First, the series: as we all know by now, it’s brilliant. All the superlatives are earned. It’s clever and moving and dark. I think season 2 might be even better than season 1, but might need another watch to confirm that.
Second, the (filmed) one-woman show: recaps a lot of the first season of the show, often verbatim. Offered a few interesting changes. Also strips it down to a woman on a stool, so no winks at the camera or other actors to help carry things. I might have found it funnier if I didn’t know 98% of the jokes in advance, but it was enjoyable to watch. Cool theatre too — we sat in comfy chairs in the balcony and had cocktails brought ’round.
There’s also a bar attached to the theatre — Bar Biltmore — and a restaurant — Osteria Rialto. We had late reservations at the latter, and passed the time at the former with cocktails (Paper Planes, Negronis), wine (Gruner Veltliner, a crazy Chardonnay) and oysters.
For dinner we had:
gnocco fritto w/ mortadella, grana padano
salumi / prima donna cheese / focaccia
macaroni verde w/ veal ragù bianco
tonarelli w/ ‘nduja carbonara
a bottle of Punset Barbaresco
The salumi board ended up being massive, so we ordered bread and cheese to go with it; by the time that was done all we could manage was a primi each. The secondi and dolci menus looked great, so we’ll have to go back and restrain ourselves out of the gate.
I can’t remember exactly what led us to start this, but over the past two weeks Lindsay and I watched all eight Harry Potter movies — me for the first time.
I didn’t read the books either, but I did know a bunch of the cultural references from the stories. For example, we’d just watched the Prison Mike scene in the office where he reveals that the worst thing about prison is the Dementors:
To the great surprise of no one I enjoyed the movies — they had all the good vs. evil elements and long character arcs that I love. I was a little surprised about just how many all-time great British actors were in the series — I knew about the main players, but didn’t realize that legends like Emma Thompson and Kenneth Branagh and John Hurt were in it too.
Anyway, the deal is that I watch these, and Lindsay watches Star Wars. We’ll see how that goes.
Just before Christmas a plan came together. I had a work reason to be in Madrid in early January, and decided to skip just a little further on to Cairo, to visit brother #2.
Flew from Pearson to Madrid overnight. Not the newest AC plane but it was still probably the most I’ve ever slept on an overnight flight.
That bit of kip, plus a super-easy exist from the airport and a comfy Uber ride downtown made for what might have been my best transatlantic travel experience ever. My hotel — the Gran Hotel Ingles — was stunning. The staff apologized for how cold it was; I explained that as a Canadian I would be just fine. I got a few more hours of sleep, then a shower, and felt fresh again. Really, given that it was only 3pm, I felt like I was starting my day at the same time as most Spaniards.
Right down the street from my hotel was Brew Wild pizza & craft beer bar, so…yeah, I went there. I ate a diavola pizza and drank a few excellent beers and enjoyed their music mix, then walked around a bit enjoying the sunshine. Everyone else was in heavy jackets, but 9 degrees felt pretty good to me.
Back at the hotel I started watching The Mandalorian, then conked out for a bit (again), got up (again!), bought some wine from an excellent wine shop down the street called Los Rosales, and then did another very touristy thing on my street: I went to a Flamenco show at Cardamomo. I’ve long been semi-obsessed with Flamenco…the percussive dancing, the plaintive singing, etc. I sprung for a good ticket. I didn’t realize just how close to the stage it would get me.
Honestly, it was pretty fucking great. I loved the music. I think I fell in love with the female dancer. And the male dancer was some kind of flamenco celebrity with his own reality show and who’s apparently danced for the King and Queen of Spain. So yeah, it was cool.
After the show I had dinner around the corner at…uh, Atlantik Corner. It was empty at 10:30, which led me to think Spaniards eat even later than I thought, but it might have just been a quiet restaurant as they locked the door behind me when I left. Pretty good meal though:
grilled artichokes w/ crispy king prawns + piri piri
With no dessert, and having been hustled out, I made one last stop across the street from the hotel: La Vanencia. They serve only five kinds of Jerez (aka Xeres, aka Sherry) along with some cheese and cured meats. They write your tab on the bar in front of you in chalk. The place looks like it hasn’t been renovated in decades. Hemingway used to write there. Republicans conspired to overthrow Franco here. I had glasses of Fino and Palo Cortado; it cost 4.10 Euros. I tried to leave the 0.90 as a tip and was very firmly rebuffed. What a place.
I made the most of the hotel — got up, ate breakfast, had a shower, did some work, and finished The Mandalorian before heading to the airport. I sped through the airport (Gold Track FTW!) and killed some time at the lounge before boarding my flight to Cairo. Over the Mediterranean we went, hugging the African coast. I watched Official Secrets (imdb | rotten tomatoes) and most certainly did not drink anything.
Landed in Cairo. The Meet & Assist person made it easy to get through, and I performed my duty-free store duty, and then suddenly, there was brother #2!
The drive to his place was…illuminating. Traffic rules in Cairo are theoretical. Highway lanes are merely loose suggestions, ignored by all. Traffic signals might as well not exist in cars. Horns are a distinct language. Pedestrians scamper hither and yon with so sign of a crosswalk. And I hadn’t even been downtown yet, where things get really chaotic.
We ordered in from Zooba for my first taste of koshari and ful and taameya, and I drank an Egyptian beer, and then I crashed.
Since I only had two days in Cairo we’d arranged for tours both days. I dragged my poor brother who’s seen everything half a dozen times, but gamely played along. We were joined by an American nurse visiting her mother, and a Canadian teacher.
First up was Saqqara, an ancient site west of the Nile and south of Giza. And by ancient I mean >4500 years old…hard to even fathom. The architecture, tombs, glyphs…it was a lot to take in, even with a guide helping us understand it. We fended off the swarm of people trying to sell us stuff long enough to learn a few things, and just marvel.
After a stop at the Imhotep museum at the foot of the site we ate some lunch at a nearby restaurant. After lunch we drove north, along a polluted canal strewn with garbage (so much garbage everywhere…and stray dogs…and just people) to see the big boys: the pyramids of Giza, practically in the suburbs of Cairo. You spend your whole life hearing about something, reading about it, seeing pictures of it, and building it up in your mind to the point where the reality can’t possibly meet your expectations. Except, this did. The Great Pyramid of Cheops deserves every bit of the Wonder of the Ancient World tag it carries. I’m so lucky I got to see it. I’m so lucky it’s still there, nearly 5000 years later, for me to see.
The other two pyramids at the site almost paled in comparison, as did the Sphinx down the hill. It’s actually an enormous site and I’m sure we missed all but the most impressive 2% of it, but still — what a sight.
After a quick stop at a cotton market we headed home, bobbing and weaving through pedestrians and traffic all the way. We ordered burgers (!) and drank some of the wine I picked up at duty free.
Day two of touring: this time just the brother and I. We started with a tour of Coptic Cairo. I had no idea a significant part of the population is Coptic Christian, but I guess it makes sense. Anyway, this neighbourhood was basically a mixing pot of several religions: an ancient Coptic Christian church (built on the site of the cave where the Bible says Jesus and his legal guardians stayed when in Egypt), a Greek Orthodox church, a Synagogue, and the first Mosque built in Egypt.
Next up was the Citadel of Cairo, originally built by Saladin during the crusades, and extended over the years into a police museum and military museum. Lots of mentions of how they bravely fought for and kept the Suez canal. Not so many mentions of the other wars. Anyway, the mosques up there were absolutely gorgeous, especially the Mosque of Muhammad Ali.
Just down the hill we visited two more mosques — the Mosque-Madrassa of Sultan Hassan and the Al-Rifa’i Mosque — built side by side. As with the others the architecture was stunning, but at the latter (which also houses the tomb of the Shah of Iran) we had richer experiences — we were shown a side room containing elaborate tombs, where the guide leading us turned off the lights to let the light stream in a single stained glass window, and sang prayers so we could hear his voice echo around the dome of the building. He also showed us the 150-year-old key (which weighed about three pounds) he used to unlock the doors to these rooms. It was all pretty amazing.
Our final stop was to be dropped off in the teeming throng of humanity that is the Khan el-Khalili market (after first driving through part of it, which seemed like the height of insanity until I saw several tour buses squeeze through, FFS) and walk around a bit.
I had no desire to buy anything, just to see it. Much like at the tourist sites I had to learn to ignore all the calls for our attention from the vendors. You could barely make your way through, although apparently the market was relatively calm that day. Our guide led us to a quiet little perch from where we could sip coffee and observe the madness below.
Anyway, we eventually found our van (leaping hurriedly into it in the middle of the street) and headed home. Pretty tuckered, to be honest. Again, we ordered food and drank more wine, and called it an early night. We’d packed a lot of Cairo into those two days, and we both had early starts the next morning.
My flight back to Madrid was at 9:30, so I got to the airport early. Fortunately I flew out of the newer terminal 2, which was pretty sane at that hour, and got through the various security and passport checks with plenty of time. Also fortunately, I had access to a few lounges, and found one — Pearl — that I liked. Not long after I was safely aboard my flight back to Spain, catching up on work, and watching Luce (imdb | rotten tomatoes).
After we landed I got to the conference hotel near the airport, showered, and (finally!) unpacked. There’s not really much going on at that hotel (it’s by the airport) so I reckoned I’d Uber downtown each day to see more of Madrid. And so, I did.
My first stop back in Madrid was actually to visit a little piece of Egypt: the transplanted and recreated Temple of Debod, gifted to Spain in 1968 by Egypt for Spain’s help in preserving historic sites threatened by the construction of the Aswan high dam. Being winter, the site was mostly closed, but the views from the park were stunning.
Still, it was (relatively) cold outside, and the wine bar on which I’d set my sights didn’t open until 8pm, so I walked to mur cafe instead, had a cappuccino, and read my book. When I did eventually hit Entrevinos wine bar I found a small table, tried a few different wines, and ate a delicious dish of lamb shoulder with spinach, green beans and sesame sauteé.
After a quick meeting in morning, I dashed downtown once again, this time to the Plaza de Oriente, and the Café de Oriente thereon. I dearly wish it had been warm enough to sit outside and enjoy their view of the Square and Palacio Real; alas, it was not. Still, though, I got in a cup of coffee and a glass of Rias Baixas and some nibblies, which I think were some kind of whipped fish (?!) on toast.
After a quick sit in the park I walked along the Palacio, past the Catedral de la Almudena and its amazing door, past the postcard-perfect Plaza de la Villa, past the Mercado de San Miguel, and to my next intended stop where I planned to do some work, given that my ofice back home was waking up.
I’d heard the Federal Café was laptop-friendly, but as soon as I plugged mine in it melted. Or something. Anyway, it bluescreened and I never, ever got it working again. I took this as a sign from the universe to stop working. Or, at least, to buy a paper notebook.
Thus chastened, I consoled myself by walking to San Ginés for churros con chocolate. I sat outside and dunked my churros in piping hot chocolate and watched tourists flood by.
From there I walked to Taproom Madrid (the one on Plaza de Isabel II) for a beer. I got a sour, met an American (and American) pilot named Tim, and chatted for quite a while. Our server never returned after that first pour, so we eventually left. He was headed to Mikkeller; I wasn’t sure where I’d go.
I ended up at a place called Fábrica Maravillas, apparently one of the OG craft breweries in Madrid. I loved it instantly — fun Irish barkeep, and some nice beers on tap. I tried a bunch of them, and met a nice guy from just outside Philadelphia (okay, technically New Jersey) who was just on his way home from an internship at Cantillon (!) before Tim, from the last bar, appeared. I guess we were on a similar beer crawl.
Anyway, I’d not eaten, so I uber’d back to the hotel. At the hotel bar I ordered some dinner — filet mignon, wine, cheese — before the conference attendees started flooding in and ruining the quiet vibe. The guy standing next to me ordered two Johnny Walker Blue triples. But he ordered them with ice, and I wept. I popped into the American-style sports bar across the hotel to catch up with people I figured would be there, and I ordered a Don PX, which was the least sports bar drink ever. Fuck it though; an American sports bar has no business in a Spanish hotel anyway.
I had a quick presentation in the morning, then chilled in my room for a bit before eventually making my way downtown. I decided to have lunch at the Restaurante Vinoteca García de la Navarra; the food and wine were good, but the service was pretty wonky.
From there I walked to the Museo Thyssen-Bornemisza; I only checked out the ground floor, which was still full of subtle heavy hitters. I was saving the rest, and the other big museums, for when Lindsay comes with me in April.
It was too cold outside for much more so I went back to the hotel, worked for a bit, packed for a bit, and had dinner at Kalma in the hotel. Pretty good meal, actually:
Yesterday, in the throes of whatever illness this is, we managed to do some useful things (like re-arranging all the books and filling the new bookcase) and some lazy things, like watch some movies (both) and sports (me!).
Both movies were excellent too, starting with American Factory (imdb | rotten tomatoes), a Netflix documentary about a GM plant in Dayton, OH which had been shuttered, then acquired by a Chinese company to make glass. Economics, cultural differences (and similarities), labour relations, politics…what a great documentary.
Switching gears entirely, Us (imdb | rotten tomatoes) was Jordan Peele’s second directorial effort, and I might have liked it even more than Get Out. It was both creepier and funnier and a more subtle allegory.
Oh, and I also re-watched season 2 and then watched season 3 of Mr. Robot (imdb | rotten tomatoes) in this sickie-days.
I’m back in Nova Scotia right now. More to come on the whole trip, but first this: on Boxing Day my dad, my brother, my sister-in-law and I went to Moncton to see Star Wars: Episode IX: The Rise of Skywalker (imdb | rotten tomatoes).
It wasn’t the best Star Wars movie by any stretch, but it was entertaining, and touching, and wrapped everything up nicely, and sent all fans of the franchise off with the warm and fuzzies.
I’d been waiting for The Irishman (imdb | rotten tomatoes) to come out on Netflix, and then I had to wait for a 3+ hour window in which to watch it. But I did manage it last weekend.
It was…exactly what I expected. Which is to say, an amazing Scorsese flick. I do think there’s a bit of nostalgia embedded in that 96% score on Rotten Tomatoes, but I have no issue with lauding an impeccably* crafted story, even if it’s a fairly familiar one.
* Impeccable, except that digital anti-aging method. Yikes.
I watched a couple of movies while chilling the past couple of days, and inadvertently did myself a Brad Pitt double feature.
I can’t believe I waited so long to see Once Upon A Time … In Hollywood (imdb | rotten tomatoes) given it’s a Tarantino flick. It was incredibly entertaining, and such a colourful recreation of that particular time. Not sure whether it was a faithful retelling stylistically, but it sure looked great. Fun little Inglourious Basterds references too.
I really didn’t know what to expect from Ad Astra (imdb | rotten tomatoes) — I don’t even remember it coming out. It was okay…like a shorter, blander Interstellar.
Almost forgot: on that flight to/from Calgary I watched a couple new movies.
Spider-Man: Far From Home (imdb | rotten tomatoes) was really, really good. So fun. I know they’ve rebooted Spider-Man, like, eleven times now, but this incarnation might be my favourite. I know they’re aiming for a younger audience, but that cast is so charming it works for everyone. I especially like seeing Martin Starr play a fussy teacher. I actually lol’d on the plane a couple of times.
Unfortunately, Godzilla: King Of The Monsters (imdb | rotten tomatoes) ruined the flight movie score average. Big, boom-y rubbish with wooden acting.
I’m pretty late getting to this one, seeing as how TIFF wrapped up almost a week ago. After skipping The Obituary Of Tunde Johnson (tiffr) Saturday I took my solitary self to see There’s Something In The Water (imdb | tiffr), the new documentary from Ian Daniel and Ellen Page about how Nova Scotia — Page’s home province, and mine — isn’t doing enough to protect its water. It was inspired by the book There’s Something In The Water: Environmental Racism in Indigenous & Black Communities by Dalhousie professor Ingrid Waldron. [link]
Stories about dump chemicals seeping into the water in the south end of Shelburne, where descendants of black loyalists live, were new to me, but I was more than familiar with the setting for the second story — Pictou Landing, where the local pulp mill pumps chemicals into Boat Harbour. I was there thirteen years ago, and smelled the chemicals from a few miles away when the wind shifted — I seriously can’t imagine what it’s like up close. You could see Page almost gagging in the documentary when she got near it.
The third site was another body of water I know well — the Shubenacadie river, which runs through central NS and over/along which I’ve driven countless times. More importantly, it flows into the Minas Basin where I swam as a kid, and where my family members continue to swim today. A natural gas company wants to hollow out storage caverns for its natural gas, pumping the brine into the Shubenacadie. A group of local Mi’kmaq women is working to stop them, but needs help. You can learn more here, and donate to their legal fund here.
All in all, a straightforward and effective documentary, but first and foremost an important documentary.
Lindsay had (or was supposed to have) an all-day meeting yesterday, so I thought I’d try to catch a TIFF screening from the first weekend. I grabbed a ticket for The Friend (imdb | rotten tomatoes | tiff) at the Princess Of Wales theatre, a film based on an essay published in Esquire four years ago about cancer’s brutal toll on author Matthew Teague’s wife, and his friend who stayed to help through it all.
I’m honestly not sure yet how I feel about the movie version. It pushed every emotional button — I cried, as did pretty much the entire theatre — but I felt like the movie very much wanted us to cry. It focused on the hard parts of the story, but not the hardest parts of the story — it glossed over much of the physical trauma, and added a life-is-beautiful veneer missing from the essay. So maybe Teague wanted that version? He did, after all, option the story and consult on the screenplay, so it wasn’t ripped from his hands. And the essay was written in the raw months after the author’s wife passed — maybe he wanted to capture more of her vs. more of the cancer? I don’t know.
The director addressed the difference in tone during the post-screening Q&A, saying she had to find a balance between telling the story and traumatizing the audience. Which, fine.
But as I said, I felt emotionally drained — pushed, more like — by the end. And that seemed to me like the film’s intent. So while I had a very strong reaction, I’m having trouble sorting out whether it feels like an authentic one the day after.