Posts Tagged ‘Marbella’

El Consumismo

In Plenary, Presentation on October 4, 2013 at 7:18 am

El Consumismo

K is throwing a few things into an overnight bag and I’m on the other side of the bed pretending to do the same, although really I’m just hanging around.

“Explain to me exactly what you mean,” she says, coiling the flex around some kind of hair tool, “by lunch.”

A doozer of a question. Not for the first time, I take a good long look at my fiancée.

“Something to eat,” I reply – an uncertain, questioning inflection finding its way into my voice, “in the middle of the day.”

She’s brushed past me and is gathering up small bottles and vials in the bathroom. No response.

“A light meal,” I call after her, “in the early afternoon?”

She returns with a bag of cosmetics and a faceful of scorn.

“I know what lunch is, you moron. I meant what did you have in mind?”

Once again she has me on the back foot. I hadn’t thought the suggestion a controversial one.

“I, eh, didn’t…I don’t really…” I drop the pair of boxing shorts I’ve been fidgeting with into my little case, “I just thought we’d…you know…we might…eat something.”

“In La Cañada?”

We’re off to Marbella for the night More


In Practice, Production on April 1, 2012 at 1:51 pm

The place is unfinished and long since ruined, the smell of fish has faded away and the archaeologists have arrived. It’s blustery and I turn my collar up against the wind that blows down where the land slopes gently to the water. On this hazy day the Rif mountains can only just be made out to the south; even the big Bolonia dune – close by – is a little shrouded.

Long since ruined – this old city saw its heyday under Claudius and was already a pile of rubble fifteen centuries ago. I walk along the wooden walkway, reluctant to linger in the cold. The emperor occupies his pedestal amidst the columns of the Basilica. Down onto the slabs of the decumanus maximus and past the Macellum and the baths – then up to the half moon of the amphitheatre and its tiered stalls; half a bull ring on the hillside.

After that the three temples – to Juno, to Jupiter and to Minerva and after those another, to Isis. The gods overlook the forum, the tabernae, the curia and Tabularium and further down – right where the sand starts – is the rather prosaic reason for all this Roman fuss; the factory that churned out the product that produced the wealth that produced the temples. Fish sauce. More


In Presentation, Production on May 31, 2011 at 10:36 am

…baby burn…

This has to be the best way to see Marbella.

I think that might be a Lamborghini down there. Or a Ferrari – I wouldn’t know the difference from this high up. I’ve seen a Porsche, plenty of Gucci, horse-drawn carriages. Down there. With the great unwashed.

…burn baby…

It isn’t for me though. Not tonight. The streets with their clutter and noise and ordinary people. In Ferraris. I hang aloft up here with my stemmed glass and survey like the birds that fascinate me above Tarifa. Mine is an imperial perspective. Decadent. Faintly ridiculous.

…burn baby burn…

I’m not alone. K clinks my glass and we laugh. We are enjoying ourselves; brushing against the edges of mania – happy. We are bathed in changing colours; and we are wet.

…disco inferno!… More

Seriously, Carnaval?

In Practice, Presentation on March 22, 2011 at 11:06 am

Regular readers will be aware of the tendency that Tarifeños have to string a celebration out – to squeeze every last possible drop of moisture out of any opportunity that blows in on the Levante to throw a bit of a party, to flog the living shit out of a dead horse named Celebration.

After a seemingly endless Feria in September followed by very respectable turn outs for Halloween and a couple of churchified thingamibobs I didn’t understand through November and December, a determined effort to mark each of the twelve days of Christmas and the Andalucia bank holiday in February half the town, it would seem, disappears up the road to Cadiz for Carnaval in the spring when that city goes ape shit for three weekends (and the two intervening weeks).

When do these people get any work done?

When do they sleep?

Do they sleep? More