Stuff I struggle with: Posthumanism (and Transhumanism)

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We recently explored AI for our Film Club theme, watching Fritz Lang’s seminal Metropolis (1927), Ridley Scott’s already classic Blade Runner, the more modern Her (2013) with the great Joaquin Phoenix, Scarlett Johansson’s voice, and finally Ex Machina (2014).

The main discussion, besides the fact that the common thread was that everybody wants to have sex with the robot, was the whole Posthumanism debate. This is something I have been pondering for a few years, specifically since I met Professor Francesca Ferrando, a leading voice in the field of Posthumanism, at a conference in 2024.

My main concern is the paradox, or rather, the oxymoron, of Humanism in a Posthuman world. I discussed this in relation to AI and Caravaggio here. This brings me full circle back to our original observation in Film Club that all our films boil down to Humanism.

I am obviously oversimplifying here, but the basic premise of Posthumanism is that humans coexist with non-humans to the point where humans are no longer the driving force on the planet, as it is overtaken by technology and ecology. The tricky bit is how do you define co-exist, and how to define non-human. Maybe, as a Humanist, I struggle with the labeling. Posthumanism just seems too apocalyptic, too alarmist. I know I should worry, but this made me think about the concept of Humanism, which was only made up, as a label, in the 19th century. Greek writers and philosophers did not realize they were humanists; they were just doing their thing. Even Renaissance humanists like Erasmus, Luis Vives, or Dante did not consider themselves humanists. Of course, the word Humanitas and the study of it existed, but the folks who studied it did not call themselves Humanists.

In conclusion, and I realize I am only —at best— scratching the surface of this argument, there is only Humanism, everything else is academic labels (which I wish I had invented: Posthuman, or Transhuman, and then written a book about).

On sauna and sauna etiquette

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I discovered the sauna in college in the early 80s. My dear friend Theo and I would go to the gym a few times a week, enjoy a sauna and the steam room, where we would chit chat with professors, hoping (in vain) to improve our grades, then we would go to the pool for a little swim.

A library book on proper sauna protocols and etiquette soon had me really enjoying my sauna time. Since then, I have been a fan and enjoyed them wherever I find one.

One of the few benefits of the building where I live in Florida is… the sauna and the steam room. I no longer have the time to go a few times a week like I did in university, but I try to go at least once a week.

The sauna is a relaxing time of silence, almost a meditation. Unfortunately, in the United States, there is little sauna culture, so I occasionally have to deal with folks who have no idea what they are doing. Here are a few pointers, which are mostly based on respect:

Dry sauna, as the name implies, is dry. Do not waltz in soaking from the swimming pool; your sauna will be counterproductive. The same applies to those who continue to pour water onto the hot stones. The water is to be used at the end of your sauna for a humidity shock called löyly (a Finnish word since that is where sauna originates).

Sauna in Europe is generally naked. In the US, we must adjust to the Puritan DNA and wear a towel or a bathing suit, but not your gym clothes, and certainly not your sneakers. Also, the sauna is a place to sit and sweat, not to do your post-workout stretching!

Keep the door closed, please. No need to heat the locker room!

As I mentioned before, the sauna is somewhat of a sacred space for relaxation. Keep conversations quiet, and please, no phones or tablets, we have enough of them already —I have seen this and find it most disrespectful.

In conclusion, a sauna is a wonderful experience: rejuvenating and relaxing. Keeping other users in mind will improve everybody’s time there. You are welcome.

The greatest tiny gym in the world.

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If you are a reader of this blog, you know that I like to think that I am a connoisseur of gyms, as you could read here and here. You also know that I strive to stay fit, mentally, spiritually, and physically. This means that if I am going to have an extended stay somewhere where I am going to have some routine, I need a gym.

This is what happens when I visit my family in Madrid. For the last few years, when I come, I get myself a monthly membership at Synergym.

This is a great gym; it has a great vibe, a great staff, chill but helpful when needed, the definition of professional, led by their great manager, Paula. It has all the equipment and classes you need, all the requirements of a modern-day gym. Everything is managed by the Synergym App, including entry to the gym. It also helps that it is very reasonably priced.

There is one main issue with this gym: it is tiny. Yes, it has all the equipment: 5 treadmills, 1 staircase, a bicycle, and a handful of ellipticals for cardio, all the main weight machines, a squat rack, a cable machine, and of course, dumbbells, oh, and all the plates you could ever dream of —there are plates everywhere! The problem is that they are all in a tiny room. There is another room for fitness classes, changing rooms, showers, etc.

The trick is that if you go when there are many people, you do not have the luxury of waltzing from one station or machine to the other —unless you are very patient— so you must know your exercises well so you can get a good workout at any given station.

So if you are looking for a chill, neighborhood gym in Chamberí, you have a solid understanding of your workouts, and you are not too fussy, Synergym is for you! You are welcome.

The Sleeper. El Caravaggio Perdido

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Although I have a lot of blog posts on film, I have remarkably few on documentaries (other than on Minimalism, and on the Camino).

Ok, this is the story: My friend Jaime’s daughter is good friends with a family that for years had Caravaggio hanging in their dining room, which they thought was a bad imitation of a Murillo, and would have been happy to get 1,500 euros at auction.

This is a documentary on the story of that painting, it is very well done. I recently saw it on the plane ride back to the US and I really enjoyed it!

While narrating the story of this painting, the documentary delves into the world of art dealers, art historians, auction houses, and art restorers. It offers a fascinating glimpse into this normally secretive world. And it all revolves around Caravaggio, who is not only an amazing painter, but who had a fascinating life; there are not that many world-class painters who killed someone!

Apparently, it is available on Prime Video, so if you have the possibility of seeing it, and you like art, definitely see it. You are welcome.

My favorite authors series, Part II: Gabriel García Márquez

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Ooops. I just realized that in 14 years of writing this blog, I have never dedicated a post to Gabriel García Márquez, shame on me.

You see, García Márquez is one of the reasons I love literature, one of the reasons I made books my livelihood. My dear college friend Silvia recommended One Hundred Years of Solitude, and when I read it, my mind was blown to smithereens! I was hooked and proceeded to read most of Marquez’s novels.

La hojarasca (1955)

El coronel no tiene quien le escriba (1961)

Cien años de soledad (1967)

El otoño del patriarca (1975)

Crónica de una muerte anunciada (1981)

El amor en los tiempos del cólera (1985)

El general en su laberinto (1989)

Del amor y otros demonios (1994)

Memoria de mis putas tristes (2004)

I also read many of his short stories and one of his books of short stories:

Doce cuentos peregrinos (1992)

To top it all off, I even read one of his more famous interviews.

El olor de la guayaba (1982), con Plinio Apuleyo Mendoza.

When you speak of García Márquez, everybody mentions Magical Realism. Which he did not invent (it started in Germany). Oh, just so we are clear on what Magical Realism is, it is when extraordinary, often fantastical things occur, and the people who witness or live the event don’t even bat an eyelash; it is a common, everyday thing for them. One Hundred Years of Solitude has a lot of Magical Realism; it is the flagship for Magical Realism, but much of his other work has much less, or even no Magical Realism. By the way, many other authors incorporate this genre, including Isabel Allende in Casa de los Espíritus.

“Yo conservaba un recuerdo muy confuso

de la fiesta antes de que hubiera decidido

rescatarla a pedazos de la memoria ajena”

Gabriel García Márquez, Crónica de una muerte anunciada

But that is not the reason I love GM —although I do enjoy those moments! I love how extraordinarily well he writes, but at the same time, how normal it appears; there is no showing off, no showboating, no “look at that sentence” that many authors with far less talent leverage.

I also love how García Márquez brings you into the setting and the story, how easy it feels to be an observer of his world. Granted, all his work comes from true stories, which makes it even more fascinating to feel a part of them.

“Era una síntesis de los últimos acontecimientos nacionales

impresa en mimeógrafo para la circulación clandestina.”

Gabriel García Márquez, El Coronel no tiene quien le escriba

A favorite? I don´t really have a favorite. Amor en los tiempos del cólera is my favorite love story and one of my favorite books. Crónica de una Muerte anunciada is the book I have read the most, since I teach it and will often read it before the course starts and again with the students, which is what has prompted this blog post 😊

So if you have not yet read any of Gabriel García Marquez’s work, and you feel ambitious, go for One Hundred Years of Solitude. If you prefer to dip your toes in the water and just get a feel, read a short story, or better yet, one of the shorter books like Crónica de una muerte anunciada or Memoria de mis putas tristes.

“Las vidas no se acaban sólo con la muerte”, dijo el general.

“Hay otros modos, inclusive algunos más dignos.”

Gabriel García Márquez, El general en su laberinto

García Márquez died in 2015. I will always remember it because it was the weekend I had to write my doctoral exams. And although I was writing about 18th C Spanish Satire, Colonial Satire, and Medieval Satire, I still put a García Márquez epigram to each of my essays in honor. Here they are (of course, without the whole essay, these epigrams lose their context…)

So, if you have not yet read any Gabo, you have my full recommendation. You are welcome.

A morning in Toledo.

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Since we had gone to the Puy de Fou night show the evening before, and the theme park does not open until noon, Celia and I recently found ourselves with time to kill in Toledo on a Saturday morning.

Our first stop was the Santa Fe Roberto Polo collection, which hosts the Centro de Arte Moderno y Contemporáneo de Castilla-La Mancha. This is a huge ancient church complex featuring Roman ruins, gorgeous, intricate ceiling paneling, and a beautifully delicate chapel, which is mixed with ridiculous modern art pieces that only add to the beauty of the old pieces and underscore the stupidity of the modern ones.

From there, we turned the corner to the Santa Cruz Museum, an astonishing Renaissance structure that once housed the late medieval Children’s Hospital. To our surprise, there was a phenomenal exhibit of fairly random pieces, including a feared pre-Roman falcata sword. But the real star of that exhibit was an El Greco painting of St. Peter, where I had a bit of a Stendhal moment —amazing!

From there, we had time to walk across Zocodover Square, almost down to the Cathedral, before turning up on Trinidad Street to the Capilla de la Inmaculada Concepción for a moment of quiet contemplation and meditation (did you know that you should be meditating?). This chapel has perpetual adoration, which means that it is open 24/7 for people to pray. It is a quiet oasis in the tourist frenzy that is Toledo.

After that, we had to get back to the car to head out to Puy de Fou for a hot, blistering day of fun. You can read about that here.

The amount of mind-blowing, beautiful, culturally enriching things you can do in Toledo is almost limitless. That Saturday, that is what we came up with.

Michael Jackson and Hegel in Nosferatu (1922) and Nosferatu the Vampyre (1979)

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There is a scene in Nosferatu (1922) where Count Dracula is looking across his window at Lucy Harker. When he slowly retreats from the window, his hands are awkwardly positioned in a sort of sideways traffic-stopping gesture. This is the key move in Michael Jackson’s (who was a big fan of Count Dracula) Thriller video dance sequence. There you have it, now let’s talk about Hegel’s influence on Werner Herzog’s Nosferatu the Vampyre (1979).

There is a nerdy viral meme showing side-by-side pictures of philosopher Hegel and film director Herzog —who look remarkably similar— asking when Herzog will play Hegel in his biopic. As with the reality surpassing fiction aphorism, there is more here than meets the eye.

The key scene in Herzog’s film is when Lucy Harker (Isabelle Adjani) has a conversation with Count Dracula (Klaus Kinski). This poetic philosophical dialogue exposes Herzog’s Hegelian philosophy:

Dracula:          You must excuse my rude entrance. I’m Count Dracula.

Lucy:               I know of you from Jonathan’s diary. Since he has been with you, he is ruined.

Dracula:          He will not die.

Lucy:               Yes, he will. Death is overwhelming. Eventually, we are all dead. Stars spin and reel in confusion, time passes in blindness, rivers flow without knowing their course. Only death is cruelly sure.

Dracula:          Dying is cruelty against the unsuspecting, but death is not everything; it is more cruel not to be able to die. I wish I could partake of the love which is between you and Jonathan.

Lucy:               Nothing in this world, not even God, can touch that. And it will not change. Even if Jonathan never recognizes me again.

Dracula:          I could change everything. Will you come to me? And be my ally, there will be salvation for your husband, and for me. The absence of love is the most abject pain.

Lucy:               Salvation comes from ourselves alone, and you might rest assured that even the unthinkable will not deter me. Goodnight.

In his Lectures on the Philosophy of Religion, Hegel takes a novel approach to salvation, taking it beyond the religious to the existential —even when Existentialism as such was being “invented” a bit further north in Denmark by Kierkegaard. The road to salvation in Hegel’s view is tied to one’s spirituality, one’s spiritual journey.

Other than in Transylvania, Bram Stoker’s Dracula takes place mostly in London, but the 1922 film Nosferatu takes place in the fictional German city of Wisburg, which is actually Wismar. In Werner Herzog’s Nosferatu the Vampyre, the Dutch towns of Delft and Schiedam serve as stand-ins for the German city of Wismar circa 1850. Having the story set in mid-1800s Germany allows the characters to more plausibly have read orstudied under Hegel. Ok, that is a bit of a stretch. But you get the idea.

Oh, by the way, I also saw 2024 Nosferatu, and I must be getting old and cynical, because I did not like it at all. All the AI neogothic, steampunk, everything (landscapes, backgrounds, the castle, blah, blah, blah), the exaggeration, the predictability, bilingual count Orlok (Romanian and English), the sexualization, the juvenile script: “Does evil come from within us, or from beyond?” Even that sublime scene between Lucy and Dracula in Herzog’s version becomes a gaudy monstruosity in this film. I found only one redeeming quality to this production: Willem Dafoe. If you want my ranking: 1979, 1922, and if you must, 2024.

Vendemos el Bismarck, el Merche, el coche de mi padre.

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Aunque a mi padre le gustaban los ordenadores (Apple), pasear por el Retiro, comer (y beber) bien, lo que más le gustaba eran los coches. Así que, en 1980, en la feria del automóvil de Frankfurt compró un Mercedes 500 SEL —que todavía no había salido al mercado. Unos meses más tarde, en 1981, lo recogió en la fábrica de Sindelfingen.

El Mercedes 500 SEL fue el mejor coche del mundo en su época: suspensión neumática, motor V8 de aleación, el primer coche con ABS, etc., etc. Mi padre nos dejó en 2015.

No puedo decir las veces que ese coche cruzó España y Europa. Viajes a Londres a visitar a mi hermana, viajes a Ginebra a visitar a mi otra hermana, viajes a Andalucía o a Euskadi a visitar amigos. ¡Cualquier excusa era buena para hacer un viaje de cientos o miles de kilómetros!

El Mercedes está en venta. Está dado de baja temporal en Tráfico, y lleva levantado del suelo, parado en el garaje desde 2012. ¡Si te interesa, contacta en comentarios!

The best barbacoa in the Sierra de Guadarrama, Marcelino.

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When writing reviews for this blog, I sometimes struggle with sharing too much about a place I love. Not that I am making any place TikTok famous, blogging is not TikTok after all, and my readership, while loyal, is not exactly viral; nevertheless, one still has a bit of pride in thinking that they can influence some readers to follow one’s recommendations.

This is the case with Bar Restaurante Marcelino in the tiny village of La Navata, North of Madrid. Marcelino, which has been around for ages, is the best barbacoa in the Sierra de Guadarrama. You can find fancier places, regional, and international foods, and more famous places, or with better views, but none have the combination that makes Marcelino so special.

Marcelino is housed in the original 1949 granite building, which was the preferred construction method in this area of the Sierra de Guadarrama. It has a huge “terraza,” an outdoor area split into two areas: the regular café, and the Barbacoa for the evenings.

While I am on vacation at my mom’s house during the summer, I walk down the hill every day for my coffee —and if I am lucky, a churro. Some days in the afternoon, I walk down with Celia for an afternoon snack. But the real highlight is the Barbacoa at night.

We are talking old school —with old school service, open air, oak charcoal, with the best available meats on the market (I know because we share the same butcher, but that is for another blog post). Chorizo, morcilla (black or blood sausage), Pinchos morunos (kebabs), lamb chops, etc.…

The vibe is relaxed, although you do need to make reservations. Enjoy a sangría, a Tinto de Verano, or a cold beer, get some appetizers, and enjoy the best barbacoa in the Sierra! You are welcome.

Let’s talk about it.

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As the great Frank Sinatra would say, “Regrets, I’ve had a few.” One of them is not talking enough, not conversing enough, not listening enough. Communication, and especially effective communication, is critical for relationships, work, and life in general.

Conversation, from the early stages of a relationship, professional, personal, romantic, you name it, is vital and decisive, and as that relationship progresses through time, you must keep it going, keep it fresh, ask questions, and listen, listen, listen.

It was not until college that my favorite management professor, Aaron Nurick at Bentley College taught me to listen – he has been a mentor ever since! Still, I am far from being a great conversationalist or listener; normally, my ADHD kicks in, and I must focus and listen.

For the last seven years, I have taught at the university level, which means that my conversations with students are adult conversations (conversations with high school students are also rewarding, but the maturity difference makes for somewhat unbalanced discussions).

Your responsibility in keeping up your end of a conversation is not what is commonly called the “gift of gab,” which might be good to “break the ice,” but is rarely useful beyond that, but rather, as Socrates would say: knowing yourself enough to know how to steer a conversation. Know your strengths and weaknesses on your most personal level, which means knowing yourself. Counterintuitively, that will happen from being alone and spending time getting to know yourself.

So practice your conversational skills, your active listening skills, and you will be a richer person for it. You are welcome.

“The most fruitful and natural exercise for our minds is, in my opinion, conversation.”

― Michel de Montaigne, The Essays: A Selection