Diaries, by George Orwell

I have a deep admiration for George Orwell, he had an extremely lucid mind and a seldom equaled capacity of understanding and analyzing men and politics.

His diaries are a very interesting reading, he was extremely observant and interested in everything around him, from Moroccan customs to the life of miners and the habits of birds or the growth of vegetables. He was an obsessive compiler of lists and registers, and sometimes these diaries are tedious when it comes to the counting of eggs or the description of the weather. He was a kind of Renaissance man of the 20th century.

One could not have a better example of the moral and emotional shallowness of our time, than the fact that we are now all more or less proStalin. This disgusting murderer is temporarily on our side, and so the purges, etc., are suddenly forgotten. So also with Franco, Mussolini, etc., should they ultimately come over to us. - 3.7.41

The English pacifist works himself up into frenzies about the concentration camps in the Isle of Man and forgets about those in Germany, etc., etc. One notices this in the case of people one disagrees with, such as Fascists or pacifists but in fact everyone is the same, at least everyone who has definite opinions. Everyone is dishonest, and everyone is utterly heartless towards people who are outside the immediate range of his own interests. What is most striking of all is the way sympathy can be turned on and off like a tap according to political expediency. All the pinks, or most of them, who flung themselves to and fro in their rage against Nazi atrocities before the war, forget all about these atrocities and obviously lost their sympathy with the Jews etc. as soon as the war began to bore them. Ditto with people who hated Russia like poison up to June 22 1941 and then suddenly forgot about the purges, the G.P.U. etc. the moment Russia came into the war. I am not thinking of lying for political ends, but in actual changes of subjective feeling. - 27.4.42

Weekend in Spain

I like Spain very much, and recently I could have another taste of it, spending a weekend in Toledo and Madrid.

I always wished to visit Toledo, ever since I've known El Greco and that he lived and painted there. So I finally went there. After a bad start - late plane, wallet lost, train missed - everything went fine. The weather was splendid - cold and sunny - and it was a pleasure to see Toledo by the Tagus, an ocher colored city with old walls and dominated by the massive Alcázar. The hotel on the Judería - the old Jewish quarter - was very nice, and we took a stroll along the narrow cobbled streets heading towards the cathedral. The town is very touristic, an important weekend destination being a short 30 minute travel from Madrid, and there are souvenir shops everywhere.

The cathedral is impressively huge, reminding us this used to be the capital of Castille. I was particularly impressed by the magnificent choir, with the amazing woodwork, and the paintings several remarkable portraits of saints by El Greco and a beautiful John the Baptist by Caravaggio.

The next day, we visited the main sights. I could finally see the famous Funeral of the Count of Orgaz, as beautiful as I expected, and that was never moved or restored. The Monastery of Santa Maria de los Reyes, built by the Catholic Kings to celebrate their victory over Portugal, was a pleasant surprise - a beautiful cloister, with an amazing mudéjar ceiling and the always enchanting diversity of gothic stone sculptures - having to decorate immense spaces, that's how the medieval artists expressed themselves, one can appreciate that as well on the Flemish town halls, for instance.

Then there were the synagogues. Santa María la Blanca is impressive, with the horseshoe arches and the sculpted capitels; and the Sinagoga del Transito as well, with its Sephardic Jewish Museum; their size attests the importance of the Jewish minority in Spain before the Catholic Kings expelled the Jews.

And then there were the café terraces at Plaza del Zocodover, and the Spanish liveliness, always so uplifting.

After Toledo, Madrid. It was my third time there, and as I know it better, I like it more. I love the crowds at Gran Via, having chocolate at the Plaza Mayor, having a snack at the San Miguel Market, buying books at Casa del Libro, just wondering along the streets.

I went to see the Matadero Cineteca, a new cultural space in an ancient slaughterhouse, and didn't like it much - the space is great, but it's been made as a kind of urban-depressive place, the kind of artsy set that is more reminiscent of post-industrial Berlin, with dreary and unimaginative "art". A waste of a beautiful space.

So, I'm glad I live next to Spain, and I'm looking forward to go there again. If one can't have a castle in Spain, at least one can spend weekends there, and that's great.