Art, Dance and Theatre

Everything to do with artistic activity.

Sometimes I feel uncomfortable here

~ Kate Wilson ~ 6 Comments

Sometimes I don’t know what to write here. After all it’s not a diary and shouldn’t I be entertaining you?  But if my mood is ‘interesting’  or complicated then I have trouble knowing what to say or how to say it.

If you would like to see something funny that caught my eye tonight then here is a photo of a shrine by the side of the road. I don’t know what came first – the statue or the brickwork.

Here it is….

And if you are here because you like to know what is going on for me then this part is for you. If you prefer to read interesting cultural things then this bit might not be your cup of earl grey tea!

I am feeling uncomfortable in my skin

I don’t like the unsettling cloudy humid weather which spoils our plans to go to the beach or watch Life of Brian in the open air cinema.

I keep crying over little things.

I feel a failure at everything I try to do – I can’t drive like Catalan people, I don’t know how to use the Samsung phone, cooking is difficult, we are getting nowhere with finding a new home with a garden.  The resident adolescent still ignores me.  I can’t speak Catalan, understand Catalan, remember any words in Spanish, wear the right clothes,  look presentable in a photograph, etc etc

I went to a family meal and spent three hours at the dinner table in almost total silence. Half way through I lost my ability to smile and nod. Not much later I lost the will to live as my spirit left my body and floated somewhere up on the ceiling watching my abandoned body continue in some reflex way to lift the glass of cava to my mouth and drink…..too much.

Memories of the school playground

Remember at school those skipping games where you have to run in while the rope is turning, jump a couple of times and then exit without breaking the rhythm?   There were always scary girls who confidently popped in and out without any trouble.   I was not one of them.  I would stand at the entrance for ages, bobbing my head forward and back as I tried to find the right moment to make the move. Then I would chose the wrong moment and catch the rope on my ankles or around my neck.
This is how I feel when faced with groups of people speaking in Catalan in a social setting. The words are fast and constant. You need confidence to get in there.  And if you jump in at the wrong moment, the conversation stops, everyone looks at you as if you are stupid, and you just want to run away and hide.
And if you don’t try to jump in they look at you anyway,  asking ‘what’s wrong with you?’

I am too slow for so many things.

Driving for example. I love driving and taking to the road but I hate having to speed along because that is the ‘right’ way.  The ‘Catalan’ way.   I don’t like overtaking when there is a lot of traffic – somehow the same bobbing head syndrome kicks in and I have to take deep breaths before claiming my space in the fast lane.

My brain feels tired. I feel dizzy and muzzy.  I wake too early and go to bed too late.

I want to go HOME – but I don’t know where home is.

Many people have said to me that they couldn’t do what I am doing.

They couldn’t come and live somewhere different, learn two languages, have a new family and an adolescent step child in a different culture and begin all over again with work and friends and everything. Honestly in many ways it hasn’t been too difficult but….right now…..I’m not sure I can do it either.

I want to – but I am tired of feeling that I am always failing.

Is it because I am not good enough?  Perhaps the task is just too hard!

The swift that I tried to rescue wanted to fly.   Again and again she stretched her wings and launched off   into the unknown only to crash down head first onto the ground.  It was hard to watch but I loved her desire to survive.  Eventually she got tired and had to rest. In the end she accepted this, and let go to death.

She tried and failed and it wasn’t her fault – it was just too hard.   I feel very poised on this edge, facing this question, and although there are helpful hands around me, it is a lonely moment…..can I fly?

Now, for anyone who is still tuned in,  here is a lovely little car I saw on Carrer Corro last night. This is my kind of car, ideal for pootling along enjoying the journey without having to feel bad about not going faster or being bigger or more stylish or a different shape or colour

And especially for Oreneta, Bodhi, Christine, Pearl, Pepsi and all those who leave me messages,

this is for you

Bar hopping in Barcelona

~ Kate Wilson ~ 6 Comments

Barcelona for an afternoon and a night.
It’s always a treat and this time was especially good as I saw a friend who I haven’t been able to catch up with for months. She was the first local friend I made in the city – about 6 years ago – and has always been a source of laughs, advice, support and interesting places to visit.
If not for her I would never have found the Hare Krishna vegetarian restaurant near Plaça Reial, or the women’s library near the Palau Musica Catalana, nor the milk bar where I had my first orxata experience. And I would not have stayed for 6 weeks in a tiny flat in Palma Sant Just which is owned by a friend of hers.
So, we met at Drassanes and with the use of her Bicing card we cycled all around Barceloneta and the Ribera.
First we sent to the nudist beach Sant Sebastia for a swim. Only to find that hardly anyone was nude which is very unusual. The next night on the news I saw that the recent law on nudity on the streets has been used to stop people stripping off on the naturist part of the beach. They said there were complaints from ‘the neighbours’  Ummm…..there are no houses there – only the new and incredibly modern and expensive hotel W which sits at the far end of the beach

Possibly the complaints came from that direction?
We went along to take a look at the bar and the vestibule – it is very luxurious and comfortable

At every door there were people guarding the entrances – any old riff raff from the beach definitely not welcome. But we walked confidently by

Afterwards we went for a genuine vermut in one of my favourite bars near the Barceloneta market

It was very busy so we just stood at the counter and eyed up the cheeses and sausages.

At every stop we put back the bicycle in the stand

then took another when we were ready to go. Bicing is such a convenient and sensible system and the promenade by the beach is the perfect place to go spinning along with the wind in your hair.
Next stop was a Kebab cafe for falafels and hummus …..and a couple of beers!
Still not too wobbly we managed to negotiate the traffic and get to the narrow streets of the Ribera, the area close to Santa Maria del Mar. It was Saturday night and everywhere was buzzing. It’s not easy winding around people as they dither and dawdle along but bikes and people seem to mix fairly well in these tiny streets. My friend could ride along, snaking between people but I was less practised and had to keep jumping on and off and ringing my bell.
We went into a bar – Valentina on Regomir – which is full of armchairs and bookcases. You can take books away if you bring in new ones so the titles are constantly being added to and refreshed

We found a comfortable corner, pulled out some books, ordered wine and a mojito and settled down to read in peace for an hour. After such a busy evening it was nice to just rest and relax with a friend with no need to talk.

Next morning I went back to my favourite square for a coffee and croissant – It’s just beside the Esglesia Sant Just i Pastor which is a 4th century church I often visit for quiet meditation.
I am soon setting off on travels to France and Italy and then on to Cornwall and won’t be back here for a few months. It feels strange to know that when I return, hopefully with two dear dogs in the back of the van, it will be harder to make these short trips to Barcelona. So every moment of this one felt extra precious and sweet.

Speaking of journeys – I forgot that we started off in the Maritime Museum with a coffee and chocolate croissant. There is an exhibition there now about a big storm that happened in the Mediterranean in 1911 – a year I always notice as it is when my mother was born. I don’t know what the connection was with the exhibit in the courtyard of a ship and its passengers but it made a good photo!

I feel am setting off on a new adventure, waving to friends and family as my boat sets sail to goodness knows where. If all goes to plan and I return to live with three dogs in Granollers – I will be Dog Woman!

Visca Frida!

~ Kate Wilson ~ 3 Comments

Last week we looked at the work of Frida Kahlo. None of the children had heard of her and most of my knowledge came from the film so it was interesting to read more and to experiment with ideas from her work. Obviously some of the more gory details were not really suitable for 4 and 5 year olds but the general idea of someone who looked inside herself and painted from her own life and experiences was interesting to them all.
We talked about memories – happy and sad ones – then made little dramas to act out in the show. Each child chose the actors to play the different parts – usually of their parents, sisters and brothers and grandparents. Funny how many memories included a swimming pool!
They each did a self portrait, including their heart and the cords emerging from it which led to bubbles with drawings of the memories and important things in their lives.
At the top – as Frida did – they wrote VISCA and their name.
One of the best parts of the show for me was when they showed their painting and called out their names……. ‘Sóc la Ona, Visca Ona!’ and the whole audience yelled back ‘ Visca Ona’

 The week was marked by emotional ups and downs – perhaps the Full Moon or the influence of Frida?  One boy went wild on a daily basis and couldn’t sit or stand quietly long enough to practice his story. He raced around the room, tapped his feet, turned manic somersaults, resisted all attempts to quieten him down. But….when doing his self portrait or decorating the cigar boxes which we called boxes of desires, he was totally focused and creative and peaceful.
I don’t know why I didn’t take a photo of those boxes – they were incredibly beautiful and if we only had the time we could have talked more about the choices they made of images to use to depict their desires.
Next week….tomorrow…..Andy Warhol.

Nellie the Elephant

~ Kate Wilson ~ 2 Comments
Picasso Week at the Summer School

We were going to work on circus things. I tried to think of an English song to teach.
What about Nellie the Elephant?
And so the show began to take shape and in the end Nellie was the star!

Or one of them. Here is one little tiny student who walked on the red ball – The Ball Of Fire!!! – all the way to the trapeze and then amazed everyone with her high flying act
Picasso made plates at one stage of his life so we did too

And everyone managed to sing Nellie the Elephant in English while wheeling her around in a final parade as she said goodbye to the circus and trundled back to the jungle!