Bobby Moore, He's No More

BEDFORD ROAD: I've got a new favourite football chant. Sung by South London's notorious Milwall to their Eastern rivals West Ham it goes:

Bobby Moore, he's no more
Bobby Moore, he's dead!

Bobby Moore is a former West Ham legend and, I think, the only World Cup winning English football captain.

The other bit of genius I needed to share with you all was the exhibit we visited on Saturday. Sitting in a church on the far side of Southwark Park, in a disused church, was a fifteen metre long and ten metre wide pool of water. Forming part of London Design Week, exhibit involved walking on water. Every step triggered a circular black pad in front of it that would rise out of the water for you to step on, triggering the next step and so on and so on.

The project is called Bridge. Check it out.

The rest of the weekend involved farewelling Alejondro, drinking by the Thames and in Camden and catching up with people from Cardiff to Stoke.

I Did Not Have Sexual Relations with that Jihadist

BEDFORD ROAD: Say what you like about Slick Willy - and you can say quite a bit - he is one of the new breed of The Great and The Good (love 'em or hate 'em). While spruiking his Global Initiatives program on Fox News he tried to put the record right on the Bush Administrations inability to comprehensively deal with terror during their first eight months in office.

If you can find an edited video, it's worth watching for him going onto the attack and, at least on the day, succeeding to put Fox in their rathole. Fox haven't hit back with clips and banners tailored to their small minded base but the actual battle was good. Anybody who saw Willy on Denton will know just how good he is. Seek it out, but stay away from the really short clip doing the rounds of YouTube.

PS. Condi is spruiking her defences (to the tabloids of course) saying that of course the Bush Administration did enough. It reminded me of that August 6 briefing the Govermment chose to ignore. As Condi said to the 9/11 Commission "I believe the title was "Bin Laden Determined to Attack Inside the United States".


I believe the title was, "Bin Laden Determined to Attack Inside the United States."

IS IT A BIRD? IS IT A PLANE? NO IT'S MARJI!

BEDFORD ROAD: I finished Persepolis last night. The coming of age story of a precocious young girl of liberal parents in revolutionary Iran is up their with the very best graphic novels I have ever read.

If anybody wants an insight into recent Iranian history this is as good a place as any to start. And that fact that it is told through the eyes of a world weary, but nevertheless still innocent, ten-year-old girl makes it even more poignant.

Extra Extra

BEDFORD ROAD: I've added some new pictures (most of them by Rob) below to the Asturias section. Like Wembley, this stadium WILL be built!

The Crime Rate

BEDFORD ROAD: Some days I love this city. When you explode out of the Tube at Old St. into St. Lukes like pus from an overipe pimple into the crisp air and blue skies, there's nowhere else I'd rather be. Othertimes I have to pinch myself to remind me I don't live in Jo'Burg.

One of the first things Declan said to me after I got back from Spain was "Oh, by the way, there was a guy that got shot at outside of work the other day." He duely forwarded me the corresponding email. Then yesterday I was walking back from the market and I heard a commotion as two guys collided on their bikes. It turns out one of them, a chav, had pulled out in front of the second guy. They both swore at each other for a couple of seconds before the chav bopped off down the street.

Leaving behind his bicycle, its front wheel a perfect arc.

Crikey

BEDFORD ROAD: There's been a lot written about the croc catcher. I'll always remember where I was in the Asturias when I got the text message. A "JFK" moment indeed. Sad news, but the response in Australia seems just a wee bit OTT. I think Mum put it best when she wrote:

"It seems all the world watched Steve Irwin's tribute...didn't know the man myself.

Must be off to have some dinner."

Note

BEDFORD ROAD: I've added a couple of more posts below concerning the Spain trip. I've dropped them in between others to preserve continuity. Now I only have some more photos to post and Montserrat - Barca.

PS

BEDFORD ROAD: Now I do have to temper last nights comments because after some further reading I concluded that the Pope's lecture was more in line with previous remarks he made about the fundamental unsuitability of Turkey's membership in the EU.

Now whatever feelings you may harbour over that issue, and I for one am undecided, it is a remarkably different predjudice to the one he is currently being castigated for. And it is a view quite openly expressed by right wing types like Sarkozy, a possible cadidate in France's next presidential elections. Now if only the aggrieved types could direct some of their rage at him.

Storm in a Pope Mobile

BEDFORD ROAD: As you, my trusted readers, probably know this blog is apt to careen somewhat schizophrenically from travel-logue to social commentary to hack political grandstanding. So here we are again, arriving at another crisis, pumped up by ideologues on both sides, desperate to bill this as the clash of cultures.

How many people have actually read the Pope's lecture? Now how many people have an opinion? The complex theological essay actually concerns the relationship between religious rationality and scientific rationality. I'm no theologian, and I probably only grasped a shallow understanding of the official English translation of the lecture, but the Pope at no stage condemns Islam nor the Prophet Mohammed. When he cites (that's an important and oft-forgotten word) his Byzantian, he seems, at least to this reader, to do so in order to open up a dialogue between faiths. To demonstrate how it has been done in the past and how it can be done now when the need is so pressing. Rather than condemning Islam, I believe the Pope is condemning the rationality which leads many Westerners to disdain, however casually, the conviction of Muslims. This is the leap that turns them, in the Western press, from profound believers to insane terrorists.

But these aren't the types of views that inflame the minds of the often impressionable, disillusioned and desperate youth of the Arab St. His comments on the make up of Europe could, perhaps, be more concrete grounds for vexation. With debate over Turkey entering the EU and rapidly growing Muslim populations in most member countries then the assertion that Christianity "remains the foundation of what can rightly be called Europe" may prove more controversial if taken out of context. However it seems this passage wouldn't have demanded the headlines. (And I don't believe that was what the Pope was saying but the intentions of the speaker seem to be completely superfluous to anybody with an opinion on this current outrage.)

I could go on but I don't think my humble understanding would do the work of an internationally renowned theologian any justice and nor would it get me wrapped up in bed reading Simon Schama's Rough Crossing any quicker and it's definitely not going to help me get downstairs and hang out my washing so I can go running tonight.

If after reading this you don't agree with me read it . You're welcome to disagree with me. The Pope would surely agree. After all he cites John declaring that God is logos, both reason and word. The reason and word to debate, to argue, to consider, to experience the "truth of existence".

PS. And in a flippant aside, I don't want to be seen as coming down to harsh on Islam here because I think the fundamentalists on both sides are colussal dicks, but how can they fail to see the irony of announcing that theirs is a peaceful religion whilst simultaneously decrying their desire to murder the Pope. (And like I said I don't believe this is what Islam is all about!)

Andorra

BEDFORD ROAD: After negotiating our way out of San Sebastian it was on to Pamplona, the other fabled Spanish city of Hemingways The Sun Also Rises, better known as the home of the Running of the Bulls. Or to Aussie bogans: Pamps! (ie. Gees mate Pamps was fucking grouse ay? Some bull totally fucked me mate Macca up. It was a better piss up than Gallipoli though!)

It wasn't really a major stop, we just ate lunch on the main town square, visited the bullring, checked out the Hemingway statue and street signs, walked the route of the running of the bulls and then spent the next hour trying to find our way out of city of about 100,000 people. My navigating tactics became so desperate that I told Rob to drive in the opposite direction towards France. Then, I figured, if we did a U-ey we'd be going the right way. If only it was that simple. We eventually did find our way out of town and even ended up on a more obscure path of the El Camino de Santiago, taking in the beautiful crumbling churches and forts on the hill tops, intercut with giant lakes built for absording the thaw of a Spanish spring.

As we scaled the Pyrenees we took in the stunning scenery, the road winding along side gorges, disappearing around the side of cliffs, we struggled to remember the name of the hotel we'd booked in Andorra. By the time we'd driven halfway across Andorra to the ski town of Arinsal we still couldn't remember. Luckily there were only a handful of hotels in Arinsal and one of them tweaked a visual memory.

The next day we visited what is billed as Europe's most futuristic spa. Take the virtual tour here. Words don't described it save to say I spent three of the most relaxing hours of my life there. That night (we'd moved into the capital Andorra la Vella by this point) we continued our Spanish rhythm one of the squares in town. On our last day we stocked up on insanely cheap duty free and Jaq and I took a cable car to the top of one of the mountains while the boys had another crack at Caldea.

San Sebastian

BEDFORD ROAD: From Bilbao it was only an hour or so up the country to the posh seaside resort cum 21st backpacker playground that is San Sebastian. With no accomodation we were forced to ditch the car behind a small river that teemed with fish and try our luck in the narrow streets of the Old Town. It isn't too easy to find touts and within fifteen minutes we'd found ourselves in a decently priced, fairly scummy room. But why spend time in your room when you're in San Sebastian?

That night we dined out on San Sebastians famous cuisine and more specifically its seafood before downing a couple of bottles of Rioja before hitting the bars. The night ended with me and Mick throwing our pint glasses (plastic of course)at a group of Aussies from our third story balcony and telling them to "Pull your head in." It was one of those nights. Then next morning we swam in San Sebastian's beautiful chalice shaped bay and lay around on the beach. With clouds overhead the beach was almost deserted which was a nice touch.

In the afternoon we grazed on tapas before climbing up the hill at one end of the bay to check out the Jesus with antennas attached to his back. That night, more fine food, less booze and the Poms made major inroads into what was, initially, a 3 - 0 deficit in the 500 Ashes.

Bilbao

BEDFORD ROAD: After dragging ourselves away from our beachfront idyll, we took the journey back east across Spain through the little towns dotting the Northern coast, zipping between mountains and watching great vats of fog brew out over the ocean. Our destination on this part of trip was the Frank Gehry designed Guggenheim Bilbao which has been something of an art mecca since it opened in 1997.

Asturias

BEDFORD ROAD: There isn't too much to right about the Asturias at the top of Spain. More or less halfway a long, they sit a little closer to La Coruna than San Sebastian, the region is filled with dramatic cliffs and small beaches tucked into the palms of these enormous hands.

With no small amount of luck we managed to find a cabin at a quiet camp site and proceeded to spend the next three nights having BBQs, eating outdoors, drinking Sangria (laced with vodka) and playing endless games of 500. During the day we visited some of the beaches in the area. While they definitely weren't the best beaches I've ever seen they were quite beautiful, crowded (but this is Europe) with stunning water. The best thing was just the chance to be back swimming again. With some difficulty we managed to prise ourselves away after three days to trek across the country to the Guggenheim Bilbao.

[Note: More photos will come, but the last couple of nights Blogger software has been ill behaved. Look at this way, it's like a journey back in time to the World Wide Web of 1996.

La Mancha - Leon

BEDFORD ROAD: After picking up our Ford Focus, we managed to navigate our way out of Madrid with minimum fuss and headed down to the historic city of Toledo in Castila y La Mancha. This beautiful city sits on top of the hill, wound (as most Spanish cities are) with tight streets and dotted with spires.

After a couple of hours wandering around we headed back north towards Avila in hope of accommodation. We had a place booked in Salamanca but that was a little off track. After driving through the golden plains and castle topped hills, we began to round a majestic lake. Spotting a couple of signs offering accommodation, we stopped the car and then, after a series of manic conversations in broken Spanish, we were able to secure a place to stay.


Our neighbours (Rob)
However to get supplies we had to backtrack to a sleepy Spanish village deep in the narcotic slumber of siesta. We drove back and forth four or five times through this tiny town in search of an elusive grocery store where we could load up on ham, cheese, chorizo, beer and sangria (our Spanish staples). We finally found the modest shop front having driven straight past it four times.

We spent the rest of the afternoon and evening swimming in the lake before a bonfire on the banks.


Drowned rats (Rob)


This was actually a house (Rob)


The lake (Rob)


Bonfire by the lake (Rob)

After a morning dip to wake up and we set out for Avila which 1001 Places to See Before You Die recommends you see for its perfectly preserved medieval walls. The walls were amazing but what the book didn't tell you was that it was basically a theme park for Spanish tourists.


Loch Ness monsters


Spanish castles


The Great Wall (Rob)


The king of the castle (Rob)


Apparently this guy is related to Pete the Student (Rob)

More castle

Madrid

BEDFORD ROAD: It would be fair to say that, strictly speaking, our holiday didn't actually begin in Spain but rather in the Hope and Anchor up the road where we prepared to get up at dawn in the best way known to man. Guzzling pints of San Miguel to wash down greasy chicken and chips. After Moral Rob woke us fifteen minutes early we were finally well and truly on our way to Gatwick by a quarter five.

The plane ride itself was somewhat eventful with the aerial view of Spain as stunning as anything of ever seen before. Dramatic hills rearing up out of barren, golden plains, crumbling forts perched atop, recalling happier, more forboding times, endless wind farms, patterns tilled in the obscure patterns of crop circles and ring roads curling around towns like the tendrils of a tropical flower. (Funny to type that because we never found one while we were driving.)

Madrid was an amazing place to start the holiday. While none of us had any idea of what to expect from the Spanish capital, we were pleasently surprised by its slow pace, beautiful weather, tightly woven streets, yawning squares and lush gardens. Most of the first day, after we'd checked in etc., moving from park to bar to square soaking up the warmth playing cards and drinking San Miguel before moving on to Sangria.


The Boy from Stoke (Rob)

It wasn't all good food and lazy booze though. We wandered around the grounds of the Spanish palace and checked out the cathedral.


Stained Glass (Rob)

On the second morning, while the others struggled with their hangovers, I made it downtown to check out the Reina Sofia which contains, amongst countless other masterpieces, Picasso's Guernica.

The Reina Sofia is one of the new breed of contemporary art museums that bring together innovative architecture (think Tate Modern, Haufbahnhof) with a peerless collection of the twentieth century's most exciting artists. They had an amazing collection of Spanish art especially Cubist Picassos and Braques, loads of Miro and Dali, and shit loads more. The big daddy was indeed Guernica. It did not disappoint. It commands its reputation like few other pictures. It is impossible to take your eyes off it, so transfixing is its beauty. Bewitching the viewer, you dare not turn away from the vast canvas lest you miss something.

Other highlights included lunch in El Retiro, an elegantly sculpted garden, before the afternoon at the Prado where, despite initial reservations, I saw an amazing collection of Goyas, some good Flemish paintings and downstairs, the clinchers, Hieronymous Bosch's amazing The Garden of Earthly Delights and Bruegel's sublime and scary The Triumph of Life.


Walking in El Retiro (Rob)

We also visited the Bernabeu to take part in the guided tour around Real Madrid's stadium and bask in the glory of the Galactico's. And while Madrid epitomise everything I despise about the sport they did have an amazing stadium with a brilliant tour.


Bend it like Beckham


It's a long way from Villa Park


The agony of defeat

Overheard Overthere

BEDFORD ROAD: So I'm finally back in the land of average ham and rain. While the full recollections of our quixotic quest through the land of La Mancha may take a little longer to come through I thought I'd start the ball rolling with a tribute to everybodies favourite section in Time Out (besides "Lies to Tell Tourists"):

"Throw a stingray at him."

"Harden' up"

"Give me your fucking wallet!"

"Tocca me aqui."

"Don't bother, I'll do it myself."

"Throw some ropes."

"Bet it was built by Gaudi!"

"I'm not paying for somebody else's stupidity."

"I'm never going back to Pamplona."

"Michael, I'm going to call your mum."

"On the ball City."

"Nevermind the danger."

"Who the fuck are the Kanoutons?"

"Hit the hazards and walk away."

"You've got your face on."

"Of course I do, yeah I clearly do."

"Koh - cayne?"

"Wayne Rouwknee" (svenstyle)

"Wellahhh"(svenstyle)

"Ian Bellahhh(svenstyle)

"Can I borrow your brain mate?"

"I could murder a bird."

"Bats number four for England."

"The Home Counties are for poofs."

"Have you ever seen Nick Drake live?"

"Harry Preston."

"Now I understand how the people of Bander Ache felt."

"Goal. Goal. Goal. Goal. Goal. Goal. Goal. Goal. Goal. Goal. Goal. Goal. Goal. Goal. Goal. Goal. Goal. Goal. Goal. Goal. Goal. Goal. Goal. Goal. Goal. Goal. Goal. Goal. Goal. Goal. Goal. Goal. Goal. Goal. Goal. Goal. Goal. Goal. Goal. Goal. Goal. Goal. Goal. Goal. Goal. Goal. Goal. Goal. Goal. Goal. Goal. Goal. Goal. Goal.Goal. Goal. Goal. Goal. Goal. Goal.Goal. Goal. Goal. Goal. Goal. Goal. Goal. Goal. Goal. Goal. Goal. Goal.!"

"Do you know what I mean?"

"Where is the hire car Mr. Hutchinson?"

Xis def:

BEDFORD ROAD: This is a little out of context but here is the last game of Scrabble I played. My opponent was Rob. I think I was nudging 300 from memory but didn't get there. If anybody can tell me what XIS means (it is official) I'll blow them a cyber kiss.