Barcelona: ciutat romà

The City History Museum of Barcelona is incredible: the actual dig lies just below this 14th-century complex.

Roman Barcelona was very well organized. You can see the laundry, the winery, and here, part of the fish factory, where garum was made.

This bust of a woman dates from the 1st century AD, and may be that of Agrippina, sister to Caligula, wife of Claudius, and mother of Nero.

And the marble bust of this unknown man dates from the 2nd century AD.

However, shortly after I took these shots I was told that (guess what) cameras are not allowed here. (Sigh.)

Morning in Barça

Some parents walk their children to school. These men walk their plants out to the terrassa of their restaurant.

The building at left is a sham; or rather, it's hidden behind a painted scrim to give us something pretty to look at during the renovation. Barcelona, posa't guapa!


Back to the Plaça Reial. Morning is the time for real people. No tourists in sight -- except me.

la Plaça Reial

Yes, this is a tourist photo (unretouched, though). I couldn't help myself. The Plaça Reial -- a block from our friends' apartment -- seems much nicer now than ever before. And my God, is it gorgeous at sunset!

Barcelona: mucho mas que la vida loca

A photo of a truck filled with bottles of butane -- why would I want to feature it in my photoblog? Simply because after four days of living here in our friends' apartment, I've noticed that the city -- the Barri Gotic, at any rate -- runs on this fuel. On my way to this square I passed two men pushing large carts full of the distinctive orange bottles. And on our first morning, "home alone" while our friends were out, John and I struggled to scramble eggs. The missing element: the butane fuel, which had been carefully switched off by our hosts!

There's a drought in Barça, officially proclaimed a year to the day before I took this photo. This means less extravagant dishwashing techniques -- however the consumption of drinking water remains the same, perhaps, since todo el mundo imbibes from bottles.

Rencontre mystérieux sur le trottoir

This photo is hard to make out unless you enlarge it, but if you do you'll see that this is a not an everyday encounter. At 8:30 on Sunday morning I saw this woman emerging from a building wearing a bathrobe and slippers, striding purposefully down the sidewalk, her hands full of jingling metal. Then she dropped her treasure on the sidewalk and crouched down, as did the man with the broom.

What's odder still is that I know this woman from another context: her name is Bernadette, and she once told me that she lived on the rue de Bercy -- not on this street. Mysteriouser and mysteriouser!

Et qui est Saint Pancras, d'ailleurs ?

Leaving London. I'd been sorry that the Eurostar was re-routed from Waterloo to St. Pancras, but man, was I ever wrong. St. Pancras is a marvel! I spent parts of every day there during our trip, and it's incredibly well designed for passengers. But what's amazing is the architecture: they've managed to combine old and new, while retaining the best of both. The Victorian brick building has been lovingly restored, and the roof is out of this world! You can see part of it above.

St. Pancras station is impossible to capture with just one photo. So here's another, taken from the sidewalk:



Finally, I couldn't resist taking a photo of this sign: Do not lock your bicycle against tree. Sweet!

Big Ben's Big Brother

More from Notting Hill. When I took this shot I had no conscious awareness of the appliance at bottom right -- the one watching me and everybody else. You know, London has more police surveillance cameras than any city in the world, and I think I've found one of them right here. (I just took the photo in case I should need to retrace my steps on my way back to the tube station.)
Depending on the width of its angle of rotation, these folks enjoying the morning sun could well be under surveillance by that police camera ... in addition to my own. They don't seem to mind in either case.

One of a kind

I'm falling in love with London. There really is an electric current in the air here. Strangers love to chat and they're incredibly helpful as well. Here I'd just finished an indescribably good lunch at Books for Cooks, and by happy accident stumbled upon the famous Portobello Road market. This block lies just beyond, towards the tube station.


Once on (or in?) the tube, I found myself standing next to a man lightly balanced on a dress cane, got up in a most remarkable fashion. I couldn't not take his photo. He's surely one of a kind!

le corbeau du 12ème

Back in Paris. It occured to me the other day that seagulls have become the advance guard of global warming. They were never found in Paris before two or three years ago -- now I hear their cries every morning (although I've yet to see them except above the canal).

Much creepier are the crows. Why are they here, and why does this one survey the same block of Avenue Daumesnil? Once about a year ago I saw him here, and soon after observed him feasting on a dead pigeon.

I find his very presence ominous: along with the misplaced seagulls, a harbinger of death of the planet, much as ravens and wolves assured a carnage to come in Old English poetry.

Clothing Hurts Kids

Okay, I've been doing this photoblog for my own private amusement, but now, for the first time, I wish I had an audience. Because the nefarious message on this t-shirt makes me want to stand up on a soapbox and shout, "People, are you trying to ruin our country?" Just yesterday my friend Ilona sent me an article stating that fully half of U.S. big-city students don't finish high school. Half! What sort of condition will this country be in thirty years from now if the electorate is too badly educated to cast an intelligent vote?
So. Homework Hurts Trees: somebody's inane idea for a t-shirt. (Note that the store isn't burying it on a rack either.) I feel like mailing this photo to the NEA. The manufacturers of this t-shirt should be arrested for pandering ... to know-nothing youth culture. And subverting the 'green movement' while they're at it.

The sand of DeLand

This shopping plaza used to be the place to buy groceries and medicine in my hometown. It sprung up when I was in junior high, and brought the wonders of Publix ("where shopping is a pleasure") and Eckerd's to our little town. Now the city has mushroomed and Publix outgrew its space and moved half a mile north, into what used to be forest. Worse things could have happened here: this check cashing spot doesn't shout 'prosperity', but the Natural Market and Bakery is excellent and open on Sunday, because it's owned by Seventh Day Adventists. (I thought they were joking when they told me that.)

However, what led me to take this photo was to show how, even though DeLand is well inland, the basic quality of the dirt here is not dirt at all, but sand!