Showing posts with label Alhambra. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Alhambra. Show all posts

Thursday, November 2, 2017

Day 46: Business before pleasure


My Project: 365 Creative Writing Prompts

Day 46: Business before pleasure

I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but my project has taken a bit of a beating lately. When I first started out, I wrote every day, but over the past week or so, my project has been on the backburner.

That is not to say that I haven’t been writing. On the contrary, I’ve been writing quite a bit, but for clients. Paying clients. And you know how it goes, business before pleasure.

The client in question was a travel agent who wanted to draw attention to various European cities. As such, I visited London, Ronda, Barcelona, Sicily, Wallis, and Geneva. My visits were online, of course, researching various websites for information on these cities.

And you cannot imagine the work involved to write a 600-word article. But I did it. I researched until I was blue in the face, typed until my fingers were numb and in the process learned all about what there is to see and do in these various cities. With the exception of London, I visited these places personally, but it was so long ago, I can’t remember the details.

I do remember Barcelona though. I was only a teenager when I was there with my family and their friends, but my visit to the Sagrada Familia was one of those memorable moments that stayed with me.

Having visited Madrid, Malaga, Valencia, Seville and Granada, we had our fill of churches, cathedrals and other historic buildings such as the Alhambra. When we arrived in Barcelona and Mom suggested a visit to the Sagrada Familia, we thought … great, another church. Dad said as much with an exasperated “Haven’t we seen enough churches?”  
“Apparently the Sagrada Familia is quite special,” Mom said. “It’s unlike any other church.”


Oh, and it was special alright. Mom was quite right, the church was unlike any other church. After we stood in line for a good 20 minutes, in the baking hot sun I might add, we paid the fee to enter the church. We pushed open the heavy door and … we stood under the clear blue sky. What the heck?




Par explanation … back in those days, the Sagrada Familia wasn’t finished. It still isn’t finished, but back then there was no church to speak off. There was a church façade, but very little else. There was no floor, no windows, no pews, no altar, and most importantly … no ceiling. We felt horribly cheated.

But back to my writing days.

Another job that kept me busy was translating. Dutch to English, Spanish to English, French to Dutch, and German to English. Some of these works were enjoyable, others were a bit of a pain in the butt. 

There was this one particular job where a love-smitten man wanted a 1700-word blog post translated about some skanky saxophone player. I nearly gave up on the whole thing.
But all these were paying jobs, and since money is welcome here, I kept plodding along. 

Right now I’m on a break. There is no work available. However, that can change tomorrow and then off we go again.





Tuesday, July 28, 2015

Kicked out of Capri



As much as I hate winter with its snow and sub-zero temperatures, I’m not a fan of summer either. I can handle the season up to 27 deg C (80.6 deg F), but anything more than that is just a little too much for me.

This is a relatively new condition. In my younger days, the heat didn’t bother me at all.

I remember a time when we traveled to Granada, Spain. One of the hottest regions of the country. It was not unusual for the temperature to reach over 40 deg C (104 deg F) but I wasn’t bothered at all.

While in Granada we visited the Alhambra and Generalife. It was hot as hell, but the heat didn’t have an effect on me. We walked around for hours, enjoying the scenery, taking pictures, and we didn’t care about the heat.





The following year we vacationed in Capri and walked all over the island, including Villa Borghese and its gardens. The sun was beaten down on us, we had little or no protection and no water. Were we bothered … not in the least.



Not only did we walk for miles in Capri, at one time we even ran. That is … I ran.

In one of the gardens of the island, where we enjoyed a delicious ice cream. The scenery was beautiful, trees and flowers everywhere and live size statues of angels and the twelve apostles dotted the grass.


Before leaving the garden, mom wanted a picture of St. Peter, she suggested that I pose with the saint.

In doing so I draped my right arm around the statue’s neck and with my left hand pretended to pull his beard.

My goodness had I made a mistake in doing that. The gardener came charging at me, pitchfork in hand, swearing at the top of his voice. He yelled in Italian, and even though my Italian vocabulary was limited, I understood that my actions had been disrespectful to the saint.

Seeing him waving that pitchfork I wasted no time. I took off as fast as the grass and my flip-flops would allow me. The gardener, even though he was well into his sixties, was in surprisingly good shape.

I can’t remember how long the spring lasted, but I outran him. When me folks caught up with me they told me they had to pay a considerable amount for them to keep the camera and to keep the police out of this matter.

They were also told to leave Capri as soon as possible. So we did, we visited the Blue Grotto and then we headed back to them mainland.



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