Wed morning was much more leisurely. We found a Laundromat, S did laundry, I caught up on writing this, and we set out for the modern art museum, which is in a huge old bldg. w/ a courtyard. We spent quite a while in a temp exhib w/ extremely pretentious text on placards – for example, a cubist looking nude with the hair of the Maja had explanations about the political ties between Spain & the US in the ‘50’s and how the watched became the watcher. Much more in this vein in every room. We watched a tape of a man in whiteface handling a huge white rectangle, and a nude lady (but not in the Maja pose) looked on.
We looked at a room w/ two huge, weathered slabs of iron, where the text told us how the artist was trying to eliminate his role as intermediary (but then wtf was the point of his existing?) Then, S motioned me into the hall, saying I’d need to reconsider my views on Ely. The (huge) hall was full of tires – maybe 60’ of tires piled 6’ high. No name, no explanation, just 60’ of tires 6’ high. I took a bunch of pictures.
For lunch, S insisted we go to a place that had a €9 plato del dia, but it really wasn’t that gd (S had ordered chicken, which was random bony chunks, and I ordered hake but it had shellfish on top, so S let me have his chicken) & I remonstrated at length that more expensive lunches should be permissible. In the afternoon, which is to say about 3 PM, we got to the more representational parts of the museum: Picasso, Miro. Nevertheless, I tired by around 5, & headed back to the hotel room to try out Jess’ “Stay fit anywhere” workout.
S got back maybe 7:30 & I persuaded him we should eat at the Finca de Suzana, which was nearby & supposed to be cheap, for good food. I liked my gazpacho & duck breast; S burned his hand because I forgot to translate the “quema” the waiter muttered.
So far the only books I’ve read this week were Mennonite in a little black dress (cute, but I still don’t understand the title), & Jane & the Madness of Lord Byron.
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