Awake, for morning in the bowl of night has flung the stone that puts
the stars to flight.

And, lo, the hunter of the east has caught the sultan’s turret in a noose of light.

Spanish life is not always likeable but it is compellingly loveable – Christopher Howse: ‘A Pilgrim in Spain.

Cosas de España/Galiza

Mark Stücklin tells us here that Catalonia’s politicians are at it again—cooking up another intervention in the housing market that will make things worse for everyone, except perhaps for those who thrive on crisis.

After 11 months of silence, the journalist who was dining with the president of the Valenica region now says he received numerous calls during the lunch, and that it ended, not at 5.30, but at 6.30-45, when he then walked her to her car. This is a Guardian article on the growing anger at his clinging to power. Resigning when you are clearly in the wrong is not one of the strengths of the Partido Popular. Or, indeed, of any Spanish political party, it seems.

Trump claims that Global Warming is a Chinese hoax and a scam. Seeing the 30-40% increases in rubbish collection fees this year, one wonders whether he isn’t half right . . .

Revista Viajar offers a rosy-hued view of Pv city here.

MAGAWorld

Trumpisms– from a parallel universe

• I don’t like good-looking people.
• It’s great to have a country where we go by merit. we don’t go by anything else.

A message from the president to the American people . . .

Jon Stewart’s daily show is always good for a few laughs.

As if we didn’t know . . . The USA is a rich but strange country. There are 41m folk using food banks, or more than 12% of the population. Many of these will be MAGA supporters and they are being hit very hard by the government shutdown. Which is why the Republicans are doing their utmost to convince the populace that it’s the fault of the Democrats.

Quotes of the Day

• Trump may have another motive in extreme war on his drugs escalation. To blame Venezuela for fentanyl production is simply incorrect.
• These insane ICE weapons buys reveal something truly sinister about Trump’s intentions.
• The really important question is How far will the American public allow Trump to go?

Russia v Ukraine

What has Russian learned and how does it keep going, despite sanctions? Moreover, what’s next?

The Way of the World

I’ve never seen Chaplin’s The Great Dictator, so was surprised to see this final, emotional monologue from the man. A staggeringly serious – and heartfelt – finale to a comedy. Chaplin began filming it in September 1939, just one week after the start of World War II, and finished shooting it nearly six months later, allowing for a premiere in October 1940, just after Hitler had started bombing London.

Social Media

I don’t recall ever being accused of being an elitist but, if I were, I’d plead guilty. This article does a good job of explaining why: Why elitism is key to democracy’s survival. It is unfashionable to favour a superior expert class yet its destruction has flooded our society with misinformation.

Spanish

• Tocar los narices: To be irritating. (Lit. To touch my nostrils)
• Tocar las pelotas: To be irritating. (Lit. To touch my balls)
• Tocar los huevos: To be irritating. (Lit. To touch my eggs,. i.e. testicles)

My impression is that all of these are acceptable in polite Spanish society. Allegedly: Tienen diferentes variantes en distintos países hispanohablantes.

Did you know?

When a matador is carried out of the ring after being gored, los aficianados customarily applaud. I was going to say this struck me as futile as Republicans praying after a mass shooting but, at least in the matador’s case, I guess it denotes admiration for his courage and sympathy for his plight. What the praying is calculated to achieve is anyone’s guess.

You Have to Laugh

Hastein’s Epic Fail: The Viking Who Invaded the Wrong City (and faked his own death) . . . The hilarious true story of a Viking chieftain who set out to sack Rome but accidentally raided the wrong city. How one navigational blunder became one of history’s most enduring legends.

Finally . . .

I’ve said that my phone – a Samsung – is smart enough to know where I live but not enough to realise that the ads would be best in English, not Spanish. Today, it got even dumber; all the ads in my podcasts are now in Italian . . . .

ME AND RYAN: PART 2 – WAR

I am engaged in a war of attrition with my dog, Ryan.

You’ll recall that he’s a border collie of some 7 years of age. And smart. Very smart. And he likes his own way.

I’ve said before that Ryan seems to view me as a flock of sheep or, more likely, an ageing, recalcitrant old ram. Which is the way quite a few people regard me, apparently. Anyway, notwithstanding his instinct to control my sheep persona, he accepts that I have a claim to authority over him. But he regards this as weak at best. And he is determined to reverse our positions, even if it kills him. Or me. Perhaps you will get some idea of what this can be like when you hear that – after Ryan joined me here in Spain – my brother’s six dogs (with whom he had lodged) threw a party straight after his plane took off. It was quite something to see in the airport, from all accounts.

The battle between Ryan and me has been raging for 5 months now and I thought I was getting on top. I hadn’t caught him on the furniture for 3 months and nor had I found any evidence that he was taking comfort there during my absences. And he was obeying – though with all-too-obvious disgust – my injunctions against entering the kitchen or going upstairs, where his long hairs are very visible on the tiles and the polished wooden floors. And I have been steadfast in refusing to fall for his stupid little tricks when we come towards the end of our morning walk and he tries to prolong it by hiding the ball and pretending not to know where it is. But I have recently made a strategic blunder of enormous proportions and suddenly I am now in retreat on all fronts. You see, I have unwittingly brought into the house visiting animal lovers with whom he can form immediate alliances against me. You may feel that this is a far-fetched notion but the speed and intelligence with which he goes about this business allow of no other conclusion.

First came my friend, Elena. Now, Elena is really a cat lover and Ryan and I despise cats. But this was a detail he was prepared to overlook as soon as he discovered that I  might not countermand anything that she would allow him to do. So, before I could blink, he followed her into the kitchen and lay down under the table. From there he looked at me with a smirk of contempt and a look of utter defiance on his face, as if to say, ‘Go on, then. Show your new friend that you’re not what she thinks but the heartless bastard I know you to be’. Off course, I was quite powerless. And still am.

Then came my elder daughter, Faye, whom Ryan greeted as an old friend and ally. Which, of course, she is. For him, Faye was the route to the bedrooms and – as with Elena and the kitchen – he was after her like a flash, only stopping fleetingly to cast a backwards look of triumph in my direction. Worse was to follow. Last night, during my absence in town, Faye came downstairs to find him stretched out – upside down – on one of the settees. Her presence – which he was good enough to acknowledge from his supine position – did not to any degree motivate him to get back to his designated place on a towel on one of the rugs. So she was forced – through tears of laughter – to order him off the furniture. He accepted the minor setback of a tactical retreat with his customary aplomb.

But this is not all, folks. Emboldened by the occasional presence of two allies in the house, Ryan has decided that the dry food he has been getting for years is just not up to the mark. So he has now gone on hunger strike in pursuit of something considerably better. In fact – as Faye has observed – he appears to be willing to eat only what we eat. In short, she says, he has decided that he is human and deserves to be treated as such! So he and I are now engaged in a titanic struggle which may, indeed, be to the death. But his, not mine. I am going to extraordinary lengths to disguise the dry food to get him to swallow it but he is having none of it and hasn’t eaten now for 4 days. Given that he is still a little overweight, I am less concerned about this that I might otherwise be. But something has to give. And I have the gravest concern that it might be me. If he doesn’t eat me first.

Meanwhile, nessun dorma.

My thanks to those readers who take the trouble to Like my posts.

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For new readers: If you’ve landed here looking for info on Galicia or Pontevedra, try here. If you’re passing through Pontevedra on the Camino, you’ll find a guide to the city.

If you´re thinking of moving to Spain, this link should be useful to you.