The uncanny sensation of smelling Bojangle’s a/k/a Christmas ’09

So, it’s a cold, grey winter’s day (well, as cold and gray as it gets in these parts) and I’m reflecting on my recent train ride to Figueres. 

“Figueres, you say?” Yes, I know, this destination may come as a bit of a surprise to some of you–being that, in light of the last few posts at this post one might expect that it’s changed its name from “Now Ain’t That Some Shit” to that other grand railway destination of mine (via Lorca and subsequent car ride of course):

Like the famous song by Manu Chao, "Welcome to El Valle/Tequila, sexo y marijuana"...no wait, that doesn't rhyme, does it...

 So I’ll start at the beginning.  A couple of weeks ago now, we did indeed go down south for Christmas with the folks down the country, a rather somber affair really, due to the circumstances (passing away of aged grandmother, other family health concerns), but there was no lack of logs on the fireplace and play time with the nephews, including walks down by the “crick”:

Victor and the mystery of fire

He so crazy...

It's hard to tell from this photo but I was wearing short sleeves like, two days before Christmas. Whatch'all know about that?

Thumbs up

At one point on one of these brief little excursions, I could have sworn that I’d detected the unmistakable aroma of a Bojangle’s picnic fries, or at least the seasoned salt that goes on it.  Mmmm…

No goat or burro sightings this year, but I did get a snap of the peacock they got cooped up around the corner.

Another big difference with Christmas in El Valle this year was that this was my first trip down there without my MP3 player (M.I.A.).  Apart from making the train ride down seem longer, this meant no all-night subliminal ”hypnopaedia” via MP3′s of La Hora Chanante soundtracks or low-volume Spanish hip-hop.  Luckily, this time around there were almost no late-night/early-morning sessions of incessant dog-barking, so the MP3 player wasn’t strictly a necessity, in its capacity as a sleep aid.

Reading wise, I plowed through two books by Johnathan Coe, who I wasn’t familiar with and whose books were lent to me by our neighbor Eva (thanks Eva!)–The Accidental Woman and What a Carve-up!  The first I started and finished on the train ride, and the second (much thicker and with much smaller print, I might add) I devoured in three sitting more or less.  Recommended.

Ain't got shit to do with anything, but I really like this up-close and personal portrait taken by Fernando (age 6) of the annoying plastic duck that inexplicably sings "I'm a Barbie girl/in a Barbie world, etc.", over and over again.

The low point was getting off the train in Barcelona at Estació de Sants and forgetting my bag with the camera, cel phone charger, two books, and my house keys.  Uhhhhhh, whoops! 

Thankfully, when I realized the mistake and hurried back to the station to report the items missing, the train was then arriving to Figueres, and the helpful lady at Atenció al viatger  was able to get in touch with the people on the train to have someone at the station in Figueres pick up the bag there and hold it for me.  Very helpful, and look at that, for once someone has something good to say about the service at Renfe…

And hence, the train ride to Figueres on a cold winter’s afternoon.  There, finished.  Promise to write more about Spanish hip-hop, linguistic nationalism, and all that other, non ElValle-related stuff that I tend to write about sometime soon.  Happy 2010!