las ramblas, watch yo shit!  For here we are in pickpocket central, and we survive and pursue an armorer who I’ve been pestering for some time, Manuel albarran.  We pass bibis store to marvel at a giant poster of christiane.

Bibi and isma’s apartment is literally stuffed with action figures, sci fi and art books, and we are well at home and in awe, especially of the life size face hugger from Alien, that will find itself in a rude shoot of my choosing sometime soon.  In fact many of these creatures need to be grafted to naked ladies immediately.  (I used elements of Isma’s cylon action statue to realize this image)

up at 8:30am, and ready to take guille by photogenic storm, I rage sleepily to the tune of a rumbling belly.  Getting back early didn’t help, vast and utter are my fellow tourists.  We walk onward through a beautiful hospital complex by gaudi, assaulted by the sheer precipitous enormity of sagrada familia, just visible through a giant arch.  The scope of this edifice is impossible to grasp, 120 years worth of construction and a further 15 years at least before completion.  The interior, albeit imposing, did feel a bit like paying 11 euros to see a building site.  Half finished should mean half price, right?  Christiane insisting on food beneath the sagrada, the closest being a kfc… Her unholy influence on me prevails.  It’s a wonderfully dust bitten windy city to wander through…

The park looks as though a god consulting walt Disney and Phidias  artfully directed a lava flow through a field of aquamarine tiles.  Fucking tourists, don’t they realize my photos of this waxy glory would improve geometrically were they elsewhere?  My images have purpose!  Fuck off out of my frame to sagrada familia!  I hope to wake early enough tomorrow to return to this elemental state without all of it’s tat seeking ants, ok I really wanted to buy a gaudi mug, but I’m still trying to make art here, people.  Only thing left to do before we sleep for 12 hours in proper Spanish form, is to order a ham sandwich with a hole cut out the top and a fried egg dropped into it…

what if it were possible, particularly during adventurous and exploratory periods, to mindfully switch from passive to active enjoyment?  Thrill?  Spending a brief conrner of our day with grant and Kristan, I’d never thought to hear such descriptive eloquence illustrating the position of the largest nuclear deterrant both in relation to grant’s country residence and past experience, a quick quantum equation explaining space and time coordinates of scotch submarines with grant as it’s constant.

Sooo, apparently it is not only ok for children rounding the age of 6 to urinate in public, making utter spectacles of themselves, but tis also acceptable, nay expected, that their parent take an active role in holding, shaking and dabbing.  Never have I felt so titanic a wave of culture shock, or put away my camera so hastily. 

There is one peculiar thing missing from the streets of Paris; coffee shops.  I’m in a fucking starbucks in Paris because after a one hour walk, I’d been unable to locate the quotidian mélange of espresso and pastries.  At least English is spoken, albeit tentatively, as last night I cunning attempted my pizzeria order in French and ended down 35 euros and up 2 extra pies.  Apparently coke is a type of pizza here, involving chicken and a manner of pepper…I ordered 2.

OCT9th-My first brilliant experience after removing myself from the eurostar is the dulcet singing voice of the french train announcements, it just made me feel so at home in their station.  Which explains why it takes me an hour to actually exit the place, what with a distinctly foreign aspect to the signage and trouble finding a luggage locker.  The coiffed spaniel riding up the escalator with her master greets me as I take my leave, and I realize I don’t believe ever having seen a dog on an escalator before, but it does have a ring to it.  The corner bakeries are populated with baskets of conspicuously French bread. Obscure French words for search, thing, without, rise like ramparts from the fog of war, but do little to assist in the purchase of cheese.  Better to have remembered the French for smoked, or cheddar; ended up with neither, just a wedge of something soft and smelling of moist earth, that spread proudly over heel of a baguette.

My favorite view of the Mona Lisa was of all the people queuing to take her picture, often with a flash despite her being glassed off; the reason being at least 90% of these art lovers actually walked away after their photo…without looking at the fucking painting!  At least their camera phone got to see the world’s most famous portrait.  And yes, I took this with my camera phone