"...what is most solid and substantial about Dalí is very specific and not wildly complex qualities: the particular gleaming surfaces of his paintings, with their often large areas of a single, pulsating color; his feeling for the transient, soft light of dawn or dusk and for the brilliantly hard light of a sunny summer afternoon by the Mediterranean; and his astounding ability to delineate and make us feel the simmering strength in tiny, tightly wound concentrations of lines, dots, or shapes." Today's reading: a Philadelphia exhibition of Salvador Dalí gets the NYRB treatment this week.

Welcome to the new-look Puerta del Sol Blog, now even more gorgeous than ever with differences to be found to both left and (ahem) right. Make yourself at home. I'm not fully au fait with it yet (we're in Movable Type now), so please bear with me...

Do U Cry 4 me Argentina was the name of one of the 18 films, all Argentinian, that I saw at the BAFICI (that's what we call it, you know) last week in Buenos Aires. And the film that won was a Spanish film called El cielo gira, which was recently lauded here on Puerta del Sol Blog. So that means that of my week there, about 1500 minutes, was spent sitting in darkened cinemas, about 500 minutes of which were worth it. But I learned a lot about Argentina. I learned about a place called Saladillo, 182 km from BA (that's what we call it, you know) where people make their own films, because nobody gives them any money to. They're popular, too, and make money. So that's one example of Argentina's burgeoning alternative economy, which is probably healthier than Colombia's. I learned about Cándido López, who was a soldier in the War of the Triple Alliance and who did sketches of war scenes which he then turned into fascinating paintings - which he carried out with one arm, because he lost the other in the war. I learned what it's like to be a student at school with no money in the middle of the desert, and I learned what it was like laying the 700 km Camisea pipeline between the Peruvian cordillera and the coast (though I didn't learn about the ecological damage it caused). I learned about two guys called Orlando and Luis, who live in two abandoned Ford Falcons in the city center. Orlando was there at the screening of the film, and after it they passed round a hat into which poeple put 600 pesos. (He says he likes living in a car - less hassle than living in a house.) I learned about the legendary transvestite who made a decent living standing on street corners at night dressed like this lady, and I learned what it's like to be a member of the 1.5 generation, which is the name they give to young Korean immigrants in BA. That I leaned from a feature film, not from a documentary - I didn't learn much from the features that I didn't already know, and I wonder why somebody doesn't make a law which says that 50% of all films screened in public should be documentaries. And all these things I learned inside the cinema. Outside it, I learned less and probably a lot of what I learned falls into the cliche category, because how much can you learn in a week? I learned that I'd rather have my mate sweetened, thank you very much, even though it's more "authentic" to have it bitter. I learned that the streets of BA are a paradise for people with an interest in 70's and 80's motor vehicles, because most of them date back to that time, and I learned that there are more bookshops than anywhere else I've ever been except Hay-On-Wye. I learned that psychology magazines take pride of place on newspaper stands, and I learned that now's the time to visit if you want to buy things cheaply (and I felt a bit guilty aout how cheap everything is), unless you're talking about hotel telephone charges, which are a rip-off internationally. I learned that it's a massive, shambolic place with great parks and some fine buldings and that it's easy to get around on foot, and safer than riding in anything with wheels. I learned that Argentina produces practically nothing except loads of films, books and plays, which might not be a bad thing as long as it's getting by. And in the last post I mentioned the Malvinas/Falklands and how it's a dead subject for me - but I switched on the radio on the morning I arrived and lo and behold, an interview with an old militar about why the Malvinas has been misunderstood. I learned that for many people the line between politics and crime doesn't exist, and that lawyers aren't too popular either - one taxi driver told me that they invent problems for you which they then charge you a fortune to solve. I learned that they love language, and that you carry something interesting away from a high percentage of conversations. I learned that Argentinian beef is the best I've ever tasted, especially vacio (flank), and that the people are great. I learned that Argentinian women are like wow, and that if I was a woman I'd probably think Argentinean men were too I learned some new words, many of them related to the parts of a cow (vacio = flank). And that's probably enough about what I learned from Argentina, except to say that I probably couldn't write like this about Spain any more and to say that as soon as I can go back, I will. And I still don't know when to use "Argentine", "Argentinean" or "Argentinian".

PdS Blog is heading to Argentina for a week, starting tonight, for the BAFICI, the Buenos Aires Festival of Independent Film. Lots of moving pictures to see (Argentinean cinema is flourishing at the moment) and lots of Buenos Aires, too. One of my students helpfully reminded me to say "Malvinas" rather than "Falkland Islands", but to be honest I wasn't really planning on talking about them any more than I do here, which isn't much. See you on my return.

But before that: here's one more reason for giving your children a subscription to Puerta del Sol...
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During the period of Muslim rule in Spain, Madrid's Plaza de la Paja (Straw Square) was the site of the city's most important zoco, or street market, selling mainly grain and fodder. At the time, it probably marked the southernmost point of the city's Arab wall. During the Middle Ages, the plaza housed Madrid's most aristocratic residences; No. 14 was the preferred stopover of the Reyes Católicos when they were passing through the city. On Monday 18th April, three cows will be placed in the Plaza de la Paja and, according to a press release I got today, the cows "posarán ante la cámara con unos modelos de lencería". This means one of two things: that the cows will be wearing lingerie or that they'll be accompanied by male models wearing lingerie (it doesn't say "unas modelos", which would mean women). The concept is apparently a homage to cows as providers of milk, and was dreamed up by Ben and Jerry's, in recognition of Free Ice Cream Day at B & J's, which is next Tuesday. I hope whoever thought this up received vast quantities of money for doing so. The world back then may have been crueller, but the world we have now is both cruel and extremely strange. Will I be able to attend? No.
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BTW, the new Puerta del Sol is (finally) out, featuring among other things Oscar winner Alejandro Amenábar, Nobel winner Pablo Neruda, winning singer José Mercé, and TV for losers. It's the real thing. I'd like to buy the world a PdS. We're lovin' it. Etc. etc.
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is apparently what has been decided at a big-name forum that's just taken place in NY, convened to compare the experiences of Madrid after the March 11 attacks with those of New York after Sept. 11 and featuring (on the Spanish side) lawyer Baltasar Garzón, a kind of Hispanic Elliot Ness, and philosopher Josep Ramoneda. A bit too much expensive blathering that you suspect won't come to much, but at least Paul Berman apparently made a few feisty, provocative comments, and it's good to see that Spain and the US are on speaking terms again after the withdrawal of Spanish troops from Iraq.
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These wonderfully fruity features belong to the Chilean actor Julio Jung, who stars in a fine film I've just seen, Cachimba by Silvio Caiozzi (if you can get to see anything at all by Caiozzi, I'd recommend it). Based on a novella by Chilean novelist José Donoso, it's a simple but resonant comic tale of an insignificant young bank clerk, hopelessly in love with his tubby girlfriend, who comes across an unexpected art treasure and decides he wants to try and save it. The film has about a thounsand different levels and is unlike anything else I've seen since I saw the last Caiozzi film, Coronación. I met the director briefly in San Sebastián at the time of that film, when he was being accompanied by a woman whose job is was to represent Chilean cultural interests in Spain. She was impressed by the fact that I liked Coronación, so impressed that some months later she called me and asked if I'd like to go on an expenses-paid cruise round the coast of Patagonia. Criminally, I couldn't go - and of course, although I'll never forget that I wasn't able to go on a freebie to Patagonia, I can't now remember what it was that stopped me from going. Anyway, looking for web information about Caiozzi has led me to this site, which is just the thing for any Latin American cinema buffs who don't speak Spanish.
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