Latest Posts
It is Saturday night in Madrid and Plaza Mayor is thronged with people despite the chill breeze of midwinter. We weave through the bodies in their winter coats past the statue of Philip III in his brocaded one and duck
Angus “The Scottish Rocket” Ritchie is giving me advice. “If I’m behind you when you look back, that’s good. If you see me ahead of you, that’s very bad.” We are standing on Calle Madrid in Ciudad Rodrigo, looking down
Madrid is no Athens. Athens wears its economic crisis on its sleeves, on its walls, its shuttered shop fronts. Madrid’s is not so readily apparent: it is there, but you have to go looking for it, taking notice of the
The last six years of Federico García Lorca’s life were marked in equal part by passion and politics. The former of these had always been an important part of his life. The latter was somewhat newer to it, and would