A Dance for Space

I am not a sports fan and never watch any of it on TV. Earlier this year, though, I forced myself to watch Argentina play in some World Cup matches. No one can spend any time in Buenos Aires without learning all about Maradona and hearing the names Messi and Tevez, and I wanted to do my part by cheering on the national team.

What started out as a brief distraction became something of a compulsion as I watched more and more games, not just Argentina but Uruguay and Spain, Germany and Italy, every match that came on found me in front of the set ready for more. It didn't matter who was playing or even who won, I wanted to watch fútbol!

Once the World Cup was over, I started flipping through the cable channels, mostly the Spanish language stations, looking for more games. The South American Cup, the Mexican premier league, replays of match-ups from the English league, exhibition matches, some game or another was on almost every day, each one promising 90 minutes of entertainment.

I began to understand why fútbol is called "the beautiful game." (I think the Americanism soccer sounds silly and 'football' in this country means the NFL and NCAA, so fútbol seems the most apt.) It is simple and elegant -- you kick the ball with your foot (football!) -- but it's also much more.

As I watched more and more games, I began to see fútbol not as a sport but as an art form, a kind of extemporaneous modern dance. It's as if Merce Cunningham or Twyla Tharp choreographed a daring piece and every day, all over the world, various dance ensembles reinterpret that creation, each match adding its own subtle variations and flourishes while staying within the strict limitation of twenty-two performers and 90 minutes.

Simon Kuper summed it up perfectly when he wrote, in an article about the English player Wayne Rooney, "Football is best understood as a dance for space. The team that can open spaces when it attacks, and close down spaces when it defends, generally wins." ("Inside Wayne's World," Financial Times, October 30, 2010.)

We haven't traveled beyond Texas since we got back from Buenos Aires, but that's about to change. In early January we're going to Barbados, then later in January we're off to Brussels. I could say that one trip is for our anniversary and one is for my birthday but really, who needs an excuse to travel?

Have a happy holiday!

I Lost, or Parting Thoughts about Politics

I never wanted this blog to be about politics, but I'm breaking my own rule, just this once.

Ever since we returned from Buenos Aires a month ago I have avoided political news and blogs. I deleted all political bookmarks from my browsers, and if something about politics pops up online or in the newspaper I quickly avert my eyes and go to another page. If someone tries to talk to me about politics, I say nothing and try to smile beatifically.

I've voted for U.S. president twice: in 1972 for McGovern and in 2008 for Obama. One lost and the other won, but both elections resulted in a feeling of intense disappointment. Simply put, I lost -- basic principles of truth, fairness, and justice that I hold dear were soundly defeated in the marketplace of ideas.

Finally, after almost 40 years, I realize that the Peace Train will not take me and the country home again, and that we are not all joining hands to board the Love Train. The titanic struggle of Evil versus Incompetence leaves no room for sense or reason, and as a result society will forever be on the Eve of Destruction. There's not a damn thing I can do about it and I don't much care.

After a month of leading a politics-less life, I am a happier man. Unimpeded by my protests and outrage, the world continues its descent into the abyss while I pursue more important things in life. Did I tell you that I sold all my SLR gear and bought a new camera?

I Spoke Too Soon

Since this is our fifth year in Buenos Aires and the third straight year in the same apartment, you'd think we'd know our way around by now. But there's still so much to learn, and I don't mean just the language.

In my last post I wrote about how bored we've become of the heavy, dull food of Buenos Aires. It's time to eat my words, or better yet, eat at some new places we've found in the last few days. Even more surprising is that these places are within a few blocks of our apartment.

First is L'epi, a real boulangerie, or French bakery shop, on Montevideo just past Vicente Lopez. In a few short days we've become steady customers and friends with the staff of this great little shop. Their croissant aux amandes (almond croissants) are divine. We've already said our goodbyes and promised that next year we will come back to buy bread and croissants and anything else that comes out of their ovens.

Then there's a place I mentioned last week, be Frika. The typical meal there is two "tini mini" hamburgers, a cup of thick-cut French fries, and a glass of beer. Their 15 varieties of burgers would be a great find in any city.

On Saturday we had dinner at La Olla de Felix. The rumor is that Felix is an ex-chef of the Ritz Hotel in Paris who came to Buenos Aires 15 years ago to be on his own. The result is a small, elegant French bistro seating around 30 people. The menu, handwritten on a whiteboard leaning against a side wall, is based on whatever fresh ingredients Felix has found that day. Terri and I both had the scalloped slices of tenderloin served in a simple sauce and accompanied by pureed squash. For dessert we split a tarte tatin: to call it simply apple pie with vanilla ice cream seems somewhat demeaning and mundane. We told Felix to look for us in a year or so.

Combined with our old favorites such as Tandoor (Indian food) and Dashi (sushi), these new additions mean that maybe eating in Buenos Aires is not so dull after all.

If you're still not hungry, look at a snap of one of our favorite foods in Buenos Aires, the choripan. ("Choripan" is a combination of "chorizo" and "pan", or sausage and bread.)

Besides all these great new food finds, the weather the last few days has been glorious: highs in the 60s to low 70s with bright sun, blue skies, and gentle breezes. How could we not be sorry to leave and eager to come back?

Tomorrow night we fly back to Fort Worth, where the big excitement is the opening of the big new H.E.B. in Burleson on Friday. (No, I am not being facetious.)

Until then, I'm still adding snaps at Flickr.

A Plus and a Minus

The Plus

My favorite activity (inactivity?) in Buenos Aires is to sit on a park bench and glimpse the world go by. Parks are, after all, the necessary ingredient to make a city a liveable space. It so happens that there are plenty of parks and plazas here, making it easy for me to indulge myself.

Two blocks away is Plaza Vicente Lopez. Four blocks the other way is Plaza Paraguay and the large park next to the Engineering School. There's lots of green space around Recoleta Cemetery and, on the other side of Libertador, the Law School sits between Parque Thays on one side and La Flor on the other. Between Alcorta and Libertador is another series of parks that go all the way to Palermo.

Further away to the northwest, but still in walking distance, are Parque Las Heras and the Thays Botanical Garden, and beyond those is Parque 3 de Febrero with lakes and an immense rose garden. To the east, on the other side of Puerto Madero, is the largest open space of all, the Costanera Sur ecological reserve, whose long walking trails have benches conveniently located every hundred yards or so.

All that is to name just a few. Wherever we go in the city, there are many small, inviting plazas with lots of benches and if we have an extra five minutes or so I try them out.

What is especially nice this year is the obvious care and effort the city of Buenos Aires is putting into their public spaces. On our prior visits, we noticed that many parks were in disrepair, poorly maintained and sometimes downright seedy. Some still are. But the increased attention is immediately obvious: no trash (and plenty of trash cans), trimmed lawns and bushes, clean walkways, and tidy benches.

In contrast, the Sundance Square core of downtown Fort Worth does not have a single bench, much less a plaza.

The Minus

The biggest difficulty we have in Buenos Aires and the main reason we'll probably never stay here for more than a month or two at a time is figuring out what to eat.

Back in Fort Worth, Terri and I eat mostly at home, a lot of meat, vegetables, and cheese as we try to limit our carbs. (We have a Costco membership just so we can buy huge chunks of Jarlsberg and Manchego and Gruyere.) Here, 'meat' means beef; chicken, pork, and seafood are not nearly as popular. Since it's late winter, there aren't many fresh vegetables. Imports here are very expensive or not available at all, so we have to rely on Argentine versions of popular lunch meats and cheeses, and they aren't really that good.

Add to this the fact that we're in a rental apartment with a limited set of cookware and you'll understand that for us "eating in" in Buenos Aires usually means heating up a prepared something or other we bought at a nearby shop. Why bother?

Much less eating in means much more eating out. Visions of grilled steak, french fries, and a glass of malbec may sound awfully appealing, but trust me, after a while it gets old. The cuisine in Buenos Aires is generally dull and bland, since the Argentines abhor spicy foods.

A signature dish here is a plate of empanadas: tasteless white pastries with bland meat or vegetable fillings. The Argentines also love pizza, which can be quite good (our favorites this year have been Güerrin and Romario) but our bodies are not used to the huge ingestion of carbohydrates. The favorite porteño sandwich is two squares of crustless white Wonder-like bread with a slice of ham and cheese inside.

Even so, we've found some tasty food. Just yesterday we tried a new place called be Frika, which offers 15 varieties of 'mini' hamburgers. We were doubtful about the size of these things, but two of them with french fries and a beer turned out to be a perfect meal. I only wish we had tried them earlier in the trip.

Writing "earlier in the trip" reminds me that we leave in five days.

Here's my Flickr snaps so far.

Buses and Money and Snaps

Mapa Interactivo

The city government here has put online an incredibly good interactive map of Buenos Aires. The more I've used it the more impressed I am: thematic maps (libraries, museums, theatres), social services, banks, health care, schools, and much more.

There are three main tabs at the top: addresses, como llegar (how to get from one place to another), and places. It's the second tab that we've used the most: enter a beginning point and a destination and get detailed route maps of every bus and subway line that take you where you want to go.

The Buenos Aires public transportation system is one of our favorites in the world: lots of buses and extensive routes for A$1.20 (30¢) a trip. The one problem we've had in the past is using the little Guia T booklet to figure out which line to take, but now the online interactive route map makes it all very simple.

Money

As I mentioned earlier, Buenos Aires has gotten more expensive, with estimated inflation of 20% to 25% a year or more. Despite the significant increase in prices, the locals seem to be spending more than ever. Inflation, after all, is demand outpacing supply, and the signs of aggressive consumer demand are everywhere.

The big chain supermarkets (Disco, Carrefour, and Coto) are packed every time we get groceries, jammed aisles and long checkout lines of overflowing carts regardless of the time of day. Stores put on week-long sales but run out of stock the first day. The fancy and expensive malls (Patio Bullrich, Galerías Pacifico, Alto Palermo) are full of people in a buying mood. The ATMs are depleted by Saturday evening and not replenished until Monday afternoon; you know which ones have cash by the long lines of people waiting to use them.

In years past, we saw quite a few "se vende" (for sale) signs on apartments as we walked around Recoleta, Barrio Norte, and Palermo, but this year, hardly any. Argentines are notorious for eating dinner very late in the evening, but we've seen many restaurants packed by 9 or even earlier.

It's not always a pretty picture. The anxiety about the future and scars from the recent past can create a sense of desperation, as we read in a recent AP article: Argentines risking all to carry huge wads of cash.

Weather and Snaps

We had a full week of rain and cold and didn't do much of anything except go to Spanish class. On Saturday afternoon the skies finally cleared and since then we've had gorgeous weather, highs in the 60s to low 70s and intensely blue skies. We went to Palermo's Parque Tres de Febrero and Museo Sivori, then on Sunday went to Parque Rivadavia, took the subway downtown to Plaza de Mayo and a tour of the Casa Rosada, and finished with a leisurely stroll through the center to Plaza San Martin. On Monday we sat in the park and did our Spanish homework, then had a long lunch at La Parolaccia on Riobamba.

Here's my Flickr snaps so far.

I've also posted some snaps on Facebook and you don't even need an account there to see them.

Finally, I am proud to announce that Terri is taking her own snapshots! Take a look at Terri's photos. Since she has now taken ownership of my Panasonic FX35, I will have to buy a new camera when we return to the U.S.

Somos ni turistas ni porteños

We've been here eleven days and you have every right to ask, where are the tales of exciting adventure in a foreign land? Of memorable encounters with fascinating locals? Of long nights into early mornings of dining and dancing?

I'm asking the same question. The problem is somos ni turistas ni porteños, we are neither tourists nor natives.

We first visited Buenos Aires in 2006, a few months before we retired, and have come back for a month every year since. This is our third year in this very apartment, so we're on a first-name basis with los porteros, the doormen, of our building. We know the layouts of the nearest Disco and Carrefour supermarkets and can go directly to the correct aisle and shelf to get what we need.

We're taking Spanish lessons, again, from the same teacher as last year, Marco, a young university student. His classroom is in his Palermo apartment, 1.7 miles or 40 minutes away, and we walk there and back. We've tried every possible route and know most of the shops and restaurants along the way.

As familiar as we now are with life in Buenos Aires, we are still very much outsiders. Our Spanish is minimal and halting: our portero Victoriano has to speak very slowly when explaining the day's machinations of Argentine politics. This is a short-term rental apartment; we miss our own appliances and cookware, and don't bother buying oil and spices. We're not sure how to cook the interesting cuts of meat in the market.

I am a tourist -- I still love to walk around, enjoying the street scene and admiring the architecture, camera always in hand. I am a local -- while I walk I grumble about the dog poop and broken sidewalks, and don't take nearly as many snaps because I've seen it so many times before.

So what are we? Refugees with credit cards in no hurry to return home? Visitors too jaded to admire yet another beautiful belle époque building? If I figure it out, I'll let you know. Until then, here's my snaps so far. There's dogs and a penguin, people sitting in parks and crossing the street, and a short movie of a rainy day.

Buenos Aires, mas caro

We started coming to Argentina in 2006, and have come down for a month each year since. There are many reasons why we do this: it's late winter here, the off-season, while Texas swelters. Buenos Aires is a cosmopolitan city with lots of museums and events, easy public transportation, many parks and plazas, and beautiful architecture. We study Spanish, wrestling with the language and the distinctive Argentine accent. Airline tickets are expensive ($1,000 to $1,200 or more), but we've always been able to use our frequent flyer miles to fly for free. The food and wine, while not comparable to Italy or Spain (what food is?), are satisfying.

In the past, Buenos Aires had a further allure: estaba barato, it was cheap. Each year we saw prices creep up a little, but always they were cheap.

No more. Inflation has accelerated to the point that trips to the supermarket show prices similar to those in the U.S.: a pound of decent coffee is $12, a small package of sliced cheese $3, a quart of milk more than $1. A loaf of Fargo bread is about $3.50, more than a loaf of Oroweat at Super Target in Fort Worth. Norton Clasico, a simple but tasty red table wine, used to be $2.25 but is now pushing $4. A big lunch of meat and beer that was $12 in 2008 is almost $25. Empanadas are over $1 each. The smallest ice cream cone at Freddo or Volta is $3. (Just to be clear, those prices are in equivalent U.S. dollars, not pesos. The current exchange rate is about A$3.94 to US$1.)

A year ago, ATMs here started charging a $3 fee. (Before that, they were free, like those in Europe.) Now the fee is $4. (Fortunately, our Schwab and Fidelity debit cards rebate all ATM fees.)

We want to go see a soccer game, preferably Boca Juniors at La Bombonera, but that will set us back US $150 to $200 per person. Less popular games at less famous stadiums are as low as $100 per person.

Argentina has long had an exit tax, around $30. In late 2009 they added a 'visa reciprocity fee' of $140 per person, payable at Ezeiza airport upon arrival. It's good for ten years, but casual U.S. tourists now have to pay almost $200 just to get into and out of the country.

None of this is outrageous, certainly not high enough to discourage us from visiting. The cost of our apartment rental is the same as three years ago, and the colectivos (buses) are still A$1.20 (about 30 cents U.S.).

The plazas and museums are as pleasant as ever, the people just as friendly even if a bit poorer, and the buildings still beautiful. Come and enjoy Buenos Aires, as we do, but be prepared to pay.

The Texas Doldrum

I am 61. Since I was born in January that means I've lived through 62 summers, counting this one, and 60 times I have endured the Texas summer. (The only Texas summers I've missed were in 1968, when I was in flight school in Savannah, and in 1969, when I was in Viet Nam.) Every May, when the last cool front peters out and I first feel the heavy, hot air settle in, I begin my struggle against lethargy and moody listlessness, wondering yet again why I live in this forsaken place.

We don't travel much during the summer: it's called the 'high season' in the Northern Hemisphere because most people have no choice about when they can get away, and why would I want to pay more to wander about amidst sweaty summer crowds of tourists?

So I sit and brood, withdrawn and peevish, dreading any sort of activity and knowing that the first fall cool front is still months away. If it were up to me, I'd never leave our apartment, but fortunately others occasionally force me up and out the door.

Back in May, we drove to Maineville, Ohio (near Cincinnati), to visit Terri's brother Ed, his wife Rhonda, and their boys Alec and Jacob. Our pleasant family outing included a visit to the world's largest basket building.



On the Fourth, we watched the big fireworks show at LaGrave Field from our perch atop a parking garage in downtown Fort Worth. Watch the fireworks!

Then my Aunt Mary invited us to spend a few days with her in Henderson, and while we were there we spent a nice afternoon with my Aunt Esther and Uncle Wiley. We usually just see each other at funerals, but this time, I am relieved to say, no one had died. It was great fun to catch up with relatives, talk about old times, and look through photo albums, but it was in Texas, in July. Here's a snapshot of me and Aunt Mary at the East Texas Oil Museum and one of me and Terri with Esther and Wiley in their backyard in Nacogdoches.

I quite surprised myself by catching World Cup fever and am now a futbol (soccer) fan. The Spanish cable channels carry several games a week, usually from the Mexican premier league, and Terri and I even went to see a game live at the new, ostentatious Dallas Cowboys Stadium. Here's a snapshot of Terri waiting for the game to start and a movie of the excitement in the stands.

So now it's July 26 and I peek through the blinds at the glaring sun, listening to the constant hum of the air conditioning and thinking of escape: in 25 days we go to Buenos Aires, where today's weather forecast is for a high of 61° after a low of 37° last night.

Road Trip!

In the last couple of years, we've flown to New York, London, Rome, Paris, Madrid, Buenos Aires, Chicago, and several other cities, but all those have merely been a warm-up for the ultimate trip: tomorrow we drive to Cincinnati, Ohio.

In my life B.T. (Before Terri) I relished the catharsis of long road trips. My first long drive was with some friends from Houston to San Francisco in the summer of 1967 in an un-airconditioned Chevy Impala station wagon. I still remember crossing the Bay Bridge from Oakland with all the car windows open, still in a daze from the Mojave and driving up the Central Valley on 99, feeling the first hint of cold ocean air that quickly dried out a thousand miles of desert sweat and grime.

After that came more drives to the West, back to San Francisco, to Los Angeles, through Wyoming and Utah to Seattle and Oregon, either alone or with a friend. My last long drive was in 1996, a solo trip in my Mazda 323 hatchback from Austin up I-35 to Duluth and on to Thunder Bay, Ontario. I left at 7 one evening and arrived for breakfast 30-odd hours later. Along the way, somewhere in Iowa, I remember entering a trance-like state as the noise of tires on the cracked pavement -- ta thump, ta thump, ta ta thump ta -- became a concert of minimalist music.

These road trips have no allure for Terri. The longest we've driven together was from Austin to South Padre Island, so this will be a new experience for her. As for myself, I am older now and perhaps no longer have the stamina and focus needed for cross-country trips. No more driving through the night, no more stopping at a rest area for a 30-minute nap in the back seat. Although this trip is less than 1,000 miles, Terri insists that we will stop along the way; she already knows where the Hampton Inns are located.

Most importantly, I at last go on a road trip in a car with cruise control.

Chicago Snaps

We made it back to Fort Worth Tuesday, after another pleasant stay in Chicago. The weather turned sunny the last two days and we had a fine time walking about the city. Our hotel, theWit at Lake and State, was great, and only a short walk to the Clark station on the Blue Line to O'Hare. The Art Institute was wonderful, as always. One night we splurged on a big seafood meal at Shaw's Crab House, where I had soft-shell crab for the first time in years.

I've never seen another city that works as hard as Chicago does at keeping their home clean and inviting: flowers are planted anywhere there's a square foot of dirt, streets and sidewalks are clean, and everyone seems proud of their city and glad that you're visiting.

Here's my snaps from the trip. There's a few postcard shots, an exploration of modern bathroom design, a portrait of six women, and a few other things that caught my eye and interest.

Flickr photos of this trip to Chicago

The slideshow version, playable in under a minute

Hephaestus

When we were planning this trip to Chicago, Terri ran across some good reviews for a show called Hephaestus. It's a retelling of the Greek myth using music and acrobats, which sounded curious enough. So we stopped at the Goodman Theatre on our walk from the Clark/Lake train station to our hotel and picked up same-day half-price tickets, front row mezzanine.

We checked in to our hotel, piddled around, then explored the neighborhood before going to the theatre at 7:15.

About Hephaestus, oh my, it was incredible. The acrobats were as good as Cirque du Soleil, and the music was reminiscent of Blue Man Group, all presented with a twist of Devo. I'm not sure that makes much sense, but it all came together into one of the best shows we've ever seen. The acrobatic routines actually worked to tell the story, and the final act is a three-level seven-person pyramid tight rope act that is unbelievable -- the theatre was absolutely quiet as everyone in the audience held their breath until the performers all made it safely across.

Here's the Hephaestus Circus. Be sure to check out the blog and the embedded photos and videos.

Afterwards we went next door to Petterino's for an after-show dinner. This was another pleasant surprise: 1940s style red velvet booths, white table cloths, and a fine meal.

Chicago, once again

If you've been following along you know that we like Chicago. It's a quick flight from DFW to ORD, hotel deals are easy to find on Priceline and Hotwire, and there's a train that goes directly from O'Hare to downtown. A walk down Michigan Avenue is one of the great strolls of the world, then there's Grant Park, the Loop, the Magnificent Mile, Navy Pier, Second City and Blue Man Group, the Art Institute, and much more. If it weren't for the bitter winters, I think we would have moved to Chicago years ago.

We visit often enough that we became members of the Art Institute. There's a wonderful new exhibit there, "Matisse: Radical Invention, 1913-1917", and we're going to see it this weekend. We fly out of DFW Saturday afternoon and return Tuesday. Here's two reviews of the show:

Los Angeles Times

Time Magazine

As a bonus, the Art Institute also has a show of photographs by William Eggleston, and each afternoon there are classical music concerts under the world's largest Tiffany dome, in the Chicago Cultural Center.

Until I come up with something interesting for you to read or to look at, here's a couple of my favorite snaps of Chicago, the first taken in September 2006 and the second in November of last year.

Union Pacific 844

For years, I've told Terri about how much I like steam trains, but we've never seen one together. She's graciously humored me and accepted my enthusiasm; it was one of those quirks of mine that she has learned to live with.

This last weekend, Union Pacific 844 came through Fort Worth on its way to the Rio Grande Valley. UP 844 has been in continuous service since it was delivered in 1944, and for forty years it's been an 'ambassador of goodwill' doing excursion runs throughout the United States. Wiki has a page about 844 and Union Pacific has more information and a schedule.

We looked up the route and found some places to view it in action. Friday afternoon would be perfect: the 4-8-4 (called a 'Northern') would steam into Fort Worth by crossing the Trinity River about a mile from our apartment. There were a dozen or so railfans at the spot near E. Northside Drive as we waited and waited. We knew there had been rail traffic delays, but apparently it had gotten so bad that they rerouted the train at the last minute, and we saw it off in the distance crossing a different bridge.

Friday evening we went to the rail yard near Vickery and Rogers and got to see the train parked for the night. There was quite a crowd admiring the enormous locomotive, and it was a treat to be able to get so close to it. One of the cars in the train was a mobile gift shop, where Terri bought me a coffee mug and souvenir pin.

But this was not enough. Terri decided we needed to get up early the next morning and catch the train on its way south. We set the alarm for 7:15 a.m. (very early for us) and headed to southeast Fort Worth, to Bisbee Street paralleling the Mansfield Highway. Right on time, about a quarter to 9, we heard the whistle and saw the train coming down the mainline, doing about 50 m.p.h.

I got a couple of decent snapshots, but Terri got a great video of 844:



Terri is now hooked on steam trains and is already plotting how we can see another one.

Back from Boston

My impression of Boston in two words: 'pleasantly dull.' It's attractive and interesting in many ways but not beautiful or exciting. I can find no fault with Boston: the architecture is straightforward, the subways efficient, the food satisfying, and the people friendly. While Boston and I can be friends, we can never be lovers.

We walked around to the historical sites but found them not as interesting as those in Philadelphia. Anyway, I think history is best got from a book; cities are for art, food, concerts, people-watching, and sitting in the park on a sunny afternoon.

One day, we encountered the crowd from an anime confab at the convention center: hundreds of pasty-faced twenty-somethings flamboyantly dressed as Japanese cartoon characters.

We spent about an hour in the Faneuil Market area, forty-five minutes too much. It's all very touristy and kitschy.

We rented a car and drove out to Williamstown, in far northwest Massachusetts, to visit the Clark Art Institute. I've already written about the Clark so I will only say the art there was the highlight of the trip, and I'd eagerly go see it again.

The rest of the drive was pretty boring. Williamstown itself is quaint in the extreme, a living postcard of quaint New England. North Adams, a larger town just to the east, is poor and grungy. All the way back it was quaint shops, quaint motels, quaint villages, and quaint roads through quaint landscapes.

Amazing but true: Massachusetts drivers use their turn signals even less than Texas drivers do.

If you visit Boston, get the seven-day Charlie Ticket for the subways and buses. A single ride on the system is $1.70, a one-day pass is $9, but the seven-day pass is only $15. The pass will get you from the airport to downtown and out to the western suburbs, and even covers the ferry ride from Long Wharf (near the New England Aquarium) to the Charlestown Navy Yard, where the USS Constitution is berthed.

Dunkin' Donuts are everywhere. They have a Boston Creme variety.

The weather turned warm while we were here and the locals came out wearing tees, shorts, and flip-flops. I've never seen so many white white people. I don't mean pink, either, but white.

The water is very soft here. It takes about ten minutes to rinse off the soap.

Here's some snaps from our trip. Or you can look at the slideshow version.

The Clark Art Institute

One of the main reasons for this trip was to visit the Clark Art Institute in Williamstown, in the far northwest corner of Massachusetts. They have two paintings I've wanted to see for years: Gainsborough's "Elizabeth and Thomas Linley" and Piero della Franscesca's "Virgin and Child Enthroned with Four Angels."

Getting to the Clark is no easy feat. We took the subway out of Boston to Newton, where we rented a car. (The car they gave us was a Hyundai Tiburon, a black pile of junk with chrome and wheels.) We went west on the Massachusetts Turnpike to Lee, then headed north. We got turned around in Pittsfield but still made it to Williamstown by 2:30.

The Clark is free during the winter so we waltzed right in and hurried to the galleries: I wanted to see my paintings! As soon as we entered the permanent collection area, there was the Gainsborough staring right towards me, as if welcoming me at last after all these years.

The Gainsborough is gorgeous, and far more lovely in person than any reproduction could ever be. It's breathtaking.

Gainsborough's "Elizabeth and Thomas Linley" and detail of Thomas' face

Then I went to the early Italian room and there was the Piero. What a majestic, powerful painting!

Piero's "Virgin and Child"

Terri and I spent the rest of the afternoon oohing and aahing at the Clark until it closed at 5, and are going back there this morning. I know that not everyone shares our passion for paintings and museums, so I will simply say that the Clark Art Institute, while small, has one of the finest collections we've seen, anywhere. We like it second only to our own hometown Kimbell, and think it's much better than the renowned Barnes Collection in Philadelphia.

Visit the Clark Art Institute online.

After revisiting the Clark we'll head east on the Mohawk Trail and spend the night in Waltham. We return the rent car on Monday morning and then take the subway back into Boston.

Baked Beans and Cream Pie

You guessed it, Boston.

Don't ask me how we decide where we go, because I do not know. Terri the Travel Agent found an attractive airfare and next thing I know we're making hotel reservations and running to Borders to buy another Streetwise map. I've only been to Boston once, about 25 years ago for a conference, and Terri has never been, so we'll be exploring a new city.

We'll be busy: travel by bus, train, airplane, subway, and rental car, with stays at four different hotels in six nights. (We're renting a car and driving to far northwest Massachusetts to visit a small museum. They have some paintings I've wanted to see for decades.) But the trip should be easy: I understand that English is widely spoken there, and the ATMs dispense our familiar U.S. dollars.

I could care less about the baked beans, but I plan on gorging myself with Boston Cream Pie.

We leave Wednesday, March 31, and return Tuesday, April 6. Blog posts and snapshots forthcoming.

My Body's in Texas, but my Mind's still in Madrid

We made it home by around 6:30 p.m. Wednesday, after one of the most trouble-free trips ever. Our non-stop flights there and back were on time, we had no problems getting to and from the airport, our hotel was perfect, and the food was great. The weather was cold and drizzly for a few days, but that gave us an excuse to take a day off from touristing.

Here's my snapshots of our Madrid 2010 trip, or you can see the slideshow version.

Madrid seems much more accessible than other major cities like Rome, Paris, London, or New York. The slower pace is noticeable while walking in the city center, getting on and off subways and buses, and shopping. As Terri said, Madrid is 'normal' -- it's inviting and pleasant, and we always felt totally at ease. Here's a few random observations about our trip.

Eating in Madrid often means standing up. Small shops serving fried calamari sandwiches, tapas, gambas al ajillo, churros con chocolate, or any of the other local specialties may have tables in the back but the crowds are at the bar or stand-up tables. The prices are cheaper at the bar and standing up means you won't linger before you venture back out on the streets to find the next snack. Standing up or sitting down, the food was really good everywhere we went: lots of ham and seafood, and well-made wine to wash it down.

As I wrote before, the museums in Madrid are stunningly good. Besides the famous trio I wrote about here last week, we went to several lesser-known but equally enjoyable places. The Caixa Forum had a wonderful exhibit of the work of Miguel Barceló, including a crowd-pleasing sculpture of a full-size elephant standing upright on its extended trunk. We also lucked out and got tickets to a concert on our our last night in Madrid, with Trevor Pinnock performing works by Bach, Couperin, and Rameau.

We went to the Museo Sorolla because Terri remembered a Sorolla painting she had seen and liked years ago. The museum is in what was the artist's large, beautiful home, with much of the furniture and decoration just as it was in 1923 when he died. My favorite room was the large studio, which still had his easels and paintbrushes. Terri fell in love with the house, by the way, and considered making an offer to buy it.

Following Rick Steves' suggestion, we took the #27 bus out to Plaza de Castilla in the more modern part of Madrid. While walking around the plaza we happened upon Fundación Canal, a cultural center in what appears to have been some sort of water works. The modern, remodeled space featured an exhibition of the sculptural works of Jorge Oteiza.

We stayed at Hotel Europa and loved it: a simple, clean corner room in a perfect location with a great view of Puerta del Sol, a great shower, and a restaurant/bar for breakfast. Café con leche and a napolitana (cream-filled pastry) for €2 -- a perfect way to start our day.

The guidebooks on Spain all mention the constant threat of pickpockets, but we encountered nothing remotely threatening. Perhaps the pickpockets were all on holiday in a warmer place? (I'll write a post sometime about our 100% successful anti-pickpocket measures.)

There were two minor irritants. First, I got hit with dynamic currency conversion on our first night, at dinner, and didn't catch it in time to reverse it. DCC is a legalized scam: the credit card processor offers the 'convenience' of converting a charge to your own currency, for which they charge an extra 2.5% or more on top of any foreign transaction fees levied by your credit card. We ran into DCC several more times on our trip, but I was able to reverse it (by opting for the charge in euros only) or pay in cash. Because DCC benefits the merchant and the processor at the expense of the consumer, many places will automatically select dollars when they swipe your card and not even offer the option of euros only. I am a near obsessive about the best credit/debit card deals, so this DCC scam really ticks me off, and it seems much more prevalent in Madrid than in any other place we've visited.

Secondly, America will be sleeping safer tonight because Madrid airport security confiscated my sealed jar of Hero chestnut spread. I love chestnut spread on toast, but it's gotten harder to find at home. Our Fort Worth Central Market used to carry it, but no more. So I bought a jar at El Corte Ingles, the huge Spanish department store. As much as we travel, I am well aware of all the rules about liquids and such, but I had no idea that chestnut spread (with the consistency of peanut butter) would be considered a terroristic threat. Air travel security has so much silliness.

Minor annoyances aside, Terri and I felt very much at home in Madrid. We felt like we could easily fit in, and there was plenty to see and do (and eat and drink). Add to that the great flight schedules to and from DFW, and I think we'll be going back soon, for a longer stay. What better way to practice our Spanish?

Madrid Museum Crawl

I don't travel to relax, since I do so much of that at home. I don't travel for daring adventure, as I've already had my share and want no more of it. I don't travel to party and cavort -- me? But I do often travel for art: art in museums, art in public spaces, interesting architecture, grand urban design, and all the other sorts of distinctive expressions that identify cultures and places.

The most famous museum in Madrid is, of course, the Prado. Like the Louvre and the Met, it is intimidating. To make it more accessible, take advantage of the daily free hours, from 6 to 7.30 each evening. There's always a line but it moves very quickly and you're in the museum within five minutes. Pick an area ahead of time, say, Italian Renaissance, and spend your time leisurely enjoying the art. Go back the next day and repeat with a different area. And the next day again. What started out as a way to save money by getting in free turned into the best way to enjoy the museum, a few hours at a time over several days.

I like the Prado but the vast displays of Velázquez and Goya are overwhelming. The next museum we visited was much more to my taste, the Thyssen-Bornemisza, displayed in a restored palace near the Prado. Spain acquired the entire collection in 1993 for $350 million although now it's valued at up to $2 billion. And it has such wonderful stuff! There's a Piero della Francesca portrait, Carvaggio's portrait of St. Catherine, Carpaccio's portrait of a young knight, some of the best Canalettos we've ever seen, and Van Gogh's Les Vessenots en Auvers.

After a long day at the Thyssen-Bornemisza, we made it to the third of the "Golden Triangle," the Museo Nacional Centro de Arte Reina Sofía. The collection here is modern, not as much to our taste, but stunning nonetheless. The centerpiece is Picasso's Guernica. Everyone has seen this painting in books and posters, but the huge original is much more raw and powerful than any reproduction.

Saturday was cold, wet, and grey, a great day for museum crawling. After hours upon hours of wandering through museum galleries, we stumbled back to our hotel room for a short break. It was time to think about dinner. Restaurants here don't open until late, so around 9.00 we went out to El Caldero for a huge and too satisfying meal of fried eggplant and paella, washed down with sangría de cava.

At last, Madrid

When I wrote about our trip to Madrid, several friends wrote back and said, "Madrid! That's at the top of my list of places to visit!" For some reason, though, Madrid had never really entered my travel imagination. All of Italy, of course, and Paris, the south of France, but Spain? Maybe, some day, but later.

We've been in Madrid a full day and night now, and I cannot understand why I didn't want to come here earlier. My friends are right, Madrid is delightful! We're staying at Hotel Europa, right in the middle of Puerta del Sol, the center of old Madrid. Our second-floor corner room has a great view, facing out onto the plaza. The subway stop is so close the rumble of the trains underground lulls us to sleep at night.



Last night, we had dinner at La Finca de Susana, recommended by the hotel and several guidebooks. Terri had shrimp with fried garlic, swimming in olive oil, then a slab of hake fish with asparagus; I had Catalan salami on toast with a small salad then baked bacalao (cod) with cheese and spinach, all washed down with a bottle of Spanish vino blanco. Dessert for Terri was some concoction called tambaon, while I had a custard thingy (of course). Remember Mike's rule of thumb: the best food is in countries that grow both olives and grapes.

Breakfast this morning was at the hotel's cafeteria next door; cafe con leche and churros or a brioche is only €2. Terri had a yummy sandwich mixto: toast with ham and cheese and a runny egg on top.

I cannot imagine this will be our last trip here. There's a direct flight from DFW to Madrid, with a great schedule both arriving and departing. The new Terminal 4 at Madrid is attractive and easy to navigate. When you take the subway to get from the airport to the center you have to change lines twice, but it's actually pretty simple and only costs €2 a person.

We're going out soon to explore. Stand by, you haven't heard the last from me.

I Am Bored And Want To Go Someplace

Since our trip to Rome in early December, we've had a quiet life here in Fort Worth. We've watched movies (A Serious Man was especially good), read books (Malcolm Gladwell and Atul Gawande are now my favorite essayists), and visited new exhibits at both the Kimbell and the Modern. We've had snow, twice, and we've had visits from family. (Snapshots are on Flickr.)

The cold weather has kept us inside and we've been itching to go someplace. Last year, American Airlines began non-stop service from DFW to Madrid, making it an obvious destination, so next Tuesday, March 2, off we go for a short seven-night stay. We've been to Spain once before (Barcelona, last January) but never to Madrid.

We'll be staying at the Hotel Europa, right in the middle of the old city, and their free Internet access means you'll get to see and hear more about our trip while we're there.

Finally, for no particular reason other than a grandfather's love of an adorable child, I want to include this snapshot of Josie, taken when she and her mother Sydney visited us in mid-January.