♫ CORTE - Hay un niño atrapado dentro de una máquina ♫

El Oriente Medio En 2026

Since I could barely remember, there's been instability in the world. In my 21st century life, it's only been a matter of where. And in my middle class Australian life, it's also never been a conflict physically close to my home. When I was born, Bush had found his cassus belli for war in Afghanistan, and was gearing up excuses to get himself into Iraq, too. When I was stickying dinosaur drawings into my notebook as a 9 year old, Libya and Syria were destabilised. Ukraine, Yemen, more US involvement into ISIS, not to mention the continuing plight of oppressed peoples in Palestine, Tibet, etc. etc; a kaleidescope of tragedy and imperialist evil unfolding during my 23 years so far.

So everyday I take it as a cosmic privilege to be safe where I am, to travel to the safe parts of the safe countries I have the good fortune of being able to visit. A quick do-over in Spain if you don't mind! The average Australian can save up money over a few shifts a week at the café to accomplish an trip to the antipodes, travelling by defying physics on a screaming metal bird - an insult to any God - and touching down safely, warmly welcomed by holas and bonjours.

And so there is trouble in the middle east. Large-scale, green-eyed destruction in all parts of the Australian traveller checkpoint to Europe. My parents might not be able to come as a result (pending review), their own plans to travel Morroco and Spain with their very own filial tour guide has been possibly upturned. Of course, on some level there's very little we can do. But with the big players of dry wretch Trump, Netanyahu and Ayatollahs pushing figures around on war room maps, I feel angry that our opportunity could pass by. I've actually moved out of home, and I'm living in a foreign country with a foreign language - how cool it would be to show your parents that kind of progress. I have this with most everybody who visits me - it's the little things that I'm most excited to show. For example, the olive-oil platos I make for myself on wednesday nights, the mishmash wallpaper art I've cultivated out of cutouts and gift shops, and my walk to work. The brilliance in the recent primavera air is making me more and more sensitive to time. Spring being the time of blooming and chemical explosions, almost violent, it also brings to mind the passing of time. With parents visiting, in this March Week 2 post, it's a wait-and-see. But it's also a cross-your-fingers.

Anyway, while this was going on, the birds are raging a war of their own. In the skies, on the antennas, but on the ground too. The boisterous peacocks are out, you best believe. I had no idea they shake like that in front of the peahens. An emphasis, an exclamation mark on their beautiful feather train. Emma and I were walking around Campo Grande watching this unfold with jaws on the floor (Well, I speak for myself as weird birdwatcher) We saw a juvenile peacock confront a squirrel, aiming to intimidate it away from its mating territory I can only guess. The juvenile's feathers are a third the size of an adults, half-cooked, and it looks otherworldly. The squirrel seemed largely unbothered by this. Like watching your primary school friend group meet your group from university, I could barely comprehend this interaction. It kind of was one of the wildest things I've seen in my life.

Castilla y León Preamble

My autonomous region, Castilla y León, is the largest community of Spain, and certainly the almost largest in Europe. It has eleven World Heritage Sites by UNESCO, and there's a lot to see.
I'm steadily ticking off the major ciudades in Spain. To anyone keeping count, that's Valladolid, Salamanca, León, Zamora, Segovia, Astorga, and now Burgos, the second largest of the region. If we're speaking strictly municipalities (of which there are 9), I've done six proper sight-sees. My last three to do are Ávila, Palencia, and Soria. You best believe each sub-region of Castilla y León has its own personality, people and tastes. The umbrella over it all is the absence of beaches, and the absence of mountains. Psychologically this must hurt somewhat - with few traditionally grand vistas, maybe it could be said the people make their own?

Cathedrals are an important stepping stone for each city. Each of the aforementioned has their own. Salamanca even has two. It's no debate that Valladolid's cathedral is absolutely sub-par. Half of it is under construction, the inside is comparatively dull, even the style itself is somewhat lacking against the golden sandstone of Salamanca's, or the stained windows of León's. But the younger sister, La Iglesia de Santa María La Antigua, has captured my heart. It has a lot going for it: being smaller it seems to have afforded more beauty per square inch. A clever tower next to a spired and adorned body, it's moated by green grass, open walkways, and bars to admire it. Against the immensity of the main cathedral it's dwarfed, but a little like the moon in that respect.

Onto Burgos

I went to Burgos with Naeem and Emma, and fortunately Naeem knows Taima, another Palestinian living in Northern Spain. They met in Granada, and they miss that place dearly, which I understand. The opinions of Burgos weren't raving; a few bad experiences here and there, particularly there is a strange insular conservative vibe in Burgos not even present in Valladolid. An elitist, Freemason-y group that needs further research on my end.

But there are good bits too! The bridge and river especially is quite nice, and the cathedral is bomb.

We have all left group reviews in my journal:

the footwear

Segovia, Ben Okri

I walked your aqueducts at dawn.
With giant legs they bestrode the landscape
Of  the Moors. Stick insects. Like Romans
On stilts, bearing water across the sky.