Why, oh why, did they go with Daniel Craig? Isn't it obvious that Clive Owen is the only contemporary contender for James Bond? Obvious, it seems, to everyone but Owen (who doesn't want to be typecast) and the people at Eon Productions. Admittedly, Craig does have the weathered features of the James Bond novel covers, but he looks like he needs a good scrub followed with diction lessons.
I know that they're stripping the Bond formula back to bare basics with Casino Royale, something long overdue for the franchise, IMHO. No gadgets, Q, or Moneypenny. But is this going to work, or is it some half-assed attempt to mirror Batman Begins?
As for Owen, he is in London filming the thriller The Children of Men, based on a P.D. James novel. Set in a dystopic near-future where humans cannot conceive, Julianne Moore plays a woman who falls pregnant, and Owen is the bodyguard assigned to protect her. Shooting is planned for the Fleet Street area all weekend. I know this because we got an e-mail about it at work. Fleet Street is totally off limits on Sunday to allow some effects sequences to be shot. Apparently, a cafe will explode, and a vehicle will crash. I'm sure it will be more exciting than it sounds.
Saturday, October 15, 2005
¡MADRID!
A blog update is well overdue.
Two weeks ago, on a Wednesday afternoon, I left work and headed to Temple tube station where I met Doug, a friend from Australia. Doug was on a round-the-world trip and had visited Greece for some weeks, and Copenhagen, before arriving in London. for a few nights. In spite of the pressures of travelling, Doug was calm and looked relaxed. I was reminded of how I felt just a few months earlier when I was travelling.
Doug brought me the most wonderful gift from Australia - Tim Tams and Cherry Ripes!! I quickly devoured one box of Tim Tams, but am savouring the rest.
It was so exciting to see a familiar face from back home. Most of the night was consumed with discussing stories from our various trips, and news from back home. It was a wonderful catch-up, aided in part by a really fine dinner at a restaurant on Garrick Street. We wandered, and wandered, until we found something that looked good, and it was. As I explained to Doug, there is so much choice in London (in restaurants, bars, clubs, parks, activities, etc etc etc), that I easily become overwhelmed. There are quiet simply too many options to consider one's options before making a decision. Very different to back home, where one might travel halfway across town to go to a place they know and can trust!
After dinner we haunted a variety of bars in Soho, and I think Doug left with a pretty overview of the London scene. I'd have loved to stay out longer, but 1:30AM was pushing my limits given that I had to be up for work by 8. Hangover aside, Thursday was a pretty shitty day for me. I really wondered what I was doing with this stupid job that seemed so far removed from my area of training. So you can imagine my surprise when I got home and discovered a parcel from Mum and Dad. Inside the huge Australia Post box was two Ekka showbags, a copy of the Weekend Australian, Cadbury chocolates, and a jar of Vegemite. I can buy Vegemite at my local Tesco, imported from Australia, but it's frightfully expensive. The jar has pride of place in my fridge.
The next morning, Friday, Doug and I rose early and took the tube from Covent Garden station to Heathrow. One of the benefits of living on the Piccadilly line is that I can get to the airport without changing trains, which is a luxury given that so few Underground stations have elevators to the platforms.
We boarded our BMI flight to Madrid at the very last minute, only to find out, on-board, that take-off was delayed by 45 minutes due to congestion at Heathrow. We sat on the tarmac waiting for various clearances. As the captain explained, Heathrow congestion triggers a snowball of problems, as the pilots have to renegotiate the flight windows to fly over French airspace. Until that moment I had never considered the obvious complexities of scheduling and managing European flights. I guess things are a lot easier in Austraila with just the one aviation authority. And thinking about the differences between flying in Europe and Australia, I still find it so freaky to think that in Australia you can fly for 6 hours and not even leave the country...
Flying over Spain, I was reminded of our trip to Seville in 1992, and specifically a road trip to Granada. I remember the country-side as being so beautiful, with fruit orchards as far as the eye can see. From the air, things looked very similar. But things changed quite considerably as we flew into Madrid. There, the land was unbelievably dry. We later found out that it hasn't rained since last October. Dotting the farming landscape were hundreds of little villages and hamlets. The roads linked these hamlets to larger towns, and so on, until the whole network looked like a spider's web, or bad varicose veins, from the air.
Having left a chilly and wet London, it was quite a relief to arrive in Madrid on a hot, sunny, and very dry, Friday afternoon. The city has a population of about four million people, but squeezed into an area of 400 square kilometres. Tiny really, considering that Brisbane's area is around 1350 square kilometres. There is an underground metro, second largest in Europe after London, but it seems that Madrid is a city ruled by cars. With Friday traffic, it took forty-five minutes to reach the city centre. My return journey took between fifteen and twenty minutes!
Doug booked the most lovely hotel in the Chueca district just off Gran Via, literally broadway, which is Madrid's main thoroughfare. Chueca is the heart of old Madrid, the gay district, and where Pedro Almodovar sets many of his films. It is a place of narrow cobbled streets knifing their way through five and six story apartment blocks, centred around little residentials piazzas. Chueca is magical, exactly what one hopes Madrid to look like, and so different to the tract housing I spotted from the air on the city's outskirts.
Our time in Madrid was limited, mine more so than Doug's, so we decided to buy tickets for a double-decker tourist bus to get an overview of the city. The company has three bus routes, and on each route we managed to find seats up top, affording us spectacular views of Madrid's beautiful baroque architecture. We saw most of the major tourist attractions, including the Royal Palace, the Palacio de Communicaciones on Plaza de Cibeles, Plaza de Espana, Puerta del Sol, Real Madrid's home stadium, and various galleries and piazzas. Unfortunately, I didn't get to see the inclined skyscrapers of Puerta de Europa, which look spectacular. My favourite Madrid memory was when Doug and I stumbled onto Plaza Mayor, where coffee shops line the edge of a huge plaza. So European.
Madrid is a really beautiful city. We were meant to go there in 1992, until our trip was cut short, and in the intervening years many people have told me that I didn't miss much. That it's a big dirty city, suffering from overpollution, and with a substantial crime problem, all of which being the exact opposite of the Madrid that I saw. When waiting for my return flight at the airport, I started talking with a Venezuelan who now lives in Madrid. He said that Chueca was once a hotbed of crime, but the arrival of the gay community triggered the urban renewal creating the trendy area that exists today. Still Chueca did not disappoint in an Almodovar way. Doug and I raced around to pack as much as possible into our short time there, and we succeeded, but I might save those stories for off-line reminiscing. ;-)
I was a little sad on the flight back to London. Sad to leave my friend Doug, sad to return to the cold and wet weather, and sad to have to go back to my job. My neighbour on the flight was a fun and lively (without being annoying) young Scottish woman, from Ayr, who is a trainee solicitor at one of the other huge law firms in London. She was telling me that she knows of no-one who works for these large law firms, and likes it. I mulled over that for a day or two. While I've been very greatful to have a job, I've not been overly happy with the work. It's all nothing but middle-class whining, of course. So Madrid was a turning point for me. I realised that any job that pays the bills (and pays okay at that), allows me to live in London, and take weekend trips to Europe, can't be that bad. In fact, it's a blessing. So with that in mind I've realised the importance, yet again, of taking advantage of everything that's on my doorstep. As Sara says, "say yes to everything". I've booked a weekend to Brussels in November, and Venice in early December, with Paris to follow later that month.
Two weeks ago, on a Wednesday afternoon, I left work and headed to Temple tube station where I met Doug, a friend from Australia. Doug was on a round-the-world trip and had visited Greece for some weeks, and Copenhagen, before arriving in London. for a few nights. In spite of the pressures of travelling, Doug was calm and looked relaxed. I was reminded of how I felt just a few months earlier when I was travelling.
Doug brought me the most wonderful gift from Australia - Tim Tams and Cherry Ripes!! I quickly devoured one box of Tim Tams, but am savouring the rest.
It was so exciting to see a familiar face from back home. Most of the night was consumed with discussing stories from our various trips, and news from back home. It was a wonderful catch-up, aided in part by a really fine dinner at a restaurant on Garrick Street. We wandered, and wandered, until we found something that looked good, and it was. As I explained to Doug, there is so much choice in London (in restaurants, bars, clubs, parks, activities, etc etc etc), that I easily become overwhelmed. There are quiet simply too many options to consider one's options before making a decision. Very different to back home, where one might travel halfway across town to go to a place they know and can trust!
After dinner we haunted a variety of bars in Soho, and I think Doug left with a pretty overview of the London scene. I'd have loved to stay out longer, but 1:30AM was pushing my limits given that I had to be up for work by 8. Hangover aside, Thursday was a pretty shitty day for me. I really wondered what I was doing with this stupid job that seemed so far removed from my area of training. So you can imagine my surprise when I got home and discovered a parcel from Mum and Dad. Inside the huge Australia Post box was two Ekka showbags, a copy of the Weekend Australian, Cadbury chocolates, and a jar of Vegemite. I can buy Vegemite at my local Tesco, imported from Australia, but it's frightfully expensive. The jar has pride of place in my fridge.
The next morning, Friday, Doug and I rose early and took the tube from Covent Garden station to Heathrow. One of the benefits of living on the Piccadilly line is that I can get to the airport without changing trains, which is a luxury given that so few Underground stations have elevators to the platforms.
We boarded our BMI flight to Madrid at the very last minute, only to find out, on-board, that take-off was delayed by 45 minutes due to congestion at Heathrow. We sat on the tarmac waiting for various clearances. As the captain explained, Heathrow congestion triggers a snowball of problems, as the pilots have to renegotiate the flight windows to fly over French airspace. Until that moment I had never considered the obvious complexities of scheduling and managing European flights. I guess things are a lot easier in Austraila with just the one aviation authority. And thinking about the differences between flying in Europe and Australia, I still find it so freaky to think that in Australia you can fly for 6 hours and not even leave the country...
Flying over Spain, I was reminded of our trip to Seville in 1992, and specifically a road trip to Granada. I remember the country-side as being so beautiful, with fruit orchards as far as the eye can see. From the air, things looked very similar. But things changed quite considerably as we flew into Madrid. There, the land was unbelievably dry. We later found out that it hasn't rained since last October. Dotting the farming landscape were hundreds of little villages and hamlets. The roads linked these hamlets to larger towns, and so on, until the whole network looked like a spider's web, or bad varicose veins, from the air.
Having left a chilly and wet London, it was quite a relief to arrive in Madrid on a hot, sunny, and very dry, Friday afternoon. The city has a population of about four million people, but squeezed into an area of 400 square kilometres. Tiny really, considering that Brisbane's area is around 1350 square kilometres. There is an underground metro, second largest in Europe after London, but it seems that Madrid is a city ruled by cars. With Friday traffic, it took forty-five minutes to reach the city centre. My return journey took between fifteen and twenty minutes!
Doug booked the most lovely hotel in the Chueca district just off Gran Via, literally broadway, which is Madrid's main thoroughfare. Chueca is the heart of old Madrid, the gay district, and where Pedro Almodovar sets many of his films. It is a place of narrow cobbled streets knifing their way through five and six story apartment blocks, centred around little residentials piazzas. Chueca is magical, exactly what one hopes Madrid to look like, and so different to the tract housing I spotted from the air on the city's outskirts.
Our time in Madrid was limited, mine more so than Doug's, so we decided to buy tickets for a double-decker tourist bus to get an overview of the city. The company has three bus routes, and on each route we managed to find seats up top, affording us spectacular views of Madrid's beautiful baroque architecture. We saw most of the major tourist attractions, including the Royal Palace, the Palacio de Communicaciones on Plaza de Cibeles, Plaza de Espana, Puerta del Sol, Real Madrid's home stadium, and various galleries and piazzas. Unfortunately, I didn't get to see the inclined skyscrapers of Puerta de Europa, which look spectacular. My favourite Madrid memory was when Doug and I stumbled onto Plaza Mayor, where coffee shops line the edge of a huge plaza. So European.
Madrid is a really beautiful city. We were meant to go there in 1992, until our trip was cut short, and in the intervening years many people have told me that I didn't miss much. That it's a big dirty city, suffering from overpollution, and with a substantial crime problem, all of which being the exact opposite of the Madrid that I saw. When waiting for my return flight at the airport, I started talking with a Venezuelan who now lives in Madrid. He said that Chueca was once a hotbed of crime, but the arrival of the gay community triggered the urban renewal creating the trendy area that exists today. Still Chueca did not disappoint in an Almodovar way. Doug and I raced around to pack as much as possible into our short time there, and we succeeded, but I might save those stories for off-line reminiscing. ;-)
I was a little sad on the flight back to London. Sad to leave my friend Doug, sad to return to the cold and wet weather, and sad to have to go back to my job. My neighbour on the flight was a fun and lively (without being annoying) young Scottish woman, from Ayr, who is a trainee solicitor at one of the other huge law firms in London. She was telling me that she knows of no-one who works for these large law firms, and likes it. I mulled over that for a day or two. While I've been very greatful to have a job, I've not been overly happy with the work. It's all nothing but middle-class whining, of course. So Madrid was a turning point for me. I realised that any job that pays the bills (and pays okay at that), allows me to live in London, and take weekend trips to Europe, can't be that bad. In fact, it's a blessing. So with that in mind I've realised the importance, yet again, of taking advantage of everything that's on my doorstep. As Sara says, "say yes to everything". I've booked a weekend to Brussels in November, and Venice in early December, with Paris to follow later that month.
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