Tuesday, October 19, 2004

ASSISI, ITALY

I visited Assisi today and saw the tomb of St. Francis himself. More later. Maybe.

PBB

Monday, October 18, 2004

PISA, ITALY

Visited Pisa today. More later. Maybe.

PBB

Saturday, October 16, 2004

FLORENCE, ITALY

A MUGGING POSTPONED

Yesterday, I was rushing headlong toward my own mugging, until I got my bearings and parted company with my "benefactor".

It was about 5 o'clock and I was leaning against a wall on Via Faenza, studying the map. I didn't have much of a clue where I was when this slender, tall guy asked me if he could help. I said I was looking for Ponte Vecchio, and he said "follow me!"

He started on a brisk pace, so brisk that sometimes, when separated, I had to run to catch up with him. So fast, that even his friend was left behind.

After about six minutes, we emerged at the train station, the first place I recognized. That told me that he was taking me north, into his territory, when Ponte Vecchio lay south.

I said my goodbyes and we parted company.

USEFUL INFORMATION, UNREAD

In Milan, I went to the museum to The Last Supper and was asked if I had a reservation. First time in my life I had ever faced that situation. Of course, I had none. And I had gone to such trouble, walking and getting lost how many times to get there.

I had the foresight, when I flew Lufthansa on 24 August to Moscow, to rip out a page from the inflight magazine that talked about Milan. At that time, I wasn't sure I would visit Milan. But just in case. Well, that was 24 August.

Last night, 15 October, I pulled out the sheet of paper and read it for the first time. The relevant part said:

"The church of Santa Maria delle Grazie is home to one of the world's most famous painting, Leonardo da Vinci's Last Supper. Admission is limited, so call ahead."

OK, so I blew Milan. So when I arrived in Florence, I called and got an appointment to see David at 11 o'clock this morning and a 1:15 tomorrow for Galleria Degli Uffizi where I expect to meet Venus Rising.

LOST IN FLORENCE

A few things can happen when you are lost and studying a map on the street. Usually, you are completely ignored. Also, unfortunately, you could be approached by someone who really wants you to part with your money.

Or, you could get help from some wonderful people. As I have in Paris, a couple times. And that's how I met Vera at the corner of Via Panicale and Via Dell' Ariento.

She left her store to enquire if I needed help and found out that we have somethings in common. Vera, a German, has lived in Jamaica, had a Jamaican in her life, and discovered Jamaican food.

For about half an hour, we chatted non-stop about the ways of people. We talked about reggae, about Rastafari, about the good things and the bad things about places. It blew her mind when I told her that in Jamaica, we used to pay to go see a movie, but before it hit the screen, we had to stand to the British national anthem. Imagine how screwed up minds must be. Without a gun in sight. Without a whip. We, exploited Jamaicans, stand obediently to God Save the King, or God Save the Queen!!! And, when the empire had sucked us dry, they gave us independence. But only after they were sure we were ready!

I know my country so little that I had to ask Vera where Treasure Beach was. It is on the south coast and I believe I have been there with former friends Sydney and Georgia White.

Of course, it was good to see David, but I had met him before. I met Vera for the first time and she made my day.

Patrick Barry Barr

Tuesday, October 12, 2004

MILAN, ITALY

If you had written three items in your blog, then, at the point of sending hit the wrong button and lost everything, would you start from scratch all over again? Just to get it off my chest, a brief synopsis:

I left Barcelona on the 10:05 this morning and arrived in Milan about an hour and fifteen minutes later. Could have probably saved 40€ (euros) had I gone online as the owner of the ABBA hostel suggested. I paid $114 for the ticket and 40€ was her commission.

I had also said that my friends may say I am fairly intelligent but would have to be sent to Abu Ghraib to get them to whisper that I was sharp as a tack, a quick thinker on my feet, astute. I am none of those things. I usually figure things out hours, days, weeks later. Remember that story I told you about the guy who made me erase all those photos of the mystery Italian train parked for God knows how many years at a railroad station in Spain? All I had to do was to show him a couple and then hit the button that makes the photos skip by tens. He wouldn't have known the difference!

Finally, am I the only Black guy who is always suspicious when they put me all the way in the back of the restaurant, right by the toilet? When I got to the hotel in Milan today, I had to trek a-a-l-ll the way to the penultimate room, like taking a tour of the goddam hotel. I plan to get the hell out of there tomorrow. If I had cash, I could have gotten something for 40€ tomorrow. I am going to take a look at a few places tomorrow. Like the La Scala, for example. Then take a train to Florence.

Now, let me see which button do I hit?

Patrick Barry Barr

Monday, October 11, 2004

THE BODY CAN TAKE SO MUCH

Late August to early September, I could be seen taking stairs two steps at a time; walking up escalators that take more than two minutes to get to the top.

Now, it is October and you will find me just like the other folks: just standing there, waiting for the escalator to take me where we are all going: up!

Occasionally, the old me reappears and I will take a step or two up or down, but that energy has to be recouped by a long vacation, when I return to the USA and then to Lima.

I arrived in Barcelona yesterday evening and took a very long walk to the train station to see if there were trains to Nice, France. It appears that I would need to make two connections. I don't really need to be in Nice that badly.

So, today I bought a ticket to Milan. Cost 114 euros or dollars, I forget. Maybe I could have gotten a better deal had I searched the Internet, but just goes to show you that I am sapped. Of course, I did book a hotel in Milan.

I didn't really do the things I would normally do on a visit to Barcelona. I just didn't feel up to it. And you wouldn't believe the crowds in The Rambla area and about the Catalunya square! I need to spend two or three months in Barcelona to slowly take it all in. It really is an incredible city!

Patrick Barry Barr
BILBAO TO BARCELONA

Prohibited

About three hours into the train ride, through no fault of the conductor, he was closing the door as we were about to leave a train station, when I was taking a photo. I got the back of his head and a small piece of the object which I was photographing. He didn't have to be, but he seemed apologetic.

To make up for it, he promised me a very interesting site at the next station. When we pulled into the next station, he pointed to the prize: a sleek, old, Italian train. It had that modern design for speed, seemed to have been in an accident and was permanently placed at the station, on the adjoining track that ends there.

I didn't get to find out what was so interesting about this train, but I proceeded to take about nine or so photos from different angles. I liked them a lot. As I angled to take a head-on shot, an official approached me and said : "No, no. Es prohibido."

He said he was told to tell me that it was prohibited to take photos of the train but wouldn't explain why a train in plain view for how many years now was not to be photographed. As if the Italians didn't know it was there. It is not as if it was the Elgin Marbles, safely esconced in the British Museum, stolen from Greece how many years now.

He stood there as I went back, back, back, back and saw that I deleted them all. One, of another train, I said was graffiti and he said I could keep that.

So I will not be able to share this top secret of the Spanish government with you. Sorry!

Patrick Barry Barr
BARCELONA, ESPAÑA

Left Bilbao on the 10:05 AM train and arrived at Estaçao Sants at about 7:10 PM yesterday. Took the No. 3 metro five stops to Drassanes, found the Columbus monument two blocks away, made a left and walked about 200 yards on Passeig de Colom to the ABBA hostel at number 9.

My room has six two-bunk beds to house twelve people. I am alone in the No. 2 bottom bunk. Being wary of spending my cash, I did not rent a sheet, nor a pillow. Used my clothes bag, the one in which I take my clothes to the laundry. This morning, I didn't rent a towel for 2 euros, either.

But I had a wonderful discussion with the Iranian owner. We agreed on everything.

Went wild taking wall art and graffiti.

I am as drained as the rag that I left to dry this morning. I just don't feel like looking at Barcelona and will fly out tomorrow morning to Milan.

Talk with you later.

Patrick Barry Barr

Wednesday, October 06, 2004

BILBAO

Horace Andy

It may have been love, infatuation, or pure lust. I don't know. I didn't stay around to find out.

It was a few moments after I had entered Kafe Antzoka that I saw him looking at me. A middle-aged, white man in a dark suit. For crissake, it was a Reggae concert with one of Jamaica's pioneers, Horace Andy.

It was about 9:20 and the place was noisy. He came over to make conversation and I couldn't hear a damn thing. I managed to hear the offer for a drink and said no; water, no. That didn't stop him from returning a few minutes later with a small bottle of water and his phone number on a pink flyer, for chrissakes. The flyer showed a clown and the name Kurrusku. He said that was him. The number was written at the top and again, near the bottom 653749942.

Half an hour later, during the concert, he introduced this guy as his friend. A few minutes later, another bottle of water. Twenty minutes later, another, which I refused. I showed the friend the two that I had in my bag.

Then this clown returns with a beer which I absolutely refused.

Andy had the place filled with young, dreadlocked youngsters, a guy offered me ganja which I refused. The place was hopping and I could breathe a little by keeping the door ajar.

Before the intermission, I left, making sure the clown didn't see me going.

Patrick Barry Barr

Tuesday, October 05, 2004

BILBAO

EMERGENCY

If you ever need to go to the emergency of any hospital during your vacation, make it The Hospital Civil de Basurto, in Bilbao.

I had thought of seeing a doctor in Vilnius for my throat; then I thought of seeing one in Paris. But I didn't. I have had to sleep sitting up several nights because of my throat and was extremely conscious of my coughing, during the night, in the Peace and Love hostel.

Anyway, I took a street car to the last stop, Basuro, and walked to the hospital. I thought it funny that Emergency was so far from the front gate for a person on foot. After about 15 minutes, a pleasant woman took my information and asked me to wait for my name to be called; which took about 20 minutes. A pleasant woman took my temperature and blood pressure, both of which I forgot to ask for. Finally, another took me to a room where I met Dr. Anat, if I recall (you know me and names). He was very pleasant and had two students. He said it was fine; nothing out of the ordinary, and gave me three things to take.

I asked him where I should pay and he told me that it did not cost anything. I told him that one day I would send a donation.

I wished them hasta luego, then corrected myself: Adios. Nice as they are, you don't want to be seeing them again.

Patrick Barry Barr
BILBAO, SPAIN

Basque Region

This is Basque country. They want to separate from Spain.

At hostel, Roquefer, the first time I heard the church bell, we're neighbours, the church and the hostel, the sound just about felt as if it had come from within my head. But I have become quite accustomed to it ringing from about 7AM, I believe, until when I don't know. But, thank God, it doesn't ring during the night. It rings so loudly, and unexpectedly, that it always breaks your thoughts, whatever those thoughts may have been.

The sounds from the street were enormous yesterday, sounds of construction, sounds of voices, just about as loud as you ever heard outside a quarrel. But I loved it all. I love the sounds of the streets. I remember the sounds of Havana, where people will shout from the street to the third floor for friends. Also, in and outside Havana, the sounds of the street sellers. Always reminds me of Kingston in my youth: the coal man, the milk man, the bread man, the man or woman selling mangos or any number of edibles.

I don't want a funeral when I die, I just want a town crier walking around shouting at the top of his lungs: "The nigger's dead!"

Patrick Barry Barr
BILBAO, SPAIN

It was on that train from Paris's Gare d'Austerlitz, the 11:14 PM to Irun, Spain that I suffered much. Don't forget (how could you, I haven't yet told you) that I was still (am still) nursing a sore throat.

I got this sore throat in Vilnius, during some opera or ballet, when, during intermission, I went outside to get some fresh air. I noted then that I was not wearing my tam, having removed it inside because it was hot. Now, I know my system. I knew I was threading on dangerous ground here. And, of course, next day by throat became some.

We arrived in Irun about 7:30 AM and I spoke twice with a very irritated woman at the information desk. I believe she had a headache.

As she said, I went to NO. 1 platform, ascertained there were no trains either to San Sebastian nor Bilbao. I went to the bus to Bilbao and asked the driver if the bus had a toilet. He said yes, and it left in about5 minutes. I ran and bought a ticket. I've never had better service on a bus. The guy gave us earphones. Even gave us a small book, which, if I were on the ball, I would be able to tell you the title, but I am not myself yet.

On arrival, I got some hotel and hostel info at the bus station. I took a spanking new metro to the old town, Casco Viejo. Got help finding the first hostel but they didn't seem to have what I needed so the lady sent me to Hostel Roquefer where I got a room for 30 euros.

Patrick Barry Barr
PARIS, FRANCE

THREE GUYS IN A ROOM

I posted the first part, fearful that I may lose it all. Which would have made me quite pissed.

After all this talk about how to remember names. I looked straight at Jamie later and asked him where Jamie went. He corrected me. Hardy.

I offered to treat them to a beer.

So we met downstairs in the bar and I bought three beers. After which, Jamie bought three beers. And I declined a third. Good thing, because beer makes me want to pee a lot, often.

So it was a good thing that I went by train because I really had a big problem with peeing. Were I on a bus, I could have solved it easily by opening the front door, while in motion, and throwing myself under the back wheels.

It is a long story, which I may recount to a medical team. You would find it quite boring.

Patrick Barry Barr
PARIS, FRANCE

ADIEU

Left Paris after three days and three photos from my hostel window, Peace and Love, at 245 Rue LaFayette. The ad says it is ten minutes' walk from Gare du Nord. Don't believe it. Unless the ad is directed to Olympic walkers.

My trip to Paris would have been a total disaster had I stayed in a hotel.

First of all, Paris had been my hope to get a copy of the LP La vie de Boheme, published in 1969 by BYG Actuel in Paris itself. I had some luck the first day when a very pleasant and helpful guy in a record store gave me two addresses. They were touted as just about the most knowledgeable folks in the jazz field.

I walked several miles finding these guys. The one I hoped would help me most, gave me about two minutes before dismissing me. The other, whose door is closed, wouldn't even pay me any attention, until I pressed the information to the door window and he came, looked, and said no.

Every building of note that I saw, I saw merely by chance. For example, the Sorbonne, just happened to show up on my left while looking for record stores, with Montaigne seated across the street. Admirers hands' have polished his shoes to quite a shine.

I seem to be running out of steam and will not be going into the kind of detail that you have become accustomed to. There are still stuff in my head that I don't have the energy to flush out.

But Peace and Love sort of saved the day. I checked into this tiny room on thre 4th floor and spent the night alone.

The following day I was shifted to room 1, which was occupied by two people. First, I met Jamie, a young student from British Columbia, Canada, who was venturing on his first big trip. Initially, we spoke about how to remember names and agreed that one way was to repeat it during conversation.

Jamie had seen visited some interesting cities along the way, but that brought him no satisfaction when he realized that he had brought along any pictures of his family. He was visibly sad when he explained that to me. Wow! Wanted to travel along, but just, in some way, didn't want to leave his family behind.

Then, later, I bumped into a guy downstairs who asked if I was Patrick. Turned out to be Hardy, a young man from Australia. He is hardy in more ways than one, riding around Paris on a rented bicycle, had lived in Korea for about 15 months, had been to a bunch of places, and was quite a pro at being on the road and surviving very well at it. The first thing that Hardy said was that I had the choice of the lower bunk. Jamie had a mattress on the floor. The room was so tiny that, as slender as Jamie is, he had to suck in his stomach so I could pass between him and the wash basin in the room.

(Call this part one)

Patrick Barry Barr

Friday, October 01, 2004

PARIS,FRANCE

Arrived in Paris yesterday via Airpolonia at 3:3PM. Took the RER train, line B, to Gare du Nord. So far so good. Then I made a right turn onto Rue Lafayette and walked about five blocks before realizing I should have turned left. I retraced my steps, but with the heavy load, I almost died right there. Crazy.

The room at Peace and Love hostel is so small. I was alone in room 4last night but today moved to room 1 and am sharing with two guys. I met one, Jamie. The room is so small that Jamie, slender as he is, has to suck in his stomach to let me pass when he was brushng his teeth at the basin.

Did a lot of walking, as usual.

Have more to say but am tired.

Patrick Barry B