Microfilm is an invention of the Devil

Will some clever inventor please figure out a way to print 3D reproductions of all the things that were put on microfilm in the 1970s and are now totally unsearchable?  Pretty please?

It's late, so this will be a short entry.

Things that went wrong today:

1. I forgot to set my alarm, and slept somewhat later than I planned (ok, about two hours later).
2. I forgot my goggles when I went to the pool in the morning, and had to swim without them.

3. The notebooks of Rafael Alberti that I requested at the BNE today in the "Sala Cervantes" (where all the cool rare manuscripts are) are "fondo reservado" and therefore unavailable, except they let you consult the microfilm.  Just like Schomburg's papers.  Oh joy.  So my poor chlorined eyes had to read microfilms of someone's private scribblings in a small notebook, and the machines are the old fashioned kind not like the computers at the Schomburg Center, so it's white on black instead of black on white unless you print stuff (which of course you have to pay for by the page).

La Dama Duende

Live theater is cool.

Last night I went with some Madrid friends to see the Teatro de la Comedia's production of Calderón de la Barca's comedy, La dama duende.  (Generally translated as "The Phantom Lady.") 

Gathering outside the newly renovated Teatro de la Comedia before the performance

The Teatro de la Comedia in on the Calle Príncipe, near Sol, and it's a beautiful old 19th C theater, with a proscenium arch, and boxes with red plush seats (we had a box) and it's also newly renovated, so all the gilt friezes and the fresco on the ceiling are all bright and shiny and the chandeliers are glittery, and most excellently it has super-titles (in Spanish) like the old City Opera above the stage for the hearing impaired, or those of us who have trouble listening to 17th century Spanish verse recited quickly by people who are trying to make it sound like natural speech and therefore slur their words.

News in the World - Part II

Where there are little inaccuracies, there will be big inaccuracies.

A sad tribute to Antonio Muñoz Molina's essay "In Francoland."

De Morgen remains weird in its coverage of Spain.  Yesterday I thought it was perhaps a misunderstanding that they reported that Carles Puigdemont had sent his wife and children out of the country for safety after being fired as President of the Generalitat when there were Reuters photos of Puigdemont and his wife walking together in Girona.  Today they have another article, fairly obviously a plant from their "secretary for asylum and immigration" the right-wing Theo van Francken, who says in the headline that it is "not unrealistic for Puigdemont to claim asylum in Belgium":  "Puigdemont die asiel aanvraagt in Belgie?  Niet onrealistisch."  The article explains that as a potential "political prisoner" Belgium could grant Puigdemont asylum if it were impossible for him to obtain a fair trial in Madrid.  The story is from 20:57 on October 28.

Meanwhile, on the same day, Spain's (more or less left-wing) news channel La Sexta reported that a spokesman for the Madrid government had officially confirmed that Puigdemont was welcome to stand for elections on December 21, as were other ministers who had been removed from their posts:  "Méndez de Vigo: Sería bueno que el Señor Puigdemont se presentara a las elecciones."

Once again we have an inconsistency, this time more serious than the location of a politician's wife.

News in the world

A minor but clearly verifiable fact difference upset me today.

(For my Belgian buddies especially, please read.  I know it's long, but honestly, it matters.  Alsjeblieft, ok?)

One of my ways of seeking balance, if not impartiality in my news is to take a look at the way stories are reported across several languages as well as several regions.  Unfortunately El Punt Avui only allows five free stories per month, and having looked at a couple I decided that it wasn't worth a paywall, but I have been checking La Vanguardia as a Barcelona based paper, albeit a Castilian language one.  More to the point, in addition to the (I am assured very biased) El País in Madrid, I've been looking at the online UK edition of the Guardian, at the New York Times, and the Flemish paper De Morgen with some regularity, to see how they're following the same stories.  If it's something I'm really curious about, I will also check Le Monde.  That was how I ran across a piece of reporting which, while trivial in itself, struck me as really egregious.

Of all the papers I've looked at, De Morgen is the only one that has been enthusiastically cheering on Catalan independence.  (The Guardian are torn between a romantic Orwell image and the horrific reality of Brexit, and have actually been divided in their coverage.  The others have all pretty much done variants on "this is nuts.")  A Belgian friend of mine gleefully emailed me a few weeks ago to say that the Belgian prime minister had "taken a stand" in favor of the Catalans, and that he considered Puigdemont to be "a statesman."  I was not diplomatic in my reply, but I must say that after today I understand why a Flemish person might be misled into thinking that.

Biblioteca Nacional Española - The Grand Ballroom of the dance of the archives

Ingredients of a classic library: custom, ceremony...and the greed of a kid in a candy store.

The gates of the BNE, surmounted by the royal shield of Spain: graceful, imposing...and with bike parking right inside.

On Wednesday I picked up my letter of introduction for the Biblioteca Nacional Española, hereafter the BNE, as it is universally known among researchers, to distinguish it from the BNF (Bibliotheque National Francaise) and probably other libraries.  (I imagine there's a BNB - Bibliotheque/Bibliotheek National/Nationaal de Belgique/Belgie - too.)  Thursday I went and brought my letter and my passport and my rental contract as proof of residence, and was directed up the imposing stairs (see photo after the jump) to an information desk, and from there into an echoing high-ceilinged room full of dark carved wood paneling and modern computers and printers, where a nice, friendly woman scanned my documents, filled out the computer application, and took my picture with the computer, before printing out my little plastic photo ID which I am now supposed to show to gain entry to the library.  I am an "investigadora" (researcher), not a mere lectora (reader), so I have access to collections from before 1958.  I feel special.

Internationalism vs. Globalization

The lines are often fuzzy, but on the whole there are worse things....

My Madrid friends say that they are being "contaminated" by "El Halloween" (pronounced "el CHA-lo-ween" with the "cha" of Chanukah) and that the local festivities of the Día de los Santos and Día de los difuntos are dying out (no pun intended).  I suggested to them that perhaps the Día de los difuntos at least could be rescued by Mexican immigrants, for whom the tradition is very much alive, but they were pessimistic.  I have nothing but fond feelings for Halloween, but I must admit that it's a little weird to see how commercialized it's become here.  The following were displays in the local Hipercor in Vista Alegre:

It's hard to not think that this looks like a US mall, and that is kind of depressing.

Cosas del palacio, siempre despacio

I am slowly being absorbed by the department of "Filología Inglesa II" at the Complutense.

Who knew the mysterious "El Barto" made it all the way to university?

Today was one of those days when on the one hand I accomplished little, and on the other, various absolutely necessary things happened.  Basically, I went to the Complutense, and met with the head of the "Filología Inglesa II" department, and (even more importantly) with the department secretary who wrote a letter saying that I was a "profesora visitante" and kindly walked down with me to the personnel department where I filled out a "ficha" (having fortunately brought along my passport for photocopying) and the ladies there said they would "tramitar" everything after being reassured that this wasn't an actual appointment letter, which would involve paying me anything.  ("Será para el futuro," one of them assured me kindly.)  This is important (even though I'm not getting paid) because it will enable me to have a university ID, which will enable me to have a university email, but more importantly will enable me to connect to the university WiFi, and also to use said email and WiFi ID to connect to EduRoam networks anywhere in Spain, including presumably the Biblioteca Nacional.  (I tried connecting with my Columbia ID to the EduRoam network at the Complutense.  No dice.  The department secretary explained that this was because you have to download and install a specific program before you can connect to EduRoam.  Which you can't do unless you're connected as a regular user.)  In theory, I should have my email address by now, but I've received no mails, so I'm assuming that it will come tomorrow.  Or Monday.  Cosas de palacio, siempre despacio.