My musical trip to IRELAND. Meeting Mickey McConnel and Gavin family.

On August 22, we met the Family Gavin, and their Gypsy Wagon TV. They had invited me to sing and to be recorded in their wagon, and I had the luck of knowing their natural paradise in the middle of Fintown's Nature; a green paradise of trees and grass, lakes, rivers... They were very kind with us and we spent a happy and nice afternoon of music and friendship. You can see their awesome channel of folk and music.

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCoiry3FOj-18ibNQe9FijDA

The other great experience of this summer was meeting Mickey McConnell.

First of all, I met the song. “Only our rivers run free”. I listened to it some years ago, through YouTube, sung by a young man in a pub of England; this man seemed a worker or a syndicalist, and he sang for freedom. I felt upset with that song, it made me cry and I didn’t know why. May be It happened because its meaning was applicable to the situation of my country, Catalonia. As I told you, It happened some years ago.

From that moment on, I searched and I discovered that that song was written by a man called “Mickey McConnell”. I learnt things about him. He was born in Northen Ireland. His song “Only our rivers run free” talked about the constittutional status of Ulster, and this song became a hit in Ireland in 1968. He made many other songs like “The little drummer boy” and “Follow the flag”. The songs of Mickey were sung by singers like Christy Moore, The Wolfe Tones, Mary Black, The Kelly Family, The James Last Orchestra...

I listened “Only our rivers run free” again in YouTube from a young singer called Sheena (now she is older and lives and sings in pubs from New York. Few weeks ago she was in derry) and I cried again. Finally I learnt to sing this song, and... from time to time, even now, I perform it in the kitchen of my home for my daughter. Now she is 11, but when she was three or four, she hardly ate his dinner, and I sang this song, an others too, so that she had dinner easier, and really she did. Now, I have just made a Catalan version of the song. I told it to Mickey last night and he loved the idea.

So… after all that… I met Mickey McConnell through facebook one or two years ago. This summer, my family and me decided to visit Ireland and I asked Mickey where did he sing and he told me about McMunns, in Ballybunion. We went to have a dinner there on August, 26, and it was great, magic, exciting… My family and me enjoyed a lot, and, in two occasions, Mickey put his guitar on my hands and asked me to sing a couple of songs. It was very exciting to contribute to the magic of the pub with two Catalan songs. If only I had knew that I was going to sing I would have prepared some irish song; I usually sing “Grace” and “The great majestic Shannon” but I don’t know them by heart, and I sang two Catalan songs that I remember and feel very well. Anyway, It was great. The atmosphere of the McMunns was bewitching, entrancing, gripping, awesome… Mickey sang “only our rivers run free” “Viva la quinta brigada” and many others. Other man whom name I don’t remember that had been a very good football trainning (and player) many years before sang too (a deep song about a worker). A woman stood up and sang too (Me and Bobby McGee). Mickey made us feel welcomed; he dedicated songs to us, he explained to the whole pub that we had come from Catalonia, he introduced ourselves to one of the owners of McMunns and some other kind people, he helped us to feel very happy in a warm and kind human climate. That night, the Irish people of McMunns turned out to be like a group of friends for us, openminded, open to other culture (Catalan culture), cheery…

So… I want to thank Mickey such a wonderful night, three days before I turned fifty years old.

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Children know that the only good attitude in learning process is not fearing of making oneself ridiculous.

Some people think that all in life is a competition. For instance, when they are drawing or painting, they always compare themselves with the great masters of painting, and many times they feel themselves as losers. And when other people are drawing, (and mostly the other people don't draw as good as them) they compare these other people with the great masters of painting too, and most times they criticize them and tell them to drop this hobby because they say they make themselves ridiculous.

People that despise those who are not genius can't assume the painting or any other hobby just as a pleasure, or just as a way of enjoying... or expressing oneself... or being in life. They think that all the people have the same sense of ridiculous they have, because they consider that all the things we decide to do in life must be tools to win, to beat, to look, to captivate, to dazzle... They live as if life was a showcase where the genius should be contemplated and admired, and they think that people who are not genious should hide their works in a drawer to not make themselves ridiculous.

This attitude shows a deep and strong self-worship, because they dream about hovering over people, and therefore they criticize those ones who dare to show they works. They feel the works of the other people as threats. They feel that the people who enjoy practising the same hobby than them are competitors or opponents, and first of all, they despise and compel them to drop their hobby to feel safer.

But life is a learning process, and children know that the only good attitude in learning process is not fearing ridiculous, and daring to show and to enjoy our works and our progress. No child feels bad when he or she makes a mistake in his or her first words. And he or she hasn't even learnt to read or write yet. Life is too short to be shy or to be slave of our fears, or even worse... to be slave of the fear to make oneself ridiculous. If we fear, we are not free. If a little child feared to start to speak, he would never start to speak. Life is too short to listen to those who think than life is a competition and a fight to dominate or being dominated.

Anyone is capable of anything, if he or she dares to chase his or her dreams, and if he or she spares no effort to fight against his or her own despondency, and if he or she specially does their hobby to enjoy and not to be conceited.However, it's not always that easy to ignore the harsh words of those who despise our work and our happiness; but, if we want to be free, we must forget them and their poor words. They usually are envious and jealous, and they know it. They know their own weakness and they feel sad for it. The attack is the way they try to compensate their painfull feeling. Their mainly envy our freedom and our happiness.

On the other hand, there always will be harsh people, moron, unsensitive, intolerant... Bring it on! But our life is ours, and we must be free. At long last, some sweet and foolish things make our life worth, the simple and foolish daily things that bring back magic to us. No matter if we are not the best painters, the best writters, the best singers or actors... We must paint, write, sing, play, have a bath in a lost corner of the nature (like you can see above in the photo)... The life is made of all the foolish things that make us happy.

So... go ahead!   

The imperfection is the identity of the beings, and (after all) their beauty

The natural colors of the city. The line and the light. The details. The dirt poetry, with its core drenched in humanity. The alive niff of the colors. That which is alive spreads a natural niff that in any sense is deeply beautiful, and we can't trap this beauty. This beauty is invisible when the aseptic minds watch it.

The light, the orderliness and the chaos. The beauty of the alive imperfection. If we look at all the dead things of the world, it turns out that only the lovely imperfect things are alive. The imperfection is the identity of the beings, and (after all) their beauty. The chaos is the main performer of the beauty every time it destroys the dead perfection of the utilitarianist obsession of the Homo sapiens. The chaos save us from the ugliness of the status quo, and it beautifies the humdrum perfection of the orderliness, the humdrum perfection of that which is only valued for its utility.

We need shadows, cracks, moistures, dirtiness, astringency... and an entropy that be constantly creating an inimitable freedom. We need minds that open as the flowers do when the sun lights them up, and be able to see the beauty of the imperfection; the imperfection as a motor of the creation and the beauty; mistery of the instant; natural and astonishing drive that compels us towards the random. Once the random created us as a surprise, as an imbalance of the placid nothingness; and then, the chaos and the beauty appeared.

The soul of the current Berlin. Hackescher Markt. 39 Rosenthaler Strasse. Haus Schwarzenberg.

There's a place in Berlin that can't be defined. In the 39 Rosenthaler Strasse, there's a discreet and disguised gate; a hole in the front of some old jew houses in Hackescher Markt. Beyond the gate, we find a magic courtyard, with thousands of Graffities, and many strange doors that guide us towards strange and secret spots.

In this gloomy courtyard there is an arts cinema, a couple of alternatives cafes, galleries, some strange shop. This place has an atmosphere of anarchy, as we were in the pre-war slums.

There also is a museum about Anna Frank. 

Some people say that this place is an oasis in the middle of the gentrified heart of Berlin. Others have said that for getting a proper feeling of the soul of the current Berlin you have to go to Haus Schwarzenberg. I'd say that this uncommon point in a tech town expresses what Berlin is and what it hides inside its meaning.  

I love this Berlin. Berlin Wall East Side Gallery.

Because I love freedom, and I believe in individual freedom. Because I find beauty in the chaos. Because I think that another world is possible... I love Berlin.

Because I hate the walls, and because I love the people who overthrow the walls and then turn it into artworks... I love Berlin.

Because I love the woods, the immense woods inside the towns... and the snow in winter, and the children making an snowman... I love Berlin

Because I like the people who condemn the past of their country and proclaim the right to the freedom for everybody... I love Berlin.

Because I believe in the anarchy in the painting lines, in the colors, in the urban beauty, in the open minds, in the life's pace... I love Berlin.

Because the current Berlin is the hell of Hitler... a town where a girl can kiss freely a girl in a subway car, where a black boy kiss a white and blonde girl, where people of different races and typologies going out to have a good time in saturday night... a Berlin enemy of obedience and uniformity... I love this Berlin, deeply German and deeply human. 

Ich bin ein Berliner!