Trazzler following Ibn Battutah through Spain

The Costa del Sol's concrete boredome costing you a bit?

Trazzler's collected 10 trips following the great Ibn Battutah's trips through the region. Shake off the fish and chip shops and dig a bit deeper here.

An Apple for the Teacher

After a long break, blogging for El Pais once again. This time a 3 part series on the dismal future that lies ahead for learning in a climate where education is viewed as an expense rather than an investment.

The 1st installment goes into the labarynth that teachers must go through in order to actually get on with the system.

The 2nd is a look at schools that segregate by sex.

And the 3rd is a look at how nonthought and nonanswers have become the norm for two hours a week.

When Slippery Becomes Slimey

The earth unexpectedly (for most that is) shook the other day in south-eastern Spain, bringing tragedy to the people of the lovely town of Lorca.

Corruption doesn't only exit in far off lands that end in -stan. A look at what could happen if it's allowed to grow, blogging in El Pais.

Spanish Revolution?

Yesterday I walked up the hill leading to my polling station under a clear blue sky, a color I would later realize that had foreshadowed the colour of the electoral results that have carpeted this country from corner to corner...a resoundly conservative azul.

I'm the only foreigner in my voting area, or at least the only one with a right to do so who has decided to renounce their vote in their home country and vote here where we live. Once again, I was E 001...and the only one on the list.

I find Spanish polling stations a bit odd...there is a closeted area where one can vote in private but the overwhelming majority choose to do so at the election table, making their choice public, for all to see. That is, those who don't bring their little envelops from home that were previously mailed to them by their party of choice. All democratic I suppose...perhaps , like standing at a urinal, I'm just a bit shy in that respect.

While not a national election (foreign me can't vote in those), autonomous regions and municipalities were up for grabs yesterday and it looks like Spain is on its way to making the same curious decision that most of Europe has also made during this disasterous crisis...while navigating the stormy waters created by the financial system, best be in the hands of those that caused the problem in the first place I suppose.

The only way that I can make sense of this is by imagining myself in a situation where a deadly man-made virus has been released in a building...who better to be with? The men who created it of course! That said, it's an entirely different question when you wonder if they are willing to share the antedote with others.

Spaniards chose to rip off the band-aid quickly yesterday. Tired of the half measures taken by a reluctant, supposedly leftist party, they decided to rip it off quickly and to let the real hemorrhaging begin, bring on the next Cameronian revolution of social cuts. I can't imagine what will happen here when University costs triple or even quadruple here, Spaniards aren't notorious savers. Again, it wasn't a national election, but if the sky foreshadowed blue yesterday, next year's national election results look to be similar.

So where does this leave the #spanishrevolution that was briefly splashed across the headlines all over the world. The supposed revolution that blew across the Mediterranean and brought hope from Tunisia and Egypt. Spaniards were fed up, indignant at the lack of transparency in government, indignant about the hundreds of candidates that were being judicially investigated for corruption, indignant that banks who had received public money were now handing out gazillion euro bonuses....

Well I guess Spaniards as a whole weren't, only a loud and colourful few.

Few commentators have dug deep enough to get past the witty slogans and realize that this revolution was solely within the left. These were people who have always voted Socialist and who have woken up to the painful reality that, no matter how meaningful your ideals and ideas are, governments no longer have the power to make independent decisions. Zapatero's deer-in-the-headlights look the past 3 years has been because of this. It's the bond traders who decide, not the electorate.

The band-aid's been ripped off and now the coup de grace awaits in 2012. I guess I'll take a few trips to the free doctor while it lasts.

Spain or Portugal, does the coffee taste the same?

The Shock Doctrine is oozing and has slimed Portugal...Are things so different over here right across the border?

Blogging again in El Pais.

A Nestorian Epiphany in El Pais

A successful Chinese Buddhist businesswoman who professes her devotion to a 15th century crucifixtion figure gives birth to a Nestorian satori in my first piece blogging for El Pais. Of course, all framed within the slightly morbid context of the celebration here on the decidedly european Iberian peninsula of a man's death by torture so many years ago.

Even Dairy Queen's Dangerous!

Middle of nowhere British Columbia, beware of bears...wolves...avalanches...

...and teen burgers.

Caution Picture #2

When did these appear?

CAREFUL! You just might...trip?

Are children still constantly told to tie up their shoelaces? Or did that go out of fashion when 'Pull up your pants!' did? The latter warning used to seem more serious. That is of course until the current fashion craze (and that word has several meanings) consisting of offering the world to see that your underwear is indeed clean, made it redundant. Then again, the shoelace advice always seemed like a ridiculous warning to me, that is of course until I tripped.

That was back when I was 10.

I've since grown up and will presumably be passing on these nuggets of wisdom when my daughter takes her first steps in about a year's time.

But again, that will be advice given to a child.

Last summer I returned to the country of my birth, Canada, the place where I heard those warnings so long ago. It had been about 6 years since my last visit, 6 years that had taken me around the world, literally. Ever time I go back, I feel a little more removed, a little more distant, like a guy who shows up at a party dressed completely inappropriately. I find myself constantly asking myself, 'That's not how it used to be, is it?' It's been 20 years since I left.

Memory plays tricks and often paints the past in rose pastel, impressionistically blurring out the hard lines of things we might want to forget, but I simply don't remember such nannyism. I remembered asking friends and family six years ago if they had noticed the absurd crowding of their visual sphere with inane caution signs. The signs had probably crept into everyday life slowly but surely and no, they hadn't noticed.

But I had.

So this time I made a point to document them as we travelled around the country.

The 1st...watch your step taken to extremes!