Christmas Phd-ing

I didn't enjoy my time at university all that much. After a great first year it became a bit humdrum to be honest. I enjoyed the course, though. I just wish it had been squeezed into one year so I could have avoided the bad hair, boredom and debt. The degree was run by the chalk and cheese pairing of the humanities and science faculties at Bristol UWE and called Science, Society and the Media. It was an often confusing mish mash of media studies and practical science experiments one week, followed by a way out pairing of classical scientific philosophy and cosmology the next. I actually think it was cancelled a year after I left. Anyway, out of all the confusion I ended up with a pretty respectable degree and began thinking about the world in a completely different way. I suddenly had the confidence to approach the 'Big Ideas' with a bit of logic and rational thought, a bit like Einstein, and wasn't scared shitless by physics anymore. Even so, when Paul St George, a multi-media artist, sculptor and Principal Lecturer in Computer Animation at the London Metropolitan University, asked me to proofread his 40,000-word PhD thesis and root out the mistakes I trembled a little under the weight of his big ideas. Along with an interesting foray into the pioneering works of nineteenth-century filmmakers, such as Eadweard Muybridge and Étienne-Jules Marey, and their influence on contemporary visual artists, his masterpiece was essentially about how space and time is represented and constructed by both the artist and the observer, I think, and how this throws up new questions about a multi-dimensional universe, I think. What I do know for sure is that there were a few typos, grammatical wobbles and formatting issues that needed my expert eye. www.paulstgeorge.com

Innovation frustration

This morning I was looking at myself in the mirror, quietly confident I had the best a man could get, when I suddenly realised – with a little discomfort – that I didn’t. What had happened to my razor of champions; a blade that was supposed to handle the demanding contours of my face, as well as a bit of her unorthodox against-the-grain leg shaving? Well, it had gone blunt as a spoon after a week and I happened to feel like a loser: a stubbly one. But us freelancers are well accustomed to that. No, what really pissed me off was returning to purchase the same brand of blades and discovering what kind of ‘innovation technology’ they had been investing in. It would appear that battery-operated vibration and vitamin e-secreting neon-strip ‘upgrades’ had drained the budget out of making decent razor blades forever. Aren’t they missing the point there slightly? Do they care? I fear not. In fact, I’m beginning to see a rather ugly pattern emerging, and it’s not just the one on my chin. Pointless innovations, updates and applications that do little or no service to the original piece of machinery – sounds like a good rant piece for the Vueling inflight magazine, Ling...

In other words

There are three types of foreigner in Spain: those who have lived here a few years and speak less than 10 words of Spanish (it must be true; I read it in a Giles Tremlett book); those who have lived here a few years, speak very good Spanish yet still assume they sound terrible; and those who have lived here a few years and think their spoken Spanish is pretty good when it's actually bloody awful. I fall into the third category. Locksmiths, receptionists and the old lady next door will testify to this. And though it has improved steadily since I arrived (positively skyrocketing once I realised fluency wouldn't come by watching gameshows or eavesdropping in bars, but by study) I still find it incredibly frustrating that I can't be as articulate in Spanish as I can, on a good day, in English. What I can do very well, however, is understand the written word. So when my girlfriend, a qualified translator, asked me to do the donkey work on a 28,000-word translation last week, it seemed like the perfect opportunity to repay a small chunk of the linguistic debt to her I incurred when we arrived. Picture the scene two years ago: Her: "Babe, can you get the door phone while I'm putting on my make-up?" Me: "No, I'm scared." I wasn't easy to live with. Anyway, back to the translation: it was vast. But we persevered and completed it on deadline (within five days!). And apart from a liiiiittle bit of stress, I found the whole experience very gratifying. As well as the obvious act of translating one language into another, the whole process involved a hefty amount of editing, sub editing, proofreading and hundreds of "how would we say that in English?" questions. Basically, a few things I have a geekish fascination with already. Woe betide anyone who thinks translation is just replacing words with equivalent words; you've got to find the cultural and linguistic equivalence! We did. And I helped. Only 95% of the debt left to pay then...

Eternal youth

Rome, the Eternal City, will always inhabit a sentimental albeit pokey little corner of my heart. It was the destination of my first romantic getaway. It was also deserted and rained solid for the entire three days. We spent most of our time hopping from closed pizzerias to bad exhibitions to bed (and repeat), but we somehow managed to find the bright side, and the handful of Romans that hadn't left the city to spend Christmas with with their nans. My own experience was no doubt lightened a shade or two by the woman I was with (and still am) and also the little boy I overheard by the Trevi Fountain during a particularly brutal thunderstorm. And I quote: "This place is rubbish! Everything's broken and there's cat shit everywhere." Poor sod. He was right, though. The ruins don't always appeal to everyone and the cats – along with a gaggle of particularly prickish waiters – did saunter about like they owned the place. At the time, however, I did feel better that I wasn't having as much of a crappy time as him. I later felt guilty. This month, I have decided to dedicate my 'Roam Rome with the kids' piece in the Wizz inflight magazine to him. Bless. (www.wizzmagazine.com)

Special branch

E-e-e-e-eeewoks!

Blog role

This is me sitting outside the Docamar bar in Madrid. Owner Raúl kindly caught me in mid munch as I worked my way through his famous patatas bravas. Okay, he didn't invent the tapas staple but you won't find many places in Madrid, or elsewhere for that matter, that serve it dripping in the tastiest hotdamn salsa you'll ever come across. I included his excellent bar and an account of his dedication to potato dressing in a blog-style city guide to Madrid. I basically ran around town asking various people to recommend me their favourite bars, restaurants, sights etc. I then went and did exactly what they recommended. I started off at funky t-shirt shop La Tipo and let the domino effect of recommendations lead me into a seedy cabaret club at about 2 in the morning. I met some great people along the way and hopefully the article will inspire a few people to ditch the guide book occasionally and rely on the vast (and better informed) resource of people that actually live and breath Madrid to suggest a few good places to burn euros. You'll find my on-the-hoof account in the Wizz Magazine this August. (www.wizzmagazine.com)

Alicante revisited

"The only people who ever have a bad word to say about Alicante are the very same people who have never been there. Situated on the Spain’s eastern coast, bordering Murcia on the south and Valencia on the north, Alicante is, in reality, one of the country’s most attractive and cosmopolitan cities with an irresistible all-year-round buzz. Add that to rich cultural and culinary traditions, demonstrated by a wide selection of award-winning museums, world-class restaurants and deep-rooted festivities, and you might to ask yourself why you haven’t been to see the true Alicante for yourself yet." Okay, there's a sniff of hyperbole in the introduction to my online Alicante guide for YeahBaby (web coming) but I'm no liar. Admittedly, summer might not be the best time to sample the full spectrum of what's on offer – as it normally turns into a bit of a wild party town – but you might be surprised at what you can find during the rest of the year with a good guide. Architecture, gastronomy, artesanal sweet shops, swish beach clubs, picturesque day escapes... it's all there if you start looking in the right place and, of course, stop listening to the naysayers.

Happy birthday to zoo

There aren’t many cities on the planet that can boast an 11km park running through the centre of town. Fewer still that can boast a 100,000-square-metre replica of African and Madagascan landscapes - plus animals - living at the end of one. But Valencia is one of the lucky few. The city's one-year old Bioparc represents one of the world’s latest "immersion zoos" - zoos that meticulously recreate animal habits for their continued wellbeing without obvious bars or cages. By effectively recreating natural habitats with the same ecosystem, immersion zoos allow their animals to behave and mix as they would in the wild: washing, grazing, playing and, hopefully, breeding. I took my lady to the zoo for her birthday (as you do) and we were thrilled to see every one of these activities undertaken by a mixed bag of animals, without an obvious care in the world. Like them or loathe them, you'd have to admit after closer inspection that zoos don't get more comfortable than this. Just look at this happy fella above. A photographer friend Juergen Horn (www.jhfoto.de) was taking full advantage of the giraffe-eyeview platform when he captured this proud beauty. Have a look at the write up here (www.wizzmagazine.com).

The magnificent seven

Never underestimate the little places. That was the uncomplicated message behind my seven-city rundown for the easyJet magazine. After looking through the budget flyer's destination list on the search for inspiration (I do that occasionally) I came across a few destinations that I had never seen mentioned in the magazine – despite being some of their most popular summer destinations. I just wanted to give them their 15 minutes of fame (three million people read the mag every month, doncha know?) and highlight a few unknown facts, names and places. Now most people could probably tell you where to find La Sagrada Familia, St Marks Cathedral or Big Ben without blinking, but would they know where Napoleon was born, where in Italy they'd find a White City (pictured) or get a portion of tasty ful medames? I gave them a helping hand with small feature highlighting a few of the unknown gems to be found in Hurghada, Bastia, Ajaccio, Catania, Lamezia Terme, Dalaman and Brindisi (www.ink-live.com/easyjet/2009/mar)

Memory jogging

This is me nearing the end of a 9km 'sightjog' through the streets of Barcelona. That guy next to me is the reason why. His name is Arnd Krüger and besides being a very fit and very friendly chap, he is the brains and brawn behind an ingenious little company called Sightjogging. Offering to take you on eight different runs of upto 15km around the city sights, Sightjogging also offers a refreshing alternative to dull sight slogging with the crowds. You'll notice from the picture that it's just the two of us. That was pretty much how it was for the entire run. Apart from Jody taking the photos, the places normally overrun with people – La Rambla, El Call and Port Vell – were completely deserted. Why? It was 7am. It was a great chance to take in some of Arnd's many historical anecdotes and uncover a side of the city you rarely see. My breathless account will feature in the May/June issue in of the Ryanair inflight magazine. (ryanairmag.com)

Trial by tapas

"Hi Owain, How are you down there in VLC? Fancy finding a needle in a haystack for CNN Traveller magazine? Let me know. Ta!" Well, the editor may as well have said that. What he actually said was nearer to this: "Get over to Madrid, sniff out six of the best tapas joints and file copy as soon as you can. I don't care if there are greasy prints on it." Now finding six of the best 'anythings' is always going to be a tricky job. My six best might not even make it into your twenty best, for example, but it's normally a fairly subjective decision. Not a massive problem, but there is the problem of finding six of the best tapas bars in a city that's heaving with them. So where do you start? Having a fairly sound knowledge of Madrid from previous visits I decided to narrow it down to the best in the barrio (neighbourhood). In La Latina, for example, you head straight to Cava Baja for the best selection of tapas bars in a row. I chose a Basque one, Taberna Txakolí, as it stood out in the crowd of Madrileños. So my 'best tapas bars' piece became a collection of tapas bars with the best angles. An old man's bar turned gastro tapas bar near Real Madrid's hallowed stadium (Iciar), a Michelin-star chef turning his hand to ensalada rusa at Sula and a place that's been famous for salsa drenched patatas bravas since 1963 (Docamar). But then again, if my best isn't good enough for you, it's probably best to start pounding the streets of Madrid for yourself. (cnntravellermagazine.com)

Finding Miss Platnum

Every once in a while you find a true star in the making. Romanian-born, Berlin-based Miss Platnum is one of them. Funny, funky and full of soul, she made me a convert to her infectious brand of Balkan Pop after one interview for the April-May issue of WizzIt magazine. A little bit hip-hop, a little bit gypsy horns and violins –with lyrics about fried chicken wings and forced marriages thrown in for good measure– Miss Platnum's 'sound' is not one I would usually be drawn to. But that soon changed. I had her MySpace page on loop while I transcribed the interview and I was singing tracks like "Give Me The Food" and "Come Marry Me" for the rest of the week. Admittedly, the lyrics lose some of their wicked irony coming out of my gob but I suppose I was just enjoying some refreshing lyrics in my ear and on my tongue. Makes a big change from all those faux soul divas who warble on sincerely about love, hurt and bling tings, I tell thee. Miss Platnum says: sing your heart out about something you really love and have a laugh while you do it. I say: you go girl! (myspace.com/missplatnum)

Hot dates

I love Europe. I love her cities, I love her food, I love her accents. But most of all, I love her capacity to have a good time. The gigs, the exhibitions, and the festivals happening across the Continent every month prove to me that there isn't a dull bone in her body. So throughout the three-and-a-bit years I've been compiling the easyJet magazine's events pages, I've been trying to convey that proof and convince people there's always something decent going on, wherever you are. When I first started writing the guide it was nine events squeezed onto half an A4 page with two pictures for illustration. Needless to say, I learned to pick the kind of events that would shine in a sentence and how to source a few eye-catching images. The calendar has since expanded to cover four-pages (I would love to take credit for that but I'm sure it was a design thing) but I still apply the same quality controls: could I get someone off their arse/interested with a sentence? Is my Latvian/Italian/Greek good enough to get a high-resolution picture out of the organisers? Have a look and see if you're moved this month. (ink-live.com/easyjet-inflight-magazine)