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Culture

I have already mentioned music and dance and most restaurants and bars have small groups entertaining who subsequently move around the patrons seeking payment.  Some of these are very good but once or twice I refused to pay on the grounds that we had had to move to a different table to get away from the racket and hear ourselves think.  Similarly, two restaurants we went to at night featured flamenco dancing.

 

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There are lots of artists in Havana.  The art varies between paintings mass produced for the tourists, in ‘Pro Hart’ fashion, to genuine original works; some of a high quality.  The former are on cheap roughly primed canvas, not Masonite a la Pro, and can be purchased according to size; for around $10 a square foot.  These are described as ‘original oils’, in that each is hand made and the brush strokes differ, but roughly the same painting is produced numerous times and in different sizes.  Subjects vary from cars to nudes; still life to landscape; religious icons and copies of other painters work; particularly Fernando Botero.

 

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A Botero - this one in the fine arts museum in Mexico City

 

There is a huge market at the harbour-side displaying these paintings; in addition to many galleries and street art locations. 

In the second category I went into a couple of studios and discussed their work with artists I saw painting in styles from neo-cubism to abstract expressionism.  Art it seems is a kind of small scale manufacture replacing the industry that once took place in abandoned factories across the country.

 

 

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Travel

Southern France

Touring in the South of France

September 2014

 

Lyon

Off the plane we are welcomed by a warm Autumn day in the south of France.  Fragrant and green.

Lyon is the first step on our short stay in Southern France, touring in leisurely hops by car, down the Rhône valley from Lyon to Avignon and then to Aix and Nice with various stops along the way.

Months earlier I’d booked a car from Lyon Airport to be dropped off at Nice Airport.  I’d tried booking town centre to town centre but there was nothing available.

This meant I got to drive an unfamiliar car, with no gearstick or ignition switch and various other novel idiosyncrasies, ‘straight off the plane’.  But I managed to work it out and we got to see the countryside between the airport and the city and quite a bit of the outer suburbs at our own pace.  Fortunately we had ‘Madam Butterfly’ with us (more of her later) else we could never have reached our hotel through the maze of one way streets.

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Fiction, Recollections & News

The new James Bond

 

 

It was raining in the mountains on Easter Saturday.

We'd decided to take a couple of days break in the Blue Mountains and do some walking. But on Saturday it poured.  In the morning we walked two kilometres from Katoomba to more up-market and trendy Leura for morning coffee and got very wet.

After a train journey to Mount Victoria and back to dry out and then lunch in the Irish Pub, with a Cider and Guinness, we decided against another soaking and explored the Katoomba antique stores and bookshops instead.  In one I found and bought an unread James Bond book.  But not by the real Ian Fleming. 

Ian Fleming died in 1964 at the young age of fifty-six and I'd read all his so I knew 'Devil May Care' was new.  This one is by Sebastian Faulks, known for his novel Birdsong, 'writing as Ian Fleming' in 2008.

Read more: The new James Bond

Opinions and Philosophy

The Prospect of Eternal Life

 

 

 

To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream:
ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause:
… But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscover'd country from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;

[1]

 

 

 

 

When I first began to write about this subject, the idea that Hamlet’s fear was still current in today’s day and age seemed to me as bizarre as the fear of falling off the earth if you sail too far to the west.  And yet several people have identified the prospect of an 'undiscovered country from whose realm no traveller returns' as an important consideration when contemplating death.  This is, apparently, neither the rational existential desire to avoid annihilation; nor the animal imperative to keep living under any circumstances; but a fear of what lies beyond.

 

Read more: The Prospect of Eternal Life

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