Christmas in Valencia

I have spent Christmas Eve and some more days in Valencia, where I have some family. I always enjoy these stays in Valencia, because, among other important reasons, my aunt is such a good cook, je, je, je. But the city itself has also changed a lot in the last five or ten years.

This time, though, I have not seen the sea!!!!! That's horrible!!!!! Yes, but I did not have much free time, to be honest. I have visited the new market (Mercat Central), which has been restored as it once looked like in the XIX century, I have walked around the Town Hall and the commercial streets (which have a lot of historial buildings, like the Central Post Office in the picture below), I have drunk something with my father and my uncle in Hotel Hilton, I have gone shopping,...
A visit to Santa Catalina, where an amazing hot chocolate is served, and to the cathedral, where the Holy Grial is kept (and Indiana Jones stupidly looking for it in Jordan, je, je, je), are a must. (Un)fortunately, the chapel where Holy Grial is kept was closed but not Santa Catalina.

Nevertheless, one of the most amazing parts of Valencia is the City of Arts and Sciences. It contains a number of modern buildings and constructions, which make you feel like in a sci-fi film. The project is still not finished, but currently only a garden is under construction, so one can say that it is almost "finished". This time, I could admire, as novelty from the previous visit, a bridge by Santiago Calatrava (see picture on the right). I am not an expert in architecture and engineering, and therefore I cannot write much about it in English, but the general idea is that I like it.

The development of the City of Arts and Sciencies has needed several years, but nowadays, with the surrounding houses and buildings, I think it is one of the most beautiful neighbourhoods in Europe. The only pending issue is filling the museums and the other buildings with something, since they are a bit empty now.

To sum up, Valencia has changed so much in the last years that now it has become one of the most amazing places to visit in Europe: it has a beautiful historical centre (and the Holy Grial, don't forget it), wonderful beaches and very nice areas to walk. Thus, I just feel good for having some family in such a nice place.

Unechte Ökologen

Die lezte Gipfelkonferenz in Kopenhagen über Umwelt hat uns eine neue Klasse von Menschen gezeigt: der unechte Ökologe. Ich versuche ein Profil von ihm hier schreiben.

Der unechete Ökologe protestiert gegen alles (CO2 Emissionen, Kernenergie, Kapitalismus, usw), ohne Lösungen zu präsentieren und, sehr oft, mit Gewalt. Manche seiner Ideen sind irrational. Zum Beispiel, über Kernenergie kann er nicht hören, aber er mag weder Kohlen noch Öl; aber zu Hause hat er elektronische Geräte und er will nicht einen hohen Preis für Energie bezahlen. Was denn? Man braucht etwas Zauberei um alles zu schaffen.

Kapitalismus ist eines den wichtigsten Feinden des unechten Ökologe. Er ist gegen 30-Jahre-Alt, er hat studiert seit er 18 war, und er ist arbeitlos, weil er keinen Lust hat, um eine Arbeit zu suchen. Er will nicht am kapitalistischen System teilnehmen und das muss respektiert werden. Nur eine Frage: wie isst er jeden Tag? Wie kann er nach Kopenhagen reisen? Vielleicht helfen ihm die Eltern (die noch arbeiten dürfen) oder ist er Beamter (arbeiten bei der Staat?) oder bekommt er Subventionen oder etwas ähnliches...

Ich gebe zu, dass Kapitalismus viele Fehler hat: es ist überhaupt nicht perfekt, wir sind einverstanden damit. Aber wenn man es kritisiert, muss er zusammenhängend mit die Kritik in seinem Leben bleiben und Vorschlage mitteilen. Im Übrigen riskiert er lächerlich, altmodisch und irrelevant zu werden.

De nuevo en Fráncfort

Estos días he estado de vuelta en Fráncfort por motivos profesionales, en una incursión que ha durado apenas dos días pero que ha estado llena de incidentes. Aterricé en Fráncfort el jueves por la tarde, con retraso pero menor de lo previsto ante la huelga de celo de los controladores de Aena (bravo por la lucha sindical de estos obreros, que no tienen ni la valentía de declararse en huelga con tal de seguir cobrando). Una vez deshecha la maleta me fui al mercadillo de Navidad, a comprar algunos regalos y a comprobar si el amor de los alemanes por el Glühwein (un vino caliente con canela totalmente horroroso) seguía intacto: confirmado, sigue intacto.

A las ocho de la tarde y después de haber comido un bocadillo en Barajas a las doce del mediodía, mi estómago se plantó y me metí a un restaurante americano "de carnaza" a cenar algo. Como siempre pasa en estos casos y cumpliendo a rajatabla la ley de Murphy correspondiente, nada más ponerme el plato en la mesa, me llama una amiga para quedar a cenar... De todos modos, tenía tiempo, así que me acabé mi cena, y, como iba algo apurado de tiempo y no conocía muy bien la zona donde habíamos quedado, decidí coger un taxi.

Y al llegar a un cruce, el taxi casi se choca con otro coche, a cuyo conductor el taxista (totalmente alemán, aquí no se pueden hacer comentarios racistas hacia los taxistas turcos o griegos de Fráncfort) definió con la expresión "Du, Arschloch" (no, no voy a traducirla) y ahí se lió todo. Bajó el otro conductor del coche y, junto al taxista, se pusieron a chillarse e insultarse con ambas caras a un centímetro una de la otra. El otro conductor invitó al taxista a bajarse del coche a pegarse, pero, visto que no tenía la respuesta deseada, se volvió a subir a su coche. Una vez en el coche de nuevo, el taxista le dedicó unos gestos refiriéndose a lo que le gusta que le hagan sexo oral y, por fin, ambos coches continuaron su camino. Verdaderamente, fue una experiencia asquerosa y me tendría que haber bajado del taxi inmediatemente, pero, en esos momentos, no conseguía encontrar las palabras adecuadas, de verdad. Eso sí, llegué (tarde) al sitio acordado de la cena y luego, en vez de coger otro taxi de vuelta al hotel, volví andando.

Al día siguiente, tenía tiempo por la mañana y me fui al Starbucks que hay en Börseplatz a leer unos papeles de trabajo tranquilamente. Pero, cuando levanto la vista de los papeles, me encuentro con que unos ecologistas han forrado de plástico al oso que hay en la plaza y están posando para numerosos medios de comunicación. Me llamó la atención, por encima de todo, ver que no había apenas ecologistas: eran apenas 5 contra más de 20 fotógrafos y periodistas.

El viernes no tuvo mucha más historia, más allá del obligado codillo en Wagner's y su posterior digestión pesada y dificultosa.

El sábado fui al centro a hacer algunas compras y casi me atropella un BMW en un cruce. Fue la típica situación en la que el conductor acelera para pasar el semáforo en ámbar y no se da cuenta de que puede haber gente cruzando la calle en ese momento. Por fortuna, la sangre no llegó al río. En el mercadillo de los sábados de Sachsenhausen, junto a lavadoras, bicicletas de dudoso origen, teléfonos móviles de hace diez años, zapatos de segunda mano, etc, me compré un informe sobre Fráncfort publicado en el New York Times en 1966, hace 43 años.

Posteriormente, comí la futura cónsul en Fráncfort (je, je, je), y me dirigí al aeropuerto, en tren y poniendo mil ojos en los cruces, por lo que pudiera pasar.

Basketball may be no good for you

Some days ago I was talking with a friend about the NBA season. We do not meet very often and every opportunity we find is used for a quick interchange of views on players, teams,... However, this time, we were talking about some NBA players with weird behaviour, what can make you think that, after all, basketball is not so good for your health.

Let's start by the latest. Ron Artest made public this week that he used to drink French cognac in the locker room... He added that he played drunk some games. Ron Artest is the same player who, when he was playing for Indiana Pacers, took part in the big fight in Detroit (see picture below), even fighting with some spectators. Remembering this event, he said that every time he meets Ben Wallace (he played for Detroit Pistons and was the one who started everything), he wants to punch him, regardless of the consequences of this behaviour.Portland Trail Blazers were known for a time as "Jail Blazers", since its best players were continously having problems with the law. One of them (I am not sure about his name, so let's keep him anonymous) is responsible of one of the best sentences ever pronounced in front of a police officer. He was driving one night in a "strange" way, so he was stopped by the police, which started digging in his car looking for drugs. He replayed the policeman: "Don't look for marijuana, I've smoked it all".

Allen Iverson has had a brilliant carreer at NBA and a turbulent life outside NBA. One episode which seems to have happened some years ago involved a naked woman leaving his house running while he was after her with a gun in his hands... It has also been said that a big group of people (more than 30) lives in his house, with the his being the only income there. Can you imagine now why he is still playing?

I would like to finish this post with the most funny stories. Derrick Rose was picked in position 1 in 2008 Draft by Chicago Bulls. This fact was not a surprise for anybody since his university years had been really brilliant. However, he missed an important game (probably in the NCAA Final Four) because he had an indigestion of sweets the night before. Afterwards, once playing in the NBA, he missed some games because he was accidentaly injured in his shoulder by a knife forgotten on his bed. Yes, the big question is how on Earth can anybody forget a knife on his bed?

These are just four examples of the strange behaviour shown by some NBA players from time to time. Many of them did not have much opportunities in their youth and it has not been easy getting a place in the NBA. The change is so huge that some of them just cannot swallow it properly.

Il fine della musica

Questa settimana alcuni musicisti spagnoli hanno protestato contro le scariche illegali di musica in Internet, dicendo che se non si fa niente, sarà il fine della musica. Hanno detto, anche, che molti lavorano nella industria della musica e che i loro lavori sono in pericolo.

Mi dispiace, però, non essere d'accordo con loro: non sarà il fine della musica, sarà il fine di una situazione dove alcuni hanno diventati richi in due anni con due canzoni. Per esempio, David Bisbal è andato a vivere in una mansione a Miami dopo tre o quattro anni di lavoro, quando mio padre (e tanti altri) ha lavorato quarant'anni e mai ha guadgnato così soldi. Anche le ditte guadagnano molti, molti soldi con la musica, vendendo CD, molto di più che la Ford, la Nokia, la Siemens ed altri ditte molto importanti nel mondo. Non è giusto, un musicista e la sua ditta dovrebbero guadgnare soldi ma forse non tantissimo, credo io.

Ma nessuno dice niente su ridurre i prezzi dei CD e sul fatto che per comprare una canzoni devi comprare tutto il CD con dieci canzoni che non ti interessano nulla. Nessuno sembra di essersi reso conto che il loro negozio ha cambiato con Internet e che devono rinovarsi o moriri. Non, preferiscono domandare ai governi che lui permettono continuare con il suo negozio perfetto. Nel fondo sono tutti avari.

Literatura Inglesa medieval

Este año he decidido empezar a estudiar algo diferente y por este motivo me he matriculado en el Grado en Estudios Ingleses (la antigua Filología Inglesa) en la UNED. Por el momento, creo agradecer tener preocupaciones y lecturas diferentes a los temas económicos y contables que han monopolizado mis últimos diez años de estudios. Más concretamente, la asignatura de Literatura Inglesa hasta el siglo XVII me tiene entusiasmado, me encanta (todo sea que acabe suspendiéndola).

El primer tema estuvo centrado en Beowulf, un poema épico, similar al "Cantar del Mío Cid" en castellano, pero con una fuerza y con un espíritu guerrero muy apreciable. Los valores guerreros germánicos de la época aparecen muy bien reflejados en esta obra. Eso sí, mejor abstenerse de ver cualquier adaptación en cine de este poema, porque todas ellas son sencillamente horrorosas (recuerdo con especial pavor una con Christopher Lambert).

A continuación, me metí de lleno en las novelas y poemas artúricos, girando todos ellos en torno a los ideales caballerescos. Destacaría de entre ellos "Sir Gawain and the Green Knight", por lo lejano que se sitúa respecto a nuestros valores actuales. Me recuerda, sin que tenga mucha relación, a la película de los Monty Phyton "Los caballeros de la mesa cuadrada", porque veo toda la acción muy sacada de contexto.
El tercer tema se encarga de las primeras representaciones teatrales, realizadas todas ellas en un marco religioso (empezaron como un acto festivo más del Corpus Christi), pero que poco a poco van tratando temas más mundanos, alejándose de la religión. Entre estas obras, destaco "Everyman", donde los personajes son cualidades abstractas y donde al final de la misma un Doctor en Teología explica a la audiencia lo que la obra ha querido transmitir, por si acaso.

Y llegamos a "Los cuentos de Canterbury", de Geoffrey Chaucer, obra cumbre, en mi opinión, de la literatura inglesa. Es increíble lo complejo de su estructura narrativa, donde el narrador nos introduce en un heterogéneo grupo de peregrinos, cada uno de los cuales cuenta un cuento para ganar una especie de concurso. El narrador, con su estilo ingenuo en el que nos describe sencillamente y sin comentarios subjetivos por su parte lo que pasa a su alrededor, nos introduce en la ácida crítica que Chaucer realiza en esta obra. "Los cuentos de Canterbury" son una gran sátira de la sociedad de ese tiempo, donde aparece un caballero que más bien es un mercenario, una priora que más bien parece una cortesana, una matrona que ha tenido cinco maridos que critica la sociedad machista de la época,... En esta página web puede encontrarse una versión traducida al inglés moderno: http://www.canterburytales.org/canterbury_tales.html.

Ahora mismo estoy enfrascado en la lectura de los sonetos de Shakespeare y de su obra de teatro histórica "Enrique V". En los sonetos, tengo que admitir que cuando leí que estaban dedicados a un hombre, no a Gwyneth Paltrow, me sentí francamente decepcionado; se me derrumbó un mito, la verdad. Algunos sonetos, por otra parte, son algo farragosos y empalagosos con tanta metáfora, mientras que otros, esto no lo hubiera imaginado nunca, son bastante picantones...

En fin, a ver si en unos meses puedo escribir en el blog sobre lo que me han parecido Shakespeare y sus obras.

Voyous avec cravate

J'ai lu cette semaine cet article dans un journal: http://www.elpais.com/articulo/opinion/culpa/paro/trabajadores/elpepiopi/20091124elpepiopi_12/Tes

Il parle sur les salaires dans notre monde capitaliste, comment les plus hauts gaignent sommes hors de sens tandis que ils renvoyent les ouvrieres plus humbles pour faire des économies. À mon avis, une belle forme de faire des économies sans renvoyer personne serait reduire, un peu, le salaire (et bonus, primes, pensions de retraite,...) du directeurs.

Malhereusement, les directeurs ne veulent pas parler sur contrôler leurs salaires avec une somme maximum en disant que ils sont récompenses pour le valeur de leur travail. La théorie économique les appuye. Mais, vraiment leur travail est valable millions de euros? Et qui mesure combien le travail de quelqu'un est valable? Toutes cettes questions laissent de côté l'éthique dans leur comportement avare et mesquin.

Sur la théorie économique, il y avrait beaucoup de questions aussi. C'est la même théorie économique de Alan Smith, Malthus et les autres, qui ont vécu dans le XVIIIème siécle, quand il n'y avait pas des syndicats et les droits des travailleurs étaient une chimère? C'est la même théorie économique qui n'a pas pu prevoir la crise actuelle? C'est la même théorie économique qui n'a pas donné un solution au pauvreté?

Dans notre societé, on ne peut pas tolérer des différences salariales et des injustices aussi énormes, même s'elles se trouvent dans enterprises priveés.

Die Welle

Gestern habe ich das deutsche Film "Die Welle" gesehen. Eine gute Freundin hatte mir es empfohlen und bis gestern hatte ich wirklich keine Zeit (und vielleicht auch keine Lust) um es zu sehen. Es handelt sich um ein expirementelles Kurs bei einem Gymnasiun in Deutschland. Der Lehrer zeigt den Studenten, dass es möglich ist, eine Diktatur regiert zu werden.

Es wird uns sehr deutlich erklärt, wie eine Diktatur gebaut wird: man braucht nur manche typische Sätze und Wörter wie "Gemeinschaft", "einander helfen", "die Symbole respektieren", usw. Die Studenten werden beim Lehrer manipuliert und sie merken es nicht; sie glauben, dass sie an etwas Besonderes teilnehmen. Langsam fallen alle unter Kontrol der Welle und sie machen ohne Zweifel, was sie gesagt werden.

Alles was das Film zeigt sieht sehr realistisch aus: es könnte einfach wiedermal in Europa passieren. Diese schreckliche Idee ist was das Film uns ausrichtet.

Baladas

Hace ya mucho tiempo que no escribo de música y ya va siendo hora de hacer un listado de canciones, de estos que me gustan tanto. En esta ocasión, dada mi intenso dolor de corazón (espero que se me pase), me dedicaré a repasar algunas de las baladas que más me gustan y me emocionan.

1. Be mine - REM. Un himno, aunque no tengo demasiado claro en algunas fases de la canción si se trata de una balada o no (acabo de enterarme de que la mayoría de los sonetos de Shakespeare se dirigen a un hombre y ya no me fío de nada). La letra, la música, la voz de Michael Stipe,...: es sencillamente perfecta y punto; un auténtico baladón y el título lo dice todo. El sonido no es muy bueno, pero no he encontrado nada mejor: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5kSN9AhDWA0
2. Tender - Blur. Una de las canciones más suaves (de ahí el título, obviamente) que he escuchado nunca, lleva un ritmo muy suave, aunque a fuerza de oírla se puede hacer repetitiva, por lo que no hay que escucharla demasiado. Aquí se puede escuchar una buena versión: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WNy0ZRLrtis
3. Chasing cars - Snow patrol. La verdad es que este grupo o cantante (ni siquiera sé si es un grupo o un cantante, ya me vale) no me gusta mucho y no consigo recordar ninguna otra canción suya. Sin embargo, esta canción está redonda en cuanto a su música y su letra. Si no consigue emocionar, es que ese corazón tiene mucho hielo alrededor: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f_gnmBtM49U
4. At my most beautiful - REM. La música de la canción me parece demasiado pastelosa y romántica, pero las letras son algo diferente. La idea de llamar a su contestador y leerla poesía barata mientras ella está escuchando estas rimas horribles me parece sencillamente irresistible. Otra vez que no consigo encontrar un vídeo decente de esta canción: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7sVSLIXAEMM
5. You are the everything - REM. Lo sé, tengo debilidad por REM, pero esta, una de sus canciones menos conocidas, es también deliciosa. La llevo escuchando casi quince años y me sigue gustando como el primer día. Definitivamente, es difícil encontrar grabaciones buenas de REM en YouTube y esta no le hace ninguna justicia a la canción: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=87eXabsf9mc
6. Tu mirá - Lole y Manuel. Una prueba de que también me gusta la música en castellano. Encontré esta canción en la banda sonora de Kill Bill 2 y se me ha clavado en el corazón, la verdad. Verdaderamente este no es el tipo de música que me gusta pero el corazón en ocasiones no atiende a muchas razones. Aquí se puede escuchar una versión de bastante calidad: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NGiBe7k9V2A
7. I don't want to miss a thing - Aerosmith. Es un poco macarra y muy comercial, lo sé, lo sé, pero... Tiene frases en sus letras que me ponen los pelos de punta: todo momento que paso contigo es un tesoro; no quiero perderme una sonrisa, no quiero perderme un beso, sólo quiero estar contigo; podría estar despierto sólo para oírte respirar, sólo para verte sonreír mientras duermes. ¿Es que Steve Tyler me estaba leyendo el pensamiento cuando escribió esto? En este link está incluso traducido al castellano con bastante fidelidad: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oW7VWyx5fAs

Pues nada, espero que os guste esta selección de baladas de hoy. Seguramente me haya dejado fuera alguna importantísima, pero de eso me daré cuenta cuando ya sea demasiado tarde para modificar esta entrada.

Eight years ago...

... the world was still getting over the attacks on 11-S and was learning the name of new terrorists and countries, such as Osama Bin Laden and Afganistan. There was also some kind of security madness and a lot of incidents involving planes happened those days. But the most important for me was that I joined my current job with just 23 years.

I was young in the institution (I later learned that I was the second youngest employee for more than two years). Even my Head of Department told me on my first day that "I was insultingly young". In fact, I was even younger than his children. My first days and weeks at work were for me so chaotic and hard, I was just trying to organize my time at work, to please everybody, not to show my huge shyness,... but I felt that I was failing miserably. Everything was new to me and I was afraid of it all.

Eight years after, I have changed quite a lot from the young boy who came to Statistics with just 23 years. I have not forgotten my shyness, but I have gained some valuable experience in the way work works. Nowadays, I still put too much pressure on myself (fool of me) but I have learnt some important lessons: I just do not give too much importance to managers and I usually complain to them, I have learnt to identify reliable colleagues from those who are not, I can take part in international meetings without problems (I have even given a conference in South Africa), I know the way other institutions and departments work, I have worked in an international environment (Germany) for a while,...

To sum up, looking back eight years, I hardly believe that I am the same person than joined Banco de España in a cold November morning...

Sarà vero?

Questi giorni si festeggiano venti anni della caduta del muro di Berlino, in 1989. Credo che quasi tutti siamo d'accordo che questo è diventato uno degli avvenimenti più importanti del XX secolo. Fino qua, tutto bene, ma in Spagna i mass media sono andati troppo lungo con il muro, parlando tutti i giorni sulla sua importanza, domandando cosa facevano alcuni quegli giorni e così via.

Ma ho guardato anche nella TV un interessante servizio sulla conferenza stampa, dove il portavoce del governo della DDR dice che i tedeschi orientali possono viaggare all'estero senza limitazione. Lei è stata l'embrione della caduta del muro. La conferenza stampa ci mostra veramente lo stato dei paesi comunisti. Vi racconto.Il portavoce Günter Schabowski legge seduto, senza emozione o intonazione, le disposizioni che il governo ha approvato quel giorno. Lui sembra molto stanco e quasi dormito, anche i giornalisti hanno faccia di desiderare essere in un'altro luogo. Poi, un giornalista italiano gli demanda sulla situazione dei tedeschi orientali che vogliano attravesare la frontiera ceca. Il portavoce risponde "bitte" con faccia di non avere capito molto. Dopo cercare un po' tra i suoi scritti, legge un testo senza specificare ne il paese ne la data di entrare in vigore. Il giornalista gli domanda di nuovo e il portavoce guarda al giornalista con faccia di non sapere cosa dire ma alcuni secondi dopo dice "tutti i paesi e immediatamente".

Non so se questo sarà vero, ma fa pensare che un avvenimento così importante sia nato così. Sembra che Wikipedia ha anche un'esplicazione molto similare a questa: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Berlin_Wall#The_Fall e anche il Washington Post http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2009/10/30/AR2009103001846.html

Dolor en las piernas

Desde hace ya algunos meses, salgo con la bicicleta con mi padre y dos primos míos por los alrededores de Guadalajara, uno de los dos días del fin de semana, si nuestras agendas y el clima lo permiten. Empezamos haciendo un recorrido corto (unos 34 kilómetros) y plano, para lo que es Guadalajara, paralelos a la Nacional II. Con el tiempo, fuimos cogiendo la forma y ahora hacemos, en algo menos de tres horas, una ruta de 48 kilómetros, yendo por Valdenoches hasta Torija y volviendo paralelos a las vías del AVE, para bajar por el Sotillo a Guadalajara. A base de salir con la bicicleta, esta ruta ha llegado por parecerme rutinaria y, salvando la subida de 1,5 kilómetros a Torija, apenas paso momentos de apuro.

Hasta hoy. Y no ha sido por haber ido a un mayor ritmo que de costumbre (no, hemos tardado diez minutos más, de hecho) ni por haber hecho excesos la noche anterior ni por estar en baja forma. La culpa la ha tenido el fortísimo viento, lateral y en contra, que nos hemos encontrado. Subir hasta Torija ha sido relativamente fácil. Sin embargo, desde ahí hemos ido parelelos a las vías del AVE con un fuerte viento lateral, que entraba por nuestra derecha, que hacía que fuésemos con la bicicleta inclinada para no caernos. El viento te empujaba literalmente hacia el arcén, pero al entrar, también, parcialmente a favor no nos ha cansado mucho, solo lo suficiente. Eso sí, de hacer fuerza para mantener la bicicleta en su sitio, he acabado con un intenso dolor en la muñeca derecha.

Lo peor ha sido al girar y ponernos con viento de cara, para cruzar las vías por un puente y dirigirnos hacia el Sotillo, por un camino de no más de un kilómetro y prácticamente llano. La subida al puente ha sido agónica por el viento en contra que entraba, pero es que luego ha sido igual o peor. Iba a 10 km/h por un terreno llano y pedaleando con todas mis fuerzas, no podía ir a más velocidad. ¡¡¡Qué ganas me han entrado de tirar la bicicleta y liarme a patadas con ella!!! Es increíble lo frustrante que puede llegar a ser pedalear con viento en contra, porque no solo hace que te duelan las piernas sino también hace que le des vueltas a la cabeza y te canses el doble.

Para finalizar, otra muestra de lo frustrante que ha sido el paseo de hoy. Suelo bajar del Sotillo a una velocidad máxima de 52-54 km/h sin dar pedales; hoy, iba a 27 km/h y dando pedales como un loco... Y he acabado con un dolor de piernas bastanet considerable. Vamos que de repetirse esto, cuelgo la bici y me corto la coleta.

Le sourire qui n'arrive pas

Ce soir je voulais écrire quelque chose un peu joyeux, après ma dernière "post", qui était un peu triste, en allemand, mais aussi triste. Mais je ne peux pas, j'ai pensé pendant dix minutes devant l'écran et rien gai est venu à ma tête; je n'ai pas envie que d'écrire sur la tristesse et l'apathie qui régnent dans mon coeur. J'essaie d'écouter des chansons pleines d'énergie mais elles n'y servent pas.

Parfois je pense que je serais plus joyeux en guidant autour de la route 1 en l'Islande pour toute l'éternité...

La prochaine fois, voyons voir si les muscles de mon visage peuvent dessiner un sourire.

Das Leben ohne mich

In Mai und in Juni haben wir jeden Tag gesprochen: ich bin in deinem Leben hineingegangen und du bist in meinem Leben hineingegangen. In Juli haben wir mehrmals jeden Tag gesprochen: wir sind neben einemander bewegt. In August haben wir alles geteilt: wir waren in dasselbem Ort, du warst alles für mich.

Aber seit September entfernst du von mir, langsam aber ohne Pause, jeden Tag ein bisschen mehr, und jetzt, am Ende Oktober, bist du nur eine traurige Erinnerung im Nebel.

Du siehst aus, sehr glücklich ohne mich in deinem Leben zu sein. In Gegentail kann ich nicht an deine Abwesenheit gewöhnen.

Back to Frankfurt (but less than 72 hours)

After the work in Luxembourg, I decided to spend the weekend in Frankfurt, where I lived ten months last year, meeting some friends I left there. But getting there from Luxembourg was not that easy: air tickets cost more than 500 euros and the only alternatives are going by bus to the airport of Frankfurt-Hahn and afterwards by bus, again, to Frankfurt, or taking a train to Koblenz and then a second one to Frankfurt.

I chose the latter, what made me enjoy of a 4 hours trip through the Mosel and Rhine valleys. However, it was getting dark and I could not see much from the train. Besides, I was quite tired and not really looking forward to sightseeing. Anyway, my question is how it is possible that the only train link between two European financial major cities such as Luxembourg and Frankfurt is so slow. 240 kilometres in 2 hours does not look like a good average...

Just after arriving in Frankfurt, I went to dinner with Anda to a Mexican restaurant, where I had a burger, not very Mexican, to be honest.

On Saturday, Juan and I rented a car and went to Limburg and Weilburg. Limburg has a beautiful cathedral on top of a hill, what gives the town its famous image (see picture in this post). The city centre (Altstadt) is also remarkable, very typical with timbered houses and paved streets. Limburg is part of Jakob's Way ("Camino de Santiago" in Spanish) and that day it was a Jubileum day, so we might have won some indulgencies, after all.

My Lonely Planet guide of Germany said that it was possible to take a road following upstream river Lahn, reaching Weilburg in the end. This road is supposed to be very enjoyable (at least, much more than the highway). Well, our navigator did not agree with this idea and just sent us through the highway. So, we had a boring trip to our next destination: Weilburg.

Weilburg was quite an important city in the Middle Age, as it was home of the Nassau-Weilburg families. However, in current times, this significance has disappeared and one can feels that it is a city in certain decadence. However, the baroque palace uphill and the views of it from the hill in the other side of the river deserve the visit. From a certain point of view, Weilburg is like a little Heidelberg, isn't it?But the most surprising of all is the shipping tunnel: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Weilburg#Buildings. The ruling governor of the city decided to built it in order to avoid going around the peninsula in Weilburg and when we were in front of the tunnel, we both thought that it was too much, just too complicated for the XIXth century.

Saturday finished with a nice dinner in Wagner's, my favourite German restaurant in Frankfurt, where no other drink but "Apfelwein" is served, je, je, je.

On Sunday, I had a busy day: I had breakfast with Dominik and his 3-year-old son Luis; it is amazing how much Luis has changed since March, when I last met him. Nowadays, his German is much better than mine, for example. Then, I had lunch (or "brunch") in the city centre with Urszula, surrounded by runners of the marathon. We were supposed to meet in Alte Oper but that was also an important point of the marathon and, in the end, it was not that easy... Finally, in the evening, I went back home to the aiport, since I was not feeling very well. In the VIP lounge, I met my big boss, who was in Frankfurt because he had taken part in the marathon, but could not finish it as he was injured: after 18 kilometres he had to give up...

By the way, can you see the runner to the right flying? He is not touching the ground at all.

To sum up, I had some great and amazing autumn days back in Luxembourg and Frankfurt...

Hidden Luxembourg

Firstly, the crow on the picture to the right was alive.

Last week I went to Luxembourg for business. It was my third time there but in the previous ones I hardly found time to visit the town. In my first visit, in December last year, my plane landed in the middle of a snow storm quite late at night; all I can say about it is that I am very thankful to the skillful pilot of Luxair. I only had one hour to visit the town in the afternoon. My second visit was even shorter, since I flew back and forth from Frankfurt in the very same day, I only worked that day. This time, though, I had a whole morning for sightseeing.

Luxembourg is divided in several hills and the first remarkable feature about it is the huge bridges that it has. The one joining the city centre with the financial area (Kirchberg) is really one of the largest I have ever seen. But the cosiest one is that of the railway, surrounding the city centre and which provides very nice views of the city while on a train.

The city centre of Luxembourg has nothing outstanding to offer the visitor when compared with other cities in Europe. The cathedral, the Royal Palace, the town hall,... have nothing special in tourist terms. What is more, at eight in the evening it is totally empty, it seems not many people goes out for dinner in Luxembourg on Thursday evening (or that they do not go to the city centre for dinner). However, Petrusse valley, which surrounds the hill where the city centre lays, is worth a visit in autumn, when the leaves of the trees get a lot of different colors, ranging from green to yellow.But the most amazing part of the city is around the Bock Casemates and Grund, downhill from the city centre. A walk close to the river and to the former abbey of Neu-münster is really quite pleasant and something unbelievable if you think that you are in the heart of one of the financial major cities in Europe. I strongly recommend a visit to Grund neighbourhood, since it is far away from the typical image we have in our mind when we listen the word "Luxembourg".
Something that struck me in this visit is that the three taxi drivers that I met were Portuguese and that even one of them told me that there are around 80.000 Portuguese living in Luxembourg... I do not wish to start a revolution, but maybe one day they can try to gain full control over the country. The second and last thing I would like to mention here is that in Luxembourg I never know whether I should speak German or French and, then, I always realize that my French needs some urgent refreshing...

Marcio

Alcuni giorni fa ho letto che il figlio di Sarkozy è stato scelto per un posto molto importante in La Dèfense, il quartiere finanziario più importante di Parigi. Questo ragazzo di 23 anni è privo di esperienza e i suoi meriti finiscono con sei mesi di legge studiati alla università. Ovviamente il suo cognome diventa il suo attivo più valioso.

Qua soltanto un esempio della marcia politica europea. Berlusconi è una fonte infinita di esempi e anche Spagna ha una quantità importante ed eccessiva di politici marci (Ricardo Costa, per menzionare l'ultimo). Sicuramente Spagna sia il paese con i politici più corrotti e bugiardi di Europa.

In questi paesi, la attività politica è diventata un lavoro per quegli che non possono diventari ricchi o poderosi con il loro talento. I grechi hanno definito la politica per essere esercitata dai megliori della società, ma adesso questi fuggino come pazzi dalla politica, che è rimasta solo per quegli che non hanno vergogna ne scrupoli. Questa situazione mi intristisce perche significa la sconfitta dell'ideale greco. A volte, veramente sento di aver perso tutta speranza nella politica.

Fortunatamente, ci sono altre cose nella nostra vita che compensano questi sentimenti negative.

El día en que conocí a la NBA

Hace casi una semana asistí en directo al partido entre el Real Madrid y los Utah Jazz, dentro de esa gira que cada verano hacen algunos equipos de la NBA con poco gancho, llamada NBA Live. Hay que tener en cuenta que he crecido viendo aquel irrepetible programa "Cerca de las estrellas", con el gran Ramón Trecet (grabándolo, eso sí, porque era de madrugada). Por lo tanto, tengo un cierto respeto reverencial por la NBA, especialmente por una de sus épocas más doradas: los años 80. Así que minutos antes de entrar al pabellón, estaba algo nervioso por encontrarme, por primera vez en mi vida, cara a cara con uno de los mitos de mi adolescencia.Y tengo que admitir que quedé algo decepcionado. Me irritaron sobremanera la gran cantidad de tiempos muertos inútiles que hay, la música que ponen por los altavoces mientras el balón está en juego (me parece una falta de respeto hacia los jugadores), la obligación que parece haber para comer y beber como energúmenos mientras se ve el partido (hubo quien se comió una pizza entre cuatro personas),... Lo que se llevó la palma fue esa costumbre de enfocar con las cámaras a los payasos desinhibidos (¿se escribe así?) del público para mostrarlos a todo el pabellón en pleno apogeo: espantoso. Durante estas horribles interrupciones, tuve la sensación que el partido de baloncesto quedaba en un segundo plano.

El partido en sí tuvo poca historia. Los equipos de la NBA vienen con la lección aprendida y a ninguno le gusta perder con un equipo de una ciudad que no saben situar en un mapa. Además, Utah Jazz es un equipo en todo su significado, nada que ver con "bandas" como Memphis Grizzlies o Philadelphia 76ers. Así que más de la mitad del partido estuvo dedicado a los minutos de la basura, sin ninguna importancia en el marcador.

Hay quien dice que estas giras de la NBA no triunfan en los países donde el baloncesto se vive más intensamente (España, Italia, Grecia) pero que arrasan en países sin tradición baloncestística (Reino Unido, Alemania). Creo que es cierto, yo me considero purista en este sentido y todo el espectáculo que trae consigo un partido del a NBA me sobra: prefiero ver el partido en sí, disfrutar con las variantes defensivas en lugar de con una mascota infantiloide de dudoso gusto y cenar después del partido, no durante el mismo.

Pese a todo esto, que quede claro que repetiré tan pronto como la NBA vuelva a Madrid y mi agenda me lo permita.

Un changement subit

Il y a quelques jours je voudrais écrire sur la blessure profonde à mon coeur, mais en deux jours tout a changé. Je suis offri un travail très interessant, un vrai défi pour moi, à Francfort et ce couvre partiellement mes pensées pour le moment.

Cependant, la douleur est encore là. Je me sens vide, je n'ai pas envie de connaitre quelqu'une neuve, je me sens fatigué de lutter comme un fous et de obtenir rien, je ne veux pas commencer de zéro, je me demande parfois qu'est-ce que je mal fais, où est mon erreur, mais je ne trouve pas une réponse. Tout ça me fait sentir paresseux et triste...

Pourvu que cette blessure se guére et que mon coeur puisse sourire de nouveau (se possible, devant toi, ma précieuse nageuse islandaise).

Distrito 9

Después de una experiencia en el cine no muy agradable con "Malditos bastardos", decidí volver a los pocos días a ver "Distrito 9", una película de ciencia ficción ambientada en Johannesburgo, que había recibido buenas críticas pese a contar con nombres totalmente desconocidos en sus títulos de crédito.

Lo primero que me gustó de la película es que ella misma se pregunta cómo es posible que los alienígenas lleguen a Johannesburgo y no a Manhattan, como sucede en el 95% de las películas de ciencia-ficción que vemos. Con lo grande que es el mundo, ya es casualidad que todos los OVNIS acaben en el mismo sitio... Por pura probabilidad, deberían llegar a los océanos, más concretamente, al Océano Pacífico.

La película está rodada en un tono documental que me recuerda mucho a "El jardinero fiel", también ambientada en África. Por lo poco que estuve en Sudáfrica, puedo decir que todos los escenarios son reales; Sudáfrica es así, tiene esa atmósfera, con sus suburbios y su miseria, la película no exagera nada.

Sin duda, más allá de unos efectos especiales correctos, lo más destacado de la película es su guión: resulta estremecedor ver la crueldad con la que los humanos tratan a los alienígenas y la integridad de estos. Por primera vez en mucho tiempo, los alienígenas no quieren invadirnos, simplemente quieren que les dejemos en paz y volver a su planeta. Es una película donde no hay un final feliz en el que se resuelven los problemas de todos, sino que las esperanzas de los personajes principales se van cerrando a medida que estos van tomando decisiones cada vez más desesperadas.

Resulta inevitable establecer paralelismos con la situación vivida en Sudáfrica durante décadas con el "apartheid" y aquí tampoco el ser humano queda muy bien parado. Lo que en principo empezó como una solución temporal, quizá con la mejor de las intenciones, acaba degenerando en poco tiempo en un enfrentamiento violento en el que no puede haber vencedores, únicamente víctimas.

En resumen, si hay que ir al cine, recomiendo ir antes a ver "Distrito 9" que a engordar la cuenta corriente y el ego de Quentin Tarantino, no tengo ninguna duda.

A short visit to Copenhaguen

I must admit that I did not enjoy Copenhaguen that much in my first visit, more than five years ago. I do not know why, but those days spent in the capital of Denmark were not perfect, something was not working. This time, though, everything was different: I loved Copenhaguen!Our hotel was quite close to Kastellet (a former military fortress) and that was the aim of our first visit. We were surprised by the weather: after nine days in Iceland, we found it terribly hot in Copenhaguen, we could not stop sweating... From Kastellet, which is now a park with very nice views, we walked to the Little Mermaid, in order to get the typical picture when one is in Copenhaguen. It was not easy, as the place was crowded with Italian tourists, but we managed to take a fair number of pictures of the Little Mermaid: around 20...

Afterwards, we walked to Nyhavn and to Stroget, the main commercial street in Copenhaguen. We did not buy anything, because prices are a bit high for Spanish standards in Denmark (the same as five years ago). Then, I suggested going to Tivoli, an amusement park in the city centre and my suggestion was approved without much discussion. Inside Tivoli, we discovered that neither of us is really keen of this kind of amusement parks and we did not try any of the attractions: some were just too childish and the others were too risky for us. We just watched some theater and then left Tivoli.

Our next stop was the Ice Bar. It was only six in the evening, but it was on our way to the city centre and we did not want to spend much time there. So, we had a drink (just some kind of weird juice) inside, with a temperature of -5ºC and took some pictures. When leaving, we learnt that the man working there is from Seville...Soon afterwards, we took a cruise through the channels, which showed us the main buildings in Copenhaguen from a different perspective. However, when we were leaving our boat, we discovered that some of them had live music!!!!!!

We had dinner in a delicious and cosy Italian restaurant, then we ate an ice-cream in Nyhavn and slowly walked back to the hotel, as we were very tired. That night we could not sleep much since our room was one meter away from the railways, and, believe me, one meter really means one meter.

Next morning, our last day in Denmark started with a short visit to Rosenborg Slot, the old Royal Palace, and its surrounding gardens. We did not have time to pay a visit to the castle, since our next (and last) destination was Rundetarn, an astronomical viewpoint in Middle Ages, where you have very nice views of Copenhaguen.Sonia dared to challenge me to a race up the tower and I won, je, je, je. On the contrary, I lost the race down the tower, but she cheated, she cheated!!!!. The views from the tower are very nice on a clear day and we really enjoyed it.

However, we had ran out of time, so we just took our way back to the hotel. Then, we found some rental bycicles (in Tourist Information, they said that we were not going to spot any of them during our visit as there is a huge demand of them) and we took some pictures of it. Do I look like a Tour de France winner?

In the airport, again, we were behind a group of boy-scouts (as in my flight from London Gatwick to Reikiavik) in our check-in. The flight was very pleasant to both of us... We made a stop in Barcelona, where we were shocked by the hot and noisy atmosphere in the airport. That night, we were back to Spain, after ten unbelievable days in the North, with a lot of adventures, away from everything and from everybody. I will do it again, no doubt about it.

Last day in Iceland

Yes, everything has an end and our amazing and outstanding stay in Iceland also had a last day. We did not do much remarkable that day. We left Olafsfjördur, where we slept that night, and we drove for an hour to Akureyri, where our plane to Copenhaguen was taking off.As we had some time, we decided to go shopping to a famous shop in Iceland: 66º. However, we left the shop disappointed and went to the airport. Before giving back the rental car, we had to put some oil in it and we did so... The unbelievable story about that is that Sonia and I got lost in the petrol station: Sonia went to the toilets while I was waiting outside and we spent ten stupid minutes looking for each other.

Finally, we managed to find each other (via a phone call) and we gave back the rental car in Akureyri. We were somehow relieved when we left the Hertz building (guess why?). The airport in Akureyri is the smallest one I have ever seen (can you find a landing plane in the picture below?) and there were not much to do. I even tried to buy some souvenirs but the only shop in the airport was focused on alcoholic drinks...After some hours in a plane full of children behaving like little devils, we landed in Copenhaguen, a bit late in the evening. We only had time to go for a short walk to Nyhavn, where we had dinner, and to go back to our hotel, on foot: for the first time in nine days, we did not have to drive that evening...

To know what happened in Copenhaguen, you will have to wait to the next post of this blog; just a little patience, my friends...

A very long day in Iceland

The day after our car breakdown was very, very long and therefore this post describing it is going to be very, very long as well.

That morning, we woke up at 6 am in order to go to the police station and then go on with our trip to Olafsfjördur, more than 400 kilometres away, where we had to sleep that night. However, although 6 am is quite early in the morning, we were not the first ones, since a ferry was leaving nearby at 6:30 am and our guesthose was full of people taking that ferry.

We went then to the police station in Eskifjördur. We explained the policeman what had happened to us and that we would like to have some official document produced by him. It took him a while to understand it (I guess we were the first visitors with such a request in years). The policeman even mistook me for a British (he said that a "British guy" was there complaining about a rental car), what is not a positive sign for him (do I really look like British?) but very positive for my English (yiha!!!!!).

After two hours and two calls from the Spanish Embassy in Oslo, we left the police station with our official document (in Icelandic), driving towards Jökulsárgljúfur National Park, the visit we would have liked to do the previous day, but where we could only pay a short visit. The trip was quite tiring (I was driving) and an important part of it was on an unpaved path.

We visited then Dettifoss, the most powerful waterfall in Europe and we got impressed by it. Two days without a waterfall was something unbearable for us, je, je, je. It is not especially beautiful but it is so powerful, you can feel its strenght just right there. We drove five kilometres away from it and had lunch inside our rental car, looking directly at the waterfall from a hill nearby.

Then, we drove to Asbyrgi (see picture below), in order to get some information on the national park, as we still had two hours to walk around it. Asbyrgi was the place where we wanted to sleep the night before, in a campsite. However, our stay there was rather short, since when we left the Information Point with a lot of information, we discovered that our left rear wheel had a puncture...
It was the first time that we were facing such a problem in our own. We got a bit down and nervous, and we could not even find the jack in our Toyota Corolla Sedane. We asked a man who was parked close to us, he turned out to be Spaniard and not to have changed any wheel in his life... He wanted us to put the jack (finally, we found it) just under the fuel tank! Then, Sonia went inside the Information Point asking for some help there and I was left alone with my Gasol T-shirt. Suddenly a group of Spaniards from Bilbao appeared, started talking to me and in five minutes they took charge of the situation and changed the wheel for us (with a lot of smiles and fun, I must add).

Then, we had to drive about 80 kilometres to Húsavík, the closest important town, where we had a Toyota garage. Húsavík is also a very remarkable city because its whale watching (and hunting) industry. The views there were amazing, driving close to the ocean with the snowed peaks in the background. Thanks Lord, the puncture was not a very big deal and we solved it after thirty minutes and not much money.

After a short walk in Húsavík, we went to Lake Myvatn. We had planned to spend a whole day there, renting a bike. All we could do that day was driving around it, stopping our car and taking some pictures in thirty minutes. The place was very, very beautiful and we both enjoyed it, but we both would have liked to have more time to spend there... Maybe in our next visit to Iceland...It was getting dark and we still had to have dinner and arrive to our guesthouse in Olafsfjördur. As we were a bit tired of not having proper dinner the days before, we decided to have dinner in Akureyri, the second town in Iceland, just in our way to the guesthouse. We had to drive more than an hour and then arrive to Akureyri... I was surprised by the fact that the Big Four auditing firms have an office there, because the town is not that important, it really looks like a small fishing town. We had an amazing dinner in the only suitable place we found: I ate a burger and Sonia chose the most delicious rice I have ever tasted.

Once our stomachs were busy with food, we drove one more hour to Olafsfjördur. The last five kilometres were through a tunnel under a mountain and well, you know, I get very nervous when driving through tunnels. Anyway, we made it safe and entered our room at midnight: more than 16 hours and 400 kilometres after waking up. That was our last night in Iceland and all I can say is that we sleep like babies.

A new life in Breithdalsvík

As I wrote some days ago, we arrived quite late to Berunes the night before, so we decided to stay a bit longer than usual in bed, as we estimated that our plan for that day was not very tight. Then, we had breakfast, we checked our email and we started driving...

After ten minutes, the car started suddenly to lose power until it stops in a crossway. We realized that the engine was overheated although no indicator showed anything to us. We phoned the rental car company (Hertz) and after thirty minutes our car was taken to Breithdalsvík, a small village two kilometres away from that crossway.

We then phoned again Hertz in order to ask for a replacement car. They told us that the only available car was in Reikiavik (more than 500 kilometres away) and they were going to send it if we agreed to pay for the broken engine. That was a clear blackmail, but we had no better alternative, so we agreed with that. Eight hours later, around 8pm, we would meet someone from Hertz with our replacement car and some documents for us to sign.

I even considered the idea of settling down in Breithdalsvík if our replacement car could not arrive and start a new life as a fisherman (see the picture to the right). That idea did not looked like that bad to me. For Sonia, I guess, it was not so appealing...

In our time there, we had lunch in the only hotel and restaurant of the village, we planned to go to the swimming pool (but finally it was not possible since we were quite busy that afternoon), we found some accommodation nearby (it was not that easy because a ferry was leaving to Norway the next morning and everything was booked), we emailed the Spanish Consulates in Iceland and the Spanish Embassy in Norway asking for help and advice, we drafted a letter explaining what happened to us, we sent some postcards, we went for a walk under the rain in the fjord,... I must admit we did not get bored at all and I am sure that we were the greatest news ever in Breithdalsvík.

At eight, under a torrential rain, we met the employees from Hertz, who clearly said that withouth our agreement to pay for the broken engine, they were not going to give us the keys of the rental car, although they were breaking their own contract. Finally, we had to agree on that and sign all the documents and we took the replacement car to Eskifjördur (see picture below), the place where we had to sleep that night, about 50 kilometres away. Before we spoke with the owner of the hotel, which had seen us around town and wanted to help us (what I told you before, the greatest news ever in Breithdalsvík).
Again, we arrived quite late in the evening and I was extremely tired, but somehow Sonia and the owner of the guesthouse persuaded me to give some milk to two lambs before getting into our room (it should be around midnight and it was raining). They sucked the milk like crazy and it was, after all, an enjoyable thing to do after a day full of fights and problems. Somehow, though, I did not want to feed the lambs, I wanted to eat them!

Our next day was going to be very busy: we were going to get up at 6, go to the police station in Eskifjördur, then drive and visit a National Park, visit Lake Myvatn, have dinner in Akureyri and sleep in Olafsfjördur. That was the plan for our last full day in Iceland.

Abandonar el cine

Nunca había estado tan cerca de abandonar el cine durante la proyección de una película como ayer mientras veía "Malditos bastardos", de Quentin Tarantino. La película es por momentos desagradable y absurdamente violenta, pero, por motivos desconocidos, me quedé hasta al final a ver si Tarantino conseguía levantar eso de alguna forma. Iluso de mí, huelga decir que no lo consigue ni por asomo.

La película trata de ser una adaptación de "Pulp Fiction" a la Segunda Guerra Mundial. Este engendro es lento en sus estúpidos y vacíos diálogos, no tiene un mínimo de coherencia en su guión, es gratuitamente violento y disfruta mostrando sangre a la mínima ocasión, cuenta con unos actores desastrosos, se lanza al fango de los estereotipos y se arrastra por él, no respeta la historia,... Cualquier cosa que diga es poca. Sinceramente, no debería dejarse que películas como esta contaminen la mente de la sociedad, son basura cinematográfica que nunca debió producirse.

Lo que más me irrita es la falta de respeto con la que trata un conflicto aún reciente en Europa en el que murieron más de cincuenta millones de personas. Me resulta vomitivo el enfoque gratuito y superficial que le da Tarantino, olvidando que detrás de todos aquellos muertos había una vida humana, que importaba (y mucho) a alguien. No sólo los aliados sufrieron los horrores de esta guerra, también los alemanes, que no merecen ser reducidos al papel de "nazis a matar", sencillamente no lo merecen.

También me irritan las buenas críticas que había leído de esta película. Seguramente el productor o quien sea ya se habrá preocupado de que al crítico de turno no le falte de nada mientras visiona la película, pero decir, como leí en El País o en El Mundo, no lo recuerdo exactamente, que Tarantino nos presenta una metáfora de cómo el cine puede acabar con las tiranías me parece una broma de muy mal gusto, hecha probablemente bajo los efectos del alcohol (por pensar bien). Ahora que se ha presentado la película en el Festival de San Sebastián recibirá algún premio y algún espabilado la tildará de obra maestra, cuando no va a suponer más que una pérdida de tiempo y de dinero para el espectador.

Tarantino, ¡qué lástima: hacer Pulp Fiction y acabar así!

A waterfall, a glacier and a surprise

As I told you in the previous day, we decided to visit a second glacier in Skaftafell National Park, Morsárjökull, what implied a walk of around 6 hours. That day we also had to drive around 300 kilometers to arrive to our hostel, in Berunes, in the Eastern Fjords.

Therefore, we had to hurry up a little bit in our way to the glacier. We watched two waterfalls in our first hour walking, Hundafoss (where dogs were washed a long time ago) and Magnusarfoss. A bit further we found Svartifoss, an amazing waterfall surrounded by basaltic stones. I felt there like in a natural amphiteather. Well, to be honest, I felt a little bit like Gollum... Again, Iceland surprised us with a beautiful waterfall, somehow different to the others we had visited but similar in beauty.We started then to walk towards the glacier. We discarded climbing on top of Kristínartindar, with its two twin peaks, because it seemed to hard and difficult. So we walked through a forest of birches, so dense that sometimes it was difficult to walk, to the glacier. Suddenly, at a certain point, the forest disappeared and we were left alone with the wind coming from the glacier. I have never faced such a strong wind in my life: I could lean against it and did not fall. It was quite hard for me to reach the glacier (thanks Sonia), but finally, we arrived there. It was extremely windy and cold down there, but the landscape is difficult to forget. We were just alone in the middle of a glacier, where nature rules and where we were insignificant to the glacier.It was a bit late, so we hurried up in our way back to the main campsite in Skaftafell National Park. We arrived and got up the car immediately, since it was getting late...

After one hour driving and against my opinion, I have to admit, we stopped in the most amazing place I have ever been to. It is called Jökulsárlón and it is a place where a glacier meets a lake and the ocean. The icebergs down there are really breathtaking (see the different tones of blue) and we regretted not to have arranged a tour in advance, because it is worth of it. Besides, it seems that this place appears in some films, one of them of James Bond.We also had some problems while in Jökulsárlón, since it started raining cats and dogs and we got wet. Especially, my trousers showed me that they were fashionable but not very appropriate with rainy conditions and I had to take them out in the backseat of the car and use the pyjama, just like Superman, je, je, je.

One hour later, I took some trousers from my suitcase and I started driving to Berunes, where we had to sleep that night. It was not a very nice trip: it was dark, it was raining, it was very windy, we were driving very close to the ocean, the road was not always paved, we were late,... In the end, we arrived to our destination (our host was waiting for us with a smile in his face, I strongly recommend this place), had dinner in a hurry and went to sleep also in a hurry. The next day was going to be a very busy day, but not in the way we had planned...

Two waterfalls, a beach, a siesta and a glacier

After leaving our friend at the airport at half past five, we started driving towards Skaftafell National Park, where we should sleep that night. Our drive was around 500 kilometres so it was going to take us the whole day to arrive there. I decided to drive from the airport, with the help of some coffee and a CD with heavy rock music, while my friend was having some sweet dreams...

After two or three hours, we arrived to a place with a very nice waterfall, which we mistook by Skogarfoss, but which, according to our map, was Gljüfurärfoss. The waterfall, anyway, was beautiful and when we walked a bit closer to it, we started to feel all the water falling over us, like rain. It was a nice stop after two hours driving, although it was not Skogarfoss.

Skogarfoss was waiting for us approximately thirty minutes later. It is probably the most beautiful waterfall in Iceland, as it seems to be taken from a fairy tale. There is a campsite close to it and it must be an amazing experience to sleep under the waterfall (we preferred, though, to sleep on a bed). If you climb on top, you will be able to see the rainbow around it and if you walk further, you will discover a number of smaller waterfalls in the same river, in a breathtaking landscape.

The next stop in our drive was Vik, a town with a remarkable beach. The views from there are very nice, with the famous cliffs in the background. The sand is dark but it is very clean. The only problem this beach has is the water temperature: I just walked two steps into the Northern Atlantic and all I can say is that it was freezing cold, it was so cold that it hurt like a million stings. But the walk on the sand and the landscape was worth our stop, it was my first visit in summer to the beach (the other one was in Durban, South Africa).
We still had a long way to our destination, so we started driving again... After a short lunch break, we suddenly felt the need of having a siesta. We were only an hour away from our hostel, but that hour was like a century: we were very tired, it was difficult for the driver to concentrate in the road and we hardly spoke. Finally, we arrived at our hostel, took the keys of our room and ran for a siesta, which initially was scheduled to last one hour but that was subsequently extended until two hours. When you wake up at four in the morning and drive for seven hours, all you can think about is having a siesta, believe me.

In the evening, once we were refreshed again, we decided to make a short walk into Skaftafell National Park, and we went to a glacier: Skaftafellsjökull. We were hardly alone in that path, but for a couple of Germans, which were cycling around Iceland. Then, we witnessed how the girl told the boy it was dangerous for her to walk further because she was wearing flat shoes and how the boy just went on, without taking care of her girlfriend (je, je, je, these are the gossipoing advantages of speaking German). Even Torrente would not dare to do so... Going back to the glacier, the fact that it was dirty with dust surprised us, as we were expecting pure white ice and we found something brown or even black. By the way, it was like being in a huge fridge there: we took our gloves, our scarf, our hut,...The next day was also devoted to Skaftafell National Park and to the visit of a second glacier.

Boiled alive

Our next step in the Icelandic adventure took us to the Blue Lagoon, a huge complex where one can swim in very hot water coming directly from the Earth. The water is supposed to have healing properties (despite its colour, not transparent I would say), but all I can say is that it smells disgusting, since it contains significant amounts of sulphures. One can also apply a gel by silicium over its body, but it is not very advisable to do so, because, after five minutes, it dries up and it is hard then to remove it from the face, especially from the eyes.
By the way, do not try to find me in this picture, I am not there, believe me.

When entering the dressing room, one can read a lot of signs highlighting those parts in our bodies which we should wash carefully (yeah, including the ones all of you have in your heads). Afterwards, one leaves the building and it is outside, with a temperature of around 15º C, what makes that one runs into the water after 15 seconds. The water is very, very hot (around 35º C) but one feels amazingly comfortable there, once the initial feeling of being boiled alive proves to be false. We stayed more than three hours and, consequently, our skin got burned...

Again, as the previous day, we had lunch at 6 in the evening, out of Blue Lagoon. We decided then to look for the place where the European and the American tectonic plates meet, since it seemed to be quite an interesting place. In our search, we arrived by mistake to the most famous lighthouse in Iceland (see above). The place were very nice, with nice views of a small island and we could even spot the volcano we had visited on our first day in Iceland (more than 200 kilometres away from us).The tectonic plates themselves were so disappointing that I am not going to spend many words with them. I will just say that they are not worth the visit, despite their geologal importance.

That day we slept in a hostel close to the aiport because one of us was leaving the next day very early in the morning, what implied that we had to wake up at 4am. Yeah, I agree, I also think it is an stupid hour to be awake but...

Three days in Reikiavik

The next step of our trip in Iceland implied a stay of two nights in Reikiavik, the most northern capital city in the world, as every tourist brochure says.

Our stay in Reikiavik started with a whale-watching trip. We went for an hour into the ocean and the trip was not very nice: it was extremely windy, with high waves and very, very cold. While I was there, I could only imagine how hard life of fishermen is. Suddenly, I felt horribly happy for working in a bank. Finally, we did not spot many whales, just some small part of them, we could not help feeling a bit disappointed by that. Afterwards, we went to our guesthouse and prepare something for lunch at... 6pm.We went for a walk through the city center of Reikiavik and got ourselves ready for the active nightlife in Reikiavik (that was what our travel guide boasted)... It was the second disappointment of that day: it is not so active after all (we might be biased as we were coming from Spain). We decided to go to a music festival and we could only watch two bands: one of them was playing electric violins and the other one was too heavy for all of us. Three or four "natives" decided to dance and it then turned to be surrealistic.

The next day we drove through the Golden Circle. It is composed of Gullfoss waterfall, Geysir and Thingvellir. Gullfoss was the first one of the many waterfalls we visited in Iceland and it is impressive and very beautiful. When one approaches it, it suddently feels like raining.

Geysir is a valley not far from Gullfoss where hot water is sent into the air from holes in the ground. There is a horrible smell around, due to sulphur and other acids in the water, that makes the visit not so nice after all.

Thingvellir is supposed to be where the first Icelandic parlament took place, far in the Xth century. I find it a bit hard to believe that Icelandics were worrying about parlaments and politics at that time, but leaving this aside, the landscape is very nice, with a lot of water around curious stone shapes. We also learnt there how men and women were punished in Middle Ages: women were drowned in the sea and men were sent to the inner country.

Generally speaking, the Golden Circle is crowded with tourists. Anyway, both visits are a must when one is visiting Iceland. Our next step of the trip took us to Blue Lagoon and to Reykjanes peninsula.

Arriving to Iceland

As promised, here it comes the first of the entries on the trip I made more than one month ago (for God's sake, it seems so long ago) to Iceland. Let me tell you in advance that I enjoyed every second and minute I spent in this amazing and beautiful island.

The beginning of my trip was not easy. I had to make a stop in London Gatwick and there my plane was an hour delayed. I had never been in Gatwick before and I must admit I was a bit surprised by what I found there: total chaos, a lot of people queuing (for check-in and for security control) without much order and not many information. I had to queue at check-in after a group of boy-scouts and it was not very nice: they had so many bags and were so slow... Finally, when the plane was taxiing (right spelling?) at Reikiavik Airport, it had to go back 20 metres because it made a mistake when approaching the finger!

My two friends were already waiting for me, and we were soon driving out of there in our rental car: a Toyota Corolla (known as Toyota Avensis, in Spain). According to our plan, we had to drive around 200 kilometres to Snaefellsjökull National Park, where Julius Verne placed the volcano which took the reader to the centre of the Earth (see below).
After having dinner (a weird and horrible lasagne, where is the Italian Embassy when one really needs one?), we went to the sea cliffs to watch some birdlife. But, just after leaving the hostel, an Artic tern decided to attack us with quick and sudden flights over our heads... Later on, I learnt that they could travel as far as South Africa (upps!). Anyway, the sea cliffs were amazing and we could spot a lot of birds, although the weather was a bit cold and we seemed to be disguised as esquimos.The next day, we tried to go to the top of the volcano but the fog and the ice prevented us from doing so. On our way down, we stopped in Olasfvik, where we manage to buy fish for our dinner that day directly to a fisherman (I cooked it and it tasted very, very good). After lunch in Olafsvik, we decided to walk a little bit, to a cape with a nice lighthouse (that was, at least, what the tourist guide said). After more than two hours of walking through a desert of lava, we decided to go back to the car and to watch pictures of that lighthouse in Internet at home...We then drove to Grundarfjördur, where we spent the night in the very cosy room of a Polish student. The next day we were driving back to Reikiavik.