing standing just inside the entrance door. At the next stop he was joined by a sax player, and at a later stop a clarinetist joined the group.  We enjoyed some great music until they disembarked before Vernon. The pretty girl sitting across from us never woke up.  Must have had a late night.

intr.v. busked, busk·ing, busks To play music or perform entertainment in a public place, usually while soliciting money.

It seems to be a romantic lifestyle: performing whenever and getting paid for it. But not necessarily so. I recently talked with a busker on New Orlean's Royal Street.

Street musician who wished
to remain anonymous.

"Playing on the street must be the life," I said.

"Not really," the bearded musician said.

"What could happen?"

"Lots of things. Well," he added with a sigh,"there's the weather. If it's raining, you can't work"

"But you get a lot of sunshine here."

"Yeah, but there's other things." He seemed reluctant to continue. "You have to claim your spot."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Sure, sometimes I have to get up and be here at 5 a.m. just be sure we have a place to play.  Location is everything.  This is a numbers game; the more people that see you the bigger chance someone will put something in the tip jar."

"Do you need a permit?"

"Not here.  The cops don't bother you here.  Of course, New Orleans has the reputation for having the most corrupt police department in the country.  I don't care though, so long as they don't bother me.  Some places the cops do hassle you though.  They claim you're panhandlin' or just any thing to run you out of town."

But I noticed that his eyes were always moving from left to right behind the wire-rimmed glasses.

"Been doing this long?" I was curious.

"A few years in a lot of different cities. We took a bicycle road trip last year from New Orleans to Woodstock, NY and earned our way busking. So, I guess we did alright."

"I don't think I could handle this kind of lifestyle," I said.

"It takes a certain kind of person, I guess. I gotta be free!" he said as he picked up his instrument and walked away down Royal Street toward a string band beginning to set up.

Sal's Place

We took the road out of Cadaquez where we had spent the night on the Mediterranean coast of Spain. As we drove through the hills we were searching for the fishing village of Port Lligat.  Driving down from the hills we welcomed the sight of the beautiful Mediterranean  and found a place to park the car near the house owned by the famous artist  Salvador Domingo Felipe Jacinto Dalí i Domènech, better known as Salvador Dali.  Dali, who lived between 1904 and 1989 had bought the small fisherman's house about 1920 and continuously modified it for more than twenty years.  We were anxious to see it.  Claudette had made reservations for a tour at 4P.M. The only way to see the house is by guided tour. We don't care much guided tours much, but that was the only way to see this house. It was about ten minutes before the tour was to begin when we reached the location.  I let Claudette out of the car to insure our place in the tour while i parked the car. A sign in the car park area  announced that the parking fee was three euros but the man at the open air bar said it was free.  I did not question his authority and hastened to catch up with Claudette. 

The house was a unique looking structure just a few meters from the gravel beach.  We were asked to leave any bags in a locker area nearby before going up the entrance stairs to the house.  The female tour guide quickly ascertained how many languages were spoken by her charges before beginning her descriptions of what we were seeing. She was quite efficient and we only heard the same description three times.  Or, at least I presume it was the same.  We were entering the place of artistic genius and, perhaps, a bit of his aura lingered.  You kind of get that feeling you get when you are in those places the famous have been. Places  like where Ann Bolin lost her head or Joan d'Arc was burned at the stake or Elvis recorded "That's Alright Mama".  It was that kind of place.  This house is a happy place, very colorful. It consists of a labyrinth of hallways connecting rooms on three different levels.  My favorite room in the house is the studio/workshop.  The big windows face the sea and it has a very interesting easel.  Dali preferred to work on his paintings sitting and therefore had an easel which moved the canvas up and down into an opening in the floor via a system of pulleys and weights. Fascinating.  Also in nooks and crannies around the studio were props from his works. Many objects that a Dali fan would recognize from his paintings but we were unsuccessful in finding a melting pocket watch. There was an exquisite puppet theatre.The bedroom was interesting in that it had two double beds and was oriented so that the rising sun illuminated the room at dawn. The house has objects d'arte  everywhere but there wasn't time to examine many things closely, the guides  hurried us along. (We were the last tour of the day!)  In one corner of a room there was a large container of walking canes.  I recall  seeing quite a few photographs of Dali with a cane. Throughout the house are many paintings of Gala, Dali's Russian born wife. in various stages of undress.  There is a circular room and other rooms including one small room dedicated to newspaper clippings and photographs of the famous people  photographed with Dali.  

You exit the house onto a terrace which overlooks a garden.  Immediately outside the door to the right is a narrow opening in the wall lake a narrow shallow tunnel.  Claudette was able to squeeze through the opening and discovered a full length mirror.  The house continued to surprise. On the terrace is a sculpture of a giant egg big enough for a person to get inside and a view of Dali's abstract image of Christ made of trash and refuse.  As you continue around to the right you enter the area of the swimming pool. The area is like an outdoor room.  The most notable feature of this room is the sofa which appears as a giant set of lips. Actually, sensuous female lips in brilliant red. 

Dali spent some of his time in New York and Paris but did a lot of work in Port Lligat.   He and Gala were happy here but after her death in 1982, he never returned. 

• A Virtual Tour of Dali's House

Up the River from the Gulf.

Beignets at Cafe du Monde

First it belonged to the American Indians, then the Spanish, then the French, and then it was the site of the most famous party in the United States of America. And the answer is...New Orleans, LA.  Rather than recount the history of the city I will relate a recent visit.

Like most places I visit I have an idea what I wan to see, and New Orleans was no different. On my list was:

1. eat a beignet
2. ride a streetcar
3. stroll around Jackson Square
4. walk down Bourbon Street
5. hear some good music
6. drink a Jax or Dixie beer

It is two days after Mardi Gras, and the clean-up is in progress, but beads are still hanging from all the trees. We started our look about the "Big Easy" at the Jax Brewery.  From this building once flowed that wonderful golden brew that flooded the delta in pre-Katrina days. Now the huge  building is no longer a brewery but serves as a shopping mall. I personally don't think that's an improvement. This building is beside the Mississippi River and across the rail and streetcar tracks for the berth of the Natchez. This steamboat was launched in the '70's, but its steam engines were build in 1926.  The engines turn a 21 ton white oak paddle wheel to move the ship up the Mississippi.  It is one of the six steam powered boats plying the river today. She clangs her bell, blows her whistle, and plays her calliope as she churns the waters of the mighty Mississippi.

Saint Louis Cathedral

It is common knowledge that the best beignets are found at Cafe du Monde. However, it may not be common knowledge that you will have to wait in line to sample these delicacies.  We waited.  I am not a "waiting in line" type of person, but I did it anyway. There are several hundred people eating the pastries at small round tables  at his open-air restaurant. The Vietnamese staff quickly bring our pastries and cafe au laits.  There are a few caveats about beignets.  You never wear any thing black, because the small pieces of fried pastry are covered with powdered sugar. Also, never inhale while taking a bite, because you will inhale powdered sugar. Never having eaten a beignet, I was surprised at the texture.  I expected a crisp crunchy crust, but it was soft but very coarse. I delighted in the four I ate, and the coffee was excellent, also. I drank the chicory coffee while in New Orleans as homage to my great-grandfather, who wore the gray in the American Civil War.  Chicory coffee was created during those times, because the South could not obtain coffee beans.

We continue our walk down Decatur Street to the French Market. In typical fashion there are many souvenirs for sale and many types of food to eat.  The vendors here like others in the city speak that musical form of English found only on the Gulf coast. Available food runs the gamut  from roasted corn to gator tail. The meat of this reptile always seems have a coarse texture and is chewy.  Items very colorful here, but for things indigenous to the delta it is like most markets.  At the end of the market is the old U.S. Mint. This mint is truly unique in that it was used by two countries: the United States of America and the Confederate States of America.  Neither my friend from Mobile nor I could ever remember seeing a coin with a New Orleans mint mark.  We continue on back down Decator past the statue of Joan d'Arc, Jackson Square, and the dozens of horse drawn buggies awaiting tourists.  The art on the fence for sale by local artists was bright and colorful.  Realistic landscapes were sorely lacking. We watched as a break dancer performed for tips, and one of those "statues" exhibited himself as a silver plated jazz trumpeter.

We stopped at a restaurant across the street from Jax Brewery which had once been the old slave market.  The food was good.  I had a muffaletta, a hearty meat sandwich  on round bread with an olive dressing, and French onion soup. Brasha was not allowed inside, being a female of the canine variety.  After the meal she did tricks for Aimee with table scraps for a treat.

After our meal we wandered around Jackson Square looking at more art on the fence, listening to a jazz band, and looking at the statue of the general who later became president.  I can hardly look at the statue without remembering that famous Johnny Horton song:

"In 1814 we took a little trip, along with Colonel Jackson down the mighty Mississip"

And who can forget Arlo Guthrie's "City of New Orleans."  As a small boy I remember the Southern Crescent speeding over the rails. There was a bridal photo shoot going on and a man and woman  doing some kind of gymnastics.  We ducked in Saint Louis Cathedral for a quiet retreat. Named for Louis IX of France, there have been worshipers here since 1727.  There are beautiful painted vaulted ceilings  and an illuminated bible to see. This is the oldest cathedral in continuous use in the country.

A street band

There were still a number of things on my list, so we continued on.  We found the best music from street musicians on Royal Street.  Although the music was different from each band the performers all looked similar. They appeared to be unwashed (but I could detect no body aroma!) and had piercings and/or tattoos.  I think the look was "grunge" kicked up a notch. There was a variety of instruments from electric violins to washtub basses. The most interesting thing I saw was a suitcase (Samsonite, of  course) used for a bass drum!  Betwixt and between the musicians were magicians and other performers.  A tall black man in white tie and tails was demanding that a stuffed toy dog on a leash not move. And, of course, more "statues'.  I heard a story about a man who took a well dressed manikin, set it on a park bench with a tip bucket, and periodically collected his profits.

On to Bourbon Street.  I was surprised at how wide the streets are in New Orleans.  Unlike many colonial cities in this country it doesn't have the narrow streets, and Bourbon is no different.  If a street could have a hangover, it had one.  There are the glitz of the neon lights and the bouncers with that linebacker look.  But, most of all, there is the sound of a slide guitar coming from inside the night clubs at a decibel level that moves the flags on Jackson Square three blocks away. And, there are the revelers that don't realize that Mardi Gras is over, as they stagger along the street attempting to refrain from spilling their beer from clear plastic liter-sized cups.  New Orleans infamy is of two kinds: it's a dirty city and also has a legendary corrupt police department.  But... maybe that just adds to the charm.

The day was waning, and it was tim to return to our hotel. We had one last drink together at Jax Brewery Bistro.  Yes, I had a Dixie Beer.  We said our goodbyes to our friends from Mobile and to those who live in the Cresent City before catching the streetcar beside the restaurant.

Not all the streetcars are red.

We hopped on a bright red streetcar and then realized that it was going away from our destination of Canal Street. The operator said we would go to the end of the line and reverse our direction on the same track.  After a few stops the car stops, and the operator gets off and says, "Everybody off!" We get off and wait in the drizzling rain for what seems like a long time before she comes back and says "Y'all didn't have to wait in the rain; you could get back in the car."  I had thought we would go to a roundtable for the car to be turned around, but that didn't happen. The operator simply walked to the opposite end of the car, adjusted her seat, and started the car in the other direction. There were operator controls at either end of the car.  We changed cars at Canal Street for a ride to St. Charles Street. There was about a one block walk in the rain to catch the St. Charles streetcar. Streetcar stops aren't marked very well, just a small yellow sign roughly four inches wide and sixteen inches tall. Upon reaching our stop we go to Mia's for dinner. I have the shrimp and grits, and Claudette has the portabello pizza.  The shrimp and grits are great.  The shrimp are cooked to perfection, unlike ninety-five percent of those that are overcooked.

We enjoyed our trip to New Orleans and will visit again. We will hope for sunshine.

Eatin' my way down 17A

He was a scruffy little fellow of about nine-years- old with his hands pushed deep into the pockets of his faded tattered jeans.  I watched from my seat as the t-shirt clad lad looked at the coins in his hands and moved slowly to the counter where orders are placed.  "How much is a hamburger?" he timidly asked the teenage girl behind the counter.

"$3.80," she said in a bored voice.

As he shuffled his feet he counted the coins and crumpled bill on the counter. With bowed head he began to remove the money from the counter.
Then,  I heard a voice from the seat nearby, "Wait a minute, I'll help you get a hamburger!" I looked to see an elderly woman in an old coat reaching out with a bony hand holding a couple of bills. Her close cropped white hair contrasted with her mahogany face which was etched with the lines of time. But there was a warmth about her as gave the bills to the boy.

"What a wonderful thing to do." commented Claudette as she munched a french fry.  I nodded and took a look at my lunch.  We were at the Tastee Freeze across from Summerville High School and enjoying what is probably our favorite junk food treat: foot-long hot dogs and ice cream.  The restaurant has been there since 1969 and continues today to serve up hot dogs, burgers, and fries, plus ice cream treats.  We prefer the foot-long combo.  That is a foot-long hot dog with fries and a soft drink.  I get my dog with chili, onions, mustard and catsup.  We really like the fries; thin and very crispy much like the frites we had in France. Eating a foot-long can be a problem.  Claudette and I differ in our preferred technique.  She always divides hers into two pieces.  I guess this is the female method and perhaps the proper etiquette. For me the first decision I must make is how to remove the dog from its colorful paper wrapper. It is an envelope actually, unlike that absorbent paper they use at ballparks. My technique is to gently, so as not to disturb meaty morsels, tear the paper exposing the king of the unbarking dogs.. I don't break it in half.  Part of the experience of eating a foot-long is handling the eating of it without dumping the chili and mustard all over the table before finishing. The wiener toppings seem to be attracted particularly to white t-shirts. There are few decisions to make about our entre here, but we usually have to give some thought to desert. After much thought we decided on Nutter Butter blizzards. The blizzards were vanilla ice cream blended with Nutter Butter cookies. There are not enough positive adjectives in the English language to properly describe this cold confection.

On the way home we relived our annual  experience.

El Escorial

Wikipedia Photo

We took a day trip from Madrid 28 miles southwest to the town of Lorenzo de el Escorial.  From our hotel we took the blue Metro train to the bus station.  The bus ride was quite comfortable.  Spanish buses are relative new, clean, and air conditioned.  The guidebook said that the Monestario de El Escorial was a ten minute walk from the bus station.  What it didn't say was that it was uphill like climbing a mountain.  Other than the desert I don't think there is much flat land in Spain, or if there is, they didn't build a lot there. Nevertheless, we walked to this popular tourist attraction, which was at the bottom of  hill!  This was before the noon hour, and we had to wait to buy tickets to gain entry. Fortunately, there was a pamphlet available in English.  No photography was allowed. The question for me was: do I take the time to do accurate sketches or try to sneak some photos.  If I'm caught taking photographs, they will only tell me to stop. Or, could they confiscate my camera?  I don't know.  I decided to draw, but not much.  I would rather see a lot and remember, than to get a few very good drawings.

This place is huge! Although it was originally built as a monastery it now includes a palace, basilica, library, pantheon, and then some.  We familiarized ourselves with the map before entering the rooms with exhibits explaining the architecture of the structure.  I found this very fascinating.  Here there were scale models of the buildings and the ancient tools used to build the structure.  A mock-up showed how the roof was covered with slate with corners protected with sheets of lead to maintain watertight integrity.  Claudette reminded me that we needed to keep moving, and a security guard smiled approvingly at my quick sketches.  The building's cornerstone was laid April 23, 1563 during the reign of Phillip II.  Juan Bautista de Toledo was the architect, but he died before the project was finished. This same architect had worked on St. Peter's in Rome.  Many theories exist about the double courtyard design, but the most prevalent is that the design is based on that of Solomon's temple from the biblical scriptures.

This was a beautiful place with wide vaulted hallways with paintings on the ceilings and walls. Many paintings depict Spanish history. Titian, El Greco, and Valasquez are a few of the great artists represented here.  I reminded Claudette that this was built during the time Spain was bringing all the gold and silver from the new world.

"Oh, really?" she queried.

"Yes, see all these artifacts from the new world, like that old map over there," I said. "What they don't tell you is that most of the treasures brought from the new world were used to pay off the debt incurred by the monarchs when fighting wars."

We were in the palace part of the building. There were many ceramic works too, particularly tiles.  I'm not sure why ceramics are so common on the Iberian peninsula.  Claudette discovered an interesting sun clock.  Normally when we think of using the sun to determine time, we think of a sundial.  But here was something different.  In one of the rooms with little furniture that overlooked the garden there was a small quarter-sized hole in the wall near the ceiling. A beam of sunlight from this opening would shine on a spot on the floor which had a graduated scale much like a ruler on it.  The markings were in increments of time.  The configuration was a sun clock, and the graduations were inlaid with ceramics. One of the very interesting things we saw was the reclining chair of King Phillip II.  The monarch had severe gout which, of course, made it painful to move. Through an ingenious system of levers and wire he could raise himself from the sitting to the standing position. It was the least "royal" chair I had ever seen.

Wikipedia Photo

It is called the Pantheon of the Kings, but we called a crypt, and it was a long way down. There is a narrow steep stairway, and a pretty blond girl stumbled and almost fell.  I think maybe high-heeled shoes aren't meant for crypt observation.  Once we reached the lower level we stared at the final resting place of Spanish monarchs. There are twenty-six marble sepulchers containing the bones of the royals. They are labeled and decorated with bronze. But the remains are put in the sepulchers 50 years ofter they've died.  There are two rooms visited only by the monks where the royal bodies decompose. We weren't allowed to visit them.  And, we didn't want to. Another interesting fact is there is no place in the crypt for the current royal family.

The library is another grandiose display of the Spanish monarchs' extravagance.  King Phillip II left his personal library here as well as many other documents.  There are also some Moorish manuscripts from the time of Moorish rule of Spain. The vaulted library contains some 40,000 volumes. On the ceiling are frescoes depicting the seven liberal arts.

not a Wikipedia Photo

We enjoyed the strolling courtyards before leaving.  Near the top of the hill we had  jamone on dark bread for lunch with bottled water. We paid the tourist price for water: three euros.  But, it was good.  Normally we fill up empty bottles in the hotel to carry with us but not that day.