facts:

Hotel  EL  PALAUET  LIVING  BARCELONA  (Catalonia),  Spain

          Located on Barcelona’s most fashionable avenue at Passeig de Gràcia 113, this five-story palatial mansion, built in 1906, is an extraordinary example of Modernisme (the sumptuous Catalan version of Art Nouveau). The architect, Pere Falqués, is also known for his ornate lampposts jutting from ceramic tile benches that are sidewalk landmarks. He was a contemporary of Antoni Gaudí whose acclaimed buildings are nearby.

          The facade of El Palauet reflects the great prosperity, creative genius, and unbridled imagination of the era.

      - “Palauet” in the Catalan language is a small palau or palace.

      -  It is located just north of the intersection of Passeig de Gràcia and a main artery called Avenguida Diagonal, where the Passeig de Gràcia narrows into a charming tree-lined street divided by a parkway median with gardens and sculptures.

      – Among Gaudi’s iconic modernista buildings, Casa Milà, also known as La Pedrera, is just three blocks south. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Casa_Mil%C3%A0  This and six other Gaudi architectural masterpieces are designated UNESCO World Heritage Sites.

 =SUITES=

Six two-bedroom, two-bath apartment-style suites, extremely spacious (1,615 square feet), accommodate up to four guests. Similar in layout, the suites feature a fully-equipped kitchen, dining room, living room, stellar contemporary furnishings, and state-of-the-art technology throughout. 

There are two suites to a floor. Each has its private entrance off a common foyer near the elevator.

The Passeig de Gràcia Suites have a balcony and face east overlooking the tree-lined avenue. On the opposite side of the building, the Tibidabo Suites have a small private terrace and face west overlooking the Pompeya Monastery across the streat and, in the distance, the top of Tibidabo Mountain.  

Bathrooms feature spacious closets and shelving, shower with enormous rainfall showerheads plus hand-held fixture, a futuristic automatic toilet-bidet, and an automatic safe. An additional features has a large bathtub and soothing chromotherapy lighting with alternating colors.

High-technology: touch screens control ambient lighting, temperature, music selection (from El Palauet Living Barcelona’s own music library), sound level, and automated curtains. High-definition TVs with home cinema and DVD player. (Additional TV in each bedroom.)

Internet: high-speed wi-fi in all rooms, COMPLIMENTARY.  

Toiletries: include a selection of complimentary natural-ingredient http://bit.ly/Giura-brand products produced in Calonge on Catalonia’s Costa Brava.

Designer furniture: Masterful interior decor features contemporary pieces by an array of award-winning designers: Charles and Ray Eames, Ero Saarinen, Warren Platner, Arne Jacobsen, Mies Van der Rohe, Philippe Starck, and Antonio Citterio (“less is more”) whose modernsleek works are in the permanent collection of MoMA New York.

Space-age Corian seamless surfaces have embedded illuminated decorative patterns that mimic original modernista design motifs found in the same suites.

21st-century ultra-modern decor and luxuries harmonize with the preserved 1906 modernisme (Art Nouveau) artistry of this landmark building. Forty-five original ceilings with ornate molding designs are listed as historic treasures by the Town Hall of Barcelona. Superb carved-wood doors, stained-glass windows, mosaic tile, wrought iron ornamentation, dramatic staircases and the traditional elevator have all been meticulously restored.      

=ROOFTOP TERRACE AND SPA=

Guests enjoy utmost privacy at the rooftop private spa and landscaped terrace with a panoramic view of this cultural capital on the Mediterranean.

Spa facilities include a wooden Finnish sauna, treatment rooms and massage tables, outdoor jacuzzi with hydro-massage “beds”, and solarium for suntanning.

The bar and al-fresco lounge area are ideal for yoga, simply relaxing, or for gatherings. 

(Room card-key gives secure access to street-entrance front door, elevator, suite and rooftop.)

=SERVICES=

A personal assistant is assigned to each suite throughout your stay: multilingual, knowledgeable about Barcelona tourism, museums, shopping, entertainment and dining, and makes all your arrangements.

     A culinary expert, he can shop and stock your kitchen, and cook your breakfast (optional) with a wide menu selection including Catalan specialties, and serve it on your dining table.

     He can also coordinate a special chef to prepare your lunch or dinner en-suite, as well as recommend restaurants according to your preferences.

Concierge service: Don’t miss ‘El Palauet Recommends…’ a weekly insider’s bulletin suggesting smart cultural events, stylish restaurants and clubs around town, social events and…VIP access. Your Conceirge can arrange everything.

Transfers (inquire for cost): Private chauffeured transportation from/to El Prat International AIRPORT [BCN ] or from/to the SEAPORT for guests combining their stay with a Mediterranean cruise, yachting up the Costa Brava, or a ferry trip to the Balearic Islands (Majorca, Minorca, Ibiza, Formentera).

 Parking: An underground public parking garage just across the street offers 24-hour service (additional cost).

=GENERAL=

-The hotel is especially suitable for families, and it is gay friendly.  (Children are welcome, as well as small well-mannered dogs.)

-We love travel agents

-The building previously belonged to a banking operation. It was then purchased under private ownership, restored, transformed and converted into a hotel that opened in December 2010. US market launch in March 2011.

Member: Design Hotels (GDS)

RATES presently range from 660 Euros (introductory), to 1200 Euros per double suite per night for up to four persons. (Taxes and gratuities additional.)

EVENT SPACES: In addition to its hotel accommodations, El Palauet also offers a variety of event venues ranging from small meeting rooms to the vast 2,300 square-foot El Tinell  (Catalan for “big celebration room”), the original storage area with imposing brick archways, ideal for weddings, parties, fashion shows, product launches, and exhibitions. These event spaces are within the same building but located in separate areas from the guest rooms.

(For celebrities traveling low-profile, we have a separate very private entrance.)

Barcelona’s famed LAS RAMBLAS, one of Europe’s most colorful and amusing streets, is walkable from El Palauet (or a quick taxi or subway ride). The two-kilometer tree-lined Ramblas ends at the seaport and a towering Christopher Columbus Monument with the discoverer pointing confidently — either toward the New World or to his home-town Genoa … (you decide). Be sure to explore the ebullient Boqueria Market just off Las Ramblas (8am-5pm daily, closed Sundays). The seaport bustles with luxury Mediterranean cruise ships and ferries to the Balearic Islands (Ibiza, Mallorca, Minorca and Formentera).

National Geographic ranks Barcelona, with its alluring Mediterranean coastline,  #1 among the WORLD’S 10 BEST BEACH CITIES, so bring your bikini.

# # #

THUMBS UP  for those singing along with the Catalán Boys Choir’s Easter expressionistic (allegro colorissimo felinesco) interpretation.  http://bit.ly/iks4is

THUMBS HIGH:  for the New York Times front page Mar 25/11: exquisite farewell photo of dear Elizabeth Taylor, headlined:  Lustrous Pinnacle of Hollywood Glamour  http://nyti.ms/hnxPOl

Kudos to Chisholm-Larsson Poster Gallery (8th Ave/17 St. in Chelsea) — see their extraordinary window tribute , created overnight: decades of priceless movie posters featuring Elizabeth. http://www.chisholm-poster.com/

Thumbs HIGH UP  for this work-of-art video crafted by talented Mexican marketers for the Mexico Tourism Board. They simply show their gorgeous country as it really is, vividly. Watch closely and love it:  http://www.merca20.com/mexico-en-tus-sentidos/   Thank you Gabriela Ibarra for showing this on Facebook. 

(Then you can read about my priceless first adventures in Mexico City and Acapulco with Tarzan http://www.panchosays.com/tarzan/ )

~oo~

THUMBS DOWN –evil construction – that wall along the boarder between “America” — USA that is — and its neighbor Mexico (which “shares” the North Amercan Continent, and they were here first).   It’s about politics. It’s stupid, even ugly.  A waste of money, and it won’t work.  People aren’t cattle. It’s flawed, and does not extend the entire border. Furthermore the pendejo gringo builders erected some of the wall sections a few meters into Mexican territory….duh…then had to dismantle and rebuild (“legally”) on the Meriken side of the border line.  In the past 14 years, 5,000 Mexicans including women and children have met violent death at the border, and thousands more assaulted, raped, beaten. Click the following link for the wise words of a Mexican about el muro de la vergüenza (wall of shame).  the US MEXICO Border Wall of Death. It won’t work Remember Regan’s words to Mr. Gorbachev: “Tear down this wall!”.  Even more shame on you, Mr Bush…and adios to you at last.

~oo~

THUMBS DOWN — for NO construction — Seven years after the annihilation of the World Trade Center’s Twin Towers and thousands of New Yorkers, there is still a hole, a crater…NOTHING HAS BEEN BUILT. No skyscraper, no memorial.   ”Ground Zero” remains a morbid attraction for tourists.  Listen to Keith Olbermann! “This hole in the ground — Sept. 11: A special comment about 9/11 seven years after the terrorist attacks.” NBC News video   http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/14687895/

~oo~

THUMBS UP  for  BOOK TV: enriching in-depth and uncensored interviews with top nonfiction authors. The program airs every weekend continuously for 48 hours (plus federal holidays) on C-SPAN2.  Programming and profiles:  www.booktv.org  In addition to reading favorite authors, you can get to know them:  Isabel Allende and  Simon Winchester (I am privileged to have studied the craft and joy of travel writing with both). Pete Hamill, fellow New Yorker who also lives in Mexico and deeply understands both places. He has published books about Manhattan and Diego Riviera; and two immortals. Both deceased tragically early in their lives:  Peter Jennings , and his fellow journalist Tim Russert who wrote about his father who outlives him, Big Russ, and finally Wisdom of Our Fathers .  I was also enlightened by Ralph Peters , then enraged by what I learned from Vincent Bugliosi telling of his book The Prosecution of George W. Bush for Murder www.prosecutionofbush.com which ranked (hardcover nonfiction) on the New York Times Best Seller List despite “predictably” minimal media promotion or exposure.

~oo~

THUMBS DOWN:  USA’s prudish censorship banning a new television ad campaign featuring actress Eva Mendes promoting a new Calvin Klein perfume…”because the spot shows a brief glimpse of her nipple”…i.e. it’s obscene (by USA standards)

This news story broke in today’s (Aug 06) London Telegraph and was immediately picked up by Spain’s RTVE(Radio Televisión Española) news which also informed that the complete commercial is viewable on You Tube (Spanish media) and is receiving thousands of hits (I was one of them…(I say it’s artistic…and not  “obscene violence-and-guts” that pervade on USA tv.)

Guess what!   I checked the You Tube for the correct url from this morning showing the commercial and…IT’S GONE!  Same day. Disappeared…perhaps BOYCOTTED ONLY FROM USA INTERNET? .

Speaking of tv bad taste, I cringed at the Paris Hilton spot (she’s wearing a tacky bathing suit thing)  promoting both herself (“…I’m hot.”) and Presidential candidate John McCain (paid for, indirectly, by the MercanPeople).  Dumb-down marketing targeting the “average American” with demographics of Peoria IL.

And speaking of censorship, or is it simply lack of newsworthiness (?): Today, August 6, was the anniversary of the annihilation of Hiroshima and of 200,000 innocent Japanese by the “innovative atom bomb dropped on that city by the USA military in 1945 at the end of World War II.  Non-USA media indeed reported in depth the Japanese memorial-mourning ceremonies – “tens of thousands bowed their heads” –  with the participation of 55 countries, showing poignant video coverage direct from Japan this morning.  (In three days: anniversary of the USA bombing of Nagasaki (August 9).

~oo~

THUMBS DOWN:  smog in Beijing during the Olympics causes athletes lung ailments and reduces their performance.  HOW CAN THIS BE?  With years of preparation, couldn’t they have taken effective measures?  I say eliminate all private vehicle traffic, shut all factories – IMMEDIATELY.  Also prohibit smoking (Chinese have an inordinately high cigarette smoking rate), eliminate those celebratory and polluting fireworks….and get GIANT FANS to blow the smog away. Too late? 

~oo~

THUMBS UP:  For availing graphic art treasures to those who appreciate: International Vintage Poster Dealers Association online summer auction ¡Víva España! CLICK THEIR SITE: http://www.ivpda.com/cgi-local/postershow.cgi (with participation of my neighborhood gallery:  www.chisholm-poster.com )

~oo~

### SUGGESTIONS FOR MORE?

THUMBS DOWN:   Dumb telephone protocol – don’t you hate time-clutter phone announcements?:  “I’m either away from my desk or on the other line…yada yada.”  Liar Liar pants on fire – - he/she could be in the bathroom, sneaking a cigarette outdoors, or even attending a real meeting, and I don’t care! If  I eventually talk to the person, I may ask…”well, tell me which was it: were you away from your desk, or were you on the other line? I bet you were doing something else. Be original. Fix your bloody message, it’s stupid. Even worse, they usually they don’t get it!  My friend and mentor has the best recorded message of all, simply: ”Leave a message”.
One more: “In order to serve you better, please have your account number handy…” OUCH, doesn’t anybody care about grammar any more?  Thant’s a flunk for subject-verb disagreement.  And on and on (with klanky “Ain’t Music” in the background) — “Yerr call is important to us…our menu has changed…this call may be recorded…we’re sorry, you have pressed an invalid numbbb…”

Can anybody give me advice? I shouldn’t care and dumb myself down? Should I try to correct them and make a better world? Or, as some tell me, “If you don’t like it move to another country.”

THUMBS DOWN DOWN:  The ugliest “religious” pastor in all Florida, Terry Jones, media-hungry bigot whose barber should be hanged-by-the-neck until dripping, is also a known perv. May he and his Koran-burning hate stunt fade fast in to the past. 

THUMBS DOWN:  Joe the Plumber, the once-new “merican metaphore”.   I suffered through the presidential debates last night (Oct 15, 08) – perhaps morbid curiosity kept me watching…my god, McCain is a creepy geezer. He slumps, and his mouth twists into that nya-nya condescending immaturity-revealing smartass smirk (hey, a quick Google of “McCain” and “smirk” yields some 416,000 entries). He fakes sincerity uttering apple pie brainwashing sound bites with eye-blinking insecurity – liar, liar, pants on fire!  But the worst insult to my intelligence was that “Joe the Plumber” crap.  Smart Keith Olbermann (MSNBC) agrees, saying (subsequently, on Oct. 23), “One more mention of JoeThePlumber, Senator McCain, and you’ll have us all hugging the commode”….Put a snake down it. All this candidate vetting should include IQ and emotional stability tests.  Our chronically forgetful geriatric, childishly smirkey Republican looser will go back to Arizona where they don’t mind his arms and neck being too short — haven’t you noticed?

Today in Manhattan, I saw a plumber’s truck painted with additional words “Joe the …”   All this J.T.P. nonsense probably reduces esteem toward professional plumbers; and now they’ll be asked to show their licenses.

Do other countries traditionally declare that God blesses them? Don’t think so. I prefer the patriotic exclamationsViva México, and Viva España. Fyi, valid statistics indicate USA is the most religious country in the world. Also, incidentally, USA is ranked with the world’s highest obesity rate, despite the fact that gluttony is one of the seven deadly sins. And, as William Safire wrote a while ago in the New York Times, we live in a country without a name, populated by…err…”Unitedstatsians?”

What’s going ta happen?  I do wish Obama would say “to” instead of “ta”, and he should have sat up with better posture last night during the “debate”. And both candidates do that dumb-downspeak gunna, and gotta. Alas, even the venerated moderator Bob Schieffer needs to brush up his grammar — “Each of you are….”  Each is singular, not plural. Bob, it should be “Each of you is” when you address the candidates.

Oh well. I’ll tune in to Spain’s and Mexico’s newscasts in the morning to find out what is really happening in the world, articulately.

Well, it will be “over” come November 4. As they always say, “God bless America”. I suppose that refers to “USA”  because the word “America” is really the name of the entire continent: (North America, shared with Mexico and Canada), as well as the entire Western Hemisphere (“The Americas”). This usurped “America” moniker for a nameless country confuses the Spaniards and other Europeans, and disconcerts the Mexican whose country (officiallyEstados Unidos Mexicanos) is also located in North American.  Both default to yankis or gringos, respectivly, simply for clarity; they both use estadounidenses (Unitedstatesians, suggested in lieu of “Americans” by William Safire in his New York Times past article concerning this country’s namelessness and proposing nomenclatural options.)

Do other countries traditionally declare that God blesses them? Don’t think so. I prefer the patriotic exclamationsViva México, and Viva España.

Perhaps the ”God bless” tradition is due to the fact that, according to statistics, USA is the most religious country in the world. USA leads with the world’s highest obesity rate as well, despite the fact that gluttony is one of the seven deadly sins.

~O.O~

commend / condemn

THUMBS UP: for the late great writer-wordsmith William Safire who finally, albeit futilely, explored the fact the United States AKA “America” and its inhabitants have no name…suggesting “United Statsians”.  Referring to “them” them can be awkward, whether in writing or conversation.  Therefore, for example, Spaniards, out of necessity to clarify, say “yanquis”; Mexicans use the term “gringos”. In both countries, without even reading Safire, they default to the term ”estadounidenses” (United Statesians).  In truth we are all Americans/Americanos, from Canada to Argentina (“North”, “Central”, and “South”).  Read the full essay below in Safire’s “On Language” column in the New York Times.

and THUMBS DOWN: to our historic leaders for failing to give this place its own name – unlike those of our fellow North Americans in Canada and México.

Here’s mentor Bill:

The New York Times - June 29, 1986 edition

On Language;  Who Is an ‘American’?

By WILLIAM SAFIRE

NOT LONG AGO (A euphemism for ”11 months ago, but time flies”), a request was made of readers to submit substitutes for the word American, meaning ”citizen of the United States.” The reason was plain: other residents of the Americas were taking umbrage at this linguistic imperialism. Our persnickety good neighbors to the south are Americans, too; if we call them ”South Americans,” should we not refer to ourselves as ”North Americans”? And if we do, would we thereby merge with Canada and Mexico by accident?

To open up the possibilities for a new moniker all our own, the Gringo Division of the Lexicographic Irregulars was formed. More than 280 submissions were received. That was nearly a year ago. As Dr. Lloyd I.S. Zbar of Glen Ridge, N.J., writes, ”I have not read anymore in your column about the use of American. Have you reached a position?” (One position is clear: anymore, in the sense of amount used by the noodging Dr. Zbar - meaning ”anything additional” – should be written as two words. In the negative sense, meaning ”any longer,” the term is one word, anymore. Thus: I did not write any more, so Dr. Zbar won’t be reading me anymore. A positive, dialectical use is on the rise, meaning ”now, at present,” which comes naturally to Midwesterners and sounds weird to coastal dwellers: I think I’ll write about Americans anymore.) The confusion began with Martin Waldseemuller, the German mapmaker, in 1507. Do not blame Amerigo Vespucci, the explorer from Florence, who sailed to this continent four times between 1497 and 1503, and named the place Mundus Novus, Latin for ”New World.” Good name. If good enough had been let alone, we would all be Mundus Novusans today. But Waldseemuller, who apparently did not think much of Christopher Columbus’s 1492 trip, scorned Vespucci’s coinage; in his Cosmographiae Introductio, the mapmaker dubbed the new land America, and in those days, cartographers had clout.

In a certain section of Mundusland beginning in 1578, American was used to refer to the dark-skinned natives; these natives were later miscalled ”Indians,” perpetuating a mistake by Mr. Columbus, who thought he was somewhere else. Clergyman Cotton Mather adopted the notion of calling the colonists from England Americans in 1697.

Almost a century later, the United Colonies sounded like a good name to many revolutionists, while others preferred the United States of North America. The pamphleteer Tom Paine, it is said, suggested the broader, and less Colonially dependent, United States of America which found its way into the Declaration of Independence. However, as Stuart Berg Flexner recounts in ”I Hear America Talking,” the new Government used the United States of North America as the official title until 1778, when the Continental Congress, thinking in multicontinental terms, passed an act dropping the North.

Now to the only extensive modern survey of suggested names for citizens of what has come to be known as the U.S.A., or more jocularly and accurately, the U.S. of A.. These letters are the initials of the name of the country and are not the trademark of a subsidiary of the Gannett Newspapers. (Since this bunch of letters was found in a deep drawer, it can be called an in-depth survey.) Usans, pronounced YOU-senz, was the preference of many. Variants of this form include Usanians and Usatians, both popular, but the pacific Usasians might prompt the slogan ”Usasia for the Usasiatics”; some entries went back to the acronym for United States of North America for Usonians, Usonans, Usofans, Usofams and Usoans.

Others like USAmericans, pronounced You-ess-Americans, and USAers, the ending to rhyme with naysayers. A jingoistic sense was added by Andrea Sharp of Berkeley, Calif.: ”Better than Usan is Ussin,” or Us’n (pronounced USS-in). ”All the citizens of the United States would be called Ussins and everybody else Themins. Headlines all over the world would read: ‘Ussins and Themins Meet Again in Geneva for Another Round of SALT Talks’.” (Another suggestion on these lines – Ussies, to rhyme with hussies, may be rejected as anti-feminist; User, coming from ”one who uses,” is subversive; and we can write off Usurers, sent in from some debtor nation.) An original variation of the same beginning is from Tessa Blumberg of New York: Usam, preserving the mid-19th-century image of Uncle Sam. Others trying to tie into the image wound up with Uncles, but the avuncular connotation of that was ruined by Mr. Reagan’s hope that opponents would ”say uncle.” In the same way, Samians apes too closely the word simians, and Samites would invite anti-Samitism.

Turning to monikers taken from whole words, one entry is Uniteds: ”If citizens of the Soviet Union are called Soviets, which means ‘councils’,” writes David Halperin of Washington, ”surely we should not mind being called Uniteds.” On that line, David Kwartler of New York City turned in Units, on the analogy of Brits for the British, but that has an Orwellian connotation, like United Statistics.

More frequently suggested was Statesider, long a name applied to residents of the continental United States by expatriates or offshore residents. United Staters is simple and direct, analogous to American, and better than the pretentious and even sexist United Statesman.

Wild suggestions ranged from the acronym Noncom (NOrth Americans Not from Canada Or Mexico) to Namericans, slipping in the n for North, to the historic Jonathan, from the predecessor to Uncle Sam, ”Brother Jonathan,” who may have been Jonathan Trumbull, George Washington’s friend.

Wait. ”I feel compelled to inform you,” writes David Draper from Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan, ”that there are some 25,000,000 North Americans who do not refer to themselves as Americans. We, sir, are Canadians.”

Same thing with Mexicans; that’s what they call themselves. That means the only North Americans who call themselves Americans are us – or us’ns, if you will. That limits the problem to South and Central Americans. How about they call themselves whatever they like, and we continue to call ourselves Americans, with the limitation to the United States understood?

In that regard, we may use a linguistic device by which pronunciation changes spelling: centuries ago, a napron became an apron, and kids on Brooklyn playgrounds ask each other today ”What is the fruit that begins with an n? A norange!” Intrahemispheric comity is in the ear of the beholder: when I travel in South America and I say ”I am an American,” let the hearer hear ”I am a Namerican”. The understanding listener will know I am a North American and, since I have not claimed to be Canadian or Mexican, from the United States.

Although Ussins and Themins have their appeal, and Yankee and Gringo are useful synonyms, perhaps it is wiser to rely on the perceptiveness of our neighbors to the south and stick with Americans as the name for people from the United States, no colossusism intended. Our diplomats can point out it is short for United States of Americans, which is a mouthful.

That enables us all to lose our fear of jingoism and embrace the name that Waldseemuller coined, saving us from being called Mundus Novitiates. Remember that on the Glorious Fourth, and on I Am a Namerican Day.

EL Palauet <= click to see pdf presentation!

 See El Palauet Living Barcelona in the May 2011 issue of ha+d, Hospitality Architecture + Design   Insightful Managing Editor David Eisen says, “The hotel is small, but the design is elaborate.

Hotel  EL  PALUET  LIVING  BARCELONA  (Catalonia),  Spain

An extraordinary Catalán Modernista palatial mansion located on Barcelona’s most fashionable avenue at Passeig de Gràcia 113.

Six two-bedroom, two-bath apartment-style suites, extremely spacious (1,615 square feet), each accommodates up to four guests. Fully-equipped kitchen, dining room, stellar contemporary furnishings, and state-of-the-art technology throughout. A personal assistant is assigned to each suite 24/7.

Guests enjoy tranquil privacy at the rooftop spa and garden terrace with splendid views of this cultural capital on the Mediterranean.

www.eplivingbarcelona.com

THE FAMOUS, VIBRANT AND EMBRACING SPIRIT OF BARCELONA AWAITS YOU!

A memorable aspect of my two-night stay at El Palauet Living Barcelona last month was the pure enjoyment of simply being in my suite, in itself an experiential element of my delightful visit to Barcelona. The tranquility of pure space, living within noble décor, art and architecture (now I understand the sumptuous feeling of Catalan Modernism), yet it all harmonized with ingenious high-tech facilities and accessories. I loved the lighting and soothing “cromoterapia”, the music (and the relaxing silence), elaborate kitchen, and especially the bathroom with its immense shower more like a massaging waterfall and the most hygienic toilet! – we should have that clever system in the U.S.  My personal assistant, efficient and charming, prepared exquisite breakfast on my dining table (all natural, fresh ingredients, and the deliciously unique Catalan eggs were extraordinary).

El Palauet Living Barcelona also fulfilled my requisite for a city hotel: you step out the entrance door, right on to the street, and you are there, exactly in the heart of the most desirable district, on the exquisite street that became “my neighborhood”.  At El Palauet you are truly living Barcelona!    — a returning guest.

 http://bit.ly/GeneralInfoELPALAUET

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Some of my misc stuff:  http://www.flickr.com/photos/panchosays/

http://www.andaluciaflamenco.com

 painting: Antonio Gades, Cristina Hoyos

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A brilliant flamenco journey through Andalucía, from the great humanist and flamencologist, Manolo Macías in Sevilla

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t2RCug9nEMg&feature=feedu

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Boston-based writer discovers flamenco in Andalucía:

 

I am at my happiest when I can view my day seeing everything parade by as if through the eyes of a curious child.  — Meg Pier, travel writier-photographer

           Enthralled by the New York Flamenco Festival, Meg traveled to Andalucía in search of the full experience.  I (Pancho) was pleased to point her in the best directions and also told her about Amor de Dios in Madrid. 

 You can enjoy Meg Pier’s four articles plus and her photos … see these five links:

 PLUS THIS, MEG’S RECENT POST: http://www.viewfromthepier.com/2011/07/08/07082011-2/

http://www.viewfromthepier.com/compass-rose/flamenco-part-2/

http://www.viewfromthepier.com/compass-rose/flamenco-part-3/

http://www.viewfromthepier.com/compass-rose/flamenco-part-4/

Amor de Dios in Madrid, en route to Andalucía:

http://www.viewfromthepier.com/compass-rose/flamenco-part-1/

Photos: flamenco/Andalucia:

http://www.cafepress.com/viewfromthepier/7505575

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A beginning of the rest of my life…

by Pancho Shiell

Mexico City has amazed me ever since I was a child. I went there for the first time with my parents and their best friends and neighbors, Johnny Weissmuller (Tarzan) and his gorgeous wife, “my auntie Allene”. My first impressions are still vivid. I remember landing at the Mexico City airport and, as we stepped out of the plane, Johnny gave his Tarzan call. Several convertibles drove right up to the ramp as we walked down the stairway from the airplane. Some of the cars were carrying mariachis playing fabulously, and others were for us to sit on top of the back seat in parade formation. Then they drove us around the city, and I loved the way everybody was waving and cheering, so friendly, happy and welcoming. Immediately I knew that Mexico City was much more exciting than Beverly Hills!

We stayed in the then swanky Hotel del Prado across from the Alamada Park, and I still remember that enormous epic mural high on a lobby wall, Diego Rivera’s “Dream of a Sunday Afternoon in Alameda Park”.

The Prado Hotel was irreparably damaged in the 1985 earthquake, but the mural was miraculously spared. The entire 77,000-pound wall upon which Diego painted the mural was removed from the crumbling hotel by a giant crane and loaded onto a wheeled flatbed that was gently transported inch-by-inch by hundreds of workers. It took several days to move it 100 yards across Avenida Juárez and into the Alameda Park where it was installed on a permanent concrete platform. The Museo Mural Diego Rivera was then built around the mural.

My parents and Johnny and Allene always took me everywhere, even to nightclubs when I was way under legal drinking age. (My father said beer would put hair on my chest.) I still treasure my memories of the Villafontana, an exquisite Mexico City supper club with waterfalls and dozens of violinists playing enchanting music.

Inside the Palacio de Bellas Artes I was awestruck looking upward in the immense marble halls — things appear even bigger from a child’s perspective — and I was startled by those huge murals staring at me (I later studied about Rivera, Orozco and Siquieros, with the advantage of a much appreciated head start, right here).

One day we went to the pyramids of Teotihuacan — speaking of big — and climbed to the top of the Pyramid of the Sun, an appropriate place for Johnny to give his echoing Tarzan call.

Recently, I was reminiscing with Allene and she reminded me of a lovely Sunday when we all went to Xochimilco and had lunch on a trajinera boat among the “floating flower gardens”. Mariachis were playing, and people were always waving and smiling at us. I thought all this was normal behavior in friendly Mexico, but of course Johnny’s presence had plenty to do with it. (He always said he was loved more in Mexico than in any other country in the world).

Xochimilco, with its canals, boats and floating gardens and orchards, is a small untouched area that remains much the same as the entire city was originally, before the Spaniards arrived in 1521 and changed everything. It was originally called Tenochtitlan, the flourishing capital city of the Aztec Empire. When Hernan Cortes and his band of conquistadors first saw the dazzling metropolis, looking down from the pass between the volcanoes Popocatepetl and Ixtaccihuatl, their chronicler said it reminded them of Venice, only more beautiful. The twp volcanoes, usually snowcapped, present an inspiring view at dawn, sparkling at well over 17,000 feet above sea level. We could proudly pronounce and spell their names, and Allene showed me how Ixtaccihuatl resembled the silhouette of a sleeping lady. (At their home, Allene and Johnny had a big white pet standard poodle named “Popo”.)

That Sunday afternoon, we also enjoyed a totally different aspect and era of Mexico City, a strong tradition ever since New Spain was colonized here by Cortes — we went to the bullfights. Hemingway was there.

We continued to Acapulco, where Johnny and Allene, along with some of the so-called “Hollywood Gang”, owned the then glamorous  Hotel Los Flamingos  which continues perfectly maintained just as it was decades ago, and the memories live on, especially in the lobby photo gallery and the clifftop restaurant that still serves superb ceviche. A romantic trio still plays in the bar. We made subsequent trips over the years, always having a royal time in “Mexico” (as Mexico City is simply called by Mexicans), then on to Acapulco in the days of cha-cha-cha. Allene taught me to water ski on slalom (one ski, and not easy). Starting at the Club de Yates, we would ski all the way across the bay, past the naval base (and its one and one-half grey ships usually docked there), then around to the cove at Pichilingue, on the beach of the estate of ”Uncle Miguel” — Miguel Alemán, then President of Mexico. I remember amazing parties on the beach where the waiters wore tuxedos, but were barefoot.

During high school, I returned to Mexico to spend a summer, enrolled in a course at the Ciudad Universitaria to learn Spanish. I liked the exotic feeling of the campus atmosphere with its stone architecture, especially the landmark Central Library building covered entirely by the “world’s largest mosaic mural” by genius artist Juan O’Gorman. But I only went to the campus a few times because there was so much else to do and see.  I lived in a lovely mansion owned by Señora Laura Uribe Torres, a widow with two young children. She offered accommodations for students in her upscale homelike atmosphere. That was my home, on Calle Dublín, just off Paseo de la Reforma and close to the Zona Rosa which was truly elegant then. I was impressed by the fact that shop windows were more meticulous than those on Rodeo Drive –the clothes on display had absolutely no wrinkles, and jeweled watches were synchronized with correct time. I discovered fabulous restaurants, fun cantinas, peñas and piano bars where I ”yaked it up” and drank tequila with the special satisfaction that I was still under “legal USA drinking age”.  I explored picturesque Coyoacan (visiting, of course, Diego and Frida’s and Trotsky’s houses).  I even went to agricultural villages out in the rural countryside — nevertheless still within the city limits of the Distrito Federal – such as Milpa Alta, known for delicious mole, and San Pedro Actopan famed for a hundred flavors of ice cream made from avocado, cheese, mole, and every fruit imaginable.

I revisited Bellas Artes and other places I saw when I was younger, and I gradually began to understand more about this complex city with layers of history. I delved into the colonial Centro Histórico, which has recently undergone a brilliant refurbishing. (Both the Historic Center of Mexico City and Xochimilco were proclaimed UNESCO World Heritage Sites in 1987.). I still gaze in wonder at Diego Rivera’s murals upstairs in the National Palace, especially El Gran Tenochtitlan  which is mesmerizing. It dramatizes the arrival and brutal conquest by the Spaniards in 1521, their ethnic fusion with the Aztecs, and the transformation of Tenochtitlan into one of the most European cities in the Americas. (The Spaniards were Europe’s most ethnically mixed people – Iberian, Visigoth, Phoenician, Ancient Roman, Celtic, Jewish, Arab – so their blending with the Aztecs, as well as with various indigenous cultures in other regions of Mexico, formed one of the richest gene pools anywhere).

It is astonishing that the scenes Diego Rivera painted from his imagination on the walls of the National Palace actually happened just outside. It also awe-inspiring awesome to be inside the Museum of the Templo Mayor, a block away, viewing displays of Aztec artifacts and sculptures of their gods, then look out the big museum window, right there at the Templo Mayor excavation site where these precious objects were found. You also see the dramatic remains of the pyramids that once rose to the height of the adjacent Cathedral towers! It gets even more surrealistic in the evenings: while the Cathedral’s chiming bells beckon Mexicans to mass, you also hear the drums and smell the incense of the Aztec danzantes right there in the Zócalo (the immense main square of Mexico City, either second or third largest in the world) passionately reenacting the ceremonial dances of their ancestors. To take it even further, during Christmas season the entire square is specatularly illuminated with Christian scenes and biblical icons. Yet, as a National Palace guard once told me, beneath the pavement of the Zócalo lay thousands of “pagan” Aztec souls who sometimes get agitated and stir around late at night.

During the entire month of September, the Zócalo is also illuminated but with a different theme: the grand celebration of Mexican Independence Day, September 16. On the night of September 15 at 11 p.m. the President of Mexico gives the traditional cry of independence, el grito de independencia, from the presidential balcony of the National Palace while he simultaneously rings the overhead Campana de Dolores, the same bell that the hero Hidalgo rang in 1810 proclaiming Mexico’s independence.

Years ago, I had the honor of being invited to the Presidential chambers and the Salón de las Banderas (Hall of the Flags) for el grito. Just before the ceremony I happened to wander out unknowingly onto the presidential balcony to get some air.  ¡Madre mía!… I was looking out over the vast Zócalo packed with hundreds of thousands of rejoicing Mexicans who seemed to be gazing up at me! What an unexpected thrill! At a subsequent year’s festivities, I was standing in the square at ground level squeezed among the throngs, this time under  that balcony, looking up at the President while he gave el grito chanting !Víva México! That was a different kind of thrill.

Year after year, I have been privileged to marvel at the spectacular lights in the Zócalo during both the Christmas and Independence holidays. And a monthly must-see phenomenon in the Zócalo in the light of the full moon. On Sundays there are major concerts in the Zócalo, and the annual Festival Cultural del Centro Histórico in the spring rivals any festival in Europe.

I never feel alone in Mexico City because I have hundreds of friends — in restaurants,  cantinas,  shops, newsstands, even organ grinders greet me with a smile. There are 110,000 taxis in the city, and on two unrelated occasions I experienced the uncanny coincidences of getting the same drivers who remembered me from before, even where they took me and our conversations along the way. Taxis are typically the user-friendly VW bugs, and drivers invariably share with me some enlightening anecdotes about their city, or some wisdom about life in general. The capitalinos (inhabitants of Mexico City) have a characteristicly sharp memory for people and details about them; they are highly tuned-in and connected. They love to laugh and never cease to tickle me with their lightening-wit albures (playful puns and double entendres) exercising their innate mental agility.

Because I am based in New York, I am impressed with the efficiency, cleanliness and quietness of Mexico City’s subway system. It moves five million passengers daily and ranks among the best of the world. In fact, Mexico City, or Mexico D.F.  is a place of superlatives. It is the highest city on the North American continent with an altitude of 7,349 feet which, for some reason, has an exhilarating effect on me, even when I swim laps (Weissmuller style, of course). It is the oldest city in the Americas, founded by the Aztecs in 1325. With 26 million inhabitants, it is one of the most populous cities in the world. It has more museums than any city and, after New York, London and Toronto, it has more theaters. As far as eateries, Mexico must run a close second to Madrid (which, by the way, is where I ended up going to school and deeply learned Spanish…also flamenco).

In addition to major restorations in the Centro Histórico, the Europe-style Alameda Park has been refurbished and is “patrolled” by friendly mounted police wearing traditional charro outfits. The sidewalks along the entire Paseo de la Reforma have been repaved in sand-color quarry stone and lined with rose gardens and statuary. New five-star hotels are opening, and restaurants, nightlife and the art and cultural scenes are burgeoning. As Madrid was to Europe in the 1980s, Mexico City is presently blossoming into the most vibrant and exciting city on the North American Continent.

I am grateful for my early and unusual “family travel” introduction to Mexico City – for my vivid memories, the friends, experiences and extraordinary surprises the city has given me ever since.

One can develop a special bond and endearment with a city as I have with Mexico.

###

12/07

post data 2008:  Allene lives near Lake Arrowhead in the Southern California mountains and enjoys luxury cruises down the pacific with en route stops including Acapulco and Ixtapa-Zihuatanejo. So, I fly from New York to ACA and meet Allene as she disenbarks for a day in port.  Our Acapulqueño driver, Rosendo, takes us to visit Johnny’s grave. Then we go up to La Quebrada to see the legendary cliff divers, and word travels that the esposa (wife) of Tarzan is present. So the divers and their uncles, fathers, etc. come up to the restaurant-bar were we sit, to greet Allene and pay their respects. They loved Johnny who was always generous with them. Then we drive up to the Hotel Los Flamingos  to reminisce.  The hotel was once owned by “The Hollywood Gang” (Johnny and Allene Weissmuller, John Wayne, Fred MacMurray, Red Skelton, etc.) Allene loves a margarita and we eat ceviche and listen to the trio singing songs of yesteryear that I remember from my childhood visits with my parents.  Photos of Allene and Johnny are among the celeb photos in the hotel lobby gallery, along with others of “Jane” (Maureen O’Sullivan) and Cheeta who recently celebrated his 75th birthday in Palm Springs where he lives and enjoys painting…he has had successful exhibits of his art.  John Junior (“Little John”) sadly passed away a few years ago. He wrote a biography-memoir book called “Tarzan My Father”.   Cheeta, the oldest known living chimp, and still sharp as a tack, has his own book coming out in the U.S. in February 2009 aptly titled “Me Cheeta”.  (A version of the same book has already been published in the U.K.)  Check amazon.com or bn.com for both books.  I look forward to Allene’s next cruise and our meeting again in Acapulco.  From there we always enjoy a second rendezvous: her ship sails overnight to Zihuatanejo, while I drive there so we can meet the next morning at the Zihuatanejo municipal pier where the passengers tender in. We spend a day in Zihuatanejo and Ixtapa visiting more favorite places (and people): previously Villa del Sol (before it changed ownership and name), and now we go to Loma del Mar Thalasso Spa in Ixtapa, “the greatest!” as Allene says.  See old black & white photos of Allene and Johnny and gang, also click to see video and pics of Los Flamingos:  http://www.hotellosflamingos.com/history.htm And, some good photos here:  Allene and Johnny with Anthony Quinn

# # #

New York to Acapulco April 23, 2010 for the annual Tianguis (Nahuatl for “marketplace”) Turístico, big tourism marketing pow-wow, marketing networking, trade show, luncheons, extravaganza cocktail receptions and dinners, a big reunion of amigos and collegues, a few of whom join me to play hookey and visit Hotel Los Flamingos for hilltop reminiscing and the best ceviche and live trio music, and yet anothe perusal of the lobby photo gallery of the “Hollywood Gang”, featuring Johnny and Allene, her parents (Ward “3-Iron Gates” and his wife Martha Gates) who gave me my first pet, a collie named “Tammy” for his pedigree name, Golden Pancho of Tamarack, my childhood best friend

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(Panchosays remarks and paraphrases in parentheses)

“The world is a book and those who do not travel read only one page.” - St. Augustine

“Fear less, hope more; Eat less, chew more; Whine less, breathe more; Talk less, say more; Love more, and all good things will be yours” – Stanley Tineo

Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you have imagined. –Henry David Thoreau

(Go with the flow, let the town, the city, the place take you, embrace you.)
“As you walk and eat and travel, be where you are, otherwise you will miss most of your life.”–Buddha

“When a traveller returneth home, let him not leave the countries where he hath travelled altogether behind him.” -Francis Bacon

(Live the moment, the place, each second, savor lunch without concern for dinner, nor where you’ll go tomorrow.)
Back home, ideally spend a few days days incognito caressing your memories…don’t let them slip away.” –Francis Bacon

Living [and traveling] is like tearing through a museum. Not until later do you really start absorbing what you saw, thinking about it, looking it up in a book, and remembering – because you can’t take it in all at  once.

─Audrey Hepburn

Travel only with thy equals or thy betters; if there are none, travel alone.

–The Dhammapada

And, remember the old jingle, “See the USA in your Chevrolet”?  Well, this is what we’ve progressed to:

Thanks to the Interstate Highway System, it is now possible to travel from coast to coast without seeing anything.

–Charles Kuralt

When you travel, remember that a foreign country is not designed to make you comfortable. It is designed to make its own people comfortable.

–Clifton Fadiman

(Yes, “foreigners” love to speak and sing in their own language and savor their own cuisine during mealtimes that are “normal” for them.)
Life is a great big canvas, and you should throw all the paint on it you can. — Danny Kaye

Somewhere, something incredible is waiting to be known. –Carl Sagan

I love flying. I’ve been to almost as many places as my luggage. –Bob Hope

I love being a writer. What I can’t stand is the paperwork. –Peter De Vries