Grrrrrrr ..... Smile it annoys people!

 
Spend ages trying to link Flickr to Blogger.
Read "help files" and follow instructions.
Stop using iPad and progress to Win7 laptop.
Follow instructions.
Again.

Use the fora to find out that "Flickr no longer supports Blogger."
Thought of this photo from a recent trip to Greenwich, London.
Taken with a large full frame Canon with very heavy fast lens attached.
Next time I couldn't take that shot as the road wouldn't be wide enough.
Shame, but think of the shoulders.

 

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Joy.
This is my new toy for Christmas and after much faffing about I have just managed to "post" the very first photo taken with it as you see here.

Why can I not just copy paste on this iPad?
Why can I not just alt tab into explorer and drag it here?
Why is iOS so frustratingly awkward?
Will I ever get the hang of iPadding productively?
Just how steep is the learning curve?

It is a wonderful camera and I expect that it'll be my new constant companion.
It, too, has a steep learning curve, not nearly as frustrating but not as intuitive as it ought to be.
Why disable the flash when in silent mode?
Why disallow raw files at extreme ISO settings, just when raw would be best suited?
Actually, the latter doesn't matter because the jpg's are lovely.

It is wified and iPad compatible.
I shall explore that more fully when my life would be better for experiencing a dose of frustration and needless complexity.

Glad to get back to the 19th century

The iPad continues to amaze and frustrate but having now become the local library for one of us it becomes unavailable for frequently lengthy periods of time although usually relinquished when it's so late as to be of no interest whatsoever.

Just as well it's not (yet) become an essential accoutrement of modern life. Not like a camera.

Half a century ago, pretty much to the day if I could remember that long ago, my mum and dad gave me an Olympus Pen EES, a tiny jewel of a camera. Zooms had yet to be invented but built in light meters had just made an appearance and this had one. It had a 30mm 2.8 lens with the tiniest UV filter I've ever seen fitted. It also had a red disc in the lower right hand corner of the viewfinder which alerted you to a sub optimal light reading. I learned how to overcome that. It was also a half frame camera, it took 72 shots from a 36 exposure roll of 35mm film, each frame was half a 35mm frame which meant that the natural view through the viewfinder was in portrait. Not landscape. It took me years to realise why most of my favourite photos were, or are in portrait orientation.

In recent years I've carried a digital SLR and a bag of lenses around cities, towns, coasts and countryside. I have the shoulders to prove it, too. Recently, in the heat of Rome, where you think you'll need every lens in the bag you end up returning to the hotel, dumping the bag and taking the camera with one zoom. Later you repeat the process and put on a 40/2.8 pancake lens because it is small and light.

The next day you do the same.

I have a Canon G12 which is a brilliant taker of photos for modern man or woman but I'm not modern. I need a viewfinder. I can't stand around with outstretched arms trying to see what's in a LCD screen. The G12 does have a viewfinder but it's a viewfinder in name only. It doesn't show the view that you're about to capture nor does it show any other information whatsoever.

Yesterday I was allowed to buy a modern EES. A camera without a zoom, a fixed 35mm 1:2 lens, a ring around the lens to set the aperture, a wheel on top to set the shutter speed, a viewfinder that is just unreal in its clarity and selection of camera information shown. It's like a jewel to operate and it is big enough for my hands to hold easily and, more importantly, steadily. It even has a pop up disc in the lower right hand corner of that magnificent viewfinder.

It just feels so "right" to me.

It is very light.

It has an app for the iPad.

It is very light.

It eats batteries.

It is very light.

My shoulders are so relieved because it is very light.

I may even need to read the manual.
One day.

Hullo 21st Century .....

We have just bought an iPad Air 2.

Amazing how much something so slim can do.

Why has it taken me 6, that's six, hours to get an Apple ID without divulging credit card details?

Why did Sir Jonathan Ive not make this essential process as simple and beautiful as his device and the packaging it came in?

I wonder if it's all to do with dosh.

So, stand by for more blog entries which I promise will be completely devoid of any attemp to extract cash from anyone, let alone someone who's wife has just parted with a not insignificant sum to buy this icon of technology.

This, however, is being written on an ancient laptop as the new device is being explored by another a few feet away.

Oh, well, the first six hours wasn't a nice experience so just as well she's using it now......

I'm glad I took the lift to see Yoko Ono

What a glorious day. How magnificent is Guggenheim Bilbao?  Utterly magnificent. I would put it on the list of places to see on sunny days but I'd enter by the main entrance and be totally overwhelmed by the Richard Serra installation because it's immense.

It arrests the thinking process, takes you somewhere, makes you feel, really feel. What it makes you feel I have no idea but follow his steelwork with your shoulder and watch the shapes unfold above you, feel the constraint, experience the space he creates, observe the constantly changing light around you, wonder at how he did it and enjoy the awareness of shape, especially intersecting cones, torus sections, concave and convex intersections. Stroll in ever decreasing circles, spirals and finally with straight edges delineating a directional change get to the innermost edge and lean against the cold steel in awe and have your thoughts blown away as a studio flash mounted on the ceiling adjacent to a camera make itself known.

Get told off by a uniformed lady in Spanish explaining that the camera with a cross through it prominently displayed meant no photos. Ooooops. Sorry, but I honestly hadn't seen that one. Well done Canon for having a silent mode.

All this and you haven't started yet. On the way in the walk around the building is an experience in its own right, the bridge even has a lift to ensure that you are not too tired as you approach. Every aspect  has been thought out. Outside, The Puppy makes you smile, the smoke tells you the time and the titanium, glass, steel and limestone put you in your place. These things last. You don't, not as you are, anyway.

An utterly fabulous experience.

The top floor has a Yoko Ono exhibition. Now, if "art" is meant to arrest you, do something to you or for you, amuse, inform, enquire, inquire, smile, grimace, laugh, cry, feel something. Something good, something bad, whatever but something. Yoko Ono's does nothing. It is dross. Froth. I'm no art critic, I don't know much about it but I have been privileged to stand before some fantastic stuff, ancient and modern, some I've liked, some I've truly disliked, some I've loved, some has left me stunned and amazed and glad to be alive and some hasn't but her's left me empty, not wanting to engage with it, not caring about it, not wishing to share it with anyone. I may not know art but I do know about The Emperor's new clothes. This is like that. It is froth. A vain statement that she exists and has conned a curator to give space to cups, saucers and a teapot. A wall of framed drawings that I wouldn't hang anywhere that light could fall on them, a row of indistinct but recognisably similar photos each with a  different title. Even her "magnetic" dining room is puerile, some of her other exhibits are just porn.

As for having her records displayed without her late husband's made me realise that without him she'd be nowhere. And a complete nobody that none of us had ever heard of, let alone admitted to this level of exposure.

This is the saddest art exhibition I have ever seen, it is an ego trip, sanctioned by some admirer who would have been in the crowd applauding The Emperor as he passed by.

If I'd climbed the stairs to see it I'd have considered that the energy I'd used in getting there was far more valuable than the sum total of what she's put on display.

Go to Guggenheim Bilbao. Wait till after the 18th May. See what else they can find to put there. Anything would be infinitely preferable. Even the empty space would say more than she has.

Her husband would have seen The Emperor's new clothes for what they were, he had talent enough to recognise pretensiousness and probably would have spared us all from that which fills floor three.

Jeremy Clarkson once said that art was what they put in art galleries.

He was wrong.

Things can only get better. Oh, they just did!

We just got back from a rather wonderful Bodega on a back street in uptown Castro Urdiales where we hit Hora Filiz, happy hour, where two for one was inflicted upon us, double helpings of a superb tortilla washed down with a double dose of local beer plus the extra one that was not required by it's intended recipient. Not knowing of this custom meant that orders given were acted upon and a hearty meal was had by all. The eventual bill was less than €10 and we left both replete and joyful.

Upon our return to the suite a shower was insisted upon so I took the opportunity to avail myself of the XL pressed white bath robe. I've seen these in films where they always seem to fit the actor beautifully. The XL, however, is barely sufficient in width to cover diameter of the person in need of the preservation of dignity but if one sits just so it does it's job and is very smart.

Imagine my surprise, then, when it was found to include a pair of beautifully embroidered slippers as well. I was staggered and if I wear them much longer I'll spend tomorrow staggering too, but attired in an embroidered white robe with matching slippers reclining on one corner of the vast balcony with a glass of red I have to confess that all is well with the world.

Glancing over my left shoulder I note that the telly is on and even from about 40' away still manages to impose although one couldn't say it looked out of place.

If this is how some live I can only say that they don't know how good they've got it. Yesterday an outside double cabin, today a penthouse suite.

Tomorrow, Bilbao, by bus.
At this rate you never know, a limo may arrive to take us!

I should be in a suit.

The early morning plinky plonk music that preceded the flat tones of the tri-lingual lady have faded from memory. Shortly the memory of the stampede for the car decks will have faded as well. As we were last off and remarkably fast adopters of The Spanish Way it took little effort to allow those in pursuit of time to pass, albeit with some difficulty at the lift doors on each landing of the eight decks which we needed to descend.

Once settled in the car it was most amusing to observe the manoeuvring styles adopted by drivers attempting to extricate themselves from a corner in the bowels of Brittany Ferries' finest. Or one of them. Slowly and graciously we brought up the rear, set the position on the satnav to " home," flashed the passports and joined the arterial system of norther Spain. Easy enough, all I had to do was to listen to the two ladies, one told me where to go the other droned on helpfully telling me to keep to the right, keep right, the other right, that right, etc., etc..

All this before 0800 local and after only un cafe y no desunayo either. By 0900 the satnav had us parked between two rather large Mercs outside the hotel kindly offered to us by Brittany Ferries. A humble Jazz did look out of place admittedly but this was obviously a sign, although we didn't realise it the time. Maybe we should have realised that our hotel was a bit good as it has it's own signage from the motorway to the door. The fact that it's flags wave over the town was also a clue. We hoped for a nice room, we didn't expect to be under the Union Flag.

The reception lady suggested a wander and return in a couple of hours would see our room readied for us. A delightful stroll around Castro Urdinales, dos cafés y un sandwich, find the bus stop for tomorrow's bus to Bilbao and return along a sandy beach, still being swept and manicured and we're back. Nice place. Nothing special but nice. The Jazz still looks out of place.

The lady was sorry but there was a problem and there was only one room left, 502. What was the problem, then? It's not a room it's a suite. A full on suite. The lift told us that floors 1-3 have 18 rooms each, 4 had 15 and 5 had 5.

Enter through the door and a corridor leads to the bathroom complex, sharp left and there's a bed. It is wider than it is long and it is far longer than me. There's a telly that's bigger than would fit through our front door at home, a Grundig surround sound system than my iPod sits in, sadly it is so old that the iPad isn't catered for. Stroll past the fridge and kitchen area, detour around the bed and eventually you get to the balcony. Balcony? You could play tennis here. It overlooks the beach we'd wandered over a short while ago, the harbour entrance is in full view, too.

The wifi is like last year's F1 cars, fast and it lets you know it's fast too. Screaming, really. Once the coffee had been made I explored the bathroom and I shall now have to use all it's facilities just so I get to wear the pristine white towelling bath robes pressed in their plastic sleeves and hanging on their separate hooks. I shall only wear one, of course. It just has to be done.

We had thought we'd explore further this afternoon but we made our way to the nearest supermercado, purchased a bottle of red, three litres of San Miguel, un pain, un tin of olives (stuffed), un jar of allioli and a bar of Valor almond chocolate.

We are back.
The balcony.
The view.
The cuisine.
400 miles apart in space, coincidental in mind.
I love The Spanish Way.

It really doesn't get much better than this.
And, yes, I do feel that I ought to be in a suit.
Like all the people meeting down on the lower floors.

Oh, well, shorts, sandals and an only slightly soiled shirt will have to do.
Not that it matters.

I'm not going anywhere!

A jolly good day to learn lessons.

At 1400BST today we passed into The Bay of Biscay. I ventured onto the weather side, of which there was some but no precipitation actual or in sight, to take a photo of where we stood a few years ago observing the tidal race and spectacular scenery. Last time I passed by it was dark, and it was October.

Since then I have been sat looking at water passing by, iPod connected and iPad displaying the manual to my camera and flash controllers. Sadly, I have rather enjoyed reading them. Aided by Meatloaf, REM, Pink Floyd and Guinness, the afternoon has disappeared at 22 knots and I now find myself tapping out the results of my exertions.

I am taken aback by the realisation that I have become like the camera. Set this, do that get the end result. Set me floating, provide mental, visual and aural stimulation, supply Guinness and my joy is complete. This is obvious and I understand it, although not all may.

What is desperately sad is that the six modes of focusing that Canon make available to me and which I still have little understanding of after eighteen months of trying are still a mystery to me and I've just read all about them again. For the umpteenth time.

Even with camera in hand, subjects in abundance and time to get to grips with it. The options stare at me from the panel on the rear screen and leaves me staring right back at my own inadequacy as I move sliders, select modes and then wonder what effect each change will make. Again.

Drat, I ought to know this stuff but try as I might it leaves me coldly aware of the fact that it may just be that my time striving to employ the heights of technology that some geeky genius of a nerd, probably in his teens and a tee shirt, bouncing around in Canon's R&D playground has put together for a dare has passed the point at which the law of diminishing returns ensures that it just goes "whooooosh" over my head like all those deadlines that Douglas Adams had.

Simplicity is now elevated above whatever virtues the advertisers fill brochures with, and next time I watch a YouTube of some kid extolling the wonders of the latest gadget I shall turn it off, or enter "Tom&Jerry Fred Quimby" in the search box unless the number of buttons is less than the number of fingers it's taken me to type this.

Maybe that's why I still play records and why I may just set the flash triggers to full on automatic mode in future. Maybe I'll do the same with the camera.

At least changing lenses hasn't beaten me. Yet.
Carrying them has, but that's another story.

Bon voyage

Aboard Cap Finistere passing along the coast from which this vessel gets it's name at 20 knots is about as good as it gets on this glorious bank holiday Monday.

Yesterday Portsmouth, today Roscoff and tomorrow Bilbao.

Sat in a queue of cars last evening listening to a short story written by the extremely talented Barb Jungr on BBC R4 before driving into a cavernous steel hold being directed ever lower and further below the waterline is far preferable to the process of being passed acceptable to fly even if flying covers ground more quickly.

There is a lot to be said for rocking and rolling one's way over 600 miles or so of very wet terrain. For one thing it allows thinking time and iPad poking opportunities and the resurrection of this oft neglected blog.

Sorry.

Ugh .....

An hour ago we landed.

Three hours before that we had been sat in 25C, cloudless and windless Spainish Mediterranean weather.

The owner of the iPad has already left to go skiing but not before she had cleaned, hoovered and restocked the fridge  with nice things. Tea and saffron cake ..... mmmmmmmmmm. Masymas didn't have that.

The box of post is daunting but the secretary will sort it. I have phone calls to make.The wifi is on and there are a few photos to copy and sort.

It's grey, cold, breezy and it's raining. Later it's going to get worse. Gmail will shut my accounts down as someone is attempting to access them from England. They have already told me that they had stopped someone accessing them from Alicante, Spain. That was last night in the hotel. Why do they keep telling me that they'll shut them down when they did that on 2nd January?

Once I've pressed "send" I shall log out of the iPad and sometime today, tomorrow, whenever I shall start emailing gmail to reset the mess they've made out of my accessing my accounts.

Without the iPad none of this blog could have happened. The iPad has been a revelation. For a PC person that's quite something to say.

Life is suddenly so much more complicated. And dull. And cold. And wet. And windy.

Back home then.

Last night

We are now exactly back where we started five weeks ago.
Not in the same room but only three floors lower.
Almost the same temperature, too, 15C but tonight we are wearing our fleeces then we were definitely not.
Then we were fairly ignorant of the ways of the Spanish although we thought otherwise.
Our experiences had been built up over weeks of package holidays over years and years.

Tonight we strolled the Tapas Bars, ate some amazing things, fortunately we have come to recognise some and are brave enough to try the others. Even the black stuff with orange sauce dribbling out from under it with added olives was a delight.

Down in the more fashionable parts we could have paid three or four times as much as we noted earlier in our perambulations through that more fashionable district. As it was a few "pints" and umpteen Tapas and we have dined and drunk for much less than the fish and chips we'll probably have tomorrow night.

Spanish Spain is a delight. And the locals love it when "inglaterras" try to adopt their ways and customs no matter how unsuccessfully. One bonus of being foreigners is that they bring the Tapas tray to you first when it's full so you get first choice. We learnt earlier to look at what goes first but to be honest I don't think there's anything you wouldn't try and I suspect that even the octopus doesn't look like an octopus! Thinking about it the black stuff may well have been squid fried in squid ink!

We still can't speak the language but we get by and would get by better if they would only speak slower but we intend to learn a bit more of it just like we meant to last year, the year before, too and thinking about it, every year before that for at least the last decade. Just as well so many of them speak brilliant English and the ones who don't can still speak English far better than I can speak Spanish.

This whole experience has been most excellent and I could quite easily do it all over again starting from now. However, we're booked on a flight tomorrow and if everything continues to happen as smoothly as it has thus far we'll be getting wet and blown about by mid afternoon.

Can't wait.

Travel is such sweet sorrow

1415 local and the trip to the hotel was magnificent. 22C when we left, 21C as we arrived but getting up to street level from underground supplied us with a shock.
Coats reapplied, senses readjusted.
I can report that Alicante is currently shrouded in fog. Right down to street level, eight stories up and we're in the clouds.
Last time we were here, exactly five weeks ago we were booked in and that was that.
Today we were offered extra keys and given two wifi user tickets and thanked for coming back. They were sorry that the room we had previously was unavailable but, hey, no worries.
So, get one's breath back and it's down and out.
Pizza, I think.

The bags are packed we're ready to go.

Albeit with something we could describe as a singular lack of enthusiasm and maybe just a little sadness. Howver, my ovewhelming emotion is one of gratitude for having had this experience. Now.

Emails this morning are all about the results of the weather. I am sitting on a balcony overlooking a palm fringed beach as drinkers and eaters idle their way through the cafe's offerings below.

It's 1130 local and I have been aware of the video clips of wind, rain and mayhem. I watched on the iPad out of the corner of an eye as I was really drinking in our last few moments of sun, sea, sand, palms, windless cloudless well over 20C weather. Even the surf is gently putting sand back from where it was taken last week.

This is a most gloriuos day and in an hour we'll be in a carriage heading slowly south and tomorrow we'll be blown home to all that awaits. I'm advised that it'll be best to carry the raincoats as we may need them when we land tomorrow. Rain? Cold wind? Grey skies? If it wasn't for that iPad I could easily have forgotten all about those.

Someone close has just looked on the laptop and noted that this apartment is not yet booked up until April .....

If the hotel we are overnighting at has free wifi that could be a temptation, although we probably need to get back even if it's just to stop blog writing.

This has been a wonderful place to stay and having to go is more of an ordeal than I expected, even the lady on the balcony next door asked if we'd be back el año que viene.

Si.

Deo Volente.

Now 1150 local.
The view from the balcony, where I've spent many, many hours!