I'm dreaming of a white christmas...

 

This is Luxembourg city this week.  It's even whiter than last week.  Not a big deal for some of you, but a huge deal for this town.

We decided we had to change the words of the song 'I'm dreaming of a white christmas, just like the ones we used to know..'  because of course this is still new to us!     So now we're singing 'I'm dreaming of a white christmas, just like the ones in the movies ....'

Our landlord tells us that Luxembourg hasn't seen this much snow in 30 years.  And they are certainly not equipped to deal with it, even the main shopping street in the city is piled high with snow and as you can see, even good for a sleigh or two!   And there is not a snow shovel left on sale in the city - so Phil has been borrowing our landlord's to clear the foot path in front and just enough to get the car in and out of our garage for essential trips out.

If you are up with the news you will know that travel in Europe has been severely affected by all the white stuff, so we are very glad to be staying at home this year.

We wish you all a Joyeux Noel!

the big freeze

 Last week we had what they call 'the big freeze'.   Basically, that means it gets cold enough for long enough that the ground starts to freeze and ponds etc along with it.  And it was cold, averaging about -5 degrees all week.  And those ducks are still swimming about in the parts of ponds that aren't frozen.

This week it has been warmer, but on wednesday we got the biggest snowfall in Luxembourg for 20 years, resulting in a 'snow day' to Phil's great delight, as they cancelled school yesterday!   So we decided to go for a walk and kick (and throw) some snow about, and enjoy the beauty of an almost monochromatic winter palette:

So what do people do in weather like this in Luxembourg?   They go to the Christmas market and eat and drink and shop.  Looking at these photos, I noticed how the festiveness of the Christmas markets helps to explain the pleasure of colour and light when there is none anywhere else.  

Barcelona by Gaudi

After the summer holidays here we decided we needed a rest from travelling, but I had already booked a trip to Barcelona, so that is where we went last week even though it would have been more restful to stay at home. Barcelona was another one of those places on my ‘must see’ list, and with good reason. If you are not into art or architecture then I recommend that you just look at the pics – they’ll give you the general idea!

There is a lot to do in Barcelona, which is a city of five million people, but we like looking at art so we went to no less than 7 art galleries on a combined ticket. Three were excellent, two were good and two were verging on rubbish in our opinion.

The best was the MNAC – the national gallery. I kind of expected to be a little bored, as while i like art, I often find wandering around huge galleries exhausting. But I was delightfully surprised by some 12th century spanish art that showed amazing expression and creativity instead of the usual flat, blank staring images. I even wanted to take a few pieces home with me (see first photo) but they would only let me take a photo ‘sin flash’. Good enough.

The rubbish was modern art. We did see some interesting 20th century art by Joan Miro who extensively documented everything he did and wrote notes about what he was trying to achieve, and [probably consequently] some of his work showed thoughtfulness and intrigue. Then we looked at work by Antoni Tapis who, in a film we watched, admitted that he tried not to think about what he was doing. It showed. This confirmed our suspicisions about alot of modern art – that there is not a lot of thought or talent behind it. 

We still don’t understand why they think it is worthy to exhibit every last little scribble (when some of them are not good) just because someone does some brilliant work. If you are a succesful novelist and you write a dud, critics will tell you so and not buy the book. Indeed, you probably would rather sweep your disappointments under the rug yourself. For example, Picasso did some brilliant work, but some of his sketches show no inkling of this brilliance. Hmm, is that the point? Still, if you are paying €8-10 Euros entrance fees (which we didn’t), what are you getting for your money?

Sagrada familia

The main reason for our trip to BCN was not the football, (or the art), but the legacy of Antoni Gaudi, who died in 1926 when he was hit by a tram. At the time he was full swing into his masterpiece the Sagrada Familia, which is a church with three facades. Some of the basilica and his workshop were destroyed by bombing during the Spainsh civil war in 1936.

Gaudi only completed one facade, and since his death no less than five architects have taken up the challenge. Currently Mark Burry from NZ is the executive architect, and they have introduced computer modelling into the project. There are a legion of builders on site, and they expect it to be completed in my lifetime. I haven’t met anyone else yet who actually went inside the church, but it was well worth the half hour wait. Incredible. Like nothing we have ever seen or imagined. It was like something out of a sci-fi movie.  And it is still unfinished. It impressed me more than the Sistine Chapel (which is a painting of course not a scuplture).

Casa Mila

Casa Mila

The other Gaudi works were fun, very clever, flirtatous, and most importantly ergonomically harmonious. What I mean is that the seating was comfortable and the spaces made for man to be in. He seemed to understand spatial organisation, so when you walk through a room you don’t just think ‘oh wow – all the walls are curved’, but ‘this feels right, I could live here’. I think that is what made him an artistic genius. That, and the ability to throw up the lofty irregular towers and cantanary arches of the Sagrada familia without sophisticated computer modelling.

Park Guell

Park Guell

Gaudi’s work was part of the modernism movement in architecture, which was the spanish response to Art Nouveau. And there are other buildings in Barcelona built by Gaudi’s contemporaries that are also noteworthy. We went to a jazz concert in one, which had to be seen to be believed as it was completely over the top, and so poorly laid out inside that a lot of us had seats with no view of the stage; fortunately the theatre was a spectacle in itself.

Amidst all of this architecture and art, there were also roman ruins hidden in the old city and very recent glass enrobed office buildings that attempt to defy the laws of physics. I applaud the Catalonians for their insight to invest in new ideas both past and present. It is an area where I feel New Zealand has always been weak, and even now, only Wellington seems to have had the courage to be adventurous with public buildings (whether you like the new airport or not, it is most definitely courageous).

So we liked Barcelona, and I think I would like to go back in 15 years and visit the Sagrada Familia again, hopefully in a more complete state, when the interior is more free to wander in. I wonder if they will still charge to go in then - probably. As an aside, in England they charge for EVERYTHING including notable churches; in France churches are most definitely free; and in Spain it depends. In Luxembourg the cathedral is free.

pate

Okay so either you readers don't speak french, or you haven't the time to tell me I am wrong!   Wouldn't you know it, last night our french teacher tells us the difference between pate and pate.   Pate does refer to pasta, but pate with an accent over the 'e' refers to fois gras, or pate as you know it.  So we didn't get it wrong after all.   The proverbial egg is on my face - such is the joy of learning a language!  

je ne comprends pas

Je ne comprend pas.   Parlez vous l'anglais?    I don't understand. Do you speak english?   This is a phrase that we are tired of using.    I am frustrated that I can't speak to the woman who works in the dress shop downstairs (who only speaks french), as smiling and saying 'bonjour' when we pass seems a bit lame after a whole year.   I'd like to be able to say "Isn't it a lovely day!" or something even more meaningful.

So we are both taking french lessons this year - together.   This means of course that we can keep tabs on each other and also practice at home with our limited vocabulary.   Our class of 12 includes people from 10 countries, but only two outside europe;  Most of them can speak reasonable english.

Learning a language is exhausting.  Our french teacher talks to us in french for the WHOLE lesson.   That is 1. 5 hours of serious concentration levels (two evenings a week), because if you tune out for just a minute then you have missed what she said entirely and you wonder why everyone is flicking through their books and you are not.  Fortunately Mme Massy is good at repeating instructions slowly!  She is also very good at pantomine because she has to act out the words we don't understand!  I would definitely choose her for my team in charades.   We also get homework, which we attempt to do because we are serious about wanting to learn, but it does take a chunk of our weekends.    

The concerted effort is paying off, as already I am distinguishing more words in french instead of the stream of sound that I usually associate with the language.   We are currently watching the french version of 'Master Chef' for the food and the language!   It is obvious to us how much we rely on body language for understanding when we can't translate the words.   Then there is always google translate....

French certainly has its peculiarities such as the need to create their own words for things which most of the world is happy to share a word for.  ie. computer.  Even in spanish it is just a computador.   But in french we say ordinateur.  Camera is 'appareil photo'.   Apparently there is a government department dedicated to french language and they are tasked with coming up with new words when required.  I think this is peculiar for a language that likes to condense itself as much as possible and in spoken form doesn't even pronounce half its letters (no you do not pronounce the e on the end of Porsche).  

One of our strangest discoveries here (to our slight embarrassment) is that the french word 'pate' refers to pasta.   It has absolutely nothing to do with pureed chicken livers, which is foie gras (pronounced 'fwah grah').   How could we get that sooo wrong in NZ?    So far my favourite french words are 'mot'  (word) because you say it how it looks unlike most french words, and choisir (to choose) simply because it sounds nice : 'shwazeer'. 

Finally it wouldn't be a blog post without a photo.  So here is the prettiest castle in Luxembourg, Vianden, on a very pretty day.

the power of a photo

1238 photos.   That is how many I managed to take in four weeks of travelling.  Ah, the digital age when a single memory chip just keeps going and going and going.   The idea of someone saying " do you want to see my holiday pics?" takes on a whole new level of meaning, or should I say, range of excuses for an early night.   But what does one do with so many photos?  I can't even find time to look at the them all.  

Yes they are categorised into places at least, and I have started the task of deleting duds or double-ups (admit you know what I am talking about), but surely these memories are worthy of more attention.   When I look at them I remember that day, that place, that heat (spain) or damp cold (cornwall).  I remember what inspired me to take the photo - well in most cases.  

As an aside, the more photos I take, the more I understand that some sights are just not, well, photographable.  Well at least not by me and my trusty lumix.  Even with my 25mm wide angle, I can't always capture the impression of the scene in front of me, the scope, the light, the feeling of being there.   I think that must be what makes professional photographers professsional.   The combination of 'seeing' just what to photograph and then knowing how to manipulate a camera, deal with lighting etc, to capture the feeling of the image.  

Back to the point, we have now passed the one year mark in Luxembourg and I can't help but remember many of the experiences of our first few weeks here.  And I remember all the things I took photos of then.  Most of them are still worthy of that honour.  (In fact, the reason I bought the pocket Lumix was so that I could have a camera on hand (or more specifically in hand-bag) if I wanted it to snap my time away). 

All of this leads me to wondering, in this age where we can collect memories so much more easily, do we remember more than we did before?   Are we changing ourselves by recording our lives and experiences in greater detail?   We literally covered so much ground in July that if we hadn't photographed it all, I fear that there are things we would not remember.  Perhaps one could argue they were not worthy of remembering, but the photos tell a different story.  

Maybe it depends on what you take photos of.  We saw many people taking photos of signs or of people posed 'stategically' to block out the main scene which made no sense to us.  I'm guessing that those photos will generate memories of "that's me on holiday somewhere" rather than a memory of what they saw.  At least they will remember they had a holiday, whereas while I remember seeing places, I failed to capture much proof that I was there.  On the occasions when we did click a pic of ourselves, I am almost surprised to see how happy we looked - we were actually enjoying ourselves, and not just on an expedition.  And that image of us smiling tells me that we had a good time, even if I remember being tired or hot and the pressure of trying to see the world in a day.  So I'm sure that this photo taking habit does have the power to influence me at least.   I'm not sure what my photos will do for you.

Finally, this is really just an excuse to show you more photos from my trove of 1238.  These ones are from Andalucia, a place that did make me very happy.   I'm sure it had something to do with that wonderful daily expanse of blue (which has been sorely missing back here in Luxembourg!).

doorways

For the last few weeks we have been looking at and walking through many different doorways.   Some into ancient tombs, others into palaces, forts and churches.  Some doors we could pass through freely, while others demanded a hefty fee.   Some doorways were entrances to humble private dwellings. 

Have you ever thought about the doors you walk through? Sometimes we talk metaphorically about doors opening for us into new opportunities.   And what about the feeling you get when you are glad to come home, and you walk through the door into your own 'castle', where you can put your feet up properly.

When I look at doorways I think of the people that have passed through them, the people who built them, what the door says about who is inside. 

It seems that people have always had doors, entrances into the places they live, to divide who is on the inside from who is outside. Doors often give an indication about what is inside, both through size and decoration. Simple and functional doors indicate simple purposes while ornate doors suggest importance of wealth or position.

When I know what is on the other side I don't usually give much thought to the door. Particularly if the door is unassuming and familiar. When a door is grand, I often wish I could peek behind and see what the door is hiding.  In Cordoba, Spain, many doorways hide beautiful inner gardens which sometimes you can peek at.   We went through some doorways where the gardens were anything but ordinary.

Some doors suggest that people used to be alot shorter - either that or they were happy to 'duck' through doorways alot.

Okay, so this last shot is a wall rather than a doorway, but as you can see, the key to going on a doorway tour is to take your own doorway model.    For those interested, the photos were taken in Andalucia (Spain), Les Baux en Provence, Canterbury (Kent) and Wiltshire.