Enjoy poverty

Although there were moments I thought he was taking things to the extremes, questioning situations that were not really the point, the truth is he does have a harsh, cynical, almost unbearable point.

Enjoy poverty, by dutch filmmaker Renzo Martens.

The time that remains

Nazareth has surrendered to the Israeli Army. Palestinian fighters hand over their arms. An intellectual faces the army officer and gives a small speech.

"Either a life to bring happiness to our friends´ hearts or death to torment our emenies´hearts". And he quickly, dramatically and ridiculously shoots himself in front of everyone.

Some people in the room laughed at this scene. It is very special the sense of humour born under oppression.

The time that remains, by Elia Suleiman.

Tuesday nights

Tuesday nights are Grey´s Anatomy nights. And I like them, just because of that. I am not that hard to please after all...

Radio Muezzin

There were moments I closed my eyes and found myself again in bed in a Cairo hotel listening to the muezzin calling for prayer at 4 in the morning.



Radio Muezzin by Rimini Protokoll

Death in Persia

I finally started reading Death in Persia, by Annemarie Schwarzenbach. It´s not exactly the travel book a had expected it to be.

"...because we can only count with other people´s compassion and understanding if our failures can be explained, if our defeats have been courageously fought until the end and if our suffering is the inevitable consequence of these two reasonable causes. If sometimes we are happy without a reason, we can never be unhappy in the same way. And, at such a critical time as the one we are living, one is expected to choose the right enemy and a destiny according to one´s strengths. But the hero of this small book is so far from being a hero that he can´t even name her enemy and is so weak that she gives up on the fight apparently even before his inglorious defeat has been decided."

And further down:

"'- What do you expect from Persia?', Malraux asked me. He knew the ruins of the city of Rages. He also knew about the enthusiasm for archaeology. He thought clearly about human passions, he was inclined to despise everything that had to do with them, apart from what was left from them: suffering. He asked me: '-Just because of the name? Just because it ´s too far?' ".

Do you remember...

Do you remember our quiet hours,
when it was us and just us?
Hours of triumphe! The two of us so free and proud
and aroused and flourishing and clear
in our soul and heart and eyes and face,
and both in divine peace side by side.
Friedrich Hölderlin

To paralyze

Definition: to bring to a condition of helpless stoppage, inactivity or inability to act.

Fear paralyzes. So does pain. The fear of pain must be a deadly combination.

Looks like velvet

I was crossing the bridge by bus this morning. The ladies in front of me were talking about the river. How beautiful it looked; it gave the sensation of velvet, inviting you to jump into it. And I thought: if you jumped from here, you would discover that what looks like velvet is actually hard as a cement wall. It seemed they heard my thoughts, because they suddenly started discussing every suicide case they knew.

A bright sun, a warm morning and a river looking like velvet is not the guarantee of a beautiful day...

Berlin - Day 4

And on my last day, the sun shone in Berlin. I had the time to walk along a remaining part of the Wall, the East Side Gallery, and to visit one more museum, a great one, the Deutsches Historisches Museum. It mustn´t have been easy to re-think this museum. Is it ever easy to 'think' a history museum?

The 'suspension' is officialy over. Not to get dizzy or anything.

Berlin - Day 3

How much I love good museums. And how I love them even more when they know how to create a lot of drama around an object, when they know how to create expectations and when in the end they know how to live up to the expectations they´ve created. The museum is the recently refurbished Neues Museum and the ‘star’ is Queen Nefertiti. She stands alone in a dark green round room with a dome, beautifully lit, the rest of the room quiet dark. Crowd control in the museum means that visitors are naturally spread around its different floors and rooms. So there are never too many people at a time in ‘the queen´s room’ and, given that this is the only place in the whole building where photography is not allowed, everybody is here to really look at her, to adore her.

On the other hand, how much I hate museums that make me feel I am supposed to know everything and, if I don´t, it´s because I am a big idiot. Contemporary art museums usually fall in this category. I usually come out the same as when I went in, just a bit more tired. Definitely more upset. This was the case of Hamburger Bahnhof. And could someone explain to me why in almost every museum in this place guards are barking instructions to foreign visitors in perfect german?

It didn´t stop raining today. It got colder too. But on this cold rainy day I discovered a different Berlin, more colourful, more animated. After all, it´s not just an ex-eastern-block city on a permanent bank holiday. I discovered 'my' Berlin in Prenzlauer Allee and the streets around it. And I had a very special dinner in Restauration 1900. A great way to enjoy my last night here.

Berlin - Day 2

Day 2 started disappointingly and ended divinly.

It was 8.15 when I arrived at Reichstag to visit Norman Foster´s Dome. And the queue was as long as it had been the day before. Nobody went to sleep? It took me one hour to get up there. But it was worth it.

Next stop: the famous Jewish Museum. Which is more of a famous building of a famous architect than anything else. What a pity. So totally confusing, both in terms of orientation and of storytelling. Great design, not very visitor-friendly.

I then walked to Checkpoint Charlie to assist more of the kitsch scenes I had seen yesterday in front of the Brandenburg Gate and to visit the Mauermuseum, that is the Wall “Museum” (huge robbery; why doesn´t any guidebook say so????). How can a city with such an intense historical past allow for so much bad taste? I keep wondering how ex-East-Berliners feel about all this.

My meeting with history was at the Topography of Terror, a very good information centre on the site where the SS and Gestapo Headquarters once stood. It opened last week. A different environment here, different visitor attitudes as well. And a well-told story. Then another four museums during the afternoon, the highlight being the discovery at the Neue Nationagalerie of Ernst Ludvig Kirchner and his delicious painting “Potsdamer Platz”.

After having walked all these kilometres, I totally deserved my delicious turkish dinner at Hasir´s. Beautiful restaurant, excellent food. My nationality triggered even better customer service and lots of smiles.

And now, bed, sweet bed. If I try hard to dream of foot massage, will it have an effect in the morning?

Berlin - Day 1

I was out of the airport by 1.30 pm. It felt as if it was a Sunday or a bank holiday. The streets were practically empty; shops, cafés and restaurants closed. The more we approached the centre, the more eastern-european it felt.

By 3 pm I was already in a museum. A dream came true and I was finally at the Pergamon museum. Got my ticket, went through a small door and... I held my breath! I was already in front of the altar. Who could ever think that such a small door would take us to such a great, imposing, beautiful monument. I stayed were I was for a few minutes, just looking. Eventually, I started walking around, recognising little by little all the figures I had studied so long ago.


Three museums later and having argued with two guards about stupid rules (they in german, I in english...), time for a pause at Einstein Café in Unter den Linden. Cappuccino (the best ever outside Italy and Greece) and delicious apfelstrudel. Then, ready for a few more kilometres. Kitsch scenes in front of the Brandenburg Gate, with idiots disguised as GDR officers or American soldiers and other idiots (tourists) going along with it and taking photos next to them... Huge cue to see the glass dome of the Reichstag (I´ll leave it for tomorrow morning). On the way back to the hotel I entered the Staatsoper. The performance was finishing and the usher let me go in to see the room, since... that´s all I can see. Everythings is sold out.

Dinner time and, although this time I was unfaithful to my usual companion (the Lonely Planet), I followed the Rough Guide´s suggestion and ended up in a 1913 tiny café-restaurant called Metzer Erk. Just Germans, which is always a good sign. It makes us feel less tourists and more at home. Curry sausage with fries and horrible german white wine. I am dizzy and I am done for today.

On a plane

Nothing more uplifting than the prospect of getting on a plane tomorrow at 7am. It always does miracles for this girl.

The discovery of a city

One of the most exciting, most thrilling, most forget-about-everything-else things in life is getting ready to discover a city we´ve never been before.

It´s small things that bring us happiness. But then again, it´s equally small things that can easily take it away.

Afghan women

Mountstuart Elphinstone, a young Scotsman, arrived in Afghanistan in 1808 and wrote about the then kingdom. Among other things, about women and their importance as a means of exchange. In her book Caderno Afegão, Alexandra Lucas Coelho included a passage from Elphinstone´s An account of the Kingdom of Caubul:

"Among western afghans, the atonement of a murder is made by giving away 12 young women, six with a dowry and six without. The dowry of each one is 60 rupies (7,10 pounds), partially in goods. For cutting a hand, an ear or a nose, they give six women; for breaking a tooth, three women; for an injury above the head, one woman; for an injury under the head (unless it takes a year to heal) or any other small offense, atonement is made with apologies and submission. Oriental afghans give less women and more money. There are fixed equivalents for a woman in money, so the person to whom a compensation is owed can choose what he prefers."

DV8 - The cost of living

Long silences, short breaks.