Apocalypse on the Camino: meeting Martin Sheen

Epochal image in Apocalypse Now.

Just to prove that this blog isn't just about riding bikes, snowy Christmases and doing maths with the Spice Girls, here's a post straight out of the pages of HELLO! With a harder edge about the Civil War.

Last summer but one I was quietly pottering along the beautiful shady promenade that is Paseo Espelon. I passed St Mary's bridge and Arch and was heading for the Italian ice creamery when I spotted an older man, sitting relaxedly on the wall, leaning back on the railings, much as I intended to do with my Rum and Raisen/Chocolate cone. He was lapping up the warm sun, an unattended book open on his knees. Like many of the tourists and pilgrims (Burgos is in the middle of the Camino de Santiago) who pass through this beautiful city, he was simply stoned on the architecture; blissed out on the beauty. Oh, and he was the spit of Martin Sheen. I toyed with the idea of greeting him and asking him did he know that he rather resembled a Hollywood icon, but I cast my mind back to the days when I was hounded into exile by a percieved likeness to Jerry Springer and decided to leave the poor chap in peace. I bet the poor bastard gets it all the time; cor, what a pain ......



Crossing St. Mary's bridge towards St. Mary's Arch in typical Burgos winter weather.

Faithful followers of these pages will by now have gathered that my cultural references refer to days gone by. And modern day Spain. I certainly don't keep up with Hollywood; I don't like their movies anyway and I loath paying loads to watch a dubbed movie. For me a movie is a visual and an aural feast - or not! So, a picture like Million Dollar Baby, unremarkable story, images, jokes etc. was made remarkable; special; by the aural experience of Clint and Morgan's two hander. Take it away and there's just no way I'm going to pay 7 euros to see it. A rider to this is that in countries where films are not dubbed (because the population have a high literacy level and can read subtitles) the level of spoken English is also noticably better. We all know, for example, that the Dutch and the Scandi-weges all speak better English that wot we do; and their telly is all in version original. English.


Mass execution from the Spanish Civil War.

Cristina called me to ask if I wanted to go to the cinema with her to see a film about Albania (where Cristina had been as a volunteer several times) and emigration; part of a cycle of politically slanted films. The big attraction (we're in Spain here, food has to be part of it) was free sandwiches and drinks before the film. A gala occasion, lots of freinds and aquaintances (Burgos is a handkerchief! Or incestous, every one knows everyone and all their business, often before they know it themselves.) We mingled with the people emerging from the previous screening, listening to three of our friends who come from the same village; the film had included footage of Feli's father and grandfather,who had been shot by the Fascists as he was the mayor of the village and a red. He was just one of thousands and thousands of men and women killed before, during and after the Civil War. Gradually stories emerged; a baby thrust into a watching pair of arms to be saved; another grandfather lost, but on the "other" side; the lime pits they were shot into. Its all starting to emerge now the fear of reprisals has retreated. These were all ordinary people who I know well, telling family tales in a very matter of fact, unemotional way. Stunning.



The boy Sheen himself.

And so it was that I finally saw the movie posters for a new American film called, "The Way" about walking the Camino de Santiago and starring ......................

Of course; you're way in front of me; none other than my old pal Martin Sheen.
Mind, I shan't go to see the fillum; it'll be dubbed - and according to those who've seen it, its shite anyway!

Mart presses the flesh in Burgos.