Bass in Spain

There is a lot to write, and I'm writing some of it now.

The time is 7:30 pm, although by the time I finish writing, it will be later.

I am in Extremadura.

See

http://digital.library.upenn.edu/women/hsmith/autobiography/harry.html

If I had a camera I might take some photographs.

I am in a small room with sea-green walls, red and white hexagonal tiles on the floor, a few cheap pieces of furniture. This is my room for the month, in a dilapidated building on Calle Parras, a narrow street about which the only good thing that can be said is that it's in the center of town. Before it became part of a major route for cars and buses, it must have been very pleasant, like the streets that run parallel to it on either side. Now, after a month here, I can safely declare that Calle Parras, or this stretch of it, is no longer fit for human habitation.

I am here to study classical guitar.

Once a month, a handful of guitarists congregate here to receive instruction from one of the best guitarists in the world.

For the moment, I am among that handful of guitarists.

Needless to say for those readers familiar with Cáceres, I plan to move to Madrid next month.

It's uncertain how long I'll stay here in Spain, so perhaps now is not the best time to start a blog. Or has the possibility of departure reminded me of my intention to keep a blog while here?

I've been watching El sol del membrillo, about Antonio López, the Spanish figurationist painter, trying to portray the quince tree in the backyard of his studio in Madrid.

I've been working intermittently on some some studies by Villa-Lobos (numbers 6 and 7, from the manuscript), and Sonata opus 25 by Fernando Sor.

There is general agreement that it has never rained this much in Cáceres.