Le Nou – Restaurant – Barcelona

Le Nou - 93 Carrer Nou de la Rambla - Carrer de l'Est

Le Nou – 93 Carrer Nou de la Rambla, Barcelona

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Le Nou – Restaurant – Barcelona

If you’re going to eat one main meal of the day in Catalonia the best you can do, in terms of value for money and often in terms of quality, is to go for a ‘Menu’. Although in a place like Barcelona they are used to foreign tourists the pronunciation of this is phonetic, no fancy messing around with the ‘n’ as if it were a Castilian ‘ñ’.

This is a set meal, normally of three courses, that is: starter, main meal, and the 3rd which is often given as a choice between a dessert or a coffee. Check to see if the bread (pa) is part of the deal, as well as the beguda (drink). The drink can be something soft, like the ubiquitous and disgusting sugary drink that comes in a red can, a beer, water or wine. Decide at the beginning as if you change your mind that goes outside of the arrangement.

I had been exploring the area of Montjuic, an area I had been to before but many years ago, looking for a common grave that was supposed to exist of those who had been murdered by the Franquista Fascists during and after the Spanish Civil War of 1936-39.

By 14.00 I was getting hungry and passed a place that was busy (always a good sign) and had a ‘Menu’ on a blackboard outside that looked reasonable. (If you want the menu, in the English sense, then you ask for the ‘carta’.) Here it’s perhaps worth while saying that you can spend your time looking for a cheap Menu – and they do exist – but you get what you pay for. Pay little and the main course will be a hamburger and your drink will be served by the glass.

I chose Le Nou, at 93 Nou de la Rambla, a long, narrow street that runs west from La Rambla. It’s the street that has the Palau Güell at one end, the London Bar somewhere towards the first third and, if you keep on this road, just after passing Refugi 307 on your left, you’ll eventually pick up a path and then steps that take you alongside the diving pools of Montjuic – which older readers might remember from the 1992 Summer Olympics – (now sadly left to go to rack and ruin and with seagulls being the only patrons but I suppose that’s better than the situation in the late ’90s when dogs and children were swimming in the stagnant water).

The 1992 Olympic Diving Pool in 2014

The 1992 Olympic Diving Pool in 2014

But back to the meal.

I choose the fish soup as a starter and lamb cutlets for the main, which came with potatoes strongly influenced by garlic. There’s a lot of fish served in this restaurant so there’s no excuse for an infinite supply of good, fresh and strong fish stock, and that was what this soup was all about. Added to that stock were some shellfish, mussels and clams, as well as a large king prawn/Dublin Bay prawn/Langostine, choose your definition – I can’t always keep up with the gradations.

As I sat there waiting for my food what convinced me that my choice of restaurant a good one was the fact that although there were a few tourists, including myself, the majority of people were locals having their lunch break. If a place can provide a silent recommendation it can do much worse than indicate that local people keep on coming back. Whilst waiting for the first course, and during it, I heard a number of paella orders being called for the starter. This also seemed to go down well but as I make one of the best paella’s outside of Valencia (the home of the dish) it made no sense for me to go for it here.

As a drink I chose the red wine. This came as a bottle opened in front of me and basically you can drink as much as you want. One or two glasses, or the whole bottle, the damage when it comes to pay is the same. This used to be the case when I first started travelling around Spain/Catalonia 20 years ago but wasn’t sure if this was still the case now that we’re in the middle of the supposed ‘economic crisis’ but was glad to see that the tradition still continues.

Not that it was a great wine. Let’s be real here. We’re talking about a bog standard house wine and at 11% it was a bit young and thin and I won’t be looking for it in the shops in the future – I’ve already forgotten the name – and it tasted no more appetising at the bottom as it did at the top but I had to try for the sake of the blog (how I sacrifice myself for the internet?).

For the main course I had three thin, lamb cutlets – but not that thin you felt yourself being given short change. Well done, so if people like their lamb a bit raw perhaps this should be mentioned on ordering (don’t know what would be the result but my experience at this restaurant gives me the impression they would at least consider what was asked for) and the dish was more than adequate for my needs at midday after 4 or so hours walking around.

(It was my misfortune to sit next to a couple of young tourists. That’s not really a problem but they were of the generation that takes a picture of their food and posts it on some of the social networks. That’s not really my scene so you’ll just have to take my word about the food. Sorry!)

These places are also good for people watching, especially if you travel alone, and it’s fun to work out who are the regulars and who the newbies and perhaps one-timers. However the staff were quick and efficient without rushing the diners. They understood when the next course was needed and the orders were processed in an unhurried and competent manner.

A TV was showing music videos in the corner but not obtrusively. For me it was interesting as although I might know the names of these groups/individuals not having a tele I wouldn’t recognise them if the walked past me, in the same way as I wrote about the politicians I saw on the TV when I was just about to start the Coast to Coast walk at St Bees Head. The jury’s still out about whether I gained from seeing the tele during my meal or not but the experience hasn’t encouraged me to get one on returning home.

I went for the dessert instead of the coffee and was presented with a slice of cheesecake. Perfectly adequate.

I wasn’t rushed. I entered at about 14.00 when it was busy and left about an hour and a half later when it was quiet. A few people were coming in for the Menu and still getting, at least as far as I could see, the same options quite late in the afternoon – from my experience most Menus will finish around 15.00.

Menus (in the English sense) were in English for those who were obviously not Catalan/Spanish. I came in wearing a short-sleeved shirt so that put me in the camp of the foreigners right away as it was the middle of February. Although it was a pleasant spring day to me it was still winter for the locals.

If you’re up this end of the city, not exactly in the centre of the tourist attractions, I think you could do much worse than taking in the ‘Menu’ at Le Nou.

Practical Information:

Menu €9.90 – lunch time, more or less, 12.00 – 16.00

Address: Le Nou Restaurant and Bar, 93 Carrer Nou de la Rambla/Carrer de Santa Madrona

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The Railway Man (2013) – dir. Jonathan Teplitzky

British POWs on Burma Railway

British POWs on Burma Railway

The Railway Man concerns a surviving POW of the Japanese who was forced to work on the Burma Railway (of Bridge Over the River Kwai fame) and his post traumatic stress at his treatment, manifesting itself more than 35 years after the event.

As one of the other survivors says ‘war leaves a mess’. A bit of an understatement but obviously true but our realisation of that fact doesn’t make us any less likely, willing or even enthusiastic to send an ever-increasing numbers of men and women into conflict zones.

If the autobiography upon which the film is based, as well as the film itself, was arguing, if nothing else, that ‘war leaves a mess’ then surely we should be doing all we can to prevent such a mess from being created in the first place. This is especially so in a country that has been playing fast and loose with war since the disgrace and national shame of the Malvinas War of 1982.

Since then another Prime Minister, with an equal eye on history, has indulged his fantasy of long-lasting fame and, faced with gutless, opportunist and pusillanimous politicians and a weak population who oppose initially but support when ‘it’s our boys (and girls)’, has taken us along a road of never-ending conflict. When GW declared (probably the only true thing he ever said) that the ‘war against terror’ doesn’t have an end even he, I’m sure, didn’t expect that conflicts would be sprouting throughout the globe like poppies on the pockmarked, once agricultural, areas of Belgium.

So, I suppose, I’m asking what’s the purpose of this film (or any such like), this story of a personal tragedy?

Is it to ‘remind us’ that the British were the ‘good guys’ in the 1939-45 war? Is it to say, in the long-held Hollywood tradition, that the love of a good woman will bring resolution and redemption? Is it to say that revenge isn’t necessary and would probably have an even worse effect on he who perpetrated that revenge (as was the main point of the most recent film about South African apartheid, Mandela: Long Walk to Freedom)?

Because the whole idea of forgiveness is ludicrous if we allow the circumstances where such acts of barbarity can be committed to exist in the first place.

It’s the same about post traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). In WWI it was described as shell shock and treated as a weakness and very often as an excuse for cowardice. This was the case even in the years following the war when damaged men were seen and written about throughout Western European society (I’ve never read or heard about the effects the war might have made on those soldiers from the British colonies of the time, from India and Africa).

Now it’s a recognised illness and has been (although grudgingly by the state) accepted as a consequence of conflict since the United States invasion of Vietnam in the 1960s. However, in those major wars the majority of the soldiers involved were conscripts, not all, but the majority. For me that paints a different picture. To forcibly take a young man from his home environment, send him to a strange and exotic land where he’s invariably like the proverbial fish out of water, expect him to kill, commit atrocities in the name their particular State, and put his own life on the line it’s not then surprising if some of them go doolally.

However, what I do find difficult to accept is the present tranche of the military that have, are or will be fighting in this never-ending war against terrorism. OK, it might be acceptable for the first to have gone into Afghanistan in 2001 and even some of those who were part of the invasion force in Iraq in 2003 but the ‘War on Terror’ has been going on for near on 13 years now.

As most private soldiers on the front line are in their late teens or early twenties some of those would have been in their first years of primary school when the wars started and when the first casualties of PTSD they would have been in their first years of secondary school. Before they joined up weren’t they aware that ‘war leaves a mess’? Were they so blinded by state propaganda and their bloodless experience of playing video games that wars hurt people? That their friends might not make it back? That innocent men, women and children are often casualties of war? That they might see done, or even do, things they would not have thought themselves capable before leaving home?

You can’t have it both ways. You can’t have relations of the military killed in these conflicts declaring, proudly, before the press (and in that way justifying the military aspirations of the State) that their son/daughter ‘died doing what they loved’, when what they did was kill people. Psychopaths and serial killers can’t get away with that excuse so why can State sponsored killers? On the other hand some will say that they have been permanently scarred psychologically by their experiences of war. They should have known better BEFORE taking the Queen’s shilling. They should have gone into it with their eyes wide open.

In some respects by their supposed ‘suffering’ they are negating the real horror and suffering of those who were forced, against their will and better judgement or conned into believing in a greater ideal of King and Country and whose mutilated bodies became part of the mud of Flanders fields. The adverts appearing on TV and cinema screens at the moment romanticise the military and have the same effect of deluding the young people who are still lining up to join the army.

One the other things this film sparked off in me was an investigation into the roots of waterboarding. Due to the publicity of its use in the last 13 years or so, primarily against Al-Qaeda suspects but probably against anyone the Americans don’t like, I held the general idea it was a relatively recent innovation in the treatment of people over which you have absolute power. It couldn’t be further from the truth and, if you think about it, the roots had to lie in the past.

Why? Because it’s low tech, cheap and needs only a few items which are always to hand.

It’s use is documented by the Spanish Inquisition, which began in the 15th century, but there’s no reason to believe it wasn’t used long before that. It was used by the Inquisition to extract confessions of consorting, fornicating and generally being a servant of the Devil and, as is the nature of torture where people will say anything to make it stop, thousands admitted to whatever they were being accused. This fact, however, didn’t stop the United States Army from institutionalising this treatment as a form of ‘enhanced interrogation’.

In the Spanish-American War, which started in 1898 and which spread to war over the control of the Philippines, it was a regular form of treatment of prisoners and a sketch of the procedure was even carried on the front page of Life magazine, dated 22nd May 1902 – so no real reason for the Americans to be shocked about its use. There was even an army manual about it.

And the Americans took the practice to those places it sent soldiers during the 20th century. I thought I knew quite a bit about the invasion of Vietnam but I hadn’t come across mention of the practice before. (Notice, in the picture below, the smiles on the faces of the perpetrators.) So waterboarding became torture just for the fun of it more than 40 years ago and continues as such to this day.

Water boarding in Vietnam

Water boarding in Vietnam

One of the ‘niceties’ of waterboarding is it doesn’t actually cause any physical harm. If the body is angled so that the head is lower than the body it’s impossible for a person to drown. The trick is the victim thinks they are. It’s this fine distinction which allows the likes of Donald Rumsfeld to have made typically contradictory statements over the procedure and its effectiveness as a means of gaining information, specifically about the whereabouts and eventual assassination of Osama Bin Ladin.

But it all depends on who is being waterboarded in the first place. The now replaced Republican officials of the Bush-era have been reportedly joking at their parties about all sorts of war crimes. However, in 1947 a Japanese soldier was sentenced to 15 years in gaol for waterboarding a US citizen – I don’t have any more information. The British Army used it against Republicans in Northern Ireland in the 1970s and its inconceivable it wasn’t used against anti-colonial movements in Africa prior to that.

Finally on this matter. Abu Zubaydah was waterboarded 83 times for his supposed involvement in the September 2001 attacks on the Twin Towers in New York. It is reported the US intelligence forces gained 10 pieces of information from Abu Zubaydah, but nothing that was world shattering showing either he knew nothing or he was really tough.

Tougher, it seems, than US Navy Seals. Someone with a sense of humour in the US Defence Department thought it would be good to introduce waterboarding into the training programme. On average the recruits lasted 14 seconds. After a while it was decided this part of the programme was not particularly good for morale.

American Hustle (2013) – dir. David O Russell

Atlantic City after Hurricane Sandy 2013

Atlantic City after Hurricane Sandy 2013

Seventies fashion gets a lot of stick nowadays, as does the hair that went with it, but films with stories from the 70s are definitely in vogue at the moment (with Behind the Candelabra and Lovelace being two that come to mind). To the ensemble cast of actors that are up for a number of awards in American Hustle you could also add the clothes and even the music.

The Mob, Politicians and Corruption appear so often in the same sentence when discussing US society that it’s not a surprise that they come together here – with the FBI added for good measure.

Like all good stories of this type the surreal nature of the plot and unfolding of the story is made even more so by the fact that it is ‘based on a true story’. In 1978 the FBI hired/forced to cooperate a convicted con man in what became known as Abscam. This was an undercover ‘sting’ which set out to entrap, and succeeded in doing so, the mayor of Camden, New Jersey as well as an US Senator and a handful of other top politicians. Although the FBI was successful in both the film and in actuality this operation ended up being criticised for its tactics and the rules of the game, for them, were changed. Whether that was rightful indignation against entrapment or the politicians just trying to make things more secure for themselves in the future is another matter.

Camden was in the 1970s, and by all accounts remains to this day, one of the poorest inner city districts on the east coast. In real life Angelo Errichetti, the Democratic mayor from 1973-1981, was a bit of a populist and seemed to have a lot of support in his efforts to try to revive the district and bring down the high unemployment rate. The trouble starts when he considers that making gambling legal in Atlantic City (at that time the run down, once popular tourist resort on the coast) would lead to inward investment, regeneration of the area and employment opportunities.

Unfortunately for both the fictional and the real mayor in the US gambling means big money means the Mafia WILL have a share, the only question is ‘how much’. By bringing the gangsters into the affair he brings about his own downfall. When the FBI (when it’s not chasing Reds or getting involved in conspiracies to kill a president) smells the chance of a high-profile arrest of a top Mafioso they’re like a dog with a bone and won’t let go.

It’s interesting what goes around comes around.

This part of New Jersey was once a thriving commercial and industrial area when capitalism needed US workers. Through lack of investment and better opportunities elsewhere where labour was cheaper, in Latin America or Asia (a similar situation was developing at the same time in the UK) once so-called secure jobs just evaporated, almost overnight, leaving in its wake decline, deprivation and despair.

In such circumstances people will clutch at anything, even if the best that can be offered is working as a croupier in a casino – in Atlantic City that would mean working to put more money into the hands of the Mafia. So one set of gangsters is replaced by another, perhaps more honest, one.

Because of the FBI sting in the 70s the plan to develop the boardwalk in Camden didn’t come to fruition. Although a number of politicians were caught up in it (I won’t get into the discussion of whether they did what they did because they thought the best way to achieve what they had promised the voters rather than for personal gain – as far as I’m concerned all ‘democratically elected’ politicians are in it for something, whether it be financial gain or personal aggrandisement) none of the Mafia went down. I don’t know if it’s one of the true stories or whether it was put there for artistic effect but the mob boss threw a spanner in the works by showing a command of languages, even though he had been a cold-blooded assassin in the past. Fear of retribution also meant the Mafia were warned off. So the easy targets were caught but the real gangsters were allowed to go free due to incompetence.

For the people of Camden the debacle of the corruption case didn’t mean that national government looked on them favourably. They had gone through the disaster years of Nixon and Carter and they were about to face two terms of Reagan. If the national leaders didn’t come up with anything their future local ‘leaders’ didn’t turn out any better. Three out of the last 5 mayors of Camden have been convicted of corruption. Perhaps it’s something in the sea air?

I wonder how present day residents of Camden see the film? Even though in recent years the area has been developed there’s a stratification between the fortress like casinos and the ordinary people who live there, as was seen when Hurricane Sandy hit the resort last spring

The resort isn’t as sleazy as it was depicted in the 1980 film Atlantic City but it still doesn’t look any different from Blackpool with the sun – although I’m sure that during winter the Atlantic coast is a forbidding place. However, there are treats in store. February offers a Group Wedding Ceremony on the 14th (so get your booking in quick!). August provides the Grape Stomping Festival and there’s the Miss America Pageant in September. All year around you can ‘explore the world’s largest elephant’ or visit Bare Exposure with ‘over a 100 beautiful naked girls’ with a ‘buy one couch dance, get one free’ deal.

But Camden is still one of America’s poorest cities and suffers from all that accompanies such an economic situation. It has almost 5 times the violent crime rate of cities of a comparable size (giving it number one place in country) and two out every five residents live below the national poverty level. Rather than the situation getting better it seems that law changes in Philadelphia are starting to challenge Atlantic City’s monopoly on gambling so even that ‘boost’ to the local economy might be lost in the near future.

Such is the American Dream.