Guernica: A Novel

I finished "Guernica: A Novel" by David Boling last night, in a mad 75 page dash to the finish complete at 3 in the morning (gotta love the hours of this freelancing thing!). This historical novel tells the story of three generations of a Basque family, in and around the city of Guernica. I knew nothing of the bombing of Guernica by German and Italian planes with the cooperation of Franco-run Spain in 1937 except for Picasso's mural of the same name, but this book gives a very real face to what the citizens of this city must have experienced at that time. Love, war, smugglers and resisting fascists in Spain: I'm down. I've got to get this part of the world on my next trip to Spain.

While some of the plot turns were predictable, and the characters archetypes you've seen before, the story was an enjoyable and interesting read. Recommended.

More Trip Photos

•Bullfight at Plaza de Toros.
•Beavis and Butthead have fun with Italian signs. Fabbrica is factory, and Oreficeria means goldsmith, but that's not as amusing. Still don't know what a Boner is.
•Spooky guy on the bronze doors of San Zeno.
•Two shots of the frescos in San Zeno, the most beautiful church in Verona, with graffiti dating from 1390 and 1588. Always an urban scourge.
•Beautiful Verona on the River Adige.
•Julia with Verona behind her, from the Teatro Romano.

What I Did On My Summer Vacation

•I realized that Madrid has changed in the past nine years from a cosmopolitan-yet-still-very Spanish city into more of a generic, European Union one. Globalization strikes again. Walking and eating in Madrid continues to be great fun, especially on the narrow streets of the Malasena district, and doing a tapas bar crawl to start your evenings before dinner is always good. I was able to see some of my favorite art again at the Prado via Francisco Goya's series of 14 creepy images called "The Black Paintings." Another highlight was spending a morning working (discussing Jason's unfortunate departure via phone with my bosses, damn) at Chocolateria San Gines while having churros con chocolate.

•I went to a bullfight at Las Ventas in Madrid that Helen, Julia and I all found disturbing. First of all, there's no "fight." The bull is going to die, and he's definitely going to lose. Six bulls are on the card each night, but we could only stomach two. The first one was pretty horrible, as the bull was not given a quick, clean death. He simply wouldn't go down and bled and bled and bled. The second one made a little more sense, as we watched the intricate interplay between bull, three matadors, the cape and the crowd. While I'll go to any type of spectacle or sporting event in an effort to understand a culture better, this event is a little tough to handle. BUT: Hemingway's Death in the Afternoon is in hand because the whole thing is definitely intriguing. (But I hate Hemingway.)

•I ate horse meat (the dreaded cavallo) not once but TWICE, including cavallo carpaccio with greens. It really IS on about half the menus in Verona. Julia and I only made it part way through that plate, for the more we talked about it, the closer we both got to needing to go outside to vomit. My take: leaner, saltier, with not as much flavor as beef. And I probably don't need to go there again.

•I had a few-day affair with a very funny, blue eyed trombone-playing Italian named Diego from the Verona Opera orchestra...because ten days in Verona means you have enough time to have dates, and enough time to see two operas in the 2,000-year-old Roman Arena. (Plus, go "backstage" to visit. Too funny. And familiar.) Seeing these operas in the arena on a clear warm Italian night is something I am not going to forget for a long time (even with all the mean Germans around us who refused to smile). Magical, and although I have no appreciation or clue about opera, I caught myself tearing up a little bit in one part. Who knew?

•I spent five days in Production Geek Summer Camp at the always charming Hotel Elefante in Verona (home of 20 pet peacocks wandering about!) About 8 other people from various publishers were there doing press OKs at the same time I was, along with my friend/sales rep and her family, so there were loads of people to talk shop with while drinking wine at random hours in the garden. While these work trips usually stress me out at some point when things go horribly south, this one was the best one yet, and the next issue of Vis (called Private with a Louis Vuitton case) will be out in October. I realized I am very fond of Verona, and will miss it until I go back again (maybe next spring?), but having visiting cohorts in Julia and Jason certainly made it all the better.

•My Spanish and Italian improves the more I ghetto-talk my way through things. And I learned some seriously dirty words in Italian.

Spain: Cordoba

Out of NYC on July 4th, and 18 hours of travel through Frankfurt took me south to two nights in Andalusia, Spain, and more specifically, Cordoba. Cordoba is about 2 hours south of Madrid via the fast train and was the capital of the western part of the Moorish empire that ruled in Spain from 711-1492.

It was the most modern city of its time in Europe, with street lights, running water, huge libraries and a population that was split between Jewish, Islamic and Christian factions. I stayed in the former Jewish section of town, the Juderia (at the charming, clean and recommended Hotel Lola) where the streets were designed crookedly to keep the blazing sun from pounding directly on the streets. Cordoba is reportedly the hottest city in Spain, and I'll attest to that, for it was about 105F on both days I was there. Everything closes between 4-8pm, and afternoon naps hiding from the sun for a few hours are almost a must.

The big sight in Cordoba is the Mezquita, a huge mosque begun in 785 and modified into a cathedral in the early 1500s, after the rise of Ferdinand and Isabella (Columbus's benefactors) when they tossed the Jews and Moors out of Spain in 1492. I didn't see much more than the old quarter of the city, but it's a gorgeous, quiet place, even with the gross tangle of souvenir shops a la Canal Street around the Mezquita. Lots of mosaics, the air is warmer, the golden glow of the sun until 10:30 pm, and the perfume of the place is exotic from the Moorish influence. I had a fantastic meal of pork cheeks at Casa Pepe de la Juderia while sitting on their roof deck, as the sun set, and birds flew in and out of the bell tower of the mosque. It was one of those magical moments of travel where I take a deep breath and positively know there is no place I'd rather be than that exact moment.

I'm glad I started my trip off here slowly. I want to go back and explore the south of Spain on another journey, inclusive of Cadiz, Saville, Granada, etc. for I was instantly enchanted by how different this part of Spain felt. Although I haven't been in Spain in 9 years, thus began my mantra of the next few days as I worked my way through loads of tapas and Spanish reds: I Love Spain.

Pix below as follows: three pictures of the exterior of the Mezquita; oil vessels in a chapel in the Mezquita (general holy, baptismal and sick from left to right) ; interior of the Mezquita; old city wall in the Juderia; and a (ubiquitous) horse head in the former Royal Stables.