anythingarian bubbles and troubles from the land of the sweating hun
Late C19th Spanish quasi-realism sometimes reads more like Flashman than Zola. Here is a fairly random translation of a not entirely random excerpt from Un viaje de novios, a fine romance (mashed potato plot and all) written by minor aristocrat Emilia Pardo Bazán (1851-1921) during a stay in Vichy and published in 1881:
The strange thing [...]
Disseny exclusiu de jardins a Catalunya.
Gesprek tussen de gemeente Barcelona en Antoni Tàpies, kunstenaar:
DAG SPREEK IK MET MENEER TÀPIES
Ben ik.
KIJK MENEER TÀPIES VOLGEND JAAR HEBBEN WIJ EEN GROTE KERMIS GEPLAND NOU IS ER EEN GIGANTISCHE TENT NEERGEZET EN ER MOET IETS OP DE MUUR KOMEN KAN DAT
Jazeker. Mijn prijs is…
MAAKT NIE UIT MAAR HET MOET WEL OVER ZES WEKEN AF [...]
Podries demandar al teu cap pels mals i perjudicis. (Via SOLV.)
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Over at Crónica Verde, about the ongoing destruction by the Andalusian PSOE of the Doñana National Park. This is quite different from the abuse of natural space during the dictatorship because (all together now!) Franco was of the right, while Chaves is of the left, and the people’s friend to boot.
Other old media may be bolder liars, but you can always rely on ABC for the grossest cheese, as in this drooling retrowank re Felipe González’s new bit. How can you write a thing like that, even if it is a double entendre? Or am I just too much of a curious puritan?
I thought ETA’s man on the run had lost it when he went AWOL from a Subject Nation of an Evil Empire with generally excellent weather to a Subject Nation of an Evil Empire where it never bloody stops raining, just in time for winter. But then it started snowing across northern Spain, and even Barcelona had a hail storm.
Here.
On Facebook, Trevor is eating saucisson de sanglier and starting to look like Obelix.
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