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food / travel

The Madrid Neighborhood Where The Spanish Literary Giants Live On

There is a charming little sector of central Madrid where towering figures of Spanish literature lived, loved, wrote ... and mocked each other.

The Madrid Neighborhood Where The Spanish Literary Giants Live On

In Madrid's Barrio de las Letras district

Héctor Abad Faciolince

-Essay-

MADRID — Many people think that in contrast with politics (where it's all daggers drawn, spite and calumny), the denizens of the Republic of Letters — novelists, intellectuals and poets — get on very well. If they were ever to quarrel, they would do it with elegance and arguments devoid of envy or calculations.

In fact, the opposite has long been the case, at least since the Greek playwright Aristophanes mocked Socrates, possibly contributing to his execution by the city of Athens. Envy, hate, backbiting and rivalries are commonplace in the Republic of Letters. It is, literally, a republic of missives, as its luminaries exchanged letters wherein they condemned certain peers and praised others. Alliances were made in those letters, and groups and currents founded in opposition to other schools or literary cliques.


There is a pretty neighborhood in Madrid made of narrow, sloping streets dubbed the Barrio de las Letras. It is the "literary district" with theaters, flamenco bars, old bookshops, and historic taverns and cafés that hosted important people. Several streets bear the names of writers who strolled, were born in and lived and died here. I love walking here, alone with a notebook. I usually take my first aperitif in a tiny little street, Calle de la Berenjena. Why there? In honor of Sancho Panza, who dubs Don Quixote's fictitious author, Cide Hamete Benengeli, "Mr Aubergine" or señor Berenjena.

Cervantes and his detractor

Sitting outside for a drink is a way of taking sides between two writers I admire, Felix Lope de Vega and Miguel de Cervantes, who were friends for a time before falling out. Lope de Vega, a successful playwright, cynically became a priest of the Inquisition to protect himself, and may have used that position to attack Cervantes, Quixote's real author, in the novel's prologue (which, it is often said, Lope may have written). Lope mocks him for being old, poor and missing his left arm. Elsewhere, he declared (and publicly) that "I'll say nothing of poets, though none is bad as Cervantes nor so foolish as to praise Don Quixote."

It is a kind of poetic justice

The first part of Don Quixote was a hit with readers, which the celebrated Lope could not forgive. Such stories repeat themselves in time. When Javier Cercas became acclaimed with his novel Soldiers of Salamis, the Chilean novelist Roberto Bolaño, until that moment Cercas's good friend, began to despise and attack him.

The nameplates in the literary district seem ironic. Walking up Cervantes Street, what do you find at number 11 near the corner of Quevedo Street? Well, the very house where Lope de Vega "lived and died." Turning left on Quevedo Street, at the next corner, the corner of Lope de Vega, a plaque tells you that the "the most eminent poet" Francisco de Quevedo, an old and lame Catholic, had his house there. Quevedo is a short street, and you wonder if it is because Quevedo could not walk far.

A quote from Don Quixote

Eliane

Poetic justice even in death

Perhaps Quevedo's Christian faith prompted him to denigrate his fellow poet and Jewish convert, Luis de Góngora, the only contemporary who might have rivalled his talent. Góngora did not shy away, using insults and mischievous rhymes. Sadly, Góngora has no street in the Barrio de las Letras, though a plaque states he was a tenant in the corner I cited — meaning he paid rent to his nemesis, Quevedo.

More paradoxes pop up as you keep walking and drinking. What do you find walking down Lope de Vega, toward the Costanilla de las Trinitarias? The tomb of Cervantes. It is a kind of poetic justice: Lope de Vega's house is in Cervantes Street, Góngora was a tenant in Quevedo street, and Cervantes is buried at Lope de Vega. Even death couldn't keep them apart.

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Society

Genoa Postcard: A Tale Of Modern Sailors, Echos Of The Ancient Mariner

Many seafarers are hired and fired every seven months. Some keep up this lifestyle for 40 years while sailing the world. Some of those who'd recently docked in the Italian port city of Genoa, share a taste of their travels that are connected to a long history of a seafaring life.

A sailor smokes a cigarette on the hydrofoil Procida

A sailor on the hydrofoil Procida in Italy

Daniele Frediani/Mondadori Portfolio via ZUMA Press
Paolo Griseri

GENOA — Cristina did it to escape after a tough breakup. Luigi because he dreamed of adventures and the South Seas. Marianna embarked just “before the refrigerator factory where I worked went out of business. I’m one of the few who got severance pay.”

To hear their stories, you have to go to the canteen on Via Albertazzi, in Italy's northern port city of Genoa, across from the ferry terminal. The place has excellent minestrone soup and is decorated with models of the ships that have made the port’s history.

There are 38,000 Italian professional sailors, many of whom work here in Genoa, a historic port of call that today is the country's second largest after Trieste on the east coast. Luciano Rotella of the trade union Italian Federation of Transport Workers says the official number of maritime workers is far lower than the reality, which contains a tangle of different laws, regulations, contracts and ethnicities — not to mention ancient remnants of harsh battles between shipowners and crews.

The result is that today it is not so easy to know how many people sail, nor their nationalities.

What is certain is that every six to seven months, the Italian mariner disembarks the ship and is dismissed: they take severance pay and after waits for the next call. Andrea has been sailing for more than 20 years: “When I started out, to those who told us we were earning good money, I replied that I had a precarious life: every landing was a dismissal.”

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