More postcards from Portugal

Views from my balcony

At the market -- a moray eel

At the market -- Waiting for customers

Flowers bloom in the sand

Construction boom -- more condos on the way

This time here are some pictures from the Algarve, in the south of the country, where I have just spent 3 days.

Postcards from Portugal

my uncle's dog wakes from a nap to find some asshole (me) trying to get a shot of him. by the way, he's a special breed that exits only in the Alentejo: Rafeiro Alentejo. They are really big dogs, very loyal, but reserved toward strangers.

Augusta has worked for my family for as long as I can remember. She's a great cook. She's one of the most warm-hearted and decent people I know --  it's written all over her face.

the rural hotel, surrounded by 10o year old olive trees, and the swimming pool visible at the end

the view looking down from close to the swimming pool

the hotel building

walking in the estate

pure-bred Lusitanos (Portuguese horse breed) galloping

I arrived safe and sound, though 1 hour late (thank you Lufthansa). We left for the countryside the next day -- for the interior central region of Portugal known as Alentejo. My father's family comes from there and we have had land there for generations, so I feel a connection to the place. It is undoubtedly beautiful as you can see from these photos.

The family estate is large enough that you can walk for miles without any other human presence. I rarely feel so relaxed as when I am there. I like people -- but I have to admit being able to walk among nature, close to meadows and fields and among cork and olive trees, without being able to see anyone else, brings about a deep ease and calm. 

The people from Alentejo are known for their slow calm lifestyle, in fact they are often made fun of by other Portuguese people because of it -- it's pure envy, I think. They are also known to be reserved and silent, which are qualities I also share. 

The regional cuisine is great if a little heavy -- lots of bread and local herbs in cooking result in substantial and aromatic dishes. The architecture is also distinctive: since it can get very hot, the houses are low, with small windows, and thick stone walls that are always painted in cool white with a colored stripe around the windows or doors.

I took the opportunity to go horseback riding in the country, which was something that years ago I used to do several times a week. We also breed horses at the estate.

Tourism in the south of Portugal, the Algarve, where there are good beaches, has been strong for a long time. But the Alentejo is still off the radar of tourists, which in a sense is good because it is unspoiled. If you would like to sample the delights of this region we have a small rural tourism hotel, which you can see in the pictures. When you stay there you are out in nature without anyone to bother you, except for the ladies who clean and serve breakfast -- and at the same time you have the extensive grounds and facilities of the estate, such as a swimming pool, tennis court, hunting reserve, horses, and so on. There are beautiful towns close by if you want to see sights, like Evora (45km away) which is so remarkable it has been designed a World Heritage place by UNESCO. There are also numerous prehistoric monuments in the area, Stonehenge-style. And all this about 1 hour by car from the nation's capital Lisbon. It's good for people who just want to get away from it all. A lot of our guests are people who come every year, some have been coming for 15 years.

Sorry about the shameless plug -- but it is a place I love, and can't help telling people about it. If you want to know more about it, or about visiting Portugal in general feel free to e-mail me: ourdailysouffle@gmail.com

 

I am leaving on a 10-day vacation tomorrow. I am going to Portugal, the country where I was born and lived in until my mid-teens. All my family is there -- even my parents returned from the US a couple of years ago.

I am including this map for your convenience and enlightenment, because my experience has been that not everyone knows where the hell Portugal is. So look in the lower left corner and you will find it right next to Spain. 

When I first started living abroad it used to bother me that people didn't have any idea where my home country is. In the US I got a lot of sweetly blank smiles when I answered the question of where I am from. Some people, though, didn't try to mask their ignorance with beaming expressions, and were quite shameless about it: "Ohhh, next to Ecuador, right?"

Now I am quite used to it -- not only because I don't really have such a strong connection to Portugal anymore, but also because I have realized people are bad at geography all over the world. Yes, that's right: I know Europeans love to cite this and that study that says 74% of Americans think Iraq somewhere in the vicinity of Malaysia. But having lived in 2 more European countries besides Portugal, I now know we aren't such  geographical hot shots either. Just a couple of weeks ago during dinner in Japanese restaurant with friends, one Austrian friend wondered whether Japan was a part of China. 

Anyway, if Europeans are going to hold Americans accountable for not knowing where Hungary or Estonia are, then Europeans need to be held accountable for not knowing where Idaho or Wyoming are (which I guarantee you 98% of them would not be able to pin on a map of the US).

I am happy to say once upon a time I knew exactly where every country in the world is, and I even knew the name of each capital city. I had to learn this for a test in a World Politics class in college. Unfortunately, within a few months a great deal of the information had evaporated from my mind.

A lot of educated people will lie, run away, or bluff rather than reveal any flaws in their geographical knowledge. It has become an area of hypocrisy and almost a litmus test for political correctness. So, here's a full and unashamed disclosure of my current geographical deficiencies:

-- I don't know the north to south order of central American countries: is it Nicaragua, Honduras, El Salvador or Honduras, El Salvador, Nicaragua? I don't have a clue.

-- Except for Afghanistan, I am not really sure how the other stans (Tajikistan, Uzbekistan, Kazhakistan, etc.) next to it are arranged. And by the way, the people in this region seem to be incredibly unimaginative with the endings of their countries' names.

-- Except for the countries of North Africa, a few major countries around the coasts, and South Africa, I don't really know where to place a lot of the inland African countries.

And frankly I have more important things to worry about. 

Crispy Quote of the Day

"They say travel broadens the mind; but you must have the mind."

-- G.K. Chesterton

What's up, doc doc doc?

This is a "Wellness Hotel" not far from where I live. It belongs to Dr. Dr. Wagner. This alerted me to a hilarious quirk of Austrian society -- if a person has more than one doctorate (Phd.) it is customary to use all of them. 

This seems a bit pompous, not to mention slightly inconvenient. A student of mine told me he knows someone who has 3 doctorates and is addressed with all 3.

Imagine the phone calls to the office:

"Dr. Dr. Dr. Muller's office, good morning"

"Good morning. Is Dr. Dr. Dr. Muller in?"

"I am afraid Dr. Dr. Dr. Muller is not in yet."

"What time will the Dr. Dr. Dr. arrive?"

"Not until 10. Would you like to leave a message for the Dr. Dr. Dr.?"

I wonder if he gets mad when people leave one of the Dr.'s out? "I didn't get 3 doctorates to just be called Dr. Dr., you undereducated bastard!"

(Feeling) Small is Good

As I left the Science Museum in Munich I popped over to their shop. I had been meaning to get something to put on the walls of our studio, which had been unbearably bare for months. So, when I saw these beautiful postcards of telescope photos of deep-space phenomena -- nebulas, dwarf stars, galaxies -- I decided to buy them and glue them on a poster. Et, voila.

It looks great. The fact is that I don't just like the aesthetic side of these images, though they are very beautiful -- they awe me and give me comfort. Why is that? Well, the awe part is pretty self-explanatory: to think that these huge exuberantly colored masses of matter exist thousands of light years away is a fact that explodes like firework in my mind. 

To think that throughout the vast universe stars are collapsing, galaxies arising, and black holes sucking in unimaginable amounts of energy really puts your existence in perspective. Me and you, we are very very very small. I'm an atheist, but not one of those that laments not being able to believe. The accidental and chaotic nature of existence quickens life for me: it makes it more flavorful. Also, I definitely would not like to live for all eternity; one time around is enough, and besides mortality is truly the spice of life.

There is a certain anarchic liberation in these thoughts for me. It makes any problems seem trifling, it makes for an equanimity in accepting life as it is. This isn't fatalism, because to me the sense of randomness of collapsing stars frees me from over-thinking and over-judging and allows me to be.

So, sit back and enjoy the show, mighty stars are folding in on themselves, exploding into nothingness, and we will too -- but just thinking how unlikely our existence is makes it all strangely worthwhile.

It's surely related to a power that comes out of acknowledging our vulnerability. I am not sure I can make myself at all clear; but if you can't say something it's best to sing it. Which is precisely what the Monty Python did on exactly this subject -- they capture some of my feelings pretty well.

         

The last lines of the song always shake a laugh out of me: 

                  

"And pray there's intelligent life somewhere out there in space/ 

'Cause there's bugger all down here on Earth."

Dead Flowers

Remember the beautiful flowers that my boyfriend brought from his grandmother's garden some 10 days ago? They looked so fresh, painfully crisp and colorful, bursting with supple beauty and life -- this is what they look like now.

Looking at their dry cadavers, they seemed like a great warning in a tiny form: live now, for all comes to an end.

I heeded the warning and we eagerly went out into the sunny day to have some fun.

Crispy Quote of the Day

"On the contrary."

-- Henrik Ibsen, last words, after a nurse had said he 'seemed a little better'

Monty Python go Gay

I have already posted a video of a Monty Python sketch before -- it's no secret I love their stuff. On this cloudy Saturday afternoon I spent a few leisurely moments looking at some more of their videos on Youtube, a few of which I had never seen before.

I have chosen a couple that are gay-themed. The Monty Python did several sketches that were quite revolutionary in treating homosexuality in a more sympathetic, even if comic, light.  One the Monty Python was gay: Graham Chapman. Unfortunately he died of a rare spine cancer in 1989 at the age of 48. He was also a doctor by training and was the most eccentric of the group. He was one of the first celebrities to come out in the UK in the 1970s, and he gave moral and financial support to emerging gay rights organizations at the time. He specialized in playing outwardly calm authority figures who can barely conceal an underside of manic unpredictability: such as the Major or the Silly Reverend (the latter of which you can see in the last video on this post). He also played the lead roles in both the feature films the Monty Python did: The Holy Grail and The Life of Brian.

The first video interestingly deals with gay marriage -- but this was done in the 1970s, before it was even in the mind of anyone as a possibility (unfortunately this one isn't possible to embed, so just use this link). The second is a brilliantly unpredictable short sketch, and the third is a funny (non-gay) sketch that shows Graham Chapman's knack for playing crazy authority figures.

Enjoy!

Munich Day Trip -- Final Part

Even after the French eye-candy had already moved on to another exhibition I still stayed to look over the aeronautics section a bit more. The first item that really drew my attention was this small airplane you see in the photo above. Its tiny scale is apparent when compared with the motorcycle next to it. 

It turns out this aircraft has a very interesting history: it was built out of various impromptu scrap materials by an East German family who wanted to use it to make their escape into Western Germany, back in 1981. Unfortunately they were caught by the secret police of the repressive communist East German state before they could try to do it. During their trial the secret police tested the plane and stated that it could indeed fly. 

It is awe-inspiring that someone could be living in such repressive conditions in a European country as recently as 27 years ago -- enough to make a family with no aeronautical or mechanical training try to build a plane to escape that country. The family was sent to jail, but fortunately West Germany put a lot of diplomatic pressure and within a year they were expelled as undesirables into West Germany: what the family had wanted all along.

And now there's no more East Germany and no more secret police, and the family can live where the hell they want. And a very good thing it is too -- I hope they are well and enjoying their freedom. Sometimes we take a lot for granted, but we should appreciate it a bit more, instead of complaining all the time.

Next I went to the upper floors and looked down the length of this V-2 rocket, which was the type used by the Nazis in WWII to bomb England. Looking at it I became conscious that the citizens of London and other major British cities had it pretty rough during the war. Having one of these fall from the sky into your vicinity was liable to cause some mild discomfort. 

Finally, I chuckled to myself when I saw this internal cooling space suit. It was designed for Soviet astronauts in the 1970s to use underneath the heavy white space suits we have all seen before. Apparently the outer space suit can make the person inside very hot and so this undersuit has tubes where cold water runs to cool the internal temperature and make it bearable for the astronaut. 

However noble and practical the purpose of the suit it still looks terribly camp -- must have been the Soviet equivalent of Liberace who designed it. Not quite the look for a brave and rugged Soviet astronaut. 

Crispy Quote of the Day

Lady Astor: "Winston, if you were my husband I would put poison in your cup."

Winston Churchill: "And if you were my wife I would drink it."

Munich Day Trip -- Part 2

Anyway, after dwelling on the horrors of the past I wandered back to the center. On the way I passed a very swanky zone with expensive shops selling Ancient Greek vases, handmade stationery, utterly impractical clothes and... chocolate. In this last case I felt compelled to enter and appreciate the merchandise at closer range. 

They sold only luxury high-cacoa-content chocolate, many brands that I hadn't seen before. Good chocolate is something I enjoy... it can have a palette of flavors more complex than really good wine... and it's cheaper -- you can buy an excellent bar of chocolate for the same you would pay for a mediocre wine. In this case I shelled out 6 euros to buy a Domori Sambirano chocolate bar made from Madagascar cacao beans. 

In my enthusiasm I failed to notice I had picked up the 100% cocoa mass version, rather than the 70% one. When put a piece in my mouth 15 minutes later -- wham! it was really head-ringingly intense! No sugar or anything else, just pure cocoa. Pretty good chocolate though, give them a try.

Next to counteract this indulgence of the senses I went into the Frauenkirche and tried to face the less hedonistic aspects of existence.

My ascetic thoughts were short-lived. I soon found myself in the delightful Viktualienmarkt, the enticing wares set off in the brilliant sunlight. I looked at an impressive array of mushrooms, and congratulated this monkfish on its good looks .

 

I then headed east and explored the pleasant area around the river. Even though it wasn't exactly warm there were a few people lounging on the pebbly beach. What is it about running water that brings your mind into such restful harmony? 

Strolling on the banks of the river I noticed I was right next to the Deutsches Museum, which I had heard is one of the best Science and Technology museums in the world. The severe building seemed to chastise me for my frivolity, so in I went to soak up some knowledge. The museum was indeed very interesting. There was even a group excursion of some French college boys for me to rest my eyes on while pondering the wonders of Science.

Here are a couple of them among military hardware -- I have decided to entitle this picture "Boys and their Toys"

A Day Trip -- Part 1

As I already said I went on a day trip to Munich last week. Here's a report of this intrepid exploratory journey. 

Now, as you know I live in Salzburg, Austria. It's funny that, though they share the same language and a common culture, some Austrians are not exactly crazy about Germany. Must come from the whole WWII trauma (some Germans say 'Hey, Hitler was Austrian', then Austrians say 'Hey, you put him in power, we just tagged along for the ride'); as well as from a complex of inferiority, since Austria is 10 times smaller than Germany. I have a student who's going to live abroad for 2 years, the 1st in London, the 2nd one he hasn't decided yet where -- I innocently suggested Berlin. He gave me a look as if I had just suggested Harare. I told him it is a very interesting city, something always happening, why wouldn't he enjoy living there? 'It's full of Germans' he said, and I though he was smiling I think he was only half-kidding.

Nonetheless, I was amazed to discover that Germans are the 2nd largest group of foreigners living in Austria -- there are more Germans in Austria than Turkish people. The thing is you don't realize it because they don't stand out at all. I guess Germany and Austria are kind of like a couple that is now separated: they may still be close friends, but there's always a grumpy hangover from the period of unsuccessful intimacy.

Getting back to the trip: I took off early, and after 2 hours by train I got there still mid-morning. I had been a couple of times before in Munich and seen the main sights, so I just wandered aimless north from the station to get to some of the less central areas I hadn't seen before. And I bumped into this:

According to a detailed sign from City Hall this was the nerve center of the Nazi Party in Munich. Munich was a very important city for the Nazis, because it was where the party was born. Hitler lived there for a long time, from the time he moved to Germany from Austria to 1933, when he became chancellor of Germany and had to move to the capital Berlin. It was in Munich that he launched the failed coup in 1923 to gain power, the so-called 'putsch'. 

Even after Hitler moved to Berlin, the Nazi party had impressive headquarters in the area pictured above -- they had over 50 buildings concentrated in a 6 block radius around Konigsplatz. A lot of the buildings were destroyed by US forces once they occupied Germany to de-nazify the city. Some are still left though: the building in the background of the picture on top, which is the same as the building on the far right of the picture on the bottom, was Hitler's office building, where he would work everyday. He also made speeches from the central balcony.

Even the Americans dynamite sometimes didn't do the whole job: in the top picture you see the strong stone base for what used to be a Nazi memorial temple for the Nazi 'martyrs' that were killed in the failed putsch. The explosives apparently didn't blow up the base as well. The Americans didn't know what to do what with it, so they just let plants grow on top. And 60 years later because it's such a symbolicly sensitive site, and people argue endlessly about what to do with it, or what to build there, it is still exactly the same. Amazing. (for more on Munich's Nazi past have a look here.)

Now on that square pictured on the bottom, where they used to have Nazi parades and rallies, there are now some neo-classical buildings that house anthropological museums.

As I strolled through the square on a warm sunny day and looked around I thought: the people here on this square are already saying a big fuck you to the Nazi ideology just by being themselves -- in front of me a busload of German highschool students were entering the museum; among the blond hair and blue eyes were a few black and asian students, seeming totally integrated with their schoolmates. So much for the pure Aryan Germany Hitler dreamed of.  And they were going into a museum on anthropology, with exhibits on cultures from around the world -- not just an exhibition on Bavarian folk dancing and lederhosen as Hitler would have liked (not that I have anything against lederhosen, they can look quite fetching on the right chap). On the other side of the square, on the marble steps of the other museum, there was a young gay couple talking and getting lovey-dovy.

And I thought to myself -- it's a wonderful world -- at least in this particular time and place. A goose-stepping moron's worst nightmare come true.

Crispy Quote of the Day

"I had an interest in death from an early age. It fascinated me. 

When I heard 'Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall' I thought, 

'Did he fall or was he pushed?'"

-- P.D. James

Monty Python Abroad

I have always been a great fan of Monty Python. I have some friends who simply don't "get" their humor, though they are otherwise sane people -- I guess it's quite British and isn't for everyone.

A couple of years ago I found out that during the height of their popularity Monty Python were asked do some shows for German TV (a lot of people, even fans, seem not to know about these). They even did the sketches directly in German. They were a very smart bunch, several of them had degrees from universities such as Oxford and Cambridge, and one of them was a doctor before turning to comedy.

I went on a day trip to Munich, which is just 2 hours by train from Salzburg, last Tuesday to see my brother who was there on a business trip. In the evening we went to one of those typical traditional Bavarian restaurants -- you know, photos of chaps in lederhosen, lots of pork, beer, and sauerkraut.

Anyway, I was reminded of this sketch from the shows they did for German TV:

Crispy Quote of the Day -- Carpe Diem

This is something I heard on a BBC comedy show a few months ago -- I cannot remember who the hell said it. I guess this is the early and quaintly charming phase of Alzheimer's. 

Whoever said it was pretty funny:

"I try to live every day as if it were my last: lying in bed slipping in and out of consciousness."

Another Fucking Update

A couple of weeks ago I had a little post on the venerable town of Fucking (pop. 93) in Upper Austria, 40 km from where I live.

I have unearthed more information on this family travel destination. First of all, there was a referendum in the town in 2004 on whether to change the name. The proud and brave citizens of Fucking voted against any change by a large margin.

I have also discovered that Fucking has already been mocked in the mass media, by none other than Graham Norton, the arch-gay British TV show host. I used to watch his show once in a while when I lived in London and he can be funny, though it's not exactly high-brow humor. Here is the link to watch him poke fun at this proud town on his show.

I was also pleased to find that an enterprising young couple in Fucking have shrugged off any irritation over how people seem to find their town laughable -- and instead they have wisely decided to capitalize on it. They now have a website where they sell t-shirts with the name of the town and pictures of its signs. Well, if you can't beat them, join them... this is smart move since there probably aren't too many jobs in such a small town as Fucking outside of agriculture. Ah, the joys of global capitalism!

But the possibilities don't end here -- think about it, proud people of Fucking. You hold intangible asset value in your town's trademark name: you could branch out and capitalize on this further by building a large convention center and hosting conferences for the porn industry or swinger's clubs. The sexual revolution marches on to the tune of cash nowadays -- but then again, sex has always sold well.

Crispy Quote of the Day

"God made everything out of nothing, but the nothingness shows through."

-- Paul Valery

Friends in High Places

from top to bottom (no pun intended): Klaus Wowereit and boyfriend; Ole von Beust; Bertrand Delanoe; and Brian Paddick

The acceptance of homosexuals into mainstream European life has accelerated in the last decade. The new area in which we are making big inroads is politics; the place is major cities. Since 2001 no less than 3 of the biggest cities in Europe have elected a gay mayor. 

Berlin, the 3rd largest city in Europe elected Klaus Wowereit in 2001. He came out before the election at his party's convention with the sentence that was to become famous in Germany "I am gay, and that is a good thing." He is quite popular, and he has been widely talked about as potentially his party's (SPD) candidate for chancellor in the next election. Wowereit has been very visible in the gay community and often been photographed with his partner.

Another case entirely is Ole von Beust, the mayor of Hamburg, another German city and the 7th largest in Europe. He comes from a distinguished lineage of aristocrats that dabbled in politics. He is also a member of CDU, the Conservative Party in Germany. He never answered rumors about his homosexuality and it was his father who confirmed them and outed him in an interview. Von Beust believes his sexual orientation is his own private matter and ironically refers any interviewers with questions on the subject to his father.

Bertrand Delanoe was also elected in 2001 as Mayor of Paris, the 2nd largest city in Europe. He has been openly gay since 1998. As a member of the Socialist Party he has concentrated on new programs and events to improve quality of life for the inhabitants of Paris -- such as free bicycles for use in the congested center, and "Paris Beach": an initiative that transforms the banks of the river Seine into beaches for the Summer. This has proved very popular with people who can't afford to get away on vacation and been copied in other cities. It was during one of his cultural events in 2002, a festival that lasted all night called "Nuit Blanche", that a Muslim immigrant who had psychological problems stabbed Delanoe. Delanoe insisted on the festivities continuing as he was being rushed to hospital. He was out of the hospital in 2 weeks. His assailant stated that he hated politicians and that his religion said homosexuality was wrong. He stood trial and was sent to a mental hospital.

Finally, as I write, the campaign for London mayor is in full swing -- the candidate for the Liberal Democrats is Brian Paddick, an openly gay former high ranking Police official. He doesn't have much of a chance since he is standing for a 3rd party without as much pull as Labour or the Conservatives. On a shallow note, this is quite a pity, since he's actually quite cute. There's always something about a man in uniform.

But altogether this is a huge change and a sign of golden times for gay people. Especially when you consider that prior to 2001 the only openly gay mayor of a major city in the world was Glen Murray in Winnipeg, Canada. May it only get better.

Crispy Quote of the Day

"Success is the ability to go from one failure to another with no loss of enthusiasm."

-- Winston Churchill

The simple pleasures of life

On Sunday my boyfriend went to visit his grandparents in the country. He brought these beautiful flowers from his grandmother's garden.

As if that wasn't enough beauty to cheer me up, then there was a spectacular light in the late afternoon.

Joe Orton

Joe strikes a provocative pose, as always.

There's a warm pleasure in re-discovering an author you haven't read in a long while. That's what happened when I came upon a slender volume of Joe's Orton's play "What the Butler Saw" on a recent library visit. I had quite an interest in Joe Orton about 5-6 years ago and read most of his stuff. It started when I found an anthology of his plays in the discount bin of an independent bookstore in Washington, DC. I then read not only his plays but also some of his early novels, his diaries, and the excellent biography written by John Lahr.

The fact is that his personality and life are at least as interesting as his work: born to a working class in Leiscester, UK in 1933. While attending secretarial school he got into amateur theatricals and secured a scholarship to the Royal Academy of Dramatic Arts. It was there that he met Kenneth Halliwell, who was to be his lover, mentor, and murderer. Halliwell was already in his mid-20s, came from a middle class background, was intelligent and cultivated, and since his parents had both died he had inherited enough money to be financially independent.

They moved in together in the homophobic environment of early 1950s England. They worked in regional theatrical productions for a few years, but then they gave up on the theater career. Using some of Halliwell's inheritance they bought a tiny bedsit in Islington, London. They gave up on regular work, living on Halliwell's money, unemployment benefits, and occasionally doing a few month's work at a Cadbury's factory. Under Halliwell's guidance Orton started reading voraciously. Then they started writing novels together, which because they were way ahead of their time were all rejected by publishers. 

They lived a monastic life, writing and reading all day, spending as little money as possible: they would go to bed when the sun went down to save on electricity. In a sense, they were part of the beat movement that was taking off in the US at the time -- they rejected conventional goals for their life, lived independently and on the margin, and their works openly mocked all the ideals and little hipocrisies of society. During this time they also got into trouble and spent a few months in jail: they amused themselves by sneaking books out of their local library, putting new subversive and very funny dust jackets and flap cover descriptions on them and returning them. They liked to think of the staid Islington burgers when they checked out. However, after some time they were caught and prosecuted for vandalism. That didn't faze Orton much, because as his agent later said: "Jail gives a writer credentials. Everyone else it takes them away."

Example of Orton's and Halliwell's jokes, which cost them jail-time. Ironically, these "vandalized" books are now the most valuable in the Islington public library collection.

Then, Orton started writing on his own. In the early 60s he got a radio play accepted by the BBC, and from then on he steadily climbed towards success and fame. His plays both delighted and shocked the British public and he was hailed as the "Oscar Wilde of the welfare society." His success left Halliwell envious, left out, and depressed, taking more and more pills. Orton started making a lot of money and consorting with celebrities like the Beatles, while Halliwell still hadn't been able to publish a thing.

Halliwell spiraled into severe depression, in the summer of 1967 Orton insisted he see a psychiatrist. The psychiatrist was thinking of recommending that Halliwell go into a psychiatric hospital. Orton had become increasingly promiscuous since his success began and was considering ending the relationship. One night in August after an argument, Halliwell beat Orton's brains out as he slept and then committed suicide with pills. Joe Orton was 34 -- his productive period as a playwright lasted less than 4 years.

Why do I like Joe Orton's plays? Well, first of all he's funny, and has great one-liners Oscar Wilde style. Also, he was probably the best writer of farces of the 20th century -- his plays thrive on anarchy, confusion, and subversion. The farce genre, dating back to the Ancient Greek tradition (for example Sophocles) with which Orton was well familiar, is based on showing the chaos and ridicule of human society. There's something in that that appeals to me, because it reveals a basic fact about the human condition as I see it: we are hypocrites, chaotic, confused, and very ridiculous. We are evolved apes who think because we can handle tools we are made in God's image. Our attempts at dignity are usually self-serving and pompous. As Napoleon said: "there's only a small step from the sublime to the ridiculous".

To those interested in Joe Orton I recommend you start with the great 1987 movie based on his life, with none other than Gary Oldman playing Orton -- the title is "Prick up Your Ears".

I wonder how Orton's life would have turned out if he hadn't died so young. Would he still be making fun of us? Would his craft have gone to still greater heights? Or would he have become comfortable and an establishment figure?

I leave with some quotes I like from "What the Butler Saw", so you'll know what I'm talking about:

"MRS PRENTICE: Have you ever given thought to a male secretary?

DR PRENTICE: A man could never get used to the work.

MRSP: My father had a male secretary. My mother said he was much better than a woman.

DRP: I couldn't ask a young fellow to do overtime and then palm him off with a lipstick or a bottle of Yardley's. It'd be silk suits and Alfa Romeos if I so much as breathed on him.

MRSP: Try a boy for a change. You're a rich man. You can afford the luxuries of life."

"MRSP: (in a surprised tone) What are you doing with that dress?

DRP: (pause) It's an old one of yours.

MRSP: Have you taken up transvestism? I had no idea our marriage teetered on the edge of fashion."

"DRP: It's a fascinating theory, sir, and cleverly put together. Does it tie in with known facts?

DR RANCE: That need not cause us undue anxiety. Civilizations have been founded and maintained on theories which refused to obey facts."

"SERGEANT MATCH: You must realize this boy is bringing a serious charge against you?

DRP: Yes. It's ridiculous. I'm a married man.

SM: Marriage excuses no one from the freaks' roll call."

"DRP: I couldn't commit the act. I'm a heterosexual

DRR: I wish you wouldn't use these Chaucerian words. It's most confusing."

"DRP: I'm not mad. It only looks that way.

DRR: Your actions today would get the Archbishop of Canterbury declared non-compos.

DRP: I'm not the Archbishop of Canterbury.

DRR: That will come at a later stage of your illness."

"DRP: I'm a rationalist.

DRR: You can't be a rationalist in an irrational world. It isn't rational."

"MRSP: (rising, stumbling to the desk) Oh, doctor, during your absence my husband became violent and struck me. (She pours a whisky)

DRR: Did you enjoy it?

MRSP: At first. But the pleasures of the senses quickly pall."

"DRR: I've published a monograph on the subject. I wrote it at University. On the advice of my tutor. A remarkable man. Having failed to achieve madness himself he took to teaching it to others.

DRP: And you were his prize pupil?

DRR: There were some more able than I.

DRP: Where are they now?

DRR: In mental institutions.

DRP: Running them?

DRR: For the most part."

"GERALDINE: I must be a boy. I like girls.

(DR RANCE stops and wrinkles his brow, puzzled)

DRR: I can't quite follow the reasoning there.

DRP: Many men imagine that a preference for women is ipso facto a proof of virility.

DRR: Someone should really write a book on these folk-myths."

"DRP: I want you to co-operate with me in getting things back to normal in this house.

NICK: (soothingly) You can rely on me, sir.

DRP: It would help me considerably if you'd take your clothes off."

Douchebag of the Month

This is a little monthly feature dedicated to highlighting some of the people I despise. I have opted for "Douchebag" as the insult because it seems to be quite trendy at the moment; and according to what I read it is associated to a variety of negative personality characteristics ranging from arrogance to malice and to stupidity. I have also chosen to make this a monthly feature because there are just too many douchebags. If I allowed myself it might well be a thrice-daily feature.

I am happy to say our first winner scores high on all of the 3 douchebag traits listed above: Wolfgang Schussel, chancellor of Austria from 2000 to 2007.

 

Can you spot the difference?

Now he is the parliamentary leader of the OVP, the Conservative Party in Austria. What has earned him this coveted award of "Douchebag of the Month"? 

Well, right now the 2 parties in the currently governing coalition, the Conservative OVP and the social-democratic SPO, are discussing the introduction of gay civil unions. About time too, since Austria is now one of the few countries in Western Europe without that basic right for gay citizens. They have discarded the option of gay marriage, and now having discussions on what form the union would take. A significant portion of the Conservative party seemed ready to give way to the more liberal SPO and have a full-fledged civil union like there is in Germany or Switzerland.

Never fear -- enter DB Schussel at the head of the traditionalist wing of the OVP: they say they will support the civil unions, but that gay couples shouldn't be able to tie the knot at city hall like straight couples marrying civilly. Instead, they say, gay couples should pay a private lawyer to formalize their union, making it more akin to a commercial transaction than to a union between 2 human beings.

Now, I am not of those fanatic activists that shouts "Marriage or Nothing!" In fact, I am rather happy to have gay unions not called marriage, given the fact that as an institution marriage has had some unsavory aspects in the past. It used to serve to transmit women as property from father to husband, and so on. So, I am quite content with something that gives me all the rights of marriage without all the historical baggage and implications of the name.

However, I don't like being treated like a second-rate citizen and human being, and that is exactly what this measure by Schussel seeks to achieve. Besides the symbolism of having to slink off to a lawyer's office instead of being able tie the knot publicly in a government building as a citizen -- there is also the question of money: Thanks, but I don't really want to pay 5 times more to a lawyer to formalize my union than a hetero couple pays at city hall. 

There is something so petty and mendacious about this measure that I can't even put it into words. Why do the fuck do you care? What does it achieve, besides being one last bull-shit scented taunt at 4% of the population? I know Austria is a pretty well run country and has a good economy, but surely there must have been something else -- education, health care, immigrant integration, crime, environment, energy policy, picking out the toilet paper brand for use in the Parliament's bathrooms -- that would have been more vital to discuss for days in Parliament.

There is something nauseating about such pointless malevolence, especially when it disguises itself as a preoccupation with values.

Karajan's 100

It was exactly 100 years since Herbert von Karajan's birth yesterday (he died in 1989). His legacy is still quite controversial in some quarters. Norman Lebrecht, whose opinions on classical music I don't always agree with, offers a good overview of why Karajan's centenary shouldn't be heartily celebrated.

To that I would add my 2 cents: I agree with Lebrecht that Karajan was a huge egomaniac. I would also agree that his pervasive power over the classical music industry helped promote excessive conservatism and commercialism. I think he recorded way too much repertoire, a lot of which he wasn't suited to. But like a lot of egomaniacs, in their unflagging devotion to making themselves the ones at the top of the pile, he could be very good at what he did. His preoccupation with a very beautiful and smooth sound from his orchestra became at times a bit grotesque in later years. There are still some recordings of his that I own and enjoy, though: his Mahler 5th, his 1963 Beethoven cycle, and his Mozart Requiem from the 1980s.

And here I am at Karajan ground zero: I live in Salzburg, Austria, where he was born, where he reigned for decades as the main conductor and promoter of the famous Salzburg festival, and where he often lived. His widow still lives here and is an essential part of the jet-set circle. I frequently pass by the mansion where he was born and which has a pretentious statue of him out front.

The question a lot of people think is most important is "Was he a Nazi?" As I said I think he was mainly an egomaniac. I find it hard to believe he was a devoted Nazi since he married his first wife, who was half Jewish, in 1942, and had to endure falling from grace with the regime at the time. He probably became a party member in 1933 for the one reason that propelled him: his career and his advancement. Maybe he wasn't a Nazi, but he sure wasn't a man of conscience or much concern for others.

In the end, I would like to think he paid a price for his self-centeredness and his errors -- in some of the interviews I saw with him, he always seemed oddly unsatisfied, always pushed for better, for more power. That is the price a lot of egomaniacs pay -- you can never have too much money, or influence, or power, or fame. That unquenchable thirst must not be easy to bear and at the end... is always a feeling of failure.

So, don't count on me showing up at any of the fancy Karajan celebrations (I didn't get an invite anyway) or buying any of the super-slick anniversary celebration disk sets that the disk companies are going to churn out compulsively. But I might still play one of his recordings once in a while.

Karajan in his element: absolute power over orchestra and moneyed audience

Crispy Quote of the Day

"I'm tired of all this nonsense about beauty being only skin-deep. That's deep enough. What do you want -- an adorable pancreas?"

-- Jean Kerr

I say, that one is awfully cute...

Variations on a View

Before I moved to Salzburg 6 months ago, I had never had a really good view. As you can see the view from my studio's window here is nothing to be sniffed at. In the distance there's the Geisberg, a mountain that's about 1800m high. 

As I lived day-to-day with this magnificent panorama I began to be captivated by its various appearances. It's incredible how the play of light, fog, rain, clouds, time of day, season, and snow can give it so many faces. And these atmospheric conditions are never exactly the same -- I am always seeing another facet of the view when a novel light strikes and reveals new colors.

I started photographing it at all times and in all weathers. I was then reminded of Cezanne's continuous re-painting of the same view of Mt. St. Victoire. No intent to even associate my name to his, but my fascination is of the same kind as his was. My results are nowhere as good, but I hope you still enjoy these photos as much as I do.

Fucking Unbelievable!

I was alerted to this by my friend Colin... who has never been to Austria. Upon interrogation my boyfriend confessed he knew about this too -- I should have been informed, this is too funny not to be shared. Here I am living only about 40 km from the great town of Fucking (pop. 93) and I was never told: 

This must not be very fun for the poor inhabitants. The authors of the above article did not even get the country right in the title -- they were not content to affront the name of these people's village, they had to step on their national pride as well. Outrageous. By the way, what would an inhabitant of Fucking be called? A fucker?

At the top is photo of a sign in the town. Under the town's name there's a sign urging drivers to slow down in the school area. It thus reads "Fucking. Please not so fast."

Crispy Quote of the Day

"If you think you have it tough, read history books."

-- Bill Maher

The Hills are Alive

Pic 1: According to the sign this doorway has existed since 800 AD; people were really a lot shorter back then, since the door only comes up to slightly above my belly-button and I am only average height. This is on the outskirts of Salzburg in a place called Gnigl. Amazing to think this doorway is still being used today.
I am always amazed at how clouds can look like abstract paintings. Kandinsky couldn't do any better.
A traditional Austrian house in the country a few kilometers from Salzburg, with the worked wood and the oh-so-catholic Christ up top. I forgot to straighten this picture, and now I'm too lazy to go back and do it.
Snow peaked mountains -- there are lots of them around Salzburg.
Last pic: This was a house I spotted right at the edge of town, before you get into the country. I thought it was interesting and a bit funny how the owners had added an ultra-modern wing to the super-traditional main body of their house on the left (notice the woodwork and the deer antlers up on top). The contrast looks kind of cool though.

The last few days have been sunny and mild here in Salzburg. The winter was pretty nasty, so I was out taking some walks in nature in the blink of an eye. I am not crazy about Salzburg after 6 months here -- it is very beautiful and it has a good quality of life, but I am used to larger cities. This just feels a bit tiny to me. 

But one thing has to be said for living here: the natural beauty of the region is splendid, and it's easy to get out of the city on foot and go on some wonderful walks. 

The above photos were taken on those treks.