Busy, busy

I’m happy to report that my health, physical and mental, have improved greatly.  My meds have stabilized my blood pressure, and, I got a new bed. I feel better when awake, and I’m sleeping really well.

I started a Catalan language class a few weeks ago, and I’m happy be in a group of adults and learning. Unfortunately, the teacher, who’s a substitute, has no experience teaching low levels, and she explains the language but does not let us practice, which is critical for beginners.  Therefore, I am gaining some knowledge without learning or developing any skills. I’ll have to hang in there for another month; the originally scheduled teacher will start at the end of March.

The class is a real smorgasbord of nationalities, which is not surprising in such a universal city. There are students from Iran, Morocco, Taiwan, Brazil, India, Serbia, Argentina and Peru. I’m the sole American and the oldest by far. Spain, in contrast to most other countries, keeps increasing limits of immigrants to replace the aging workforce.  Too bad there’s so much resentment against tourists, for whom many apartments have been turned into AirBnBs, thus depriving locals of affordable places to live. I’m a regular renter, with a lease and residential visa, and I don’t look or dress much differently than the residents. It’s interesting to see so many of my countrymen in shorts (in very cold weather), sneakers, high white socks, hats suitable for the beach while in the middle of the city, and big grins on their faces. Oh, and they’re really loud. This image, attributed to all Americans, defines them as clueless but not evil.

The weather is warmer now, which is an unexpected yet pleasant change.  There has been a lot of rain in the country, and last week the government closed its buildings due to a severe wind advisory, but nothing came to Barcelona.  I make a point of walking every day and sitting in a café. Smoking is big here and, since there is no smoking inside, patrons step out to have a cigarette. However, in more cases than not, they stand in the doorway to smoke. This means that the smoke blows into the café and in my face. Whereas I don’t take it personally, I think it’s a bit passive-aggressive. However, I keep this opinion to myself, as a part of my ongoing efforts to break myself of the very white and American habit of telling strangers what they’re doing wrong and their need to improve their behavior.

At the famous Sagrada Familia, the church designed by Antoni Gaudi, this week the final tower was installed. It was already the tallest church in the world, but now it’s at its true height.  I don’t know if you’re aware, but Gaudi, who was born in 1852 and designed many buildings in Spain, was run over by a train and killed in 1926. The construction began in 1882, in a neo-gothic style by another architect; Gaudi took over in 1883 and completely changed the design. He eventually halted work on his other projects to focus on the church, and he never expected to finish it in his lifetime. Since then, seven different architects have taken over the project. The major structural work will be completed this year, but decorative work will continue for about another ten years. It is already a remarkable work.

I watched two Oscar-nominated films: Weapons and Train Dreams. The first is a horror movie, not a genre I normally watch, but Amy Madigan is great as the evil witch. Train Dreams is moving and melancholic, with excellent performances, particularly by Joel Edgerton. Both are on Netflix.

Last night, the BAFTA Awards aired; this is the British version of the Oscars. The film, I Swear, is the story of a man with Tourette Syndrome; and the lead actor won Best Actor. As is common in such situations, the man on whom the film was based was in the audience, and the audience was warned that they might hear inappropriate words and sounds. The man did not disappoint: he screamed out obscenities during the ceremony, including calling Michael Jordan, who was presenting, the n-word. Is this a case for or against inclusivity?

I’ve read several books, with only one worth mentioning. Flesh is a novel written by Hungarian/British writer David Szalay, who won the Booker Prize in 2025. It’s about an alienated Hungarian man who eventually emigrates to London. The prose is sparse, and some may find it boring, but it speaks to one’s never feeling truly part of one’s life or experiences. My kind of book.

As for my friend Linda, she is still in hospice care.  Her oldest brother died a couple of weeks ago, and a friend of more than 50 years a couple of months before that. I communicate with her caregivers on a regular basis. They assure me that she is stable, if weaker, and that she is being kept safe and comfortable.

That’s my update. Happy Chinese New Year. It’s not just the Year of the Horse-  it’s the year of the Fire Horse. This happens every 60 years and is a year of massive, unstoppable action and breaking old patterns. The last time it happened was during the Cultural Revolution in China.

Hold on to your Dǒulìs.