Month: September 2017

The daily olive no.2: on smoking. Thomas Mann, The Magic Mountain

“I don’t understand it,” Hans Castorp said. “I never understand how anybody can not smoke – it deprives a man of the best part of life, so to speak – or at least of a first class pleasure. When I wake up in the morning, I feel glad at the thought of being able to smoke all day, and when I eat, I look forward to smoking afterwards; I might almost say I only eat for the sake of being able to smoke – though of course that is more or less an exaggeration. But a day without tobacco would be flat, stale and unprofitable, as far as I’m concerned. If I had to say to myself to-morrow: “No smoking to-day”- I believe I shouldn’t find the courage to get up – on my honor, I’s stop in bed. But when a man ha s a good cigar in his mouth- of course it mustn’t have a side draught or no not draw well, that is extremely irritating – but with a good cigar in his mouth a man is perfectly safe, nothing can touch him- literally. It just like lying on the beach: when you lie on the beach, why, you lie on the beach, don’t you? – you don’t require anything else, in the line of work or amusement either.- People smoke all over the world, thank goodness; there is nowhere could get to, so far as I know, where the habit hasn’t penetrated. Even polar expeditions fit themselves out with supplies of tobacco to help them carry on. carl-mydans-german-born-novelist-thomas-mann-sitting-in-armchair-at-home-smoking-cigar-and-reading-a-book

P.S. Cigars are not my cup of tea, but rollies are.

 

The girl that ordered a glass milk at the Café Royal, H.M. Bateman (1887-1970)

bateman_milk

Mainly known for his series “The man who…”, H.M. Bateman was a British humorous artist and cartoonist. I sometimes fantasize about P.G. Woodhouse novels illustrated by Bateman. These two contemporary British artists have more in common than one would think: they both portray, with their specific means, the shortcomings and gaffes of the upper class. I imagine a spumous friendship between the two, night caps and cigars, good lunches and strolls in the park. A match made in haven, I think. Speaking of a grave faux-pas, ordering milk at the Café Royal seems to stir a good laugh from everyone present. The waiter can barely contain himself and seems to be even slightly scolding the young lady, who is all flushed and flabbergasted. One can only wonder if she got her glass of milk in the end…

The baroque, the pomegranate & the church

The church of Montesion in Palma de Mallorca stands grand and tall, yet somehow belittled. This Mediterranean island has a fascinating history. Mallorca was taken from the Moors by King James I of Aragon in 1230 and went through a heavy Christianization process. The city of Palma, Ciutat de Mallorca at that time, had a Jewish population counting about a few hundreds. In 1391 anti-Jewish riots broke out and the population was wiped out. Some ran to North Africa, others converted to Catholicism and continued to live on the island. Their holy places were also reconverted or simply destroyed. I cannot tell for sure, but I believe this is what happened with the Montesion synagogue. The Iglesia de Montesion is, of course, a Catholic church, but what few passers-by know is that it was built in the 16th century on the site of Jewish synagogue dating from 1314. The name of the church and its street is Montesion, Mount Zion. The strangeness of the building comes from the sharp contrast between the heavily embroidered, Baroque entrance and the bare walls. No design, no carvings or plaster, only bare stone and one round window above the portico. Furthermore, trying to walk around this massive church will get you nowhere. Literally. The church’s back merges with other buildings, an old townhouse and if memory serves, a public school. What draws the attention is the incredible, almost Churrigueresque church entrance. It is covered in carved fruits and vegetables and I found it almost impossible to take my eyes of it. How did it end up here?  Read More