Note to self:

Never mind.

February 23, 2010 | Filed Under Home | Leave a Comment 

I have not given up

I've got various ideas for blog posts but I must admit that none of them have really turned out very well. Added to that, I'm very busy at work (as usual in January). But, whatever I might have said on Twitter, I've not given up on thebadrash.com

I'll hopefully be able to post a couple of times over the weekend.

Tom

January 29, 2010 | Filed Under Home | Leave a Comment 

thebadPoll: Where to live in Barcelona?

RmdBcn

Gemma and I are beginning the process of looking for a new house. Our awesome little flat in Cerdanyola del Vallès was perfect as a starting point for our life together here but 7 years on, it's not getting any bigger. We're looking in Cerdanyola, because we like the area where we live. But we're also going to look at places in other parts of the metropolitan zone. This thebadPoll is really very simple: where would you choose to live in BCN if you could choose right now? Do you like the narrow streets of the Gòtic, or do you prefer the seaside charm of Vilanova i la Geltrù?

The list of options is not exhaustive, so feel free to recommend a place if you really think it needs a special mention.

As usual, you can vote on the right >> … but it's your comments I'm hungry for.

September 30, 2009 | Filed Under Catalonia, Home, Spain | 12 Comments 

Just over a year ago…

…Iberian Notes stopped being updated. Just thought I'd remind you. A whole year of reduced blood pressure and increased happiness. I really never thought he'd be able to last a year.

And so it falls to me to be the moody expat loser blogger (Trev is better but he never says anything).

First topic: off to Modbury ('el poble') next weekend. Not much blogging will ensue. Still alive, though.

July 26, 2009 | Filed Under Catalonia, Home, Internet computer | 4 Comments 

Is Barcelona inherently gay? How about ass?

If you've been wondering what I've been up to recently, and let's face it: you haven't but it works as an opening gambit; I've been fairly busy with a pleasantly productive period of work in the real world. My new-ish desk offers me a view over the city including the Sagrada Familia, Montjuic, the Forum, that hill where they have the Parc Güell and the Mediterranean sea (pollution permitting). Well, I've been doing that and tweeting.

I make no apology for using Twitter. I do apologise for dissing it in the first place, because it can at times be great. Much of my time on Twitter has been spent obsessively checking my 'hetero rating' on a website affiliated to Stockholm Pride, an event that kicks off next week. This fun little toy works by analysing one's tweets and every time I check it, I get a rating of '42% hetero'. Apparently, this is because I use the words 'Barcelona', 'coming out', 'opera', 'available' and 'ass' in my tweets. These words make me a 'hybrid hetero' and lend support to the argument for 'an extra orientation'. Sounds fine to me, except for the words selected that indicate my degree of hetero-ness.

Picture 1

Barcelona has long been gay-friendly and the unofficial Gayxample district contains plenty of hotels and bars which cater mainly to the gay market. But it's not an exclusively gay city. Indeed, I'd say it's probably predominantly not gay. But I may be wrong about that. Opera, as well as being often incredibly camp musical theatre, is the name of a web browser. Ass? Well… I can't really explain that. I may have been calling someone a loser ass or something. Or perhaps I was talking about ass, but that might possibly have been be hetero ass.

I shall spend the next few weeks tying to increase my hetero rating. I'll use manly terms like 'muscles', 'bear' and 'trade'. That should fix it.

Oh, and we also went to Cotlliure in Northern Catalonia (France as the nationalists would have it), a couple of weeks back. It's a lovely place, but I recommend visiting out of season if possible. Photos here.

July 23, 2009 | Filed Under Catalonia, Home | 6 Comments 

Dr. Coldlove, or: Why I learned to stop worrying and love the aircon

This post is related to my last, partly because it deals with my unpopular suggestions for dealing with common problems and partly because it involves mosquitoes ('the devil's moths' as I call them*).

Last night, with an indoors temperature of 30º and level of humidity that a fan would not shift, only direct, we elected to put the air conditioning on all night. It was a simple enough decision. Gemma turned to me and said "I think we should put the a…" but by then, I'd already closed all the windows and found the remote control for our air-con unit. We continued to watch Star Trek: First Contact with the pleasant, and pleasantly guilty, feeling of cool air caressing our youthful skins. (Well, Gemma has a youthful skin; despite being YEARS younger than her, mine has developed the reddish hue and blood-vesseled texture of a Plymouthian living in Spain**).

We slept right through the night with barely a stir, except for when it got too cold. One of the many advantages of sleeping with the air conditioning on is the fact that it's cooler when you want to sleep. Another advantage is that while you have the windows closed, all but the most ingenious mosquitoes are barred from entry to your boudoir. A disadvantage is that any cigarette smoke from the sitting room that wasn't expelled before the airlock was sealed becomes your 'smoke buddy' for the night (though this probably helps some people maintain a minimal nicotine blood level and for that reason it should probably be counted as another advantage). There are no other real disadvantages… unless everyone does the same. Because that would cause massive amounts of carbon to be released into the atmosphere, by way of electricity generation.

So I ask you, people of Barcelona, Toulouse, Marrakesh, Los Angeles, Singapore, Perth (Australia, obviously) and Mumbai: tonight, switch your air conditioning off. I won't, because I need it. But if you took some time to think about the future of the planet, you would.

__

* I refer to moths as 'the devil's butterflies' and mosquitoes as 'the devil's moths'.

** I was born in Freedom Fields

*** Obviously the title could have been "Dr. Coldlove, or: How I learned to stop worrying and love the aircon" but I decided against it

June 18, 2009 | Filed Under Home | 5 Comments 

Multiple species extinction – would it be that bad?

I've been puzzling over what function mosquitoes play in the web of nature. I mean, obviously their main function is to bite my legs while I'm eating supper, as well as identifying the single square inch of my large skin not coated with Mosi-Guard and biting that area repeatedly at 3am before giving my ear a quick fly-by just in order to wake me up. But beyond that, does the mosquito really serve a function in nature's great system?

I suppose that there are a handful of species of birds that feast on mosquitoes at this time of year. But I'd be happy to put up with, say, 20 species of birds gone for all eternity if it meant no more blood-sucking Culicidae bothering me and millions of other people each year. I mean, if we're going to make species extinct, surely it could serve some greater good?

June 16, 2009 | Filed Under Home | 6 Comments 

FC Barcelona, the penya and Primavera

So here we are. Unless things go on for much more than 90 minutes tomorrow evening, in 24 hours we'll know the outcome of the Champions League final. F.C. Barcelona face Manchester United in what should be a mega-clasico of a match. We're going to watch the game at the Penya Barcelonista de Cerdanyola del Vallès, the same bar where we saw Barça win three years ago, and where we saw them knock Chelsea out just three weeks ago.

If you've never been to an official penya (they exist for most football clubs but around here they're predominantly F.C. Barcelona-affiliated), these official supporters' clubs are often the finest places to watch a good football match, provided you back the penya's team. You need to make sure you get there early, though. For the second semi-final, I got there over an hour before kick-off and barely managed to snag a couple of stools in the non-smoking area (shock, horror!). For tomorrow's game, I've booked a table in the smoking area – three years ago, I did the same thing, and when I offered my name, the owner simply shook her head and said 'Els estrangers', 'the foreigners'. This time, she at least admitted she knew me and allowed 'Tom' to go on her bit of paper. We'll see how well this works out around 8 tomorrow evening.

I'll avoid predicting the outcome of the game because my hope that Barça will win is far greater than any knowledge I'd ever profess to having of the game. Suffice to say: I reckon it'll be hard for both clubs, and while Man U may be favourites, I do think that Barça can win it.

And if they do, it'll set off a great long weekend of celebrations. Because while I'll be in the office the next day, whatever happens, Thursday night sees the start of Primavera Sound – Barcelona's pop festival and officially the first party of the summer (well, that's what I always say). The lineup is pretty good, and this year I'll probably be aiming to take in a few newer bands I don't know so much about (any recommendations are welcomed). The festival runs until Saturday, but even better news is that Monday is 'second Easter', meaning we get another day off! Skill!

So it could be a brilliant few days or just a very good few days. And you can't say fairer than that.

Força Barça!

May 26, 2009 | Filed Under Catalonia, Home, Music | 3 Comments 

Those good old Mississippi d'Esquadra

Some of you may have read (here, and linked to at Trevor's wildly observational post here), that I had my wallet stolen on the Barcelona Metro recently. Trevor's post, written with a depth of knowledge and understanding that, if I didn't know better, might otherwise make me suspicious, explains roughly the process that probably led to my being separated from my cartera.

After my brief violated sulk, I went through the process of filling in the online denuncio, going to the local police station and picking up my new cards at the bank. But these were the easy steps. Because my residency card was nicked, I now had to carry my passport around if I wanted to pay by card anywhere other than the small and excellently stocked  privately run supermarket I habitually buy wine, meat and vegetables from. I wasn't happy with this (a passport can be a real bugger to get replaced), so I essentially slipped into cash mode: something I've not done since the first time I got a card about 13 years ago.

And you know what? Apart from buying my snazzy new phone* the other day, I've certainly spent less this month than I would normally have.

Anyway, the point of this post was really to relay the news that I had a phone call yesterday from a nice lady at the Comisaría of the Mossos d'Esquadra in Les Corts to tell me: we have your wallet, with all your documentation. Would you believe it? I thought that the Mossos wouldn't have bothered investigating a common wallet theft but it seems that they had their very best, most sexy men and women on the case, sometimes working under cover.

So I have my expired Tarjeta de Residencia back and can now return to card-based [what's a word for 'of or pertaining to cards'?] profligacy. Or I can learn my lesson and stick to cash… which was, funnily enough, the only thing the thieves got when they nicked my wallet. A serious decision faces me.

__

*My HTC Magic has a great text prediction module that makes sending text messages and emails very easy indeed. However, it does sometimes change correctly spelled words for what it thinks I meant to say. 'Mossos' became 'Mississippi', automatically.

May 14, 2009 | Filed Under Catalonia, Home | 4 Comments 

Off to Australia

We're off to the southern hemisphere very soon. In a week's time, we'll already be in Singapore (and hopefully enjoying some delicious fish head curry). We'll be back in mid-January.

For that reason, the blog will likely be quiet over the next few weeks. Hopefully, I'll be able to post some updates using my super-awesome-cool Eeepc 1000H but that all depends on WiFi.

Bon nadal a tothom!

December 13, 2008 | Filed Under Home | Leave a Comment 

Tot el camp és un clam! El Clásico tonight

Looking forward to tonight's Clásico derby between FC Barcelona and Real Madrid. As I'm something of a curse on Barça, I've avoided watching many games live (when I do, they do badly), but I've been using my PlayStation 3 to record them (this works very well indeed). Barça have done very well while I've been doing this.

However, I sort of think that tonight will be either a draw or a Madrid win. Not sure why… just that the Clásico is often surprising. For that reason, I'll watch the game on La Sexta at 2200 and I hope for another goleada for Guadiola's FC Barcelona.

Força!

By  the way: if you didn't know already, Real Madird was founded by Catalans.

December 13, 2008 | Filed Under Home | 4 Comments 

Joyce – A Christmas thought

Whatever your political leaning, there's no denying that the time of giving is upon us, as heralded by its usual horsemen, the municipal lights and the piped carols.

If you're thinking about making a charitable donation this Christmas, and you haven't yet chosen a suitable recipient, allow me to offer a suggestion.

Joyce is a 16 months-old Kenyan who'll die if she doesn't get heart surgery soon… and she needs to go to the US to get it. I read about her on a travel blog site. Her story's very moving and I figure that if enough of us donate a few Euros, we could help this little girl get the medical attention she needs.

Read more about Joyce here… better still, make a donation here.

December 8, 2008 | Filed Under Home | 3 Comments 

Notes from Barcelona: my bus ride

When I first met you, I didn't understand the game.
Now I don't have to, cuz you've given me a name.

The prostitute who waited by the side of the road each evening on my bus route home on a pathetic little stool by the entrance to some sort of brick depot went missing around the beginning of September. I don't know that she's actually a missing person but she was there, waiting on her little stool most evenings as we whizzed past towards Cerdanyola and suddenly, she wasn't. I was used to her not being there some evenings: the stool being left behind the side barrier on the Carretera obviously meant that she'd been picked up… but she was always back there the next day, or the day after that.

Why you gonna raise your hand to make the pickup?
When you're gonna get sent down alone.

This time, it looked like she was gone for good. For a week or two, I found that I was worried about her. This young, pretty almost certainly eastern European girl must have been kidnapped or attacked, I thought. It was only when I realised how much earlier it was getting dark each evening that I started to think that she might still be around, just getting off the unlit road sooner each evening. I've noticed that the stool still alternates between its position in front of and behind the barrier: either she's fine or someone else, as yet unseen, has taken her spot.

I'm exhausted now
Too burnt to sleep
I'll be burnt tomorrow

My bus journey home is generally quick and uneventful. The traffic's not too bad and it's nicer than being stuck in a train where you don't see much for the first half of the journey. I catch the bus just accross Meridiana from where Avinguda de Rio de Janeiro starts, about eight minutes' brisk walk from my office. The bus follows Meridiana out of Barcelona and then bears right along the Carretera Cerdanyola-Barcelona through the rather ugly towns of Montcada i Reixach and Ripollet.

All year you've been hanging around like you wuz waiting for the forty bus
Holding fifteen hundred in cash, trying to move in on us

The bit of Montcada I see from the bus consists of about three landmarks, namely the Bar Gran Casino, a bridge named FC Barcelona – Zaragoza (theories about the name are welcome – I suspect a local lad played in the Barça squad), and a large-looking brothel called La Mezquita De Oro (once mentioned by Guirilandia), whose red lamps are lit by around seven each evening.

Thirty trucks from seventeen states
Move out staggered through the night
It's a tough job but temporary

I'm not one of those people who can stroll up to the bus stop and see the bus arrive twenty seconds later. This is partly because I live where I do, and the buses here seem to have quite random schedules. It's also because I'm just not that good at remembering schedules. One of my first memories of primary school is a feeling of total confusion caused by the fact that other children seemed to know intuitively that there was a correct time to get their maths books out, or have lunch. I was totally oblivious to the timetable and even now, I often forget regular events, even ones I look forward to like Easter and Barça games.

It's a case, it's a case, it's a case
Of over against

So it is that I inevitably wait for quite some time at the bus stop, or turn up to see the A3 or A4 cruising away, its doors firmly shut. This isn't too bad, though, because I always have a self-inflicted ear damage machine with me.

Lyrics from the album Sweet Sixteen by Royal Trux.

October 16, 2008 | Filed Under Home | 3 Comments 

Ostriches

It's amazing to think, but there really are people out there who seek to deny human involvement in world climatic change. This despite the vast weight of scientific evidence, the overwhelming agreement of the scientific community and the visible changes occurring right now.

Today's climate change deniers are no less foolish than the appeasers of the 1930s: blind to the threat, not because of ignorance but because of a pig-headed obsession for resisting the changes we all need to make.

September 21, 2008 | Filed Under Home | 2 Comments 

The Summer House

As is usual at this time of year, thebadrash.com is getting quiter. The summer, I feel, calls for us to spend more of our time outside in the sweltering humidity of a Barcelona summer. I've been hard at work burning my skin and resolving to lose weight in a vain attempt to look 1% as handsome as the locals.

Friends might remember that last September, Gemma's grandmother, Maria Teresa, passed away. She was a great woman and my wife was very close to her. One of the things that happened after Maria Teresa's passing is that Gemma and her father have inherited her flat in Tarragona, a house full of memories for both of them. At the time, we did our best to tidy up the flat and throw away food, etc… but it has been many months since we visited the place.

Having left the flat for some time, we decided to visit it and start the process of putting it in order. So, on Saturday morning, we braved the AP7 motorway 100km south to the family town. Tarragona, for those who don't know it, is something of a mixed bag. The centre of the city combines lots of Roman remains with a modern Catalan town. In the old city, the local stone shines like gold in the right light, despite the fact that it's apparently being eaten away by acid rain. The Plaça de la Font is a pleasant, long square which terminates in the attractive Ajuntament (city hall) where Gemma and I married. The cathedral was built on the Roman temple of Jupiter and apparently the older parts of it date back to the time when Tarraco was the capital of Roman Spain. The outskirts of the city, however, are made up of ugly suburbs and a very large petro-chemical industry. Lots of jobs, mind.

The flat has views of both the Roman city and the Mediterranean. This last view was particularly impressive on Saturday evening as I watched the approach of a truly collossal storm, part of a system that apparently inundated much of Calatonia that evening. My observation of the meteorological events was secondary to the main work of the day: cleaning, disinfecting and fumigating the parts of the house worst affected by silverfish and, even yuckier, cockroaches. I worked on the soon-to-be-scrapped fridge/freezer first (I'm not stupid: there's little point cleaning a house if there are no cold Voll Damms at the end of the day). Then, I applied a potent insecticide to the kitchen draws, some of which played host to silverfish the size of dolphins.

We've chosen to use the flat as a summer house of sorts, at least until we work out what else to do with it. As it's only an hour and a hlaf away by train, it will be easy to get down there on a Friday afternoon. I think that Maria Teresa would be happy to see us using the house.

For those who really know me, tomorrow is the first day for years that I'll be commuting into the city for work. Our company has moved to very swanky new offices in an ugly new tower on Meridiana. My new commute to work puts an end to three years of walking ten minutes down the road. That's a pretty big change.

It's way too late. I need to get up earlier than before. Damn.

July 14, 2008 | Filed Under Catalonia, Home | Leave a Comment 

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