The End is in Sight

May 26, 2015May 27, 2015 / Benjamin Barnabas / Leave a comment

No more Arabic Literature!

It’s the last week of exams, which means most people are finished for the year. Most people. Everyone not doing Spanish Texts, that is, which has been lovingly placed on the last Friday of exams. How generous. On the plus side, no more Arabic Literature! What was set to be the toughest exam turned out to be a relative walk in the park, compared to the nefariously difficult Persian and Arabic papers. Though the Dissolute Poets didn’t feature at all – it was never very likely that they would – I still got the chance to quote our favourite poet, Abu Nuwas, in one of the questions, so all’s well that ends well. I’ve also learned from my mistakes, balancing eloquence and originality with the academic writing preferred by one of my lecturers. I take a Beyoncé approach to essays, these days: if you like it, then you need to put a lid on it, because it’s not meant to be an entertaining read, of course. See what I did there? Yeah, it wasn’t exactly inspired. I’ll try to avoid out-and-out humour.

Still, if today’s weather sets a precedent for the rest of the term, I’ll be one happy guy. It was absolutely b-e-a-utiful this afternoon. Exams or no exams, I joined the rest of the lit crew to chill for an hour or so outside the Swan and Three in the sun, if just to revel in the knowledge that we don’t need to read up on Modern Arabic poetry, Jurji Zeydan and the maqamat anymore. I’m not free yet, but with the shackles of a history-based exams removed, I feel like flying. I’ve already been told that originality is valued over quoting in my last exam, which is much more up my street, so I’m not so worried about that. What I should be doing in the meantime is booking those flights to Amman. This time next month, I’ll be there. And that’s a little alarming… BB x

Prebends Cottage on a Summer's Afternoon, Durham

Prebends Cottage in the Afternoon Sun, Durham

Sibling Sobering

May 25, 2015 / Benjamin Barnabas / Leave a comment

Cramming for Arab Lit in the Bill Bryson

My little brother got back from his first ever solo adventure in Japan yesterday. Two weeks on Honshu, starting and ending in Tokyo, and taking in the south-coast sights from Kyoto to Hiroshima and beyond. It’s the kind of thing I would have done if I’d had the money he had on my gap year. That’s the main positive of a functional gap year: work for three quarters of it and then travel on the money you’ve earned in that time. Or, if you’re a singular nutcase like me, decide on a year abroad at the last possible minute, put a three month stint in Uganda at the start and a month and a half’s travelling in Spain at the end, making a stable job in between almost impossible, and try to get by on a budget of less than a hundred quid. Not a good model. I don’t begrudge my little bro in the slightest for this stellar work of one-upmanship; it’s how a gap year should be done. Bravo.

In between tales of his exploits, up to and including appearing on national television quite by accident (I told him he’d find people knew he was coming before ever he got there, though I didn’t quite see it happening like that!), I realised he’d learned a valuable life lesson that’s still beyond my understanding, and that’s not to rush things whilst you’re young. In short, old age doesn’t have to mean the end of your adventures. It came up when we were discussing where he’d be travelling next, and he told me that he’d love to join me on my crazy Cairo to Cape Town stint, so long as it was after we’d got on in life and – quoting verbatim – ‘after your kids had moved on and had kids of their own’. I was stunned. I’ve been hungering after Cairo to Cape Town since I first heard of it when I was sixteen, almost five years ago now. I wasn’t exactly planning on striking out for Egypt the week after graduating, but the prospect of waiting another thirty years and more hit me like a wall. There’s plenty of reason in his words, reason that’s beyond my childish enthusiasm, that’s for sure. It was a pretty humbling thing to hear from my nineteen year-old brother and it more than put me in my place. Clichéd as it sounds, I find myself bowled over at how much he’s grown up over the last year. Considerably more than me, at any rate! I wonder if that’s what having a stable job does to you… Man, what kind of an older brother must I look to him? I don’t half get the feeling sometimes like it’s up to me to make the mistakes so that he can learn from them by proxy without getting his hands dirty. And I make a heck of a lot of mistakes… (I hope to God he doesn’t judge me too harshly for that remark if he reads this!)

Well, it’s put my problems in perspective, at any rate. The kid’s off in search of another job for the summer already. Boy, if I’d had that level of get-up-and-go when I was his age, I’d have been made. Where we level out is on spending. I restricted myself to a £250 maximum budget for two weeks in Morocco, for everything. Lil’ bro managed to spend almost a thousand. Financially, we meet somewhere down the middle. Socially, he’s a good few hundred leagues ahead of me and still driving onwards. In a manner I never saw coming, I find myself looking up to him more and more. In a family of just four, I don’t have many familial examples to aspire to. But little brother, if I could be half the guy you are, I’d be a better man several times over. BB x

From One Extreme to the Other

May 22, 2015May 23, 2015 / Benjamin Barnabas / Leave a comment

Five months down the line and I have a destination at last! My gamble with the environment preference paid off after all and I’ve been allocated to a post in EXTREMADURA. It looks even more impressive in capitals. Extremadura, though! Steppe! Ham! Cork oaks! Cortes! Roman ruins! Bustards! And best of all, I haven’t even the slightest clue what it’ll look like in the flesh, since I’ve never even been there! That’s the major draw, of course. As much as I love Andalucia, living there once upon a time means I’ve seen most of it already. Extremadura is a blank slate. And if it all gets too much, then the dear old south is just a stone’s throw away – figuratively speaking. So much is within a stone’s throw from Extremadura, come to think of it. Doñana’s just over the Sierra de Aracena to the south, Toledo’s only a short distance up the Tajo and Portugal’s practically on the doorstep. So it’s safe to say I’m pretty chuffed with my placement! Whether I’m based in Badajoz or Cáceres remains to be seen, but unlike the last time, I think I’ll be more than satisfied with the information I have for some time now. Plenty of reading to do! Not too much, mind – wouldn’t want to spoil the adventure – but enough to get an idea. Cela’s La Familia de Pascual Duarte seems like a good place to start. Still… Extremadura! Can’t even begin to contain my excitement. I’ll be lesson planning before I’ve even got to Jordan if I’m not careful. September can’t come fast enough!

Latest essay came back a measly 66%… not my finest hour. Almost entirely to be blame was my choice of an opening line: ‘the colonial claws that raked the nineteenth century world left few countries unscathed.’ Make of that what you will. I hardly need to tell you that’s it’s not academic language. My marker did, though. Like I said, there’s no escaping the rule of three. Two got under the wire, the third did not. That’s natural. Especially since that last was written at around four in the morning. If that doesn’t lend a shred of credibility to that bat-out-of-hell opening statement, my Burtonesque verbosity just might (I promise I’ll keep the cultural references to a minimum in future). All things considered, 66% is probably a lot more than it’s worth. I’d tell myself to start earlier next time. But then, I tell myself that every time… So now Extremadura’s on the cards, it’s time to obsess over the place whilst I still have a couple of weeks to think in Spanish before I’m whisked off to the Middle East! Here’s a vista extremeña to whet your appetite for the time being. Hasta pronto! BB x

Fingers Crossed

May 22, 2015May 24, 2015 / Benjamin Barnabas / 1 Comment

Pillars in the Court of Lions, Alhambra, Granada, Spain (2011)

Today is D-Day. Destination Day, that is. In a matter of hours (hopefully) I’ll have a province, one from either Andalucía, Extremadura or Cantabria, three equally stark, inspiring and beautiful regions of the Iberian peninsula. The BC asks you to specify which one you’d prefer and I wasted no time in putting Andalucía right at the top of the list, but I ranked ‘environment’, another of their categories, higher up the list, so it’s still anyone’s guess where I’m headed. In light of that, I’ll see if I can’t lay down my reasons for choosing each one. When I applied for university, I just went straight for Durham – twice – and filled the other four spaces with names I plucked out of the air. Not this time.

Cantabria

I’ve been to Cantabria twice: once on a school trip, and the second as the landing stage of my solo adventure across Spain back in ’13. Spain’s north coast is unquestionably beautiful, in a manner so very far-removed from the magic of the south. The north smacks more of Ireland, only a wilder, more impressive Ireland, where the people speak Spanish. Oh, and there are still a few bears left in the mountains – not that you’d be likely to see them. The jagged spine of the Picos de Europa rivals the Alps in magnificence – especially Picu Urriellu – in sunshine or in rain. Though speaking from experience, Cantabrian rain is not something to be trifled with. When it rains, it doesn’t just pour, it buckets it down in Biblical fashion. One of my most enduring memories of Cantabria is of sitting under the shelter of a covered well wearing several layers of plastic bags, feeling soaked to the skin and utterly miserable. But it was also a warm and friendly place and the food – especially the quesada pasiega but also the region’s black pudding, morcilla – was to-die-for. That and I feel like pulling out early because of the flood warnings has left the area ‘unfinished’ in my books. I’ll be going back someday, for sure.

Extremadura

Extremadura, alongside Galicia, La Rioja and Valencia, is one of the few regions I haven’t yet had the pleasure to visit. Perhaps that’s because it’s so far off the beaten track for most excursions that you’d be better off based somewhere like Andalucía to have a wide range within driving distance. But there’s no two ways about it: Extremadura is a hidden gem. Often overlooked in favour of its southern neighbour, it’s a vast stretch of rolling steppe, craggy river valleys and endless cork oak forests flooded with flowers in the spring. It’s about as rustic as you can get it, if you know where to go. Of course, it’s also about as unforgiving as the plains of La Mancha in high summer, and it has a reputation – Cortes and Pizarro were born here – but if you can look past that, you’ll understand why I’m almost hoping that my gamble with valuing environment over region will have the BC place me here. I’ve criss-crossed most of Andalucía already. Extremadura is still vast, unexplored and full of adventure.

Andalucía

Three people have told me now that if I should apply to Andalucía via the BC, I should be careful not to wind up in Cadiz, because of the miserable weather, the isolation and the impenetrable accent. Trouble is, I can’t help my heart. I grew up in Cadiz. The accent I can vouch for – it’s Bwindi-level impenetrable – but as far as isolation and miserable weather is concerned, that’s not the Andalucía I know and love. Far from it. If you’ll forgive me an almighty head-over-heels moment, Andalucía is and always has been the greatest love of my life. Granada and its Moorish echoes to the east. Cordoba’s flowerpot streets and the magnificence of the Gran Mezquita to the north. The godforsaken terrain of El Torcal and the Sierra de Grazalema to the south. And last but not least, the sweeping marshlands of Doñana to the west. Not to mention the enduring horse culture, flamenco, the vulture-filled blue skies and, of course, the dark-eyed beauty of the people. Andalucía has everything. Honestly, if it weren’t for Andalucía, I might have been braver and gone for a BC post in South America. But the way I see it, turning down a chance to spend another eight months in my old homeland would be one of the greatest mistakes I could make. That’s why Andalucía tops the list.

But we’ll see how things pan out, shall we? I’d better head on down to Elvet Riverside to pick up that last Arabic essay. Slightly dreading the results, since it was another late night work, my third this year, and my first genuine all-nighter. And three is, and always has been, a dangerous number. I’ll get back to you later! BB x

Back to the Drawing Board

May 19, 2015May 19, 2015 / Benjamin Barnabas / Leave a comment

The waiting game continues. The last language exam is around the corner and then it’s two essay-based exams and then I’m done on the academic front – for the time being – and it’s headlong into three weeks straight of rehearsals, gigs and parties. Isn’t that what summer’s for? As I explained earlier, there’s quite a bit of admin to get through, and I’ve already set out on that, but I can’t tackle the two most pressing until I have a vague idea exactly where it is I’ll be spending the bulk of my year abroad. So roll on Friday! I’m kind of past caring where the British Council send me now, I’m sure it’ll be an enriching experience wherever it is. How’s that for prefabricated merchandising?

So today, tired of revising Arabic grammar, I shut al-Kitaab for the first time in days, shoved it down the side of the sofa and turned my attention back to La Celestina, one of the texts I’m supposed to be writing about in next week’s exam. I’d quite forgotten how good it is. More than that; by academic standards, it’s praiseworthy to say the least, but even as regular books go, it’s really quite amusing. A lot of the gags and stitch-ups are as true-to-life today as they were then. The birth of satire, or something like that. If I can spin a yarn like that in the exam I should be alright. We’ll see. Long ways to go, really – we’re talking next Friday. When that’s over, I’ll be finished, so it ought to be at the bottom of my priorities. But it’s a heck-of-a-lot easier to revise texts because it means I can doodle and muse to my heart’s content and still call it revision. Brilliant. So I thought I’d share with you one of my revision doodles. Featured are Areusa and Elicia, two subsidiary characters from the tale. Yes, they’re quite clearly based on Margaret from the latest Poldark series. So judge me. I’m hooked. It’s a bloody good job the series ended the weekend before my exams began, or I’d really have been doomed. Small mercies! x

Bruegel under the Microscope

May 17, 2015June 19, 2015 / Benjamin Barnabas / Leave a comment

Ever looked closely at Bruegel the Elder’s Massacre of the Innocents? I wouldn’t blame you if you haven’t. It’s a pretty famous painting, but it’s not the Mona Lisa or Van Gogh’s Sunflowers. You might have seen it on a Christmas card, along with the more common Hunters in the Snow, another painting by Bruegel. And why not? It’s a snowy scene with plenty of animals. Perfect for Christmas. Until you look closer. On first inspection it looks like a raid – sundries strewn in the snow, soldiers carrying off sacks, livestock taken for slaughter. A far cry from Christmas. But look a little closer and you’ll see the signs that there’s something far more sinister at work. Hidden away in various corners of the painting are the ghostly remains of figures now painted over. You don’t have to look too closely to surmise that there’s something amiss; a lot of the animals depicted look messier than the figures surrounding them, as do the clothes and sacks. Look closer still and you’ll see shadowy feet beneath one of the sacks. Or a little hand reaching out from the huddle of poultry gathered before the mounted soldiers in the centre of the image. What you’re looking at is far more than just a raid. It’s a Biblical scene brought to life in the snowy Spanish Netherlands; that of Herod and the Hebrew children. It’s a genuine massacre of the innocents.

How did I stumble upon this? Good question. Revision is a tiresome thing and I found Bruegel’s painting on one of my desperate ‘productive procrastination’ sprees. I still can’t remember how. But it was one of those images that I just couldn’t stop staring at, and the more I looked, the more I wanted to know. Why the children? Why were they painted over? And why, when the painting was restored, were they not returned? It chilled me to the bone when I first saw one of the few uncensored images floating around, but I think it’s more poignant than the one we’re left with now, shocking though it may be. What would Goya have thought if the men of El Tres de Mayo had been painted over with cattle? Or is there a line that cannot be crossed, as far as children are concerned? Goya obviously didn’t think so. See Saturn devouring his Son. But what do I know? I’m just musing as usual.

What I think matters most of all is one of the few details that wasn’t amended. In the background, behind the Spanish soldiers, is a man crossing the frozen river with an infant in his arms. He has a sword at his belt but his stance, in tandem with that of the woman standing behind him, imply that his actions are protective, rather than nefarious. It’s the one detail that really sticks in my mind. Is he the father of the child, or a friend, trying to smuggle the child to safety? Did he succeed? Perhaps most poignant of all, is it something Bruegel saw? Tough questions. I wish I’d had more trips to art galleries when I was at school. You can lose yourself for hours in a painting like this. The more you look, the more you see.

Apologies for the heavy content of today’s musing. I’m thinking of writing a novella based on the painting, so I thought I’d share the image with you in case you’re interested. It sure piqued my interest! x