Posts Tagged ‘Balson’

“What’s in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet.”

William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet (Act II, Scene ii)

Years ago my brother Theo in London sent me some links to a famous butcher in Dorset called Balson, which happens to be the oldest business in England. No, I do not have any relation to the Balson family of Dorset. There is also an American author called Balson, and a few other Balsons around. Nope, no relation.

One of the hobbies my father picked up when he retired was genealogy. He set out to investigate his family’s origins, and he took it quite seriously. He took a course at the prestigious Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Cientificas (CSIC) and he proudly displayed his diploma and class picture on his home office wall.

He traveled around Spain visiting churches to gather data from birth, death and wedding certificates. He even went to Salt Lake City in Utah to research the Mormon genealogy vault / database where billions of family histories are stored – they denied him access. He still managed to research his family into the mid 18th Century before losing track. Not bad. His main findings were that the family originated in rural Lerida,

the area between Barcelona and Zaragoza. The original first name was Anton, which through the generations became Antonio – my grandad’s and uncle’s name. The family moved to Zaragoza by the 1800s and to Madrid by the early 20th Century, where my grandad settled and created a family.

So long story short: No butchers, no authors, but still an awesome family heritage.

  1. Sinin’s bar, La Torre, in a God forsaken village (Reliegos, León). A balm for my heart, cracking jokes while I iced my shin, charged my phone, and ate a delicious bocadillo de bonito while Duke Ellington blared on the speakers.
  2. Feeling bunches of grapes, their sensual weight, in the Rioja region.

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    Miles and miles of luscious (but green) grapes

  3. Speaking of the Rioja, crossing the Ebro River (the biggest river in Spain) on the old stone bridge.

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    Puente de Piedra, Logroño

  4. Swimming and having lunch at the refreshing public swimming pool at Zubiri.

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    The refreshing public pool in Zubiri

  5. Lunch at the Universidad de Navarra, when I had just gone in to get my stamp.

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    Universidad de Navarra, great for lunch and a stamp!!

  6. Freezing in Burgos.
  7. The Pilgrim’s Mass in Burgos.
  8. The smell of fig trees.

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    Baby figs!

  9. The chapel of Nuestra Señora de Monasterio in Rabé de la Calzada.

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    Sta. Maria de Monasterio

  10. The crystal clear, fresh water at Hontanas.
  11. Dipping my tendonitis inflamed leg in the cool, clear water in the Esla river at Mansilla de las Mulas – which, by the way, totally healed my leg!
  12. The barn turned albergue in Boadilla del Camino.
  13. Catching up to Krisztina in Villamayor de Monjardín, and again in Mansilla de las Mulas.
  14. The Pre-Romanesque chapel of San Miguel outside of Estella.

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    Ermita de San Miguel Arcángel

  15. Meeting Virgina one of my Dissertation Director’s best UVA friends in Leon, by chance!

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    Virginia is a friend of Irene, my Dissertation Director!!

  16. Meeting a baby cow in Santibañez de Valdeiglesias.20170708_112927
  17. Vespers with the nuns of St. Claire at their Convent of Carrión de los Condes.
  18. Seeing the rainbow outside of Leon.
  19. Vespers with the nuns in Sahagun.

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    Vespers in Sahagun

  20. The chapel at San Nicolas del Real Camino on the side of the Pisuerga River.
  21. The bumper cars in Nájera.
  22. Sitting on a bench the morning of my (forced) rest day reading the Book of Job in Carrión de los Condes and two gorgeous horses being walked down the street.
  23. A trailer bar set up in the middle of the parched fields a few miles before Los Arcos with the radio blasting and all sorts of refreshing goodies.

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    And in the middle of nowhere, an oasis!!

  24. An albergue in the middle of Palencia blasting Tchaikovsky, with geese in the garden, and native American tepees in the back yard.

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    You can sleep in there if you want!

  25. A fun, magical evening of love, drinks and tapas in Leon’s Barrio Húmedo and Barrio Romántico with my old colleague, Ana and her sister.

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    The fun and amazing Martinez sisters!

  26. Doing laundry every day.
  27. La Casa de los Dioses. A stop in the middle of a pine forest set up by David from Barcelona on an abandoned farm before Astorga. He had refreshing fruit, cool water from a botijo, and shade.
  28. The (free) wine fountain at Bodegas Irache.

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    The (free) wine fountain at Irache BTW there are plastic cups in the vending machine on the other side!

  29. The aperitivo before Sunday mass at Viana with Marie Helene and Krisztina.
  30. Drinks at the Drunken Duck pub in Logroño.
  31. Residencia Universitaria Miguel de Unamuno, León.
  32. Stopping for orange juice at La Morena, possibly the hippest albergue of the Camino, but definitely the best orange juice!
  33. Babia, across the street from the Burgos albergue, one of the best breakfasts on the Camino.
  34. Angel’s shop, Amari, in Larrasoaña, blaring the Blues Brothers on vinyl.

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    Amari in Larrasoaña is a great, fun, convenience store

  35. The chapel of San Esteban outside Pamplona where you can ring the bell (if you climb the bell tower).

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    San Esteban

  36. The coffee spoon at Mesón El Yugo in Valverde de la Virgen, it was s shaped so it rested vertically on the cup.
  37. Starting to walk in the pre-dawn darkness a few days.
  38. The river crabs being fished out of the Canal de Castilla near Frómista.

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    Delicious river crabs from the Canal de Castilla

  39. Putzing around Belorado for the better part of a morning: getting coffee, buying assorted supplies, visiting the pharmacy and the post office.
  40. Buying cherries in Pamplona from a rude sales guy that did not enjoy washing the cherries.
  41. Walking by Villava, birthplace and home of Miguel Indurain, my cycling hero.

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    Villava, home of the great Miguel Indurain, winner of 5 consecutive Tour de France!

  42. Translating the tour of Roncesvalles from Father Vicentín to English and French.
  43. Watching the San Fermin bull runs on TV in the mornings getting breakfast at bars along the Camino.
  44. Santa María de Eunate.

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    Sta. Maria de Eunate

  45. The massive medieval bridge at Hospital de Órbigo.
  46. Doing yoga on the lawn at Roncesvalles with James.
  47. A fire just outside the albergue in Cizur Menor.
  48. Watching the sun rise over the Pyrenees.

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    Sunrise over the Pyrenees

  49. The Romanesque cloister at the Cathedral of Estella.

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    The Romanessque cloister at the Cathedral of Estella

  50. The chickens at the Cathedral in Santo Domingo de la Calzada.

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    Legend has it that a chicken on the judge’s plate came to life to prove a pilgrim innocent, since then there are chickens in the Cathedral

After two days of faculty meetings and an apparently endless number of  year-end parties I can finally say my academic year is over, and what a year it has been. Granted, the first year at any job is always going to be hard. Add to that coaching two varsity level sports, editing my dissertation for publishing, a new town, a new state, and more importantly a new climate zone – Sub Tropical, and it was quite an experience.

Naples is the southernmost town on the West Coast, the Gulf Coast of Florida. The city did not really develop until the second half of the XX C with the advent of air conditioning. To this day it is still very much a resort town which booms in size from December to May with rich northerners, mostly from the Mid-West spending the “season” here. They have beautiful homes and cars, go to overrated and overpriced restaurants, and play golf, lots of golf. There are 80 golf courses in Naples, apparently the highest concentration of golf courses per capita in the US. The beach, did I mention there is a beach? The beach is miles of silky while sand, and since it is protected by the Gulf, it has quiet waters with small waves. It is a beautiful town with palm lined streets and gorgeous homes. The municipal tennis courts around the corner from my apartment have decadent clay surfaces. There are cute coffee shops, bars, cigar bars, and even some interesting restaurants. Half an hour driving and you are in the Everglades, the world’s largest Sub-Tropical jungle, infested with alligators, Florida panthers, etc.

In my June 2016 post The Job Search Part II, looking for jobs in secondary schools, I write how what attracted me to Naples was Seacrest’s educational philosophy. With time I will reflect on my teaching experience, on coaching girl’s varsity soccer and tennis, on living in Naples and so many other thoughts that I need to marinate.

The way the weather breaks down is that June to September is hot, humid, rainy and stormy. But the rest of the year it is “Endless Summer” always the perfect weather to enjoy the outdoors. I enjoyed riding my bicycle, running, walking on the beach, as well as riding Rocinante to work every day.

One of the highlights of my first year here has been discovering Artis Naples. Artis Naples is the home of the Baker Museum, a cute, little museum with some interesting pieces, and of the Naples Philharmonic and their fantastic concert hall. One of my fears coming to this remote corner of the world was that I was not going to find the cultural stimulation I had in Boston, Madrid or Chapel Hill. I was mostly wrong. Someone had told me that if I wanted to enjoy any culture I had to drive two hours across Alligator Alley to Miami, when in fact, groups like Miami City Ballet, or the Vienna Philharmonic come to Naples!

The season started with some nice amuse-bouche chamber music concerts in the museum. But the real season started with Elgar’s moving  Cello Concerto. After that it was Grimaud playing Brahms, Joshua Bell playing the Tchaikovsky Violin Concerto, Opera Naples performing Turandot in the Fall and The Magic Flute in the Spring, Handel’s Messiah, Dvorak’s Eighth Symphony, Abbado conducting Beethoven and Wagner, the Vienna Philharmonic, and the ballet Giselle –which is one of my favorites. Some concerts, like Anne-Sophie Mutter I had to miss due to coaching. Fortunately the folks at Artis are very nice and you can call in and change your tickets if you need.

On top of that the museum has a free late night on the last Wednesday of the month, so you can just go walk around, something I did most months!

A lesser known cultural gem in Naples is Opera Naples. They operate out of a refurbished warehouse in a bit sketchy industrial area of town. The artistic director is Ramon Tebar one of those wunderkinds who was conducting orchestras at 12 years old. He is a hot-shot from Valencia, another reason to love him! On top of the two operas performed at Artis, they did a few events at their home. Master classes and recitals with mezzo-soprano Renata Scotto, recitals by Gregory Kunde…

Sadly, there does not appear to be much more to choose from beyond this. The locals seem more interested in the size of their homes and their cars to be really culturally restless. Also, since the town lacks a university there are not many young people. There seems to be mostly families with young children or older folks, but little age diversity.

With my busy schedule, I had little time to explore the area, so that is one of the many things I am looking forward to.

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Teaching at Seacrest Country Day School

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The first times I saw Mélanie I must confess I did not pay much attention to her. In my defense I must say that I was in a bit of a rush and that in that very room was Francis, yes, the Saint Francis, done by my old friend Vicente Carducho. Nearby was Aesop, no, not Velazquez’s Aesop, but a version by my old Boston buddy John Singer Sargent, even Picasso was there. Ok it was a silly dish with a Centaur, which he probably whipped up between a swim at the beach and lunch at Vallauris, but still. But what really captivated me was my granddad’s old paisan Francisco, yes Francisco de Goya, he was upstairs in a couple of his Caprichos prints. Imagine finding Goya in a village in the middle of North Carolina, my mind was blown and I fell in love with Chapel Hill and with the Ackland Museum. My story with Mélanie came later.

Mélanie and I were formally introduced by a common acquaintance, a curator in the museum, in the Winter of 2013. After that I quickly grew to like her. We started seeing each other every Sunday. I would go to mass, then I would grab a coffee at the Carolina Inn and do some reading, and then I would go see her for a while. That was over two and a half years ago and we are still going strong. Our secret? when I am not reading to her, I monopolize the conversation.

After visiting Melanie just about every Sunday for the last few years – except during summer, I can tell you a few things about her: She is French, if you must know, from the South of France, Provence. She is a Marquise, so less than a duchess or a princess, but more than a countess or a baroness. This means that she is not the first French noblewoman I fall in love with, but that is a different story and it was a long time ago. At any rate, she is 30, she has been 30 since I met her, in fact, she has been thirty since 1789 when she was painted. Not a single wrinkle, that’s French beauty for you. Yes she is rich, check out that dress, that is heavy silk, with a stoat or ermine trim! She is artistic. Can’t you see her blue drawing paper? Where do you think the word blueprints comes from? Yes she loves to write, see the stylus in her hand? although the artist forgot to paint in an inkwell or bottle, or was he trying to tell us something? Hmmm. She is religious, her sash and medal means she belongs to a religious order, you know, for the nobility. She is wise, see the statue of Athena, or is it Minerva? never mind. Some people say she is married, but I don’t see no ring – and wedding rings have been around since the ancient Egyptians and Celts – go listen to Beyoncé.

Her full name is Mélanie de Forbin-Gardanne, Marquise de Villeneuve-Flayosc. Some call her Madame, maybe because she is nobility, but to that I say read the previous paragraph. Being noble and rich goes hand in hand with being a bit of a celebrity, even if she does not like it one bit. So besides the gossip that goes with being 18th C French nobility, and the painting, and being a “Grand Lady”, writer Allan Gurganus wrote a bit of a story about her, which, by the way is totally ficticious!!!

But enough of this superficial silly talk. Mélanie has a heart of gold. She was extremely well educated, she loves the arts and culture, and philosophy. Therein lies the problem. The Estates-General has just met in Versailles, ending up in a tennis court after Louis XVI kicked them out of the Grands Salles, where they were meeting. Heads are about to roll, many heads, literally. If you look closely, Mélanie has a longing in her gaze, her eyes are almost watery. She could care less about the painting and the painter, and the dress and the furniture. She has read Kant and Hobbes and Locke and Voltaire. She knows we can have a better world, but these Enlightenment thinkers full of Reason are forgetting a small detail: love. My Mélanie knows we can, and should, have a better world with everything that entails. When I go see her on Sundays she tells me all this, just with her eyes.

I can’t wait for next Sunday to go see Mélanie.