S-A-R-A con “H” mudo al final…

My name is constantly spelled wrong even though I spell it out and I, obviously, write it correctly in my daily correspondence. I received my first apology email ever from a Spanish secretary working in London. Her boss is Spanish and she emailed me to confirm a meeting with one of the three musketeers. Here are the emails:

“Good afternoon Beatriz,

Many thanks for sending me the confirmation; Boss 2 will meet your boss in the lobby of the Ritz on the 12th.

Kind regards,

Sarah Warden”

Her reply:

“Sarah,

Many thanks to confirm and apologies for the misspelling of your name.

Kind regards,

Spanish secretary in London”

My reply:

“No problem about the misspelling!! - I am quite used to it here in Spain but do insist on saying that I have "un H mudo al final".”

Her reply:

“Well done! H is quite a useless letter on the Spanish pronunciation / sound”.

Sure, her response was friendly enough but my name without the silent “H” is like walking around with just one shoe on. I always explain that it is from the Bible and it is a Hebrew name and almost all Hebrew, as well as Arabic words that end with the vowel “a” are almost automatically accompanied by the “H”. When I lived in Israel, I was asked a number of times by the airport security why I was named "Sarah" if I am not Jewish and as I was usually quite stunned by such a question, I alwasy ended up having lots of problems.

I am not sure why I let it get to me as the Spanish secretary in London simply stated that the “H” is a useless letter in Spanish pronunciation but my name is spelled wrong on a daily basis. I remember when I worked for ACCENT coordinating US University study abroad programs when one of my co-workers called me a “pija” (snob) for having the “H” mudo al final. Give me a break!!

The “H” in Spanish is semi-silent because when it appears at the beginning of a word, it does have a slight sound (i.e., huevo, Huelva, Hernández, etc.) and the perfect example of the slight sound is when Spaniards who are learning to speak English pronounce a simple word such as “Hello”, it sounds as if they are clearing phlegm out of their throats because they put such strong emphasis on the American “H”.

I decided to do a survey throughout the office about the letter “H”. Boss 3 just told me that he finds my questions perplexed; I had to remind him that I studied “artes”. He said that he doesn’t know much about the “H” as he studied math and that he prefers questions about the number five but he concluded that the “H” is useless. Another one of my co-workers, who writes “saraH” in his emails to me, just told me to eliminate the “H” from my name and to just accept the fact that it is useless. HELLLOOO?!!! Are we going to begin dropping letters from other peoples’ names and words that contain the letter “H” just because a letter has such minor importance in one language? I do not think so. Just think of the words that have an “H” without it. It is the eighth letter of the alphabet and there it shall remain.

My name looks naked without the “H” and I will forever be Sarah (with an "H") and I tend to agree with Boss 1 who stated that it was cojonudo, fantastic.

FOOD, Food, food!

I can not stop thinking about food - it is actually cracking me up. I have never been a big fan of food and have actually always had issues with food, both mentally and physically. I am having this HUGE urge for all of these things I can't eat! I think it is because I keep getting asked for gluten-free recipes, as if I cook! I am intolerant to almost everything: all lactose products, all carbohydrates except corn and potatoes, sugar, chocolate, lamb, celery, citric fruits, the list goes on, etc - so what exactly would I cook in the first place? (NO COMMENTS about the macaroons, please - I shouldn't eat them but......)

These would be the top ten things I would eat:

Thin-crust Pizza
Sushi
Lemon Cake with extra lemon-glaze frosting
Pad Thai Noodles with Shrimp
Big bowl of non-gluten free pasta with bolognese sauce & parmesiano
Curried rice with chicken or shrimp
Stuffing (from the turkey)
Chocolate cake - the one that bleeds hot chocolate when you cut it
Peanut butter sandwich

I can't seem to think of a tenth food at the moment because I am suddenly STARVING! I think it would be basically anything with a sauce on it or breaded, like calamari or an egg roll. Or perhaps a caiparihna or a mojito - drinks count for food, right?

Spaniards love food. They can base their days around it. Every Spaniard will claim that her/his mother makes the best tortilla de patata, paella, cocido, fabada, etc. I personally think that my husband makes the best paella (I used to eat it) and the best fabada with gluten-free meats. The Spaniards eat for hours at a given sitting, weekdays or weekends which I love because there is never any rush. There is always too much food. The whole idea of gluten-free is relatively new here and unfortunately, they really have no idea how to make food without wheat, barley, rye, etc which leaves me to eat grilled veggies and salmon more often than my liking. Fortunately, there are places that have specialty foods like the supermarket, Mercadona (their child is a celiac so the majority of the products are gluten-free at a reasonable price), el Corte Inglés, herbolerias, etc.

I would think that after being on a special diet for a year that I would be used to it by now. I just have to keep reminding myself that even though food can make you feel so wonderful that it can also make you feel so awful (like my situation last year when I blew up like a puffer fish and was just sick, sick, sick).

Lovely Fall Day thanks to Ladurée Macaroons

My day started off rather horrendous - a feisty Spaniard pushed me on the metro and when I looked at her and said, "¡Perdón!" as if it was me who had pushed her, she barks back at me, "¡Quítate del medio!" - mind you I was leaning on the wall of the train and definitely not in the way of anybody.

I arrive to work and one of my bosses who had been in Paris on business yesterday yells for me to come to his office. I was thinking, "Oh goodness, a bit early for everything without another coffee." He tells me with a bright smile that he brought a mint green box of the most delightful, French delicacy; MACAROONS! This is the second time he has brought these precious little treats (I asked him once and I guess it is like the saying, "Ask and you shall receive!"). I have also received these treats from the investor in France three times. I think that they are secretly having a contest to see who can bring Sarah more of these gluten-free lovely treats! (note: we will pretend that they are on my special diet which consist of no gluten, no sugar, etc. etc.).

It's funny because sometimes I think that my husband reads my mind. The day after I had asked my boss to bring me back the macaroons in the lovely mint green box with the silk ribbon, my husband happen to buy some at the gourmet section of the Corte Inglés. It was tasty, especially on a Saturday afternoon where I could eat it with my feet up!

The macaroons have definitely been the highlight of my day. As I just swallowed a piece of gum accidentally (gag, gag, gag!), had to deal with ridiculous phone calls, emails, do two office "pedidos" (really hate ordering paper, pens, toner, etc as I think it is a waste of money - buy me more Manolos!!) and prior to being pushed on the metro, CNN+ only covered a story about some boy who wasn't in this silver balloon but rather her was hiding in the garage - makes me believe that the world has stopped.

If you ever go to Paris or happen upon a macaroon wherever you are, you have go to try one! They are a heavenly delight and make any day that much better.

Asunto: EVACUACION DEL EDIFICIO

The concierge, Frederico who smells like dirty BO, of the building I work in just gave all the tenants of the building a circular about the evacuation of the building yesterday. It is essentially thanking us for exiting the building so quickly. I can not take credit for going down 15 flights of stairs quickly as I felt rather arthritic yesterday and being that they had just painted the handrails; I couldn’t assist myself or avoid the vertigo in the slightest. Then you get to the first bullet point of the circular which reads “Se ha debido a una amenaza de bomba recibida en las oficinas de Barclays”. So, the real fire drill was really a bomb threat that the bank on the bottom floor had received.

My office is on the 15th and 16th floors of the Torres de Colón. The two towers, according to Wikipedia, are 102 meters high and have 23 floors. They were designed by Antonio Lamela, an architect from Madrid, and built in 1976. Wikipedia makes the buildings out to be marvelous with their “granate” colored windows and its modern design with the green structure on top. I think that the Torres are probably one/two of the FUGLIEST buildings in Madrid – they look like a green plug with a brown cord – they stick out like a sore thumb, a total eye sore. I must give the building their fairness as they offer great views which as you walk around our floor, you can almost see all of Madrid, they are in the best neighborhood in Madrid - the neighborhood has the best shopping where I have seen famous people (ok, so it was just one, Victoria Beckham who looked like a walking stick), is centrally located, has a cute flower stand across the street, I have my own office overlooking the Hard Rock café and best of all it takes me 17 minutes to get from my door to the 15th floor.

As the Torres were built in the mid-seventies, the elevators have yet to be modernized. I have been trapped in them 3 times for about 35 minutes average trapping, if it were my choice, I would much rather takes the stairs. I have been called a “gafe” (jinx) by one boss who no longer takes the elevator with me. I have 3 main bosses who I call the three Musketeers (although sometimes they remind me of the Stooges) and then 2 other bosses. The hippy boss was insisting yesterday and this morning as we were riding up in the elevator together that we had to evacuate because of a bomb. A nice way to start your morning. Today is the day the judges decide where the 2016 Olympics are to be hosted, so this boss that made my morning elevator ride pleasant, mind you, he once asked an unknown elevator rider when she was due and she told him she wasn’t pregnant (oops!), seems to think that Madrid is going to have a couple of surprises, I hope his statement proves to be false and perhaps this is when being a “gafe” will come in handy and I can take the elevator up sola.

Most people know that Spain has the “Etarras”, the people who support the ETA, a Basque political party that started out as a pacifist university group and seems to have lost their real purpose, if there ever was a real purpose and are now known as terrorists. The Etarras are constantly on the most wanted list, found in Andorra, tend to do car bombings and usually target political figures or policemen. The US Embassy used to send us ex-pats warning emails about the Etarras and crowded places in Spain (in Israel, the government emails were kind of the same but it also warned to avoid public transportation) but lately, we haven’t received so many of those warning emails.

My point to this is that, no need to worry about me in the Torres as Annabel just reassured me in an email, “I also think they would be far more likely to target other buildings first – the towers aren’t exactly emblematic – they’re just plain Uuuuugleeeee”. It seems that bombings and terrorists threats are becoming an everyday thing. It is kind of sad and pathetic that people take to violence. My friend Kristen’s dad strongly believes in L-O-V-E, Leave Out Violence Entirely, wish that more people believed in L-O-V-E as well.

http://www.expansion.com/2009/09/30/empresas/banca/1254302596.html

Politically Correct?

I haven't blogged in a bit because my husband commented that my blog wasn't “very politically correct”. I was kind of stunned for a few days but then came to realize that I have never been politically correct and I find that politically correctness can be stiffly boring, also, have in mind my previous blog was all about how Spaniards and I love to swear – would something like that really come from somebody politically correct?

I remember a conversation with Big Al one Christmas about how he loved my “Christmas card”. He was telling me how everybody in the States no longer says “Merry Christmas” but rather “Happy Holidays”! Surely one expression includes all holidays, including Kwanzaa but I don’t mind when my Jewish friends wish me a “Happy Hanukkah”. Whatever floats your boat, right?

This brings me back to the first night I met my “politically correct” husband who took me to a PCE party in the Casa de Campo. I had misunderstood his buddy who had a really deep voice who wanted to introduce the politically correct Spaniard and me. I arrive at the friend’s apartment and meet a Spaniard in an old man sweater. We then decide to have beers and as we are walking to the bar this Spaniard tells me that I “have big forehead” with broken English.

Well, sure enough, Chanel make-up, stilettos, big forehead and no sweater later – I am in a taxi heading through the Casa de Campo where all I see is darkness and prostitutes. I only understood "vamos a una fiesta". I love parties. We finally arrive at the destination and it is a nationwide communist festival with anti-American flags and banners everywhere! Now, that is not politically correct. It turned out to be a lot of fun even though I had to wear a bright orange Guatemalan sweater the politically correct Spaniard had bought at the festival to keep warm.

I would say that Spaniards are the least politically correct people I know which is probably part of the reason why I love the Spanish culture so much. They say it as it is. The Spanish basketball team made it on the news with the infamous photo of them holding their eyes in a squinty position at the Olympics in China (for a better blog about the photo and politically correctness, please refer to my friend’s blog Guiri Girl http://guirigirlblog.blogspot.com/2008/10/political-incorrectness-spanish-style.html).

But anyhow, I am off to go teach English in a bar.

Sailor's Mouth - Trucker's Mouth...¿Qué mal hablamos!

I have been known to have a sailor's mouth, in Spain it is called a boca de camioner@, a trucker's mouth. As I was too lazy to make my lunch this morning, I decided to go to Rodilla, a nasty sandwich chain that has a salad bar where they always have the free papers that are given out as you enter the Metro in the mornings. I almost never read these papers unless I go to Rodilla because I feel that the articles are semi-trashy but sometimes you got to catch up with the trash.

So, I grab the paper and sit down at a table with my free paper and my salad. On the cover is the headline, "¡Qué mal hablamos!". I hadn't even started the article and I just busted out laughing, nevermind, the others quietly eating looking at me like I was some kind of a nut. "How badly we speak", would be a decent translation. The article goes on to say that a judge in Cataluña favored the defendant who had lost his job after telling his/her boss that he/she was a "hijo de puta" (son of a bitch)!! The judge stated that swears have become an integrated part of everyday speech! I LOVE IT! After the King of Spain told the Venezuelan, sonofabitch, president Hugo Chávez to "¡Qué te calles!" it seems that here in Spain, we can go around calling each other bad names and to shut up and give the finger!

The article claims that there are over 10,000 swear words in Spain which is especially fun for somebody like me who has a trucker's mouth. During the day I hear "joder" (a personal favourite, FUCK), about 10,000 times, "coño" (cunt - HATE that word) about 1,000 times, cabrón (asshole) about 2,000 and ¡qué gilipollas! (what a jerk!) and ¡qué mierda/putada!" (what a load of shit!) about a million. I had to speak with one of my co-workers for abusing the word "coño" and his response was, "Coño, ni sabía que lo decía tanto" (That nasty word, I didn't realize I said it so much!).

I think that the "tacos" (swears) have definitely become integrated into the Spanish language as just yesterday a friend called me a "capulla", an idiot and a little while later I was called a "petarda". I must say that I still prefer the word "JODER" - o "está jodido" (he/she/its fucked)but I also like "perrac@", "mierda", "cállate"!

The article states that swears have been used artfully, the use of them goes back centuries, all the way to Cervantes and the Quijote and to top it off, it is all in the way you say it, as long as it is sincere. So next time you want to call your friend or boss a "hijo de puta", "coño" o "perraca", just make sure that you say it nicely and with a smile.

http://www.que.es/ultimas-noticias/sociedad/200909161917-mentecato-zoquete-meapilas-tarugo-papanatas.html

Movistar for 5 hours...

Movistar is Spain's big telecommunications company which is also the carrier for the iPhone. The thing about Telefonica/Movistar is that it is the worst telecommunications company but it is such a monopoly that you really have no choice. Telefonica owns all of the telephone wiring and rents it to other companies such as Orange. If you don't want to have problems with your Internet connection, then you gotta have Telefonica - if you want excellent cell phone service, you gotta use Movistar-absolutely RIDICULouS!

Their flagship store has a prime location on the calle Gran Vía, right smack in the center of the city in an beautiful, old building. They decorated it with plastic, plexo glass, play their theme song repeatedly on super high volume and have light shows under the stairs, which I didn't realize they were stairs on my first visit and wiped out! I must say that the only nice thing about going to the Flagship store is getting driven there by my boss's limo. I have had the pleasure of waiting at the Small Business desk for probably more time than I would ever like to admit. Like some things in Spain, there is absolutely NO order in the store - you get there and you can't even take a number and there is nobody to indicate where you need to go or stand. So needless to say, you have to look at all of the people waiting their turn to see who is last "¿Quién es el último?" and if you really want to guestimate how long you are going to be there - you would also ask how long they have been waiting.

Since I am the representative of our company, I have to go personally when somebody wants a new phone, which in my taste, is way too often. I have had to use our collected points (sort of like Miles) to get phones at a lesser cost which turn out costing a fortune, go figure? I have, thus to date, been to the Gran Vía Flagship and other Movistar stores about, what feels like, a thousand times. I still do not understand why we don't have an agent. I have gotten at least 5 Nokias (3 for one boss, one for me as the boobie prize although mine was delivered to the office, and another for another co-worker) and since the iPhone....uuuufs, I have gone for 7 or 8 iPhones. Mind you there are only 6 people on the company contract. So Movistar should know me by now, right? Think again! I got my boss, a while ago, a Nokia N97 which I think is by far the worst phone I have ever seen - I can't figure the thing out even after getting off the phone with customer service for 5 hours and physically going to the store where they gave me a different number to call. Needless to say, I am here writing about my morning and eating my salad because I decided I needed a break - his cell phone still doesn't work, BTW! Ooops. Thanks Movistar for putting me in a foul mood.

First BLOG

This is my frist blog! I probably should have started "blogging" years ago as I am a broad, abroad (I can hear my best friend who is British call me a git for that one!)! The title of my blog is actually a title suggested by my nursery school friend Ali Kucharik for the book that I have yet to write. So from here and yonder, I will try to write about my life, living abroad. More to come but I am off to meet a friend of a dear friend for some bubbly water as I am officially on a detox after a long, hot summer with too many refreshing cocktails.