Its here. Can't run! 9:57 pm

I got hit right in the face.

It flew right into my pimply crevices. And others of its kind did the same. The bugs are here. So are the woodpeckers; I have a love-hate relation with one just outside my window which has a go at my tree. The sun, despite a hide-and-seek with the clouds (can't expect perfection here in the UK), is still a warm welcome. The squirrels are out once more. So are the magpies, in groups.

I found campus to be really quiet, picturesque even. Doing my jogs on the same country road, seeing flowers clammer out of the ground, tranquil. Then I realised why it has been so quiet this Easter break; I trooped to the library today, and there was the Warwick students, studying!! Doesn't help when I'm trying to cover my syllabus for the finals.

PPE is cool. But that means literally taking 4 subjects: Philosophy, Politics, Economics, Maths. Make that 5. Since I'm atrocious at Logic, that's a subject on its own.

Man. So much for beautiful Spring.

Uncle T

First Barcelona... 4:27 am

At our wonderfully-located accomodation. Splendid.

Park Guell

The goddess who kept following us in posters across Barcelona. I mean Ian's goddess.

Gaudi's intimacy with nature's outlines.

Sagrada Familia. Let's hope its completed soon; a masterpiece.

Yes, the start of my holiday-cellulite programme.

A site not common in the English Midlands.

The man who encouraged my cellulite programme throughout the trip.

The man again, with me, at the biggest stadium in Europe, Nou Camp.

Indeed, this is way overdue. I have already been back from my trip to, first Barcelona, then Rome, with Ian, for about 5 days now. I needed some time to ask myself what did the trip mean to me. It is so easy to let the box-ticking sightseeing and photo-whoring be definitive of the trip. Now, too, that Easter is here, the angst of the pregnant wait for Easter to arrive is now gone, along with my unfulfilled Lenten promises (what's new).

But despite failed promises (very much reminiscent of every New Year resolution I make), the prelude to Easter was very much fulfiling, and in large part due to this trip that which I was graced by Ian's splendid company.

Barcelona.
Barcelona was Gaudi. For me, Gaudi very much typified my trip to the Catalan capital. (Do check it out. If you didn't already know, Barcelona, despite not being Spain's capital, is the capital of the autonomous state of Catalonia, a state within the Spanish state). Cities speak differently to different people. If we listen, cities do speak. For me, it was Gaudi, for others it may be SanGria, or Nou Camp.

Gaudi's adherence and inspiration from nature was inspiring and captivation His intimacy with nature would make any partner jealous. His daring art breaking conventions of his time, is not that foreign in the spirit of the Barcelona people. The city's peoples came across as flamboyant, fun-loving and being daring to try. The Spanish knew how to enjoy. I thought I could hear that in their music as well. Ian and I attended two music events there in the Catalan city, one of jazz in a historic jazz club, and the other of Spanish guitar, in a basilica.

Gaudi's Sagrada Familia captivated both our attention. It was nice to understand the biblical references made in the sculptures and facade. Not just in the unfinished masterpiece, but also in the other churches that Ian and I visited, popular or not. Ian and I are sincerely hoping to see the Sagrada Familia completed in our lifetime. We will be back for Barcelona, then. Especially also disappointingly not getting to visit the Sagrad Cor.

Barcelona was also where the pilgrimage started. For me, after being privileged to have seen a number of beautiful churches in both the cities of London and Paris, I sometimes wonder what to think, or feel, or do when I enter these ancient structures. To some of my friends, it is yet another ancient building, feeling the brunt of time on its facades, and have its insides shaken by the din of tourists and their accompanying photo-flashes. I, too, am guilty of such undertakings. But these are my Father's house. What am I to do then? I didn't know. I still don't. The best thing I can do is to kneel and pray in each church that I walk into. On my knees.

Rome in the next entry.

Uncle T

Crash of Civilisations? 3:52 am

Crash of Civilisations?

Just watched "Crash". In the dim solitude of a late spring sunset, in my kitchen. My abandoned chips, thai chilli sauce and I, sitting in a room that was growing dark. Watching the movie frightened me. It got chilly. I close the window.

Is there really a racist in everyone of us? At best, do we try not to be racist? Is affirmative action a mere counter-force that the world manifests from the guilt of deep-seated racism? I don't know. Do we, really? Is a claim: "I'm not racist" a true one? I don't know.

It is frightening, because, possibly, no matter how hard we try, we can never not be racist. Deep down, we all see colour. Those of us with the gift of sight see colours. Give us all a few more pints of beer, and, possibly, true racial lines will be clearly illustrated, normally held suppressed by education, guilt, moral norms, societal chides, indoctrinated decorum...I don't know.

It is because I don't know that I am frightened. Aren't you? To wake up and find that you're one of those whom you've condemned all your life? Watch "Crash".
Uncle T