tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2498873582055623542024-03-27T07:38:24.802+01:00A Broad AbroadTales from a broad abroad...A Broad Abroadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06134219236774703943noreply@blogger.comBlogger40125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-249887358205562354.post-45262753507189803422011-06-14T12:27:00.000+02:002011-06-14T12:27:45.780+02:00Hasta Pronto Madrid<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaFkIB9Hhv1EylQybLLARoKsmhEadEKhZugXdqUMKOt_A72sd6QxDQIoJiz39vRTyJea3-Vtd1ci3E8ouep-_H_TS2ObXicokz3hP4dOvBW3bB8rSXzI7bqo6X-m_cCa65nrS6-AB82l8/s1600/IMG_1086.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaFkIB9Hhv1EylQybLLARoKsmhEadEKhZugXdqUMKOt_A72sd6QxDQIoJiz39vRTyJea3-Vtd1ci3E8ouep-_H_TS2ObXicokz3hP4dOvBW3bB8rSXzI7bqo6X-m_cCa65nrS6-AB82l8/s400/IMG_1086.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.ctspanish.com/communities/madrid/bear.htm">El Madroño</a> - Symbol of Madrid</td></tr>
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<div class="MsoNormal">For the past month, my life has been a whirlwind, full of great company and a lot of stress.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am never one to complain about having an exciting social agenda but when I had a major meltdown trying to exchange a scarf in <a href="http://www.missoni.com/">Missoni</a>, ended up crying in the store TWICE and my soul mate was reminding me that I was “acting like a brat”, I knew that I had reached the breaking point.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">It is funny how life can change from one moment to the next and hopefully, it always brings something that will cause growth and add character but sometimes the initial shock can be overwhelming and saying a temporary, “hasta pronto” is never easy on emotions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">A month ago, my husband got transferred to the States and he is absolutely thrilled.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He has wanted to live in the States since we met, I always told my Spanish <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">toro</i> that he married the wrong American as I have always felt more Spanish than American.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With the news, we have had to make the proper arrangements for the move.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He has been making the proper arrangements Stateside and I have been packing and closing things in Spain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps both of us know the other’s culture better than the other.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I finally mustered up the courage to tell my main boss, I entered his office and felt like I was going to be sick.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Boss 1, we have something to talk about and you aren’t going to be pleased.”</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Aye, Sarita, what is it?”</div><div class="MsoNormal">“I am giving you a month’s notice and I would like to ask for a year off.”</div><div class="MsoNormal">He turned white and didn’t get back to me for a couple of days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When word took off, the Hacker boss got teary eyed and Mr. Ibiza said I would be terribly missed because I have given such joy to the office, the Brainy boss was so excited for me and the Pacer boss said I will be missed and "who is going to touch his balls?" when I am not there. I got a laugh out of that one because in Spanish they say when somebody is getting on your case "<i>me está tocando los huevos</i>" which in English would translate to, "somebody is being a pain in the ass" but when you translate it literally, it would mean, "he's touching my balls!! </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Shortly after, my whirlwind started at work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had our AGM in Lisbon at the <a href="http://www.pestana.com/hotels/en/hotels/europe/LisbonHotels/Palace/Home/">Hotel Pestana Palace</a> which was lovely but beyond stressful for me; I worked with the hotel, the investors, the investors’ secretaries, etc so the event would run better than perfect.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I found that the work ethic in Lisbon was a bit slower than my accelerated pace so I had a patience tests on a daily basis since last October.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No pressure there as I tried to maintain the office orderly at the same time and give support to 17 co-workers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On the personal side of things, I coordinated with my sister so she could meet up with me in Lisbon to celebrate her birthday. My sister arrived on the same Thursday and I was in disbelief:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For the past ten years, friends and family have always said they will come to visit me in Madrid or Tel Aviv but the typical excuse always rolls around; it is far away, they have kids, the flight is too long, they don’t have any holiday, etc so when a visitor comes, I am so overjoyed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1Qq4obvv1JMEAv5S6vupwLWQSZHZP3BaSNKTR9WF0VzDj-Oywq2dX8rt0EV9hgLxkWeLC9xlu3yfu8l2bQ3rf2KwkIZGd3a3y2DBOo4klUCKo1Fj7fsgzmvun-yCHFHtMgm1tESOFqbU/s1600/IMG_8741.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1Qq4obvv1JMEAv5S6vupwLWQSZHZP3BaSNKTR9WF0VzDj-Oywq2dX8rt0EV9hgLxkWeLC9xlu3yfu8l2bQ3rf2KwkIZGd3a3y2DBOo4klUCKo1Fj7fsgzmvun-yCHFHtMgm1tESOFqbU/s320/IMG_8741.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Running around like a monkey in a <br />
cocktail dress at the Hotel Pestana Palace</td></tr>
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">My sister commented that she doesn’t remember us ever spending quality time together alone and much less in a foreign country.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is never too late to spend quality time with anybody so make that effort.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We had the best time in Lisbon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One of the Portuguese co-investors, just happened to live in the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">barrio</i> where my sister and I reserved a room at the <a href="http://www.hoteldochiado.com/">Hotel do Chiado</a> that has the best views of all of Lisbon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Elizabeth gave me a list of restaurants that are her favs or that she highly recommends because “you’ll eat well there”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Europeans definitely love exceptional food.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I made reservations a month in advance because I figured it is always better to get your personal life sorted in a jiff and then focus on what pays for you to have the social life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I made a reservation at the restaurant <a href="http://www.largo.pt/en/">Largo</a> and <a href="http://www.fazfigura.com/">Faz Figura</a> but since it was raining the Saturday we were there, I had the concierge at the hotel cancel the reservation and make a new reservation at <a href="http://www.aquihapeixe.pt/">Aqui Ha Peixe</a>.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">After I tied up the last details at the AGM at the Hotel Pestana Palace, I cruised over in a taxi to the other hotel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I got to the room and the view was breathtaking!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just amazing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">My sister and I decided to walk around together but she said that she had already walked around a bit but didn’t mind walking around more.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So we get down to the street and we walk literally 10 steps and we found ourselves in ZARA, a Spanish clothing store!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We walked a bit more and we found ourselves in another shop!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Shop till you drop in Lisbon!!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The trip with my sister just kept getting better.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We went back to the hotel and had a drink on the terrace.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The weather Gods must have wanted us to be extremely happy because suddenly two rainbows appeared in the sky.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was amazing.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAE9oYE7_4-41x3DfyPy_Z8TKpZJvDiv_a8bHBt8-8wjZDSlrHwyoStZWabGTOvahaO6TjbpJz3E57ZrRwPIbWoAsc5auwsQTNai9vh0QF9mlXwjThV8U0XGbMbdWaIQ-45LmR6vlNZNk/s1600/IMG_1432.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAE9oYE7_4-41x3DfyPy_Z8TKpZJvDiv_a8bHBt8-8wjZDSlrHwyoStZWabGTOvahaO6TjbpJz3E57ZrRwPIbWoAsc5auwsQTNai9vh0QF9mlXwjThV8U0XGbMbdWaIQ-45LmR6vlNZNk/s400/IMG_1432.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lisbon - a view from the Hotel Chiado</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal">We got ready for dinner and walked up to Largo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When we got there, we saw all of these people in a cute plaza, right across the street from the restaurant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My sister who tends to be just as bossy as myself, must be a “Warden thing”says, “You go manage the reservation and sit at the table and I’ll go check out what is happening.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Unlike the Spaniards, almost all of the Portuguese speak English.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Yes, a table for two under the name of Sarah Casado.” I tend to use my husband’s last name on the Iberian Peninsula to avoid have to spell out my own.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">My sister comes cruising into the restaurant and sits at the table and reports, “You aren’t going to believe it, there is a free fashion show that starts at 22:30!!!”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We had a table right next to one of the jellyfish tanks – the restaurant is awesome!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My sister ordered a watermelon martini and I ordered a blackberry/raspberry mojito – both were delightful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The food was wonderful and we had a fabulous time at the dinner.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We paid and cruised over to get a decent seat at the fashion show.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was so fun!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Great music, great clothing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We topped off the night with a Port on a terrace.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The next day, we went up to the Castelo San Jorge and then walked back to the hotel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We ate lunch and then took a nap.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When we woke up, it was POURING.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So we got ready and luckily it stopped.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvfDtQSncpBn1VgqXjAaeJVxW2dUzlSCteFHThbdzkg1fhgF2Tv5B0luJfJPAEfUQaMjRlk2bpQafx0rXj8U6N-DAPHP2ZLCYZeg6u_KwUuL-Ofa02XVJCuNWPSpbKgSzGUhcMhA6ZANc/s1600/IMG_1496.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvfDtQSncpBn1VgqXjAaeJVxW2dUzlSCteFHThbdzkg1fhgF2Tv5B0luJfJPAEfUQaMjRlk2bpQafx0rXj8U6N-DAPHP2ZLCYZeg6u_KwUuL-Ofa02XVJCuNWPSpbKgSzGUhcMhA6ZANc/s320/IMG_1496.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View from the Castelo San Jorge, Lisbon</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal">We decided to get in a cab and see the last monuments and then we took a cab back and we went SHOPPING!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had a quest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The only way she was “allowed” to cross the pond, was if she bought her husband who loves the great grapes, was to send him a case of vintage Port.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So off we went.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We found a great shop and tasted a bunch of Ports and made the shipping arrangements.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">In the evening we went to a place that has over 300 Ports on the menu – fabulous!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then we walked down and ate at Aqui Ha Peixe – spectacular!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The next day, we hopped in a cab and got to the airport.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The airport in Lisbon is quite chaotic but we managed to get on an earlier flight to Madrid.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">In Madrid, we walked around everywhere, went shopping and I finally bought myself a piece from <a href="http://www.sargadelos.com/proxectos/proxecto.php?txt=proxectos27&lg=ing">Sargadelos</a>, Galician porcelain, we had a drink at El Viajero which was the very first bar I ever went to, had a glass of wine at the Mercado de San Miguel, saw a flamenco show and a bullfight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After my sister left, I had to tie things up in Madrid.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_eemMfEb8SIoijpWn98Skqk2KJAnDuy3Uo-npqhLRoksIo12aQClA9QsT7PdxK9Zzloj-G5j3hTZWg6VTd-0iNVSdG6TPsyuLvqiIN1UJ0YcVaAY_oysfL7Wsxuaf10lNFgalBLLnqb4/s1600/La+Menina+by+Sargadelos.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_eemMfEb8SIoijpWn98Skqk2KJAnDuy3Uo-npqhLRoksIo12aQClA9QsT7PdxK9Zzloj-G5j3hTZWg6VTd-0iNVSdG6TPsyuLvqiIN1UJ0YcVaAY_oysfL7Wsxuaf10lNFgalBLLnqb4/s1600/La+Menina+by+Sargadelos.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">La Menina by Sargadelos</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5xmFqDWpvQ88M-0Liy2cfKT-RJTEceH7HjOwlWRq4mDVd4HnPYvISchbG09qTfxPOQ9CNSPXbg_PMRw5zpJ2c5nU4Vwvt07tJVV0G83lKjvjrvrJAO0QPKzZlqyHjHtj1JRxFPSnlpAA/s1600/IMG_8868.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5xmFqDWpvQ88M-0Liy2cfKT-RJTEceH7HjOwlWRq4mDVd4HnPYvISchbG09qTfxPOQ9CNSPXbg_PMRw5zpJ2c5nU4Vwvt07tJVV0G83lKjvjrvrJAO0QPKzZlqyHjHtj1JRxFPSnlpAA/s320/IMG_8868.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Flamenco at Casa Patas</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjj6Z8DdppNmF0yXKNgwsh9XVDYRC02srvMi3NfQbh4bLuHoGlUMX4g5jLT5ajvB2DPhTXyr-kqnpcEp_zrKoTrIT0-eIbaHo4YVET_lyAvyCLx_6D4iIqf8DsTn_z0FiFt7hlIoph9k8/s1600/IMG_1578.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjj6Z8DdppNmF0yXKNgwsh9XVDYRC02srvMi3NfQbh4bLuHoGlUMX4g5jLT5ajvB2DPhTXyr-kqnpcEp_zrKoTrIT0-eIbaHo4YVET_lyAvyCLx_6D4iIqf8DsTn_z0FiFt7hlIoph9k8/s320/IMG_1578.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bull Fight at Las Ventas<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmZi8j4O3fBqDDDBStI2iZsBaglh91mxnKfMszF3As6GSHgwPrz948XK9qaB8_Ri8Qw22FhPXeN7eRP63NMdoPLyTGCav7UKbJxtBJWYttxwdGYn-GVdkdQeibehxr1gY5yMAQaD6Rhsk/s1600/IMG_1587.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmZi8j4O3fBqDDDBStI2iZsBaglh91mxnKfMszF3As6GSHgwPrz948XK9qaB8_Ri8Qw22FhPXeN7eRP63NMdoPLyTGCav7UKbJxtBJWYttxwdGYn-GVdkdQeibehxr1gY5yMAQaD6Rhsk/s320/IMG_1587.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Having a vinito at El Viajero</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal">I called the moving company, turned off the Digital+ and started with the “despedidas”.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I am not going to get into all of the details about the move and preparations because it is stressful and boring. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">My husband set off ahead of me as he had to work and wanted to get things settled before I arrive.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><br />
</o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal">Annabel, my British soul mate who I met on our first day at work at a law firm, flew in this past Saturday to lend me a helping hand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She witnessed the meltdown and I couldn’t have asked for a better person to be by my side and we will be laughing about it later!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had the meltdown after about 5 “hasta pronto” gatherings with the dear friends I have met along the journey and then ate lunch with my bosses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It suddenly hit me that after 8 years in Spain and all of the adventures it gave me with 2 years in Tel Aviv in the beginning of my decade abroad, I am leaving.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am still in shock.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I love Madrid.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is probably the most wonderful city ever but I have to remind myself that like many cities I have seen, that there are many things that I don’t like, especially the fact that there is no water.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">As I reflect on my life, I have traveled the globe; I am very lucky.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have gotten on wrong trains, I have gotten on wrong airplanes, I have gone in the wrong direction numerous times, I have met really weird people who are interesting and I have met some of the most wonderful people who have filled my life with support, love, laughter and made me feel alive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I studied my junior year in M<span lang="ES-TRAD" style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD;">álaga, </span>my mom had to constantly remind me that I had another year of the University to finish and had to return “home”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I loved it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Shortly after I graduated, I moved to San Juan Norte, Costa Rica to be a volunteer for a year and a half where once again, I had to be reminded that I could not work for free forever and had to return "home".<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After that, I lived in the BIG Apple which never felt like "home"…and then off to Madrid to do a Masters at New York University where I found I was finally "home". Shortly after my arrival, I met my best friend, roommate!, love who became my husband who I met through one of my hometown best pals, the world is a pañuelo as they say in Spain (it's a small world).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTginxnb_SRRUrDb3fRKV4imBME5DIQQNFaMl-8GMav6RAXBqPiqJrgjOwvxpAds9XHtSqomrCDbG1EvmF2Ge-TP6hxF3Pf6u6ik8u5xqWoPr9TrTHfMKk31QmYuvu5pTCOIfNAQ5kD2w/s1600/IMG_6423.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTginxnb_SRRUrDb3fRKV4imBME5DIQQNFaMl-8GMav6RAXBqPiqJrgjOwvxpAds9XHtSqomrCDbG1EvmF2Ge-TP6hxF3Pf6u6ik8u5xqWoPr9TrTHfMKk31QmYuvu5pTCOIfNAQ5kD2w/s320/IMG_6423.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">August 25, 2005 - Married at the Junta del Retiro, Madrid</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal">My mom wrote on my Facebook profile a month ago when I was freaking out, “Change makes growth.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And that is exactly what it does.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Change makes growth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Changes make you laugh, they make you cry, they make you nervous, they make you excited, perhaps you could say, they dust off the adventurous side of yourself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s like starting all over again and getting the opportunity to be like a kid who sees a big Elephant for the first time and asks, “What is that?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think that my dust has been removed and I think I am ready to go back to a country I once referred to as “home”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have always been one for adventure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I will miss Madrid.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I will miss all of the wonderful people I have met but with today’s technologies, nobody is really ever that far.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Their footprints will always be in my heart and they have given me growth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thank you Madrid for everything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You have spoiled me rotten and for all that you have given me, I am beyond grateful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I love you. Hasta pronto Madrid.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I decided that since I am moving and will no longer be making the occasional entry from Madrid or wherever else I am as a broad abroad, that if you want to read about an ex-pat making new adventures as a semi-foreigner in her own country, you can find my new blog at the following address:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><a href="http://www.tinytalesfromabroad.blogspot.com/">www.tinytalesfromabroad.blogspot.com</a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Thanks for reading about my adventures and for all of your support.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Remember, Change makes growth.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU8S7YkSqNBdGm7C_jeEmgzMOnFDqXCapsONjj28LFLjdO4M-UmsKRYSvKPIA5RxCbowc3cSMpsy2ACTXqzzV1dGT_GtIBaCIv5JNXJDD2KEOH0rAYkYZz2Mwx5vx_mp5H2G93uMubGWU/s1600/IMG_4901.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU8S7YkSqNBdGm7C_jeEmgzMOnFDqXCapsONjj28LFLjdO4M-UmsKRYSvKPIA5RxCbowc3cSMpsy2ACTXqzzV1dGT_GtIBaCIv5JNXJDD2KEOH0rAYkYZz2Mwx5vx_mp5H2G93uMubGWU/s400/IMG_4901.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me and Annabel in Madrid</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><!--EndFragment-->A Broad Abroadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06134219236774703943noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-249887358205562354.post-84199713730181162502011-05-25T00:33:00.001+02:002011-05-25T00:35:06.054+02:00El Gran Artista en EXPOSICIÓN SOLIDARIA - ARTE CONTRA EL HAMBRE<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoWSS-xb3WKbwq_3oTDONJBB6vnk8Bqagd6x1-T-W7CPx4vxCNSg1F7zg7LqYVuoGXu7bKoutC_6fnAtb2cqkzamfWujS3IGyjOTxEapu8GwJ4aI7QVKWRGI9mc1NIWOkEY-dZMvXkA5Q/s1600/Picture+8.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="188" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoWSS-xb3WKbwq_3oTDONJBB6vnk8Bqagd6x1-T-W7CPx4vxCNSg1F7zg7LqYVuoGXu7bKoutC_6fnAtb2cqkzamfWujS3IGyjOTxEapu8GwJ4aI7QVKWRGI9mc1NIWOkEY-dZMvXkA5Q/s320/Picture+8.png" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">I was pleasantly surprised last week when my Italian friend, Dario, invited me to opening of an exposition where all of the pieces sold at the gallery from today until June 4</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><sup>th </sup></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">will go to conquer hunger and will be donated to Pozo del Tío Raimundo in Madrid.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">As I continued to read his email, my heart started to jump for joy, for the first time, I was going to see his works on display and possibly sold.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I remember the first time I met Dario. I met him at one of Eli Bellie’s birthday parties about 3 or 4 years ago. I noticed his accent right away. Dario is from <i>Roma</i>, nothing sounds better than a Roman saying his own city in his Roman accent. He works as a computer engineer and paints with a brush that has one hair on his free time. I have always admired his works. He has always invited me to his apartment to see his latest creation and some that are in the process. His works have a lot of energy and have so much detail that I have often spent a long time just looking at one section of his paintings. His paintings usually deal with exotic plants, flower, bugs and animals. I can interpret them of how things are connected and how they can revolutionize into something different. I have offered to buy one and even steal one on more than one occasion! But he always said that they are not for sale. Boohoo… <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><br />
</span></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbXw6YuT8CNgjX3VipCjH6eTSjd8jrHhSnRDLEgmRYRG5NWHMOKzaYepZqd2ibwzwpPkSsrP1M9TEBx4y_RibbYX4zRcN9M4iykgb0QGfmWrFfbaLjUddXYsn4DuQkwPA0ltc6scCSkcg/s1600/Picture+9.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbXw6YuT8CNgjX3VipCjH6eTSjd8jrHhSnRDLEgmRYRG5NWHMOKzaYepZqd2ibwzwpPkSsrP1M9TEBx4y_RibbYX4zRcN9M4iykgb0QGfmWrFfbaLjUddXYsn4DuQkwPA0ltc6scCSkcg/s320/Picture+9.png" width="257" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dario Battaglini</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I walked to the exposition after work. The <a href="http://www.bmalone.com/">Galería Begoña Malone</a> is located right in Chueca on Calle Pelayo, 50 and very easy to get to.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I really didn’t know what to expect, I don’t think that I had been in an art expo where the pieces were for sale since I worked for Christie’s back in 2000. I always go to museums and special exhibitions but it is not often that I go to a gallery. On my stroll over to the expo, I managed to go to the wrong building first because apparently there are two number 50s and when I peeked through the window, I was thinking to myself, “This cannot be – there is nobody here. Did I get the day wrong?”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I took out the invitation and I had the day right but the wrong address.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">The gallery is two floors, ground level and a floor below. The walls are a crisp white, which makes the paintings hung on the walls show all of their strengths.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu7YAafXW-wmrcQTr8fplkhjviVpcSyhT5uz-N_oKuzGe5lerMybC466lPppNYV_LujjNEXYMViNou8YOloB0lhs6uxkTEhzdjT-qwtlFWiu75DM15GZOZCD2N6ZQ8ekOiEFcqe1JjIfk/s1600/IMG_1398.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu7YAafXW-wmrcQTr8fplkhjviVpcSyhT5uz-N_oKuzGe5lerMybC466lPppNYV_LujjNEXYMViNou8YOloB0lhs6uxkTEhzdjT-qwtlFWiu75DM15GZOZCD2N6ZQ8ekOiEFcqe1JjIfk/s320/IMG_1398.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dario Battaglini</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">When I entered the gallery, I immediately spotted Dario’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">cuadritos</i>. They weren’t labeled but I knew they were his. I took a look at all of the paintings and they were all quite impressive. There weren’t many people when I first got there and Dario nor Miguel, his partner, were anywhere to be seen. I continued to make my way around the ground floor; I spotted another one of Dario’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">cuadros</i>. The smile on my face went ear to ear. His works have so much detail, they are amazing. And there, just like his painting, I spotted him. I gave Dario a big hug and then went to the basement to see the rest of the exhibit.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I took a quick peek and then rushed back upstairs to congratulation the up and coming artist on his first exhibition. I decided to buy one of his works of art and Dario explained that they are a series but they can be purchased individually. Dario and his friend who is also an artist helped me pick two out. I was ecstatic, I was finally going to own a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Dario</i>!! And to top it off, I was the first one to purchase one of his works of art. As I was making my purchase, his works were being swarmed! He was giggling in disbelief!! I think he sold almost all of them in about 5 minutes!!<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I left the exhibit feeling exuberant, absolutely delighted! I was so happy to see Dario so happy and supported by all of his friends who were so happy to be there as well. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Cheers, Dario! I am so proud of you, El gran artista! <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;">If you are in Madrid, I suggest you check out the gallery and make a purchase; it goes for a good cause and you get to see some unique pieces of art. If you ever get invited to a special exhibit, go! You can always see unique pieces of art and even buy a little something special to hang on your own blank walls. </span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxuRfVRYTywaM6V0B0WFJDYygjhq_VanfMGyz19LQeaDynmiDgyfi5oNTLkDZNc4O0NmNYc9RvgRf7AYVm_j17M7JFWTDcfGj9qgbj-lRYaSSr7QajNP42gRDKy_ENZX6ZvXthmczRZRA/s1600/IMG_1407.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxuRfVRYTywaM6V0B0WFJDYygjhq_VanfMGyz19LQeaDynmiDgyfi5oNTLkDZNc4O0NmNYc9RvgRf7AYVm_j17M7JFWTDcfGj9qgbj-lRYaSSr7QajNP42gRDKy_ENZX6ZvXthmczRZRA/s400/IMG_1407.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dario pointing out one of the purchased <i>cuadritos</i>, I left mine there till the exhibit is over!!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>A Broad Abroadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06134219236774703943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-249887358205562354.post-90376371106020706262011-05-17T17:05:00.000+02:002011-05-17T17:05:08.681+02:00Table for two, please!<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD4EOIgT-T8w5hq4ZbN3sThqovxpWoNxPCOml8cKi6Rbry54afKAiQnCr246-m2HaRSl4MFn5lCZIxxn1Tio03qjzWeA2EqeGQD7LbO8H89SXB1p_MiKADby858C1yk-aIcQzjyvZgsOQ/s1600/Screen+shot+2011-05-17+at+1.35.32+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="293" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD4EOIgT-T8w5hq4ZbN3sThqovxpWoNxPCOml8cKi6Rbry54afKAiQnCr246-m2HaRSl4MFn5lCZIxxn1Tio03qjzWeA2EqeGQD7LbO8H89SXB1p_MiKADby858C1yk-aIcQzjyvZgsOQ/s400/Screen+shot+2011-05-17+at+1.35.32+PM.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">El Paraguas</td></tr>
</tbody></table>“They have no tables available for tomorrow.” I inform Boss 1 after I tried to make a reservation at one of his preferred restaurants.<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">“Oh, what a pity. How about Paraguas? I always get a table at Paraguas.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="http://www.elparaguas.com/">El Paraguas</a> is one of the most prestigious restaurants in Madrid, some may say I am incorrect but it is the restaurant "to be seen in". It has Asturian food (northern Spain) and it is where all of the politicians, businessmen, footballers and everyone else who is a somebody has eaten there or eats there on a regular basis. I have yet to eat there despite the fact that I know the owner and her husband and I love <i><a href="http://www.spainontheroadagain.com/recipe_fabada.shtml">fabada</a></i>. I have eaten at their more casual bar-restaurant the couple just opened called Ten Con Ten on Ayala, 6 and I really liked it. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Buenos días. Quisiera reservar una mesa para 2 a las 14:15 para mañana.”<br />
<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Hay perdona, Señorita pero estamos completos mañana. ¿Quiere usted que le ponga en la lista de espera? A veces, tenemos una cancelación.”<br />
<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Sí, perfecto.”<br />
<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“¿A nombre de quién?”<br />
<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Boss 1.”<br />
<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Oh, es Boss 1. Siempre viene a comer aquí…es MUY guapo…aye, es MUY majo…vamos a hacer todo lo posible para darle mesa. Siempre le damos mesa. ¿eres Sarah?”<br />
<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Sí, soy Sarah.”<br />
<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Aye, no reconocí tu voz.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The entire telephone conversation made me laugh. Her voice was oozing with ooo-laa-laaaah musicality, almost like she would have invited my boss to her bed, if she could have of. She basically told me that they always give my boss a table, he eats there regularly and that he is very hot. ¡Por Díos!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I have to call fancy restaurants and hotels on a daily basis to make reservations and about 80% of the time, the maitre recognizes my voice. I used to be embarrassed about my strong accent; 10 years abroad and it is like I am fresh off the boat.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The next day, she confirmed that Boss 1 had a table, per usual. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">When I used to be able to eat pizza, (I think that it is the food I miss the most) I would order a LARGE pizza every Wednesday at 20:00 when the <a href="http://www.vkvallecas.es/">best pizza joint in the hood</a> opened for the evening. Most of these Wednesdays, the gitty Brit would come over and we would drink <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">vinitos</i>, gorge on pizza and watch a TV series. Here’s how the call went:</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Buenas tardes, me gustaría pedir una pizza familiar.” Family sized pizza which is the largest is almost the same as an American large.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“¿Con la masa extra fina, extra salsa de tomate y queso?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Luckily, you can’t be seen at the other end of the telephone because without fail and regardless of the fact that I would call every single Wednesday at 20:00, I would flush with embarrassment. She knew exactly what I wanted to order; extra thin crust, extra tomato sauce and cheese, so much for being original.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Sí, perfecto.” </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I would give her my <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">número de contacto</i> and she would confirm my address as I was in their database and inform me that it would cost 12 bucks and be at my door in 20-25 minutes.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Another call I make on a weekly basis is to <a href="http://www.cucharete.com/index.php/2007/04/01/las-costillas/">the Costillas</a>. I have been calling once a week for 1 or 2 large racks of ribs for about 5 or 6 years. That call is one of my favorites and could be a recording because the conversation rarely varies. I LOVE my ribs.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“HOLA!” I try to accentuate my accent even more, if that is even possible.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
“Hola Sarah!<br />
<br />
"Me gustaría pedir dos costillas grandes para llevar y las quiero....."<br />
<br />
"....bien hechas con las patatas fritas aparte y salsa barbacoa?” he finishes my sentence.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
“Sí, perfecto.” I chuckle.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
“¿Cuándo vienes a recogerlas?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
“Cuándo tú me dices.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
“¿20 minutos?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
“Perfecto, nos vemos en 20 minutos.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">So, 20 minutes after my call, I go to pick up my 2 large orders of well-done grilled pork ribs with the barbecue sauce and the fries in a separate tin container.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I used to be self-conscious about my accent until a Spanish friend insisted that it is part of who I am. This friend also reminded me that I have such a strong personality and that I am so expressive that if I didn’t have my strong accent, then I wouldn’t be the person I am. I have been told that <i>no tengo pelos en la lengua</i>, meaning I have no fear to express exactly how I feel at any given moment which sometimes makes me <i>meter la pata </i>more often than not (put my foot in my mouth - yum!). I can also count on the accent for sticky situations and I confess that I often use it to lure people so I can get my way. It is also very convenient to never have to say who is calling, the person at the other end already knows who it is and I have only said “¡Hola!” </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">If you are trying to learn a new language, my advice to you is that you embrace who you are, try to do the best you can with the language and SPEAK. Have fun! ¡¡<i>Meter la pata</i>!! I was told once by one of my professors that you should repeat exactly what you hear. Well, for some people, like myself, I try to repeat exactly what I hear but most of the time, it comes out of my mouth in the “Sarah version.” Try to speak in the language with whomever you can, whenever you can, watch TV, listen to the radio and music and read in that language, after all you know what they say, the only way to improve your language skills is to practice as “practice makes (most almost) perfect.”</div>A Broad Abroadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06134219236774703943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-249887358205562354.post-38863443826854552982011-05-08T18:22:00.000+02:002011-05-08T18:22:55.304+02:00Madrid through my eyesHere are some photos of Madrid....it was taking forever to upload my photos and I got so impatient that there are only 4 photos....Enjoy.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkFhTH9YGstbEpgiG3d3Vih5zD1QHz9tNrfKTUHgxdMzc-DLiqaptzBt4aRguFAO9crFtbzjqZixds7psxafQFyR3vhFvINvm83R-RR_prAlVBeetk53oK7iXiNrKUIgHiuFkY6ZJfjb8/s1600/IMG_1301.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkFhTH9YGstbEpgiG3d3Vih5zD1QHz9tNrfKTUHgxdMzc-DLiqaptzBt4aRguFAO9crFtbzjqZixds7psxafQFyR3vhFvINvm83R-RR_prAlVBeetk53oK7iXiNrKUIgHiuFkY6ZJfjb8/s640/IMG_1301.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jamón<br />
<br />
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</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjf7J2ljGk1UwLs-_YpUdaDQRrK1Khe0g5CHyUZ2R6tIX8RNs2kG1uqFAmu5aINNjvA601Ta1X-NBUdXe9a5czi_oKXXF6oJ9ZiBwY6oh6st1MOBdVJBofwI6Igpd5dkHC3_Lzs2GQD2Q/s1600/IMG_1099.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjf7J2ljGk1UwLs-_YpUdaDQRrK1Khe0g5CHyUZ2R6tIX8RNs2kG1uqFAmu5aINNjvA601Ta1X-NBUdXe9a5czi_oKXXF6oJ9ZiBwY6oh6st1MOBdVJBofwI6Igpd5dkHC3_Lzs2GQD2Q/s640/IMG_1099.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">La Caixa Forum - Free Exhibits - Paseo del Prado</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh66rEBEXPNT0hQUnpbcqZrtD9E4MeOIeQ7XqSyRjCUML9kn7AUV9yCrLuen3ZVa1_ZaiZUE0grXBCnXsAsQhZ6xv1fSsjp_ew1AsTDfZo-GUEbVJQfXaIRshDejX8qu4GfyKqVKxNAloM/s1600/IMG_1097.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh66rEBEXPNT0hQUnpbcqZrtD9E4MeOIeQ7XqSyRjCUML9kn7AUV9yCrLuen3ZVa1_ZaiZUE0grXBCnXsAsQhZ6xv1fSsjp_ew1AsTDfZo-GUEbVJQfXaIRshDejX8qu4GfyKqVKxNAloM/s640/IMG_1097.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Faces of Madrid<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUzwk8rskHijEGbnPvHtwlKNv2Sbmc9E-CeY8BlBZKT80sGSl7H2f89Q8Ql_i4gxEwoV0vfV_hisDdhHBehHU2s-ykzhS4SPJdcCdcZcmI8Azk68unb5G-7BKsBjsMd1MjwVi3hYrt17o/s1600/IMG_1102.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUzwk8rskHijEGbnPvHtwlKNv2Sbmc9E-CeY8BlBZKT80sGSl7H2f89Q8Ql_i4gxEwoV0vfV_hisDdhHBehHU2s-ykzhS4SPJdcCdcZcmI8Azk68unb5G-7BKsBjsMd1MjwVi3hYrt17o/s640/IMG_1102.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ministry of Agriculture - my favorite building<br />
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</tbody></table>A Broad Abroadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06134219236774703943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-249887358205562354.post-25872758648946499372011-05-08T17:55:00.000+02:002011-05-08T17:55:25.323+02:00Operación Bikini - Take 2<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwMdKOcrcDebaOdi1dyI_XJHQ-z7hVrMNy4ljDtOkeA06tkqqQaI2m1iAn9ieVm_09xeYhOB_rIc-Uq-lAt_2U8EOjLZVBniz7c09P6U9lhU_WmnznVlxw0YAzBuDLx8tLwUQX0UbkBPg/s1600/IMG_1262.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwMdKOcrcDebaOdi1dyI_XJHQ-z7hVrMNy4ljDtOkeA06tkqqQaI2m1iAn9ieVm_09xeYhOB_rIc-Uq-lAt_2U8EOjLZVBniz7c09P6U9lhU_WmnznVlxw0YAzBuDLx8tLwUQX0UbkBPg/s400/IMG_1262.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pharmacy Window Display on Calle Huertas, Madrid</td></tr>
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I have a big butt and I cannot lie….<br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">I’ve got cellulite on my thighs…that was my rendition of Sir Mix-a-Lot.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Boy does time fly! Seems like just yesterday when my co-workers were reminding me that it was time for “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">operación bikini</i>”. I feel like I am experiencing a bit of Ground Hog’s Day! Since I wrote a post last year about <i><a href="http://abroadornottoabroad.blogspot.com/2010/03/operacion-bikini.html">operación bikini</a></i>, I will try to make this post a bit different. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">In Madrid, there are <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">farmacias, parafarmacias</i>, and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">perfumerías </i>located just about on every block. The Corte Ingles has an entire floor dedicated to creams, make-up, body wash, toothpaste, nail polish, and they even have a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">farmacia</i> located in almost every Corte Ingles. As you take a stroll down almost any street in Madrid you can see the flashing green neon signs for <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">farmacias </i>and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">parapharmacias</i> and perfume shops within a short distance of each other. Why are there so many? How do they all manage to stay in business? Aside from medicines, each of these venues sells shower gel, there are over 1000 different brands and savory scents, some more natural than others some more potent then others, some are foamier than others, etc. I remember the first time I went to get shower gel, I think I left the drug store with a nose full of the stuff from trying to squeeze the bottle oh so gently so none would spill out but just enough to get a waft of the scent. I felt triumphant after I selected my shower gel. Habitants of Madrid LOVE their shower gel, which I find a bit unbelievable, especially after a ride in the metro during <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">operación bikini</i> season. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">One of the worst things about <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">operación bikini </i>season is the stink in the metro. There are really no words to describe the stench but if I had to choose a couple, they would be RANCID, ROTTEN, NASTY, ODOROUS, and GROSS. I travel by metro several times a day and to top it off, my height causes me to be at armpit level that can sometimes take my breath away, and not in a good way. It makes me wonder if anybody actually uses shower gel.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Another major part of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">operación bikini</i> season in Madrid is the number of anti-cellulite creams. Almost every beauty line has one. Just recently I was walking around the center and every single drug store window display offered some sort of magic in a bottle. Women become obsessed with the products. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Some of these magic potions are for <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">piel de naranja</i>, orange peel looking skin, some promise to make you loose two sizes by using their gunk twice a day, some are for use in the night and promise that you will look better in the morning, some promise to get rid of that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">celulitis difícil</i>. I could go on and on. I have tried several and some actually do work but some of them smell worse than some of the armpits I have smelled in the metro.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Times are changing but many Spanish women are not into exercising so, if a cream promises to change something that could be changed with a bit of exercise, why not?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I asked Fruitcake about anti-cellulite creams and he said they are a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">timo</i> (a hoax, scandal). I am not going to deny the fact that when I see a photo of a flat torso or perfect legs with no sign of cellulite, I am a total sucker. That is what we call good advertising. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I have tried 3 different brands of anti-cellulite creams, one of which is Elyancil (see photo). Spaniards swear by it. I used it for two months (buy one get one free promo) and found absolutely no difference in my legs that are inflicted by the orange peel syndrome. I also tried one that was supposedly made of natural ingredients and it actually worked after a month or so of using it but it smelled awful. The smell would actually last for days even when I hadn’t used the products. I walked around more self-conscious about the weird smell than the cellulite on my thighs. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Per usual, I decided to send out a SMS to my girl friends to find out their opinion on anti-cellulite cream. Most of them responded to my text message within minutes. One recommended Bioderm and Clarins while another said that she had no idea about the creams but that diet and exercise work just fine.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I happened to be having <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">vinitos</i> with two girl friends at the time and one of my friends who takes very good care of her perfect figure said the following:</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Hay que usar las cremas durante todo el año para que tienen afecto. Se puede usar las cremas baratas durante el otoño y el invierno pero hay que usar las caras durante la primavera y el verano. Ejercicio y dieta y tomar mucha agua es clave.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">She basically stated that the creams needed to be used year round. One can use the cheap creams in the fall and winter and then use the expensive ones in the spring and summer. She said diet and exercise are the key along with drinking lots of water. She recommended <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Somatoline-slimming-intensive-night-treatment/dp/B002644J14">Somatoline</a> for the night or<a href="http://www.amazon.com/ROC-Retinol-Anti-cellulite-Intensive-150ml/dp/B0049VS5EE"> Roc anti-cellulite</a>. She also said for a cream to be affective, it needs to be used in the morning or the night. If you don’t have much, it needs to be used in the night. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">My other friend said that 10 sessions of lymphatic draining at a beauty clinic works wonders for cellulite but you need to have money and time. <span lang="ES-TRAD"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Effective advertising is most definitely more effective than the creams although for a body gel to be effective, it must be used. If you want to make the best of the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">operación bikini </i>season, I would say go the traditional diet route by drinking more water, eating more fruits on an empty stomach, eating a salad a day, take the stairs when possible, walk the extra distance, and select a shower gel that reminds you of spring. <br />
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</div>A Broad Abroadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06134219236774703943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-249887358205562354.post-10434181644957188582011-05-01T16:53:00.000+02:002011-05-01T16:53:06.131+02:00A lovely lady marries her Principe azul<!--StartFragment--> <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDS47WOAJ2LOBnS5hG3_Jj6Q38d7vkRTWV1Yax__DG3XiuE5Xk30yeF6rzz6CmxIy8MNuzgw9fMZPqxLaITTe93Z3uxmZdRJOeBDoEYdM0lXk0RERHMBW6Ohmb7_4uu69w8Q5fyGzDTls/s1600/Picture+4.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDS47WOAJ2LOBnS5hG3_Jj6Q38d7vkRTWV1Yax__DG3XiuE5Xk30yeF6rzz6CmxIy8MNuzgw9fMZPqxLaITTe93Z3uxmZdRJOeBDoEYdM0lXk0RERHMBW6Ohmb7_4uu69w8Q5fyGzDTls/s320/Picture+4.png" width="227" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Duke and Duchess of Cambridge</td></tr>
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<div class="MsoNormal">“Sarah, stop acting like a princess!” My dad would constantly scold me as a child when I was acting like a dainty brat. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><a href="http://abroadornottoabroad.blogspot.com/2009/11/s-r-con-h-mudo-al-final.html">Sarah, with an “H”</a>, is a Hebrew name that means “Little Princess.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have never liked to get my hands dirty and when I don’t like something or don’t want to do something, I put my foot down, absolutely refuse to take part, and I suppose to my father, it was like I was acting like a little princess who was not going to be ruled over by anybody. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I think that many women dream of their own fairy tale wedding and have at some point imagined themselves marrying a handsome Prince.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Who doesn't dream of being a Princess? In Spain, single women say they are waiting for their <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Principe azul</i>, their prince charming.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">On Friday, millions of people got to witness <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Catherine,_Duchess_of_Cambridge">Catherine Elizabeth Middleton</a> marry her <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Principe azul</i>, the handsome Prince William.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She is no longer a “commoner” but Her Royal Highness, the Duchess of Cambridge.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I watched the Royal Wedding from work on three different internet sites because there seemed to be so much traffic on all of the sites streamlining the wedding that when one got cut off, I would click on a different tab so I wouldn’t miss a single detail.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I admittedly got a bit obsessed with the Royal Wedding which the Brainy Boss couldn’t understand because according to him, North Americans should be against all British Royalty after we protested against their reign and their tea taxes over the United States through the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Boston_Tea_Party">Boston Tea Party</a> back in 1773.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I was posting links and updates like a maniac on my Facebook profile to the point that two girl friends wrote on my wall that I was cracking them up with all of my Royal Wedding updates.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was actually cracking myself up as well!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I decided that if I was going to post updates, I might as well do it royally!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had so much fun!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><a href="http://abroadornottoabroad.blogspot.com/2010/06/7-weddings-in-5-months-means-crisis.html">I LOVE weddings</a><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> and I LOVE looking at the outfits. </span>I wasn’t the only one who was so attentive to the Royal Wedding as a dear friend in the States was also updating and she sent me a Facebook invitation to the Royal Wedding!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She woke up at 4:00 AM US time and had a bunch of friends over for scones and tea and they all dressed up to watch the wedding.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Another friend and her daughter wore a “fascinator” (I call them hats or hattinis) during their breakfast.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A sorority sister who is currently living in the UK attended a “Royal wedding street party” where everybody got dressed up and celebrated as those in the United Kingdom were given the day off for the historic event…the list of those I know overjoyed by the event goes on.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">At 13:50, I left my office and zipped over to a friend’s house in a taxi to watch the first public kiss of the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge on the same balcony his late mother Princess Diana had her first public kiss for millions to see 31 years before.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To everybody’s delight, the newlyweds shared not just one <a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-13246489">kiss</a>, but two!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My heart soared with happiness, I could feel the love.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Many hoped for a hat trick, I thought it was sweet. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">There has been a lot of criticism of her dress, I thought it was perfect.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><a href="http://www.officialroyalwedding2011.org/blog/2011/April/29/The-Wedding-Dress--Bridesmaids--Dresses-and-Pages--Uniforms">Every single detail of the dress was handmade in the UK</a>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought Kate looked absolutely stunning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think that designer Sarah Burton of Alexander McQueen could not have captured Kate’s sense of style to create a <a href="http://www.fashionising.com/clothing/b--The-perfect-royal-wedding-dress-6654.html">dress</a> so lovely, classic yet modern and graceful with such intricate detail that made it look like the glowing Kate was floating down the aisle to marry her <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Principe azul</i>.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">There has been a lot of criticism about the amount of money spent on the wedding in a time of crisis, I think the Royal Wedding was just what the planet needed, a little break from all of the horrors of every day life, a reminder that despite tough times, wars, Tsunamis, and all the other crap going on, that love exist and that love is stronger than any negative happenings.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I am simply delighted that I got to witness the Historic moment of the Royal Wedding and I wish the Royal couple a life full of love and happiness. If you are still waiting for your <i>Principe azul</i>, I wish you all the best and may your wedding be just as much as a fairy tale as the one millions got to enjoy. If you already have your <i>Principe azul</i>, always make your heart dance with two kisses, not just one.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaLGf0LieAkaq94sOeVJ1uIUYh1z99sBPtuFEoqlW3YTudjjapX2bgjaMIim7-6ZFpIIjJUee3659G3cLrXnvnBB9kYoKSeG0NecnQmp98wEVBe6RxEDww2_RfjJLzoskB9k9Sdej1v8c/s1600/Picture+6.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaLGf0LieAkaq94sOeVJ1uIUYh1z99sBPtuFEoqlW3YTudjjapX2bgjaMIim7-6ZFpIIjJUee3659G3cLrXnvnBB9kYoKSeG0NecnQmp98wEVBe6RxEDww2_RfjJLzoskB9k9Sdej1v8c/s400/Picture+6.png" width="362" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">El beso real</td></tr>
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</div><!--EndFragment-->A Broad Abroadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06134219236774703943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-249887358205562354.post-20960996302022356632011-04-20T21:00:00.000+02:002011-04-20T21:00:20.558+02:00Shopping in Madrid...espadrilles....<!--StartFragment--> <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-0j2e50Z-iLrkTeddEJrHT97I5Tk679hNay2sP1nRnSXuSbWT5lbXukj76C52vXD5adIVenf13t8X2h78zctS40pVOJRq6PLmfEXopN0fZ6BZlVC91HpmRjYxe7_ELFG4KMWkK6NvPdc/s1600/IMG_1228.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-0j2e50Z-iLrkTeddEJrHT97I5Tk679hNay2sP1nRnSXuSbWT5lbXukj76C52vXD5adIVenf13t8X2h78zctS40pVOJRq6PLmfEXopN0fZ6BZlVC91HpmRjYxe7_ELFG4KMWkK6NvPdc/s640/IMG_1228.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Espadrilles</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">It is the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Semana Santa</i> in Spain and most people have gone on holiday except for about 7 of us at the office.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have been referring to the Holy Week as <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Días Santos</i> as I only have holiday on the national ones, Thursday and Friday. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A couple of weeks ago a personal shopper had contacted our office to have a meeting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I found the request a bit strange being that I work at a small Private Equity firm whose investments are in Iberian Mid-Market companies and most of the people that request meetings with me are for hotels, telephones, printers, event planning, catering, etc but her studio is located right near our office and I have always wanted to be a personal shopper, so I decided to take advantage of the fact that my bosses were away and made an appointment.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZhtAvklYI3YQ5-n7R796jtBDQtGi96sy9F7Wa5Bo8Y3ShTXyvFxGqZW8giB8VuHXpoVvd0SwzNxrM0gGEHy3CAL1tt2k1c8Y5RM4Pc1bsFDs1ppMsvTyTFDyed-TtJa3sWAv46r3alkM/s1600/IMG_1220.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZhtAvklYI3YQ5-n7R796jtBDQtGi96sy9F7Wa5Bo8Y3ShTXyvFxGqZW8giB8VuHXpoVvd0SwzNxrM0gGEHy3CAL1tt2k1c8Y5RM4Pc1bsFDs1ppMsvTyTFDyed-TtJa3sWAv46r3alkM/s200/IMG_1220.jpg" width="150" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal">So off I went to meet with <a href="http://www.bechic-ps.com/">Be Chic Personal Shopper</a>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I entered the beautiful building on Calle Monte Esquinza and her studio was just as lovely but I was a bit surprised.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I expected racks of clothing and tons of shoes more like how I have seen <a href="http://www.rachelzoe.com/">Rachel Zoe’s</a> studio on TV.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This personal shopper has just recently opened the studio and it is not yet finished.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She offers a myriad of services and lucky for her the personal shopping business is still a relatively new concept in Madrid. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought that she lacked a bit of pizzazz but perhaps that is my North American nature popping through.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wish her the best.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I, personally, am a great shopper and love shopping for other people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I usually give my bosses great ideas for their wives so I don’t think my office will need her services. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">My favorite type of shopping is for birthday presents and SHOES!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every year I ask my mom what she wants for her birthday about a month beforehand so the package will arrive on time for her special day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This year I decided to go off the beaten path and I gave her a Pandora charm in the shape of a fish because up until about a month ago, I was convinced my mom was a Pisces!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It turns out she is a Aries, the ram – thankfully, my mom loves the sea so she interpreted the gift as such rather than my minor blunder of the Zodiac.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Usually, my mom requests a couple of pairs of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">alpargatas</i>, espadrilles in English.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She LOVES them!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Here is an email from 2006:</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“<span lang="ES-TRAD" style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD;">hope all is well. wore my pink espadrilles last night. greatly admired by all. love you”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="ES-TRAD" style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD;"><br />
</span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoG01lfaXmw57COhgLozl4XsMALvunl5ZLPBjeoHIOU_Xd_sD3uvCtD6y0qSxYqtq3kTeTczlbESZiNRUxMTPwVFwjNCBtf8MyCvdtX_8dNBD1fNCG9cGfXqT3VAY-emsvXrdmqrcGIBQ/s1600/Picture+2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoG01lfaXmw57COhgLozl4XsMALvunl5ZLPBjeoHIOU_Xd_sD3uvCtD6y0qSxYqtq3kTeTczlbESZiNRUxMTPwVFwjNCBtf8MyCvdtX_8dNBD1fNCG9cGfXqT3VAY-emsvXrdmqrcGIBQ/s200/Picture+2.png" width="171" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My adorable mom in her espadrilles</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal">In Spain, the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">alpargatas</i> can be found everywhere and lately, I see them in all of my fashion magazines.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><a href="http://www.larazon.es/noticia/7211-alpargatas-sin-fronteras">Doña Leticia</a>, the future king of Spain’s wife even wears them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Who knew that ropey shoes could become so popular centuries later?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are relatively inexpensive as well, even cheaper if you don’t have to ship them to the States.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I am not the biggest fan of the ropey Jes<span lang="ES-TRAD" style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD;">ús </span>shoes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I owned my first pair of flat <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">alpargatas</i> a little over a decade ago, bought them in Málaga during my junior year abroad and more recently, I had a pair that weren’t the typical flat ones.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Due to my height and love of high heals, I can no longer were flat shoes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I find that the flat <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">alpargatas</i> are deathly uncomfortable because they are just so flat and have no lining so it feels like you are walking on rough pavement.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My first pair was black (surprise, surprise) and my second pair had a nice wedge in a celestial blue with a strap around the ankle and the lining had hot pink and orange polka dots.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were very cute but they got VERY dirty.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">After a bit of research, apparently that ropey sole is made of jute and the unisex shoes, originally for peasants, date back to the 13<sup>th</sup> Century and the King of Aragón.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><a href="http://www.ropeysoles.com/espadrille_history.php">The shoes</a> were and still are hand made in near the Pyrenees; Cataluña and the Basque Country (northern Spain) as well as Bangladesh and France.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Here is a lovely article that was published in the <a href="http://travel.nytimes.com/2005/06/05/travel/05foraging.html">New York Times in 2005</a>.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p>If you are in Madrid and would like to buy some espadrilles, here are some stores that carry the classics:</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">La Alpargateria<o:p></o:p></b></div><div class="MsoNormal">Calle García de Paredes, 74 </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Casa Hernanz<o:p></o:p></b></div><div class="MsoNormal">Calle Toledo, 18 (right outside the Plaza Mayor)</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The Princess Leticia buys hers here (very expensive for ropey shoes but they are a bit more fun):</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Castañer <o:p></o:p></b></div><div class="MsoNormal">Calle Almirante, 24 or Calle Claudio Coello, 51</div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="http://www.castaner.com/">http://www.castaner.com/</a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">On a side note, when I told Izzy that I was writing about <i>alpargatas/espadrilles</i> he really couldn't understand why. I wasn't sure why either being that I am not a number one fan of the shoe. I explained to him that it was because they were everywhere, almost like they are taunting me into buying a pair. He told me they could only be found at a particular place near Calle Princesa. When I said I wasn't familiar with that one he explained that it was a big, round type of bread filled with ham and cheese. I started started laughing and explained that I was writing about shoes. He is apparently more into the food department!!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Happy Shoe Shopping!!</div><!--EndFragment-->A Broad Abroadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06134219236774703943noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-249887358205562354.post-30998136047627878382011-04-13T21:25:00.001+02:002011-04-13T21:27:37.415+02:00To dream a little dream....<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi44tYG8Q-jfAhXNp-KOpoYqOKzrjd4kGlo3U1iwiuY2uHUoYbXF_VNX5d2GaFtDUBa4POy6B99rTmJon2yx8HpqD10vUgHSoQtXVhyphenhyphenyPoLf9CJUF3PDYbCV5VJdPu0CwY7nU8pfIYdov4/s1600/El+suen%25CC%2583o+causado+por+el+vuelo+de+una+abeja+antes+de+despertar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi44tYG8Q-jfAhXNp-KOpoYqOKzrjd4kGlo3U1iwiuY2uHUoYbXF_VNX5d2GaFtDUBa4POy6B99rTmJon2yx8HpqD10vUgHSoQtXVhyphenhyphenyPoLf9CJUF3PDYbCV5VJdPu0CwY7nU8pfIYdov4/s320/El+suen%25CC%2583o+causado+por+el+vuelo+de+una+abeja+antes+de+despertar.jpg" width="254" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10px;"></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10px;"><dd style="font-size: 1.5em; list-style-image: initial; list-style-position: initial; list-style-type: none; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_1020441904">Salvador Dalí</a></span></dd><dd class="dd_titulo" style="font-size: 1.5em; list-style-image: initial; list-style-position: initial; list-style-type: none; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><em style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_1020441904">Sueño causado por el vuelo de una abeja alrededor </a></em></dd><dd class="dd_titulo" style="font-size: 1.5em; list-style-image: initial; list-style-position: initial; list-style-type: none; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><em style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_1020441904">de una granada un segundo antes del despertar</a></em></dd><dd class="dd_fecha" style="font-size: 1.5em; list-style-image: initial; list-style-position: initial; list-style-type: none; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><a href="http://www.museothyssen.org/en/thyssen/ficha_obra/352">1944</a></dd></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">“Es que, quiere jubilarse ya…” I eavesdrop on Boss 1 saying to Mr. GQ that somebody wants to retire as they walk by my office.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Quiero jubilarme también.” I yell that I want to retire too from my office.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“¡Ya lo sabemos! Nada se le escapa a la Sarita.” Boss 1 says to Mr. GQ that they already knew that and that nothing escapes “The Sarita” (me!).<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“I would love, loooove, LOVE it!” I add in English.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“We are sure you would!” He adds in his Spanish accented English.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">That was a couple of weeks ago….<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“If you were really wealthy and didn’t have to work, what would you do?” the Brainy Boss asks me today.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">As my eyes light up, my heart starts to race and tingle with joy, he chuckles. I think of the million and one things I would do. So this is what I told him in almost a single breath…<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I would be living in a large flat overlooking the Retiro Park with two cute Cocker Spaniels and I would have a walk in closet to hold all of my lovely shoes, similar to the one Carrie has in the Sex & the City movie. The apartment would be equipped with an excessively large terrace with a big built-in grill to keep my husband happy.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Some of the activities to occupy my day would be studying Art History and learning to Paint at the Prado Museum. I would master the art of Flamenco dancing through classes and going to shows all over Spain, I would have private Pilates classes, I would lunch and shop with a pal, I would have an obligatory siesta every afternoon, I would take a creative writing class in Spanish, I would volunteer to help combat illiteracy…I would organize fund-raising events for organizations (they would include fabulous Spanish vino and cava).<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">In the evening, I would be quite flexible to whatever plans arise, vinitos with hubby/friends or just enjoying the terrace of my own home or watching TV.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">At the weekends, if I wasn’t pruning the grapes or tending to the beautiful garden on my vineyard, I would hop on my private jet to wherever my little heart desires….Macaroons and champagne in Paris, High Tea with Annabel followed by theater or dance in London, if I was feeling home sick, I would head to Stateside for a few days or if there was a girls’ weekend, I would be there….I have yet to travel to Budapest to experience the heart of Europe, Morocco to see Spain from a different angle, Russia to see Saint Peter’s Cathedral, Japan while the cherry blossoms are in bloom, Brazil for the Carnival, Peru to climb Machu Picchu, Venezuela to see where Joanna’s family is from, Finland to eat some good salmon with dill, Ice Land to see the northern lights, Alaska to see some glaciers, and California to try some of <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2010/02/05/dining/05sfdine.html">Sutton Cellars Cloudy vermouth</a>, to name a few of the places on my list.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Wow!! I can see that you have this really thought out!” The Brainy Boss states in a fully surprised way almost in shock that he asked me the question in the first place.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“It would be fabulous. A broad abroad can dream, right?”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuIuajvQNJbv_txSnE06rVLI1FuMFTMp_CN_ZXFoTNFdFCGBvTkwNdvKWLENaNOgCg0uoD_rxZJIWFkNtmbbY825lAg_CT-KU0GWdhOLZKao0P7Olevdxyqk3dMf2ztwz2u7jjAj_UioQ/s1600/Muchacha+en+la+ventana+.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuIuajvQNJbv_txSnE06rVLI1FuMFTMp_CN_ZXFoTNFdFCGBvTkwNdvKWLENaNOgCg0uoD_rxZJIWFkNtmbbY825lAg_CT-KU0GWdhOLZKao0P7Olevdxyqk3dMf2ztwz2u7jjAj_UioQ/s320/Muchacha+en+la+ventana+.jpg" width="227" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://arthistory.about.com/od/from_exhibitions/ig/dali_retrospective/dali_pma_05_01.htm">Salvador Dalí Muchacha en la ventana 1926</a></td></tr>
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>A Broad Abroadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06134219236774703943noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-249887358205562354.post-53732181185455403882011-04-03T18:46:00.000+02:002011-04-03T18:46:33.094+02:00Tacata, tacata, tacata - Flamenco!<!--StartFragment--> <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ2ekuM6emymyKyXqhFaBzsIZIE8q0L1v04ezHtECgiDiwDzdC0WGK6ANvbV7pqegHKg5zI75F8BoZtuTiSmhGBfFXhoub448K6yMDKcuF7k8hvVHAd4-e213FdBicPk8ayVj2Z48zai0/s1600/IMG_2636.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ2ekuM6emymyKyXqhFaBzsIZIE8q0L1v04ezHtECgiDiwDzdC0WGK6ANvbV7pqegHKg5zI75F8BoZtuTiSmhGBfFXhoub448K6yMDKcuF7k8hvVHAd4-e213FdBicPk8ayVj2Z48zai0/s400/IMG_2636.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Flamenco in the Plaza Santa Ana</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Don’t you think it is funny that I still email you to see what flamenco place you recommend?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Where did we see the dancing elf?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I chuckle just imagining her face when she opens that email!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">My dear friend, <a href="http://joannaengagingart.tumblr.com/">Joanna</a>, from the Uni hasn’t lived in Madrid for about 5 or so years but she has such a passion for art, dance, music and pretty much anything cultural that I always get her opinion when the moment arises to see Flamenco.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">My sister is trekking across the globe to come see me in May and I am so excited.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are meeting up in Lisbon where I’ll be for my company’s AGM and then she heads over to Madrid with me for a couple of days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have everything all set in Lisbon but I am working on the Madrid part.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She requested to see Flamenco.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Flamenco is a type of music that has origins from somewhere between the XV and XVIII Centuries, the origins of the word <i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Flamenco">flamenco</a></i> are sort of a mystery.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It started in the Southern region of Spain, Andalucia, by the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">gitanos</i> (gypsies).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I find that what I love so much about flamenco is precisely the mystery.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I find that flamenco causes the 5 senses to dance together; it doesn’t matter if you aren’t eating or touching anything; the resonance of the guitar fills the soul then it mixes with the vibrating voice of the singer and then that mixes with the dancing, the clapping and the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">castañuelas</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTLwemfZB64Iu5Yje3WXUBPoxQKHR36BA_4GS75WFean2HcWKb0uG5YmJgSxBZ4qJPPCEyuFG961-_FmoZa6L4Fx3BwgyLK6FiUGmQDdrQkF_5hVQz8VFDk9iYyERn16KQHPGvIxpWQoU/s1600/Picture+1.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="234" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTLwemfZB64Iu5Yje3WXUBPoxQKHR36BA_4GS75WFean2HcWKb0uG5YmJgSxBZ4qJPPCEyuFG961-_FmoZa6L4Fx3BwgyLK6FiUGmQDdrQkF_5hVQz8VFDk9iYyERn16KQHPGvIxpWQoU/s320/Picture+1.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Joanna & Me after seeing Sara Baras in Sabores<br />
December 2006</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal">Joanna and I have a long-standing tradition to go see flamenco shows when she and I are both in Madrid.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We love it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We have seen novices to well known dancers such as <a href="http://www.deflamenco.com/artistas/veri.jsp?codigo=134">Sara Baras</a>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We love everything about it; to the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">tacata, tacata, tacata</i> of the shoes (tah-cah-tah is the sound the Spaniards make when they refer to the sound of the flamenco shoes or the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">castañuelas</i>), to the dance, the music, the passion; it can leave you breathless and wondering if, with a bit of practice, you could be a flamenco dancer too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal">During Joannas’s last visit, we decided to go to <a href="http://www.casapatas.com/">Casa Patas</a>, my treat for her birthday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We chose to meet up in Plaza de Santa Ana and have a drink at <a href="http://thepenthouse.es/">the Penthouse</a> before the show.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While I was waiting for her, I got to enjoy a couple dancing in the center of the plaza asking for money after they did their brief act (see photo above) – it was lovely to watch the delight of the tourist drinking their <i><a href="http://spanishfood.about.com/od/drinks/r/tintodeverano.htm">tinto de verano</a></i> and their performance wasn’t half bad.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5j_LhyeQJLHk1N9QyAwlAWYp-6I4vYPj59QQk4pN7p71PebzyykOCjCwIfHcR9Gqtid9rNgX48GTj0R4YlR3c7VLynj3S21m2AxI2w7-gLtjd9k7HF5RrQTKjhgSbOtfwuSpk2Z_HO5Q/s1600/IMG_2659.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5j_LhyeQJLHk1N9QyAwlAWYp-6I4vYPj59QQk4pN7p71PebzyykOCjCwIfHcR9Gqtid9rNgX48GTj0R4YlR3c7VLynj3S21m2AxI2w7-gLtjd9k7HF5RrQTKjhgSbOtfwuSpk2Z_HO5Q/s320/IMG_2659.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Joanna & me having a pre-show drink at the Penthouse<br />
June 2010</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We were going to see a famous flamenco dancer from back in the day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were both excited and weaved our way through the center streets to get to the venue.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had decent seats.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To get ourselves settled, we ordered some over-priced <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">vinitos </i>and<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> jamón</i>, took a tourist’s photo, and patiently waited for the show to start.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: right;"></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The show started and it was fabulous until the famous flamenco dancer came out on stage.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“No way!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought to myself.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">A muffled chuckle possessed me and my dear friend thought that I was choking on my <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">vinito</i> and when she realized that I was chuckling she gave me the evil glare, which is something that goes right down to the soul.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The famous flamenco dancer from the last century was dancing in a highly flammable, polyester dance outfit in red and green, white patent leather flamenco shoes, and his hair was so full of Final Net that it didn’t move an inch during his entire performance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I couldn’t focus on his dancing because his outfit caught me so off guard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had to keep my laughter hidden deep within to avoid another scolding.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He looked like the dancing Elf!!</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8eQFU7QlMIdejzC4KZuZpD8Q2Bd2zZ80356SIlaCNYar8QRyOzJ7GlbkmZWiVZ7KXDVWML-riUWHhd8SSvY2B6y_IUk9ZuKqiyg6Yn_CHaVL6pXyhG8JlpeujIXf_kgOsBXlVKzhsJYg/s1600/IMG_2677.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8eQFU7QlMIdejzC4KZuZpD8Q2Bd2zZ80356SIlaCNYar8QRyOzJ7GlbkmZWiVZ7KXDVWML-riUWHhd8SSvY2B6y_IUk9ZuKqiyg6Yn_CHaVL6pXyhG8JlpeujIXf_kgOsBXlVKzhsJYg/s400/IMG_2677.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Dancing Elf!!!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“So, what did you think?” my dear friend asked after the show.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“I loved it up till the dancing Elf.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">My dear friend who has the tendency to be politically correct and always sees the positive answers, “Aye, ¡MIJA!” she says with a glare….moments later she adds, “Ok, his outfit was a bit much.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Flamenco is definitely worth it to see and if you are in Spain, I highly recommend it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Flamenco can be seen almost anywhere.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some of the best flamenco I have seen has been “off the beaten track” as many bars have flamenco on a given night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The best flamenco surprise I have ever gotten was when my brother and I were eating tapas at a random little restaurant in Sevilla, suddenly, the owner who had been talking on the phone decided to rest the receiver on the bar and just started belting out flamenco for about 30 minutes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was impressive and I still wonder who was on the other end of the line.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">If you do chose to see a show, I recommend that you check their websites beforehand to see who is performing and make a reservation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I only hope that flamenco causes your heart to skip a beat like it does mine and I hope that my sister and I don’t end up seeing another dancing elf!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">If you are interested in listening to flamenco-Spanish guitarists, I suggest <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0o8vszqVL2U&feature=related">Paco de Lucía</a> and <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Lagrimas-Negras-Bebo-Valdes/dp/B0001EKZOQ">Bebo & Cigala</a>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br />
</span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHiCC1A_cjvGwNqXkqeb0W3deSuBRVrZsTDFxYDpQbzCn6IB4QnN9RwE2IJpGNJghy_Q92z9eeDEkhvyp9obu1Uw0VF8q8qdT-Z0XPD6_Ld2kmpmtv-JlZxgLk0k8driDDf4emRBtSYK4/s1600/IMG_2663.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHiCC1A_cjvGwNqXkqeb0W3deSuBRVrZsTDFxYDpQbzCn6IB4QnN9RwE2IJpGNJghy_Q92z9eeDEkhvyp9obu1Uw0VF8q8qdT-Z0XPD6_Ld2kmpmtv-JlZxgLk0k8driDDf4emRBtSYK4/s400/IMG_2663.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pre-dancing Elf - Casa Patas</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Here are some of the places in Madrid:</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Las Carboneras – Plaza Conde de Miranda, 1 – 915 428 677</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><a href="http://www.tablaolascarboneras.com/web/index.html">http://www.tablaolascarboneras.com/web/index.html</a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Corral de la Morería - Calle de la Morería, 17 – 913 658 446</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><a href="http://www.corraldelamoreria.com/">http://www.corraldelamoreria.com</a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="ES-TRAD" style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD;">Casa Patas – Calle Cañizares, 10 – 913 690 496<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="ES-TRAD" style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><a href="http://www.casapatas.com/">http://www.casapatas.com/</a><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="ES-TRAD" style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD;">Cardomo – Calle de Echegaray, 15 – 91<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="ES-TRAD" style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><a href="http://www.cardamomo.es/">http://www.cardamomo.es/</a><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="ES-TRAD" style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD;">Café de Chinitas – Calle Torija, 7 – 915 471 502<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="ES-TRAD" style="mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><a href="http://www.chinitas.com/">http://www.chinitas.com/</a><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><!--EndFragment-->A Broad Abroadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06134219236774703943noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-249887358205562354.post-59324910921626965502011-03-17T17:51:00.000+01:002011-03-17T17:51:05.368+01:00¡Diga!<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvbskKk3cxqMXjAmQRV5EMpNloqwu388uvpucBxHoFwv8BjSqVk2Ic5_KEzBc9a79VwrD4h_pSbmAK8KLyznrV8vwR4uY0l28mdz1C9RIRzGT9Oatccx4cQ1dvGORovdRgf-MgpE2nwN8/s1600/Screen+shot+2011-03-17+at+5.48.32+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="244" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvbskKk3cxqMXjAmQRV5EMpNloqwu388uvpucBxHoFwv8BjSqVk2Ic5_KEzBc9a79VwrD4h_pSbmAK8KLyznrV8vwR4uY0l28mdz1C9RIRzGT9Oatccx4cQ1dvGORovdRgf-MgpE2nwN8/s320/Screen+shot+2011-03-17+at+5.48.32+PM.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This old Spanish phone is actually on sale at <a href="http://cgi.ebay.es/COLOSAL-antiguo-telefono-ESPANOL-negro-de-baquelita-/150543923976#ht_5559wt_907">www.ebay.es</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">“¿Dónde tengo que ir para recoger el talonario para la gente de tercera edad?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Creo que usted se ha equivocado de número.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“¿Me podría usted ayudar?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tengo más años que la cuesta de Álcala.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Hay que llamar a 0-1-0.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Tengo que marcar 1-0-0 ahora?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“0-1-0. Hay que colgar el teléfono y volver a marcar 0-1-0.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Aaaah, vale.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>¿Y qué más?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Solo hay que colgar y marcar 0-1-0 y una persona de la Comunidad de Madrid le va a poder ayudar a usted.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Vale.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Solo marco 1-0-0.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“0-1-0.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“1-0-0. Vale”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">This went on for another 3 minutes.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Es 0-1-0.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>¿Tiene usted para apuntar?” (I could hear him shuffling around looking for a pen)</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Tengo bolígrafo.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Anote, 0-1-0.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“0-1-0.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>¿Cree usted que me van a poder ayudar?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Sí, señor.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Muchas gracias, muy amable.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The gist of the conversation is that a very old man called our office yesterday and asked where he could pick up his social security checks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I told him he dialed the wrong number but after he told me he was older than the hill of Álcala, I told him to call <a href="http://www.madrid.es/portales/munimadrid/es/Inicio/Ayuntamiento/Contactar/Otras-formas-de-contacto/Llame-al-telefono-010/Informacion-del-servicio-010?vgnextfmt=detNavegacion&vgnextoid=82521abcac987210VgnVCM1000000b205a0aRCRD&vgnextchannel=039243f950167210VgnVCM1000000b205a0aRCRD">0-1-0</a>, a 24 hour hotline dedicated to help residents of Madrid. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I basically had to tell the old man the three-digit phone number about 50 times.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wonder if he was able to dial it in the end?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wonder if he was able to get his social security checks? </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I have learned to have more patience as the years go by.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Really, I have more patience now than I did last year!).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><!--EndFragment-->A Broad Abroadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06134219236774703943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-249887358205562354.post-67067622146475414132011-03-07T22:34:00.002+01:002011-03-07T23:09:57.698+01:00To be or not to be....LOUD??!!!<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPxu6vTuP126gewjowPTkxAAvEt3_CLbmsAswzqtwgjPaaYFh0v1wFT431NJZYwjTMSi_HK8jvq_iql7_S7nnlTGpbx4PmQaZCfvni_izWaqrQvY5SOali836s9fy7IDDZE3F3oWduBqM/s1600/Cines+Ideal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPxu6vTuP126gewjowPTkxAAvEt3_CLbmsAswzqtwgjPaaYFh0v1wFT431NJZYwjTMSi_HK8jvq_iql7_S7nnlTGpbx4PmQaZCfvni_izWaqrQvY5SOali836s9fy7IDDZE3F3oWduBqM/s400/Cines+Ideal.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cines Ideal - Original Version Movies</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">I have been on a movie kick lately, which is even surprising to myself. I don’t have the best track record for going to the movies. I get so comfortable and I am usually so exhausted that within the first 15 minutes of the film, I am out cold and to top it off, I usually start snoring. My movie snoring is similar to my flight snoring according to my husband; it starts off quiet and works its way into a progressively louder sound of a growling bear. In my slumber, I suddenly remember where I am and nod myself awake which usually produces an even worse snorting sound. I have fallen asleep at the movies with my sister (<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Bridges of Madison County</i>), with Joanna (<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Good night, Good luck!</i>) and many, many more whose titles I can’t even remember. I can honestly say that I haven’t really been to the movies much in the last decade, as I wouldn’t dare. I thought of it as a waste of money to pay for a nap and I preferred to see it on DVD so I could pick-up where I fell asleep. Since I haven’t gone to the movies much, I have missed many Oscar and Golden Globe nominated films as well as pretty much any other film. But just recently, I have found that if I go to the movies in the afternoon after my infamous siesta, I make it through the entire film and the credits with not one yawn.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Ixma and I went to the movies a bunch in Tel Aviv that was like the olden days when a red curtain would go up. When we went to see the first of the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Lord of the Rings</i> the movie reel broke so we were just sitting there for about 20 or 30 minutes with the red curtain covering the dark screen. Since it was so hot outside and the AC was on full blast in the theater, we really didn’t mind. I don’t fall asleep at action films.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">My movie kick has brought me to see <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Eat, Pray, Love</i> that was beyond awful despite the fact that I enjoyed the memoir. I admittedly fought to keep the lids open during the entire movie and why I endured the pain of sitting there watching such an awful movie is beyond me. I have seen the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Black Swan</i>, which was AWESOME, and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Fighter</i>, which I thought was inspirational and Marky Mark looks almost the same as he did when I went to see him when I was 15 in concert. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Now that I am past the “I fall dead asleep at the movies” phase, the only thing that is keeping me from going to the movies more often is the Spanish movie etiquette. It is unbelievable. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The Spaniards have a thing for their cell phones, talking in public, sending messages in public, making grunting noises in public, complaining in public, etc. It is like they almost forget that they are in public and that the cell phone is a cordless, portable device; you can bring it almost anywhere and still communicate and if you opt to talk so loudly whether it be on your cell phone or to the person next to you in public, those around you will eavesdrop so, please, don’t look so surprised. Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE Spaniards and I LOVE Spain 75% of the time but EVERYTHING is so dramatic, the world is a stage, right?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>This past Saturday, Ixma and I went to see <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Fighter</i>. We bought the tickets online so all we had to do was rush to the movies, pick up the tickets at the machine, and order an extra large popcorn. We try to do the timing just right. Finally, we sit in our seats and we were both pretty psyched to see the movie. When the previews were showing Ixma whispers to me in English,</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“The people are going to be quiet, right?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">That is always the question when we go to the movies in Spain. We went to see the second <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Lord of the Rings</i> in Madrid at the <a href="http://www.yelmocines.es/cine/yelmo-cines-ideal">Cines Ideal in Sol</a> where I see all movies in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">versión original con subtítulos</i>, Ixma actually had to turn around and tell a bunch of deaf kids to stop making so much noise and to stop kicking the seats. My eyes still go buggy at that episode.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“I hope so.” I responded a bit louder than I should have of.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">About 10 minutes into the movie, despite all of the meditation yoga, I was suddenly agitated and turned to the couple next to me after quickly deciding that English would be more effective, </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Do you mind?” I asked them.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">They almost fell out of their seats. Sure, my etiquette wasn’t the best, sure, I surprised them with my non-accented English, sure, I should have politely asked them if they could kindly be EXTREMELY quiet during the ENTIRE movie but after living here for almost a decade, I decided it was best to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ir al grano</i> (to get straight to the point) to avoid further disturbance.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Not a peep out of them for the rest of the movie but there was a HUGE disturbance a couple of rows back from ours which made my little disturbance seem like a pin dropping.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="ES-TRAD">“ A ver si pueden dejar de hacer ruido y molestar.” </span>A man says out loud. He didn’t really address anybody in particular but simply stated for everybody to stop making noise and bothering the rest of the crowd but there were two women who were seated behind him and murmuring during the film.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Spaniards love to protest and generally speaking, like to have the last word.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Hago lo que me da la gana porque pago mi entrada<span lang="ES-TRAD">.</span>” The woman informs the loudmouth that she can do as she pleases because she pays for her ticket.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The charade carried on and you can imagine what was being said. Annoying.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I almost chuckled but finally, about 2/3 into the movie, the only noise in the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sala 8</i> was from the actual movie; the viewers could finally hear the film and enjoy it.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">If you opt to go to the movies in Spain, you have officially been forewarned that some viewers can’t keep their traps shut while others think that the bright light from their cell phones from reading and sending texts during the movie doesn’t bother anybody. If only there were ear plugs to block out the loudmouths and people actually turned off their phones as advised in the beginning. I say, just sit back and enjoy the shows.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>A Broad Abroadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06134219236774703943noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-249887358205562354.post-10264468552541215752011-03-02T11:08:00.000+01:002011-03-02T11:08:43.568+01:00An Adam Fuss Exhibit all to Myself...<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS_QsGOqyTcoTWi7rsNlkqaff-OAy9Y_XnJb6-DHoEMXlXP0L42tnLKyl_KPdxl0LYVaDMfrdlzM6h74PlS1WlB2pFvnwWq1EnJyqeZvAqaubmTuJh6BF7Ws7qmf2LqQgJlrIpiLypVf0/s1600/Adam+Fuss+-+For+Allegra%252C+2009.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS_QsGOqyTcoTWi7rsNlkqaff-OAy9Y_XnJb6-DHoEMXlXP0L42tnLKyl_KPdxl0LYVaDMfrdlzM6h74PlS1WlB2pFvnwWq1EnJyqeZvAqaubmTuJh6BF7Ws7qmf2LqQgJlrIpiLypVf0/s400/Adam+Fuss+-+For+Allegra%252C+2009.jpg" width="311" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Adam Fuss - For Allegra, 2009</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 15.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“HI!!!<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 15.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 15.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">SO! in Madrid is a show that I helped work on and ship art to.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 15.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 15.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">@ Fundacio MAPFRE,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 15.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 15.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Adam Fuss.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 15.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 15.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Please go. He's a good artist.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 15.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">xoxoxox”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">This is an email that I received from a dear friend the other day; it has been a bit censored just like I was dictator Franco censoring all communication in Spain back in the last century.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I LOVE email.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I must say that I LOVE receiving posted mail better but as days go by, I am more convinced that many people have no idea where a post office is located in relation to their homes nor workplace and I suppose that adhesive stamps aren’t as fun as the ones you have to lick and put on the corner of the envelope. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">But anyhow, I LOVE surprise emails, this friend somehow manages to send me the surprise emails all the time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I especially love the emails that come from the States and that suggest something here in Spain; to go to an exhibit, a restaurant, a bar, a city or to try a wine, a tapa, etc.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My mom always manages to find little treasures in Spain such as this paper store, <i><a href="http://travel.nytimes.com/2009/07/05/travel/05heads.html?scp=3&sq=madrid%20depapel&st=cse">Depapel</a></i>, that is absolutely adorable and extremely close to my office.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">My reply:<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 15.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 15.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Jajaja!!<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 15.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 15.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">It is right next to my office-i will go check it out!!!<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 15.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">xxoo”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Since I have a two hour lunch break, I am always looking for things to do that aren’t just boring old errands.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, off I went to the <a href="http://www.mapfre.com/fundacion/es/exposiciones/cultura/Exposiciones_Actuales.shtml">Fundación Mapfre</a> where they tend to have fabulous exhibits. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some of their exhibits are so popular with such a long queue that many people never get in to enjoy them such as the <a href="http://www.exposicionesmapfrearte.com/impresionismo/visita_virtual/visita_virtual.html">Impressionist Exhibit</a> and myself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To top it off, the exhibits are free and as my dad always said, “<i>If its for free, its for me</i>”.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">After I gorged my lunch at my desk, off I went to the Adam Fuss exhibit on a lovely day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The exhibit is being held in the basement of the Fundación and is comprised of about 50 of his pieces.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">I really didn’t know what to expect.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I browsed the Internet to find out a little bit about him but you never truly get a sense of what to expect.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Adam_Fuss">He is a photographer</a> and his mother was a model, his father died when he was young, he travelled between the UK and Australia, he resides in NYC, etc.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: right;"></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">I took the elevator down to the basement and found that I was the only one there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The guard was asleep with her cell phone in hand like it was a stun gun so I could just enjoy every single piece. I had the entire exhibit to myself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br />
</span></span></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpgjGi2Q65Qr6bHtX5HwJxUGN7-S3gNf4o8W0s35wuzEUVmoy_1B_l46jiCQw8AstCH7sintKaZeNR9KMQpMwfuojF3SFAgcJz7KA9qEdOfmA4ANgv7GU25AvWSWKHm4CI51qb2TlhklI/s1600/Screen+shot+2011-03-02+at+9.41.51+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="191" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpgjGi2Q65Qr6bHtX5HwJxUGN7-S3gNf4o8W0s35wuzEUVmoy_1B_l46jiCQw8AstCH7sintKaZeNR9KMQpMwfuojF3SFAgcJz7KA9qEdOfmA4ANgv7GU25AvWSWKHm4CI51qb2TlhklI/s400/Screen+shot+2011-03-02+at+9.41.51+AM.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Picture me here, I had the entire exhibit to myself.<br />
The guard isn't in the picture but since she was asleep, it doesn't matter.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 17px;">I think that the quietness and the stillness of the exhibit were perfect for his works.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 17px;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 17px;">I found his photos to be quite stunning; some were eerie, some provoked thoughts of rain and peace, and some were just cool.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 17px;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 17px;">All of his works are very unique, a bit sexual, intriguing and quite lovely all at the same time.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 17px;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 17px;">I was trying to picture where they were taken or what was the photographer’s frame of mind at that moment when the shutter flashed.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 17px;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 15.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span lang="ES-TRAD" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">My email after seeing the exhibit:<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 15.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 15.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span lang="ES-TRAD" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Dear friend!!<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 15.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 15.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span lang="ES-TRAD" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Was definitely impressed by Adam Fuss and I totally got to enjoy every piece at the Exhibit because I was the only one there! I went at 14:30 when everybody is usually eating - I ate at my desk! Really cool!! Thanks for telling me about it!!<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 15.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="ES-TRAD" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">xxoo”</span><span lang="ES-TRAD" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Her instant response:<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 15.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“</span><span lang="ES-TRAD" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">SO glad you liked it!!! He's a really neat photographer!<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 15.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="ES-TRAD" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">xoxoxox”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="ES-TRAD" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">A few days later, I receive this email (which will probably be censored):<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 15.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span lang="ES-TRAD" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“SOOOO.... Adam Fuss is standing right behind me right now and about 10 seconds ago i told him that you went and saw his show and loved it. he smiled and thanked me....<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 15.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 15.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span lang="ES-TRAD" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">JUST PASSING ON THE LOVE.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 15.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="ES-TRAD" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">xoxox”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="ES-TRAD" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">As my friend passed on the LOVE to me, Madrid always has a handful of free exhibits which makes the city loveable and always tends to reach out to the masses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you are in Madrid and like photography, I suggest you take a peek at the <a href="http://www.exposicionesmapfrearte.com/adamfuss/visita_virtual.html">Adam Fuss Exhibit at the Fundación Mapfre</a>.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="ES-TRAD" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br />
</span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4YvhPJKKquCWhuybgHsgCtkwCXCAqg6VLA430DYv4u6hsG_5HYaLh5PqMfTuPKH_isSrRxtaFnthPhGKmMd068SZ1zSOT3CMM29GyYWZ0JqSmUkUGkYVP045nyTaZdYe5-QuK2lzBbyI/s1600/Screen+shot+2011-03-02+at+10.37.20+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4YvhPJKKquCWhuybgHsgCtkwCXCAqg6VLA430DYv4u6hsG_5HYaLh5PqMfTuPKH_isSrRxtaFnthPhGKmMd068SZ1zSOT3CMM29GyYWZ0JqSmUkUGkYVP045nyTaZdYe5-QuK2lzBbyI/s400/Screen+shot+2011-03-02+at+10.37.20+AM.png" width="298" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Adam Fuss - Untitled, 1998</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="ES-TRAD" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-ansi-language: ES-TRAD; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br />
</span></div><!--EndFragment-->A Broad Abroadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06134219236774703943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-249887358205562354.post-10850960857776478992011-02-24T11:46:00.000+01:002011-02-24T11:46:54.082+01:00Fashion Week Cibeles<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh63U0rF-d8pmj9nLrpzhfCTlx9_e4XhXcKeoT_OYpHx_XATVGwvvB6emzEveP_8jsJdCyEzZavsTpFPgplI77QK5ZmyK3Y-K97hWf3v9Ic0h3afj76dtD0NcmfaDICkqm6PQUjMQMZE_M/s1600/Screen+shot+2011-02-24+at+11.08.26+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="350" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh63U0rF-d8pmj9nLrpzhfCTlx9_e4XhXcKeoT_OYpHx_XATVGwvvB6emzEveP_8jsJdCyEzZavsTpFPgplI77QK5ZmyK3Y-K97hWf3v9Ic0h3afj76dtD0NcmfaDICkqm6PQUjMQMZE_M/s400/Screen+shot+2011-02-24+at+11.08.26+AM.png" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal">“Hello Ladies! Please let me know if you are interested in attending a catwalk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These are the options and let me know which you prefer and I can give you tickets.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I don’t think that I could hit the reply button fast enough.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was so excited.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I LOVE fashion and I LOVE catwalks!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I looked up all of the designers on Google and finally opted for the designers <a href="http://www.mayahansen.com/">Maya Hansen</a> and <a href="http://www.americanperez.com/">American Perez</a>, mostly because of the Spanish workday schedule which as a norm is 9:00 AM to 14:00 then 16:00 to 19:00, making it a long day with two hours for lunch.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">My friend replied that I needed to send over a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">mensajero</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think that my <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">mensajero </i>got to her office at lightening speed because in only a matter of minutes, I had my lovely tickets to see the catwalks in hand. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She shoots me an email, “Boy, you have fast <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">mensajeros</i>.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My reply, “They are scared of me.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She replied that she’s not surprised.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I like things done well and in a jiff.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was thrilled.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The past week has been <a href="http://www.ifema.es/ferias/cibeles/MCFW0210/CIBELES0210_INTERACTIVOS/cibelespacio.html">Cibeles Madrid Fashion Week</a>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Fashion World in Madrid has changed a bit due to the new norms and due to the fact that the catwalks are no longer in Cibeles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Since 2006, e</span>very model that is to participate on the catwalk is required to <a href="http://www.typicallyspanish.com/news/publish/article_15031.shtml">weigh-in</a> as Spain does not support models that starve themselves.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think it is great because the models are still tall and lanky but they don’t look emaciated so you can actually imagine yourself in some of the designer clothes.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">So yesterday, my Japanese friend and I went to IFEMA which is located a bit <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">a tomar por culo</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In about a half hours time and two metro trains later, we arrived at IFEMA.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>IFEMA is the trade fair grounds located in northern Madrid near the airport.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was my first time there and although the grounds and the buildings are crisp and new, it looked like a metal shipping yard and it most definitely did not have the glamour that fashion calls for.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">In the past when the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">pasarelas </i>were in Cibeles, models could be spotted all over Madrid.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The chicest women in Spain would be dressed in their finest and almost everybody would catch the fever of trying to carry themselves in that model stature and wear the latest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The publicity was everywhere.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This time around, I noticed that the shipping yard was full of young kids with the latest <a href="http://www.glamourmagazine.co.uk/beauty-and-hair/beauty-trends/2010/09/summer-trends-make-up-masterclass">reddish-orange lipstick on</a>, not the chic debonair like before. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We got on queue for the catwalk at about 18:30 and it was a long queue of about 150 eager fashionites which if you are familiar with Spain, there is never exactly a line, yet a mass of people bunched together in a sort of line with others cutting the line by casually mushing themselves into the queued – waiting on queues in Spain always makes me feel like just one of the cattle waiting to be pushed into the pen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“¿Alguien tiene entradas numeradas?” an usher rushes up and down the queue and asks the people. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I look at our tickets and much to my dismay; we didn’t have tickets with numbers on it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All of my excitement vanished because I knew in that moment that we weren’t going to make it in to see the catwalks.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“¡No puede entrar más gente!” Yep, the usher confirmed what I already knew to be true; no more people were going to be allowed in, not that any of us with a general entrance ticket passed on through in the first place.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">What a disappointment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeUy8ftrkg7vdkJNO9vzmrVXIvI26yAozAconx7UQEOmWQW0jbqUGTem8JVE51BZ93Lzw41yA69boCJwI5X7jfDgolq58XpfDTPMLQ5cHlgQKVAa34WhoK17JATWRMI0rY_JdOfbx8qNI/s1600/Screen+shot+2011-02-24+at+11.44.14+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeUy8ftrkg7vdkJNO9vzmrVXIvI26yAozAconx7UQEOmWQW0jbqUGTem8JVE51BZ93Lzw41yA69boCJwI5X7jfDgolq58XpfDTPMLQ5cHlgQKVAa34WhoK17JATWRMI0rY_JdOfbx8qNI/s320/Screen+shot+2011-02-24+at+11.44.14+AM.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Please notice the VELCRO for easy access</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal">My friend and I decided to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">hacer una vuelta</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We decided that while we were there, we might as well make the best of the situation and take a walk around.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We opted to have a free Nespresso café and try on <a href="http://us.mbt.com/Default.aspx?lang=en-US">MBT anti-sex shoes</a>, which I don't think will ever be making a home in my closet, as they are fugly even though my mom swears by them.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><br />
</o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal">I think that the high light of the evening was meeting <a href="http://www.guadalupedelrio.com/">Guadalupe del Río</a> who is a friend of one of my friends who is from Soria.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She is an up and coming designer and had some really cool pieces on display.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her clothes can be purchased at a store called Speed & Bacon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The second highlight of the evening was heading back to the center on the metro and eating at a restaurant whose specialty is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">setas</i> – I love mushrooms, not as much as fashion but I do love them!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We lucked out and got a table right by the window.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had a tasty <i><a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2009/03/18/dining/18wine.html">Bierzo</a></i> to go with the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">setas</i>. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Despite the fact that the Cibeles Madrid Fashion Week was a total disappointment, totally over-crowded with <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">chavalas</i> with red-orange lips, I will always be a fan of fashion and I will always make the best of any given situation and I will always end things on a good note.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><!--EndFragment-->A Broad Abroadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06134219236774703943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-249887358205562354.post-3985961686537270032011-02-01T18:08:00.000+01:002011-02-01T18:08:52.950+01:00ET GO HOME!!!<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal">At 1:00 AM, the door jerked open and a rush of cold air made the room suddenly feel like an icebox.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All of us who were there turned to look, our jolly faces turned to shock.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">In with the cold wind stumbled three couples along with their six kids.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The parents spent about 15 minutes unwrapping the little burritos and instead of using the coat hook, they stacked their winter gear on top of a stool.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The parents proceeded to take off their own coats and stacked them on top of the already enormous stack. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Quiero ir a casa.” the pudgy little girl who was cringing her face told her mother that she wanted to go home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Huele mal aquí,” she added with another cringing face to her friend.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The other little girl who was flipping her hair with a certain air replied, “No huelo nada pero quiero irme a casa también.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She couldn’t smell anything but apparently she wanted to go home too.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The bartender walks over, </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“¿Qué os puedo servir?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What would you like to drink?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I was still taken back by the initial shock but I just couldn’t help from listening to what they were going to order.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">After they were served, the parents were perfectly content with their pints of beer, talking amongst themselves while their children seemed to take over the bar because they had zero parental supervision.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The noise kept getting louder and louder and at the same time my face, according to my friends, was showing more disgust.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It wasn’t the typical noise you hear in a bar at 1:00 AM but rather that of a day care center.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The four boys from ages 3 to 6 were suddenly playing tops on top of the bar stools and shouting at the other when they thought they had spun the top better than the other.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After boredom struck, they sat on the floor laden with popcorn kernels, peanut shells and dirty napkins in front of the ladies’ room to continue playing tops.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After that they started running around the crowded bar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The buzzed that I had so nicely achieved from drinking 2 pints of <a href="http://magners.com/">Magners cider</a> vanished.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The habitual clients were starting to get pissed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The kids were out of control.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">At 1:45 AM, I couldn’t take anymore of the rowdy, overtired kids so we decided that it was time to go home to go to bed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The kids and their parents were still there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Way to set an example, folks</i>, I thought to myself<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">.<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">It is not that uncommon in Madrid to see children in a bar and it depends on how you define the bar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The concept of a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">bar</i> in Spain is sort of a lose term – most of the restaurants, like in the States, have a long bar where you order drinks and tapas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Most have an <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">aperativo</i> in the afternoon at about 13:00 at a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">bar </i>in the restaurant and they bring their kids.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Almost all of the kids I have seen at 13:00 are usually engrossed in their portable game players and barely even look up, much less acknowledge where they are.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have never thought it out of the ordinary at 13:00 in the afternoon but at 1:00 in the morning?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Shouldn’t kids be sleeping?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I would never let me own young children stay out that late.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I have asked several of my Spanish co-workers and friends how they feel about kids in bars and they say it is “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">irresponsable</i>”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One of my bosses says the latest his kids have ever been out was 23:00 and he felt a bit awkward about it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They went to eat out at a restaurant at 20:30 and the kids were in bed at 23:00.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He would never bring them to an actual <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">bar de copas</i> or any bar after 20:00.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Spain just went through a drastic change this past January; <a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-europe-12104056">smoking in all public places has been outlawed</a> so bars, restaurants, hospital entrances etc are now smoke-free environments.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Could that be why I have noticed more children in bars lately?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even if the bars/restaurants are smoke-free should kids in Madrid be allowed in a bar past 20:00?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t think so.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Kids should be allowed to be kids and adults should be allowed to be adults. </div><!--EndFragment-->A Broad Abroadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06134219236774703943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-249887358205562354.post-64972198092107333742011-01-25T18:38:00.001+01:002011-01-25T18:54:37.976+01:00Food Shopping in Madrid<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmc3ZCGe5FLRuun8NLEDIWlJUneGum-1XHxph56Yg8yxen_DNFSblAd3Sg4oGm_yNG07QoRZ6h6JZGr4mShtdBlvlz5h4uK77zKTkPWkghkNnh8yW0K3dKf_byW57HsonxlNx76gwg_i4/s1600/Mercado+Puente+de+Vallecas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmc3ZCGe5FLRuun8NLEDIWlJUneGum-1XHxph56Yg8yxen_DNFSblAd3Sg4oGm_yNG07QoRZ6h6JZGr4mShtdBlvlz5h4uK77zKTkPWkghkNnh8yW0K3dKf_byW57HsonxlNx76gwg_i4/s400/Mercado+Puente+de+Vallecas.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mercado de Puente de Vallecas</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpFirst" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0in;">“¿Quién es el último?” I ask the group of people in front of the fruit and vegetable stand.</div><div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0in;">“Yo.” replies the woman with the bed head and dark tinted sunglasses. </div><div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: none; tab-stops: 35.4pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: none; tab-stops: 35.4pt;">Every Saturday morning, Ixma or I have to do the food shopping for the week. We take turns because food shopping is a daunting task that really stresses me out. A lot of people tend to either get really dressed up to go food shopping or you find that the people have just rolled out of bed and have bed heads, like I usually do. You have to ask to figure out who is the last on line because there is never an organized line, just a bunch of people in front of the stand. I also get irritated because there are so many old folks who are obviously beyond retired on queue – can’t they do their shopping during the week? Some stands have modernized and you can take a number but there are very few of those. I can generally calculate how long I will have to wait till it is my turn according to the number of people ahead of me and the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">pinta que tiene</i> (how they look).</div><div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: none; tab-stops: 35.4pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: none; tab-stops: 35.4pt;">Fortunately, we have a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">mercado de toda la vida</i> just blocks away from our apartment. The traditional <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">mercados</i> in Madrid are usually under the same roof. It is almost like a shopping mall only with food stand after food stand. Our market was redone about 3 or 4 years ago so it looks nice and new. It also holds a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Mercadona</i> where I buy the majority of my gluten-free foods even though most of them have sugar.</div><div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: none; tab-stops: 35.4pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: none; tab-stops: 35.4pt;">On a lucky day, the food shopping will take 20 minutes but that is rare. Most of the time, going to the market is like going to a really boring movie or being in a really painfully, boring meeting because for many shoppers, going food shopping is like going to the psychologist for free. Most can tell their entire life story in a matter of 15 minutes, the other day a lady in front of me was telling the fruit man about how she broke out in an awful rash and had to go to the ER – kind of takes your appetite away.</div><div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: none; tab-stops: 35.4pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: none; tab-stops: 35.4pt;">I don’t particularly like doing the food shopping because you have to ask for everything one by one and specify the weight. I have never known how many tomatoes or apples are in a kilo, I don’t care how much the food weighs! I am probably the only one who asks for a specific number when ordering my food. I order almost the exact same food every week; 12 tomatoes, 6 apples, 4 sweet onions, 2 not so large zucchinis, a not too large egg plant, broccoli, squash, carrots, leeks, lettuce, mushrooms, asparagus, etc and whatever else is in season. My coworker informed me that we are in the “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">epoca de mandarinas”</i>; too bad I can’t eat mandarins anymore because they are really tasty, and they usually come from Valencia. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Alcachofas</i> are also in harvest now and boy do I love artichokes. Strawberries are up soon. By the time I have placed my order, everybody on queue is staring at me. I always feel like a complete moron that is on center stage who can’t remember their lines properly – “don’t mix up the words” is something I say to myself while I feel like saying to the open-mouthed crowd, “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sí, soy norteamericana y sí tengo un acento porque me quiere mucho!” </i>(Yes, I am American and yes, I have a strong American accent because it loves me – get over it people!) After I got that part done, I go to the meat stands – I order all that by the kilo or the number of pieces or slabs of beef that I want! I usually pick what looks best, which my husband informs me, is not really the way to do it. I like to make meatballs; I have improved immensely since my first fiasco when I used too much garlic, giving my <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">albondigas</i> the name <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ajobondigas</i> (garlic balls). I usually get a dirty look from the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">carnicero</i> because I don’t like to get the already prepared minced meat. I like to pick the red meat and pig I want, have them cut off all the fat and then run it through the machine that makes it look almost like spaghetti. I only like it to go through the machine once, to top it off. </div><div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: none; tab-stops: 35.4pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: none; tab-stops: 35.4pt;">I refuse to go to the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">pescadería</i> because the man talks too much and tries to sell me the most expensive seafood they have. Like the meat, I usually pick what I think looks best, which is really not the way to do it with fish. You have got to look at the eyeballs and if they look healthy, the fish will be great. The fish man’s large wife rings up the tab with her long press on nails as she is singing along to the MTV Latino that is blaring on the TV. It is quite the experience.</div><div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: none; tab-stops: 35.4pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: none; tab-stops: 35.4pt;">We used to buy all of our vegetables from a man named Carlos but Carlos's veggies aren’t that fresh. We started to notice that after only 2 days in the fridge, the poor veggies were wilting and according to Fruitcake, if it isn’t fresh, it isn’t for me. It started to become a waist; we would buy the veggies and have to throw them out. So, Ixma who has passion for food and booze took a stroll around the market and found a great stand. </div><div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: none; tab-stops: 35.4pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: none; tab-stops: 35.4pt;">Our new veggie stand has great variety and they put all of the veggies in cute little brown bags. The bags remind me of the brown bag lunch with the Sarah Bear stamp on it from my schooldays. After they bag all of my goodies, I have them put everything in clothe bags, I am trying not to use plastic. Most people go to the market with an old fart cart but I refuse. I try not to buy more than I can handle. I had an old fart cart in Israel and the wheels constantly fell off, making it more a hassle than comfortable shopping because the market is located up a hill so I would end up having to chase the wheel down the center.</div><div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: none; tab-stops: 35.4pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: none; tab-stops: 35.4pt;">The best market in Madrid is the <i><a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_565635895">Mercado de la </a></i><i><a href="http://travel.yahoo.com/p-travelguide-2791531-mercado_de_la_cebada_madrid-i">Cebada</a></i>. It is located in La Latina. From the 15<sup>th</sup> century up to the 20<sup>th</sup>, it was a very important economic center. You can find just about anything there. Ismael and I go there on occasion to find fiori di zucca, baby corn and other yummy worldly treasures. </div><div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: none; tab-stops: 35.4pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: none; tab-stops: 35.4pt;">Another <i><a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_565635891">mercado</a></i><a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_565635891"> in Madrid is the </a><i><a href="http://travel.nytimes.com/2009/07/26/travel/26heads.html">San Miguel</a></i>. It is located right outside the Plaza Mayor. It was just redone but they maintained its original structure. It is quite lovely but it is no longer the typical market rather it is a place with fancy tapas and wines. It is definitely worth a visit.</div><div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: none; tab-stops: 35.4pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpLast" style="mso-list: none; tab-stops: 35.4pt;">So, if you ever come to Madrid, make sure take a visit to a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">mercado de toda la vida</i>, it is a very European experience. If you plan to shop, make sure you bring a lot of patience and your old fart cart so you can fit in better!</div><div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpLast" style="mso-list: none; tab-stops: 35.4pt;"><br />
</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJhpjFQBJGmimxWBl2-P1zOK9WsXnkJx717KuiKJktTP6m9m74PMYJtT1QbbtOXJQzNVsYxjmFTyl9kO_ODiGJDBROTnfQ_ogRgm2qY4C6mW2x6_e09iKD-UQm2nmCfsa8z79aacqODCQ/s1600/Old+fart+cart.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJhpjFQBJGmimxWBl2-P1zOK9WsXnkJx717KuiKJktTP6m9m74PMYJtT1QbbtOXJQzNVsYxjmFTyl9kO_ODiGJDBROTnfQ_ogRgm2qY4C6mW2x6_e09iKD-UQm2nmCfsa8z79aacqODCQ/s320/Old+fart+cart.jpg" width="219" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Old Fart Cart</td></tr>
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</div>A Broad Abroadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06134219236774703943noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-249887358205562354.post-49713116446105613532011-01-18T17:44:00.000+01:002011-01-18T17:44:21.099+01:00Teenybopper Books!!<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhcz48W3SUe8oLP3hr8tV4_2dtkGn40IfqpUdSAAAmhCLSKT2gqyJi-NyvRAIAqkHxDXB7lM-5tZN63pOxq9WBlwELbL_traMKXmOcND7IEXYk4sJrTOPLZB8CewMFULGH9l-p4kGq2Bg/s1600/Twilight+Series.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="171" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhcz48W3SUe8oLP3hr8tV4_2dtkGn40IfqpUdSAAAmhCLSKT2gqyJi-NyvRAIAqkHxDXB7lM-5tZN63pOxq9WBlwELbL_traMKXmOcND7IEXYk4sJrTOPLZB8CewMFULGH9l-p4kGq2Bg/s400/Twilight+Series.gif" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I finished the first book of the Stephanie Meyer’s series during my lunch hours at one of my favorite cafés today. My friend, D, has all the other three novels to lend me but I just couldn’t wait to figure out when we would get together for some <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">vinitos</i> so we could make a book exchange and besides that, I am totally addicted, just like a vampire needs blood to survive.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">So, I run through the square when the cafés is located and cross calle Genova and enter frantically into my favorite bookshop, <a href="http://www.pasajeslibros.com/">Paisajes</a>, which just happens to be only blocks away from my office, to buy the second book in the series.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I enter the store, almost flinging the door off its hinges, I hurry down the staircase to the “English” books section and I was looking for the books, my looking turned into desperation.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“¿Tienen ustedes los libros de la serie de Stephenie Meyer?” I ask the bookstore lady.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Sí, los tenemos.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Están en la parte infantil.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She directed me to the kids’ section of the bookstore.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“¿Infantil?!! ?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Sí, infantil pero no sé si vamos a poder encontrar los libros porque estámos con una mudanza.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">She must have seen the look of distress in my eyes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The freaking kids’ section?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“WOW! I have hit an all time low…reading kids’ books and devouring them?” I thought to myself.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We walk back up the stairs and the orderly store was in upheaval.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She looked for a few minutes at all of the piles on the floor and finally asked one of her coworkers where the novels were.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were probably the only novels left on the shelf.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Aye, muchas gracias.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Es que no puedo creer que son libros infantiles.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I said thanks and told him that I couldn’t believe they were children’s books.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Bueno, más bien son libros juveniles y adultos.” He reassured me that they were books for teenagers and adults. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Despite the fact that I was rather humiliated, I shrugged it off, I even had great pep in my step back to work – I ask the door lady if she had heard of the books and her reply, </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“¡Claro que sí!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mi hija está leyéndolos.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Yep, that’s it; her daughter is reading them as well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have always thought that there is nothing better than a great book and nothing worse than a crappy book that you are obligated to read for a degree.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nonetheless, I cannot wait to start the second this evening and I will not cover it with a book cover for public reading – kids’ book, teenyboppers book or not!!</div><!--EndFragment-->A Broad Abroadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06134219236774703943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-249887358205562354.post-30573932209929853712011-01-14T17:22:00.003+01:002011-01-14T18:39:46.451+01:00ATTENTION!! ATTENTION ALL SHOPPERS!! – Avoid Shopping till March…<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFHlyvwGxX4fd6icIP1AyrWNjpbBkrfO9USE8L91a-pHKcjmAsIxjsP9i92Zr3od4c4wQ-uhU2fP-bIYYf2mDmNlqRGn3ggGu0-DSgbwgqZH9MLSHVkjpTxYBg8jIjIXjY-XGX7btKAT4/s1600/fechas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="227" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFHlyvwGxX4fd6icIP1AyrWNjpbBkrfO9USE8L91a-pHKcjmAsIxjsP9i92Zr3od4c4wQ-uhU2fP-bIYYf2mDmNlqRGn3ggGu0-DSgbwgqZH9MLSHVkjpTxYBg8jIjIXjY-XGX7btKAT4/s400/fechas.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Image from Massimo Dutti website<br />
When to start avoiding stores during sales worldwide</td></tr>
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<div class="MsoNormal">I worked retail years back. I worked at <a href="http://www.anntaylor.com/home.jsp">Ann Taylor</a>. I first worked at the “AT” at the Stamford Mall and then in hometown. To this very day, I hate malls. I didn’t really care for the job but being that I am such a cheap ass, I loved the discount and my co-workers. Actually, I didn’t really like the job at all, being on your feet all day sucks and dealing with rude customers sucks even more. I am so OCD, I never minded “sizing” the clothes nor folding them with a “folding board”. Boy, do I have stories from that experience much like the story from a temp job in NYC with Thelma.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The sales started in Madrid on January 7<sup>th</sup>, the day after Three Kings Day. According to the Spanish papers, each consumer will spend about <a href="http://www.abc.es/20110108/sociedad/abcp-prudencia-recorte-gasto-20110108.html">85€ during the sales</a> which is lower than last year. I like to think of the sales as the time when it is best to avoid shopping at all cost. The clothes are all picked, there are no sizes, people push and shove and I am convinced that this is a time when all of the evil people come out and clutter the stores. It’s almost like SALE=Be an Asshole. Awful. I also find that I am a magnet for non-sale items. If it is not on sale, I will surely adore it. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I went to one of my favorite stores during my lunch hours on January 7<sup>th</sup>. I ended up buying a couple of nice things that I don’t need. I probably would have bought more stuff had I not gotten such bad anxiety from the fact that nothing fit due to the <a href="http://www.livestrong.com/article/347278-5-ways-to-lose-holiday-pounds/">holiday bulge</a> that seems to have made itself a home on my stomach and the fact that they had the heat on full blast – that’s a way to keep customers out. I paid for my goods and decided that was about it for sale shopping for me. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Well, I guess that it wasn’t about it for me. I decided to hit the stores today and ended up having a total “AT” flashback! First, I went into Zara and it was an OCD sufferer’s nightmare, so I dashed out of there. Next, I went into <a href="http://www.massimodutti.com/Dutti/home">Massimo Dutti</a> and I noticed two sketch balls - they had a big El Corte Inglés bag and they were whispering. I knew something was odd so I went to the other side of the store. There were these lovely emerald green dresses hanging up, yes, they were from the full-priced new collection and I had looked at them just moments before, they robbed the entire rack! Dirty Rotten Scoundrels! Then they proceeded to walk gracefully out of the store and nobody bothered to stop them even when the obnoxious alarm sounded. I remember at “AT” we had to zone and watch out for possible robbers and ask everybody who entered the store if they needed any help within a 30 second timeframe, just to let customers know we were there to serve. I didn't say anything today so I feel kind of bad. BUT I did rat out a drunk man stuffing tubes of toothpaste in his pants at the grocery store the other day - so that makes up for it right??</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">If you are hoping for a bargain, now is your time. If you want to avoid not so nice people, not having to claw your way through the racks, watching items get stolen, frustration, wait till all the sales end and the new collections come out. That would be March 3rd in Madrid. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ8Ih89kkVf8SwYcxi17WnxdUocliol2vISWxEtHfYkxOu6jCONojgmqR2oD_QuB41pLIZr0-S8EfzhE1izrOP6WN6ctmE9CraAaHwazP8knh9xEbGuKNwi6Pfh3DnRGGn7cb-0VsWHD8/s1600/Mango.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="221" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ8Ih89kkVf8SwYcxi17WnxdUocliol2vISWxEtHfYkxOu6jCONojgmqR2oD_QuB41pLIZr0-S8EfzhE1izrOP6WN6ctmE9CraAaHwazP8knh9xEbGuKNwi6Pfh3DnRGGn7cb-0VsWHD8/s320/Mango.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Email Promotion from Mango</td></tr>
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</div>A Broad Abroadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06134219236774703943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-249887358205562354.post-10614566707348477872011-01-07T13:10:00.003+01:002011-01-07T16:19:35.335+01:00Oops, I forgot!I have this awful tendency to forget the irrelevant things despite the fact that I have a slight case of OCD. I like to blame it on the supposed brain fog my autoimmune disease causes even though I have had this for years. Luckily, in these extremely modern day times, I can put <i>avisos</i> wherever! At work, I put them on my iCal and the event pops up according to how I set it (yes, I have a juicy iMac at work - I am spoiled). At home, I write appointments and reminders on my recycled calendar (I have yet to buy one for 2011 and the one my best friend gave me with photos of her kids is adorable)...and to add to the mix, I put an <i>aviso</i> on my phone and the<i> aviso</i> is extremely loud, you can hear it throughout the whole office and the entire wagon of a train, just in case I forget or I am in a loud area and can't hear it.<br />
<br />
So this morning, I put on my work coat, yes, just like party shoes, I have work clothes, play clothes, gym clothes, etc and as I reach in my pocket to see if there were gloves in there, I felt a key.<br />
<br />
"No freaking way!" I think to myself as I look at the big 38 on the keychain.<br />
<br />
After the half day of work this past Wednesday, I ran to the grocery store to get food as all stores where closed yesterday on the Reyes Magos. In Spain, it is obligatory to lock up your stuff in a locker at grocery stores which usually cost 50 cents or a Euro. To add to the chaos, I had ordered ribs to go and told them to be ready at 15:00. I was in such a hurry that I forgot to reclaim my belongings.<br />
<br />
This morning, I thoughtfully left Izzy a note to go and see if my stuff was still in locker 38 at Mercadona, he has the day off. <br />
<br />
"¡No te jodas! ¿Cuándo dejaste las cosas allí?"<br />
<br />
"El miércoles." I told him I left my stuff there on Wednesday.<br />
<br />
"¿Crees, de verdad, que tus pertenencias van a seguir allí?"<br />
<br />
Izzy, despite all of his ranting, went to Mercadona on his way to get his haircut. Yes, I honestly thought my stuff would still be there and sure enough, it was!! That would be because I picked Lucky Locker nº 38. Izzy was a bit disappointed at the contents but whatever, ones' belongings are ones' belongings and so what if the bag I locked up only had a free deodorant from a trial a co-worker is involved in and a glass tupperware. I got my things back and I am happy.A Broad Abroadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06134219236774703943noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-249887358205562354.post-19945247245413938942011-01-03T18:26:00.000+01:002011-01-03T18:26:04.652+01:00San Silvestre Vallecana 2010<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal">So basically I have been at work all day and I have the “I am at work in body, still on vacation in spirit” feeling.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have been reading blogs about people’s new year’s resolutions and those who don’t make resolutions and I tend to lean on the latter of the two.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I used to make New Year’s resolutions but then realized that why should I make a list of things that I want to do and more than likely won’t?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It only sets up for disappointment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My list usually consisted of be a nicer person, lose 10 pounds, be more creative, travel more – can you spell B-O-R-I-N-G?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am a nice person when I am in a good mood or somebody doesn’t piss me off, the pounds will eventually fall off (I have been eating too many <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">tapas</i> and drinking too much <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Ribera</i>)….I am pretty creative when I want to be and I am always willing to travel should my budget allow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, no New Year’s resolutions for me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perfect!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have been trying to live my life at the moment for the last two and a half years and I must say, I have been having a great time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">When I got to work today, I was the first to arrive but soon enough the cavalry trickled in with their “I have just been on the best holiday EVER” faces.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“¡Feliz año Nuevo!” per usual, I opted not to give the two kisses (I try to keep it business like at the office but three co-workers managed to get the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">besitos</i> out of the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">americana</i>).</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">One of the major New Year’s Eve events in Madrid that I forgot to write about in my blog the other day is the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/San_Silvestre_Vallecana">San Silvestre Vallecana</a>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It<a href="http://www.sansilvestrevallecana.com/informacion.html"> is a 10 kilometer marathon that starts at the north end of Madrid and ends in my hood, Vallecas</a>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have seen the runners since 2003, when I first took over my husband’s bachelor pad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is quite the event and each year there are more runners.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This year there were 34,000! <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The race attracts not only real runners but also those who are enthusiastic to run a race.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am still pretty shocked by the number of runners this year but I am even more shocked by the fact that there were minimal holiday lights in the hood this year, pathetic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are blue holiday lights sporadically strung on the trees and no holiday light banners (typical in Madrid); usually we have ones that remind me of Kwanza.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But anyhow, I have never thought of Spaniards as very athletic despite the fact that the football team won the World Cup this past year and all of the major triumphs of Rafa Nadal so it made me happy to see so many sign up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The race is actually fun to watch due to the people that run in groups and wear costumes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This year’s favorite was a group dressed as Pac Man and the ghosts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some do actually race to win or improve their time but many do it for pure camaraderie.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I had 2 friends run, one from Venezuela and a co-worker.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I managed to spot the Venezuelan but I didn’t manage to see my co-worker, Tony.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Since it was quite chilly out, I watched for an hour, took some photos and opted to send Tony a SMS saying that I tried to spot him and to wish him a Happy New Year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He responded several hours later that he had run the race with another co-worker.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">When Tony got to work today, he had a great big smile and wished me happy holidays, etc., he was so excited that I had seen the race.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“¿Dónde estuviste?” he asked.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“¿Sabes dónde habían los tambores y músicos, una manzana más por arriba a la derecha de la cuesta arriba al lado del metro Nueva Numancia.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I informed him that I was a block up from the band, on the right hand side going up hill.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Aye, ¡qué bien!” How cool.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">So a bit later, as the office resumes their version of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Camara Café</i>, I hear others talking about how the last part was all up hill and they tried their best not to lose their pace.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Turns out 3 co-workers ran the race.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Most of my co-workers are pretty athletic and pretty competitive, most work out and if given the chance, they even compare cholesterol, which I find a bit disturbing.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Perhaps a “someday” resolution could be to run in the San Silvestre Vallecana!!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or to try and take charge of the Holiday decorating in Vallecas!!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">**Pictures will be posted later!</div><!--EndFragment-->A Broad Abroadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06134219236774703943noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-249887358205562354.post-81012360114284083662011-01-01T16:11:00.003+01:002011-01-01T16:29:29.733+01:00Happy 2011!!<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiBNSFrVrtSQYJ-0-pVzE4hizkvJkurd7s2HVYmWW8UPNBfdjw0zRCxUUvB6jz8sCEkL4O5gZtp7uxXSrma-GWjL1XIhMAuy9RHuN4eG3ULaZDkWm-Lno5tA0FCywZAicDeT1kFeU88-k/s1600/IMG_0054.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiBNSFrVrtSQYJ-0-pVzE4hizkvJkurd7s2HVYmWW8UPNBfdjw0zRCxUUvB6jz8sCEkL4O5gZtp7uxXSrma-GWjL1XIhMAuy9RHuN4eG3ULaZDkWm-Lno5tA0FCywZAicDeT1kFeU88-k/s200/IMG_0054.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Puerta del Sol / New Year's</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">Happy New Year! I hope that 2011 brings only the best of the best; laughter, love, fun, great company, exceptionally good health, etc. <a href="http://www.greatdreams.com/eleven/num11.htm">11 is a great number</a>, I have always liked it. I was born in November and according to an astrology webpage, <a href="http://www.indastro.com/horoscope/scorpio-horoscope-astrology.html">2011 is going to be an exciting year for me and my fellow scorps</a>, full of ups and downs that include lots of social activity. I am not sure how well those pages can be trusted but they are always fun to read. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Last night, Ismael and I celebrated the New Year at his brother and sister-in-law’s house in a town called Coslada. My sister-in-law’s family was there; her mom, sisters and their husbands and kids. It was a nice night. I was the DD so I had to drive home which I found extremely scary being that I have driven about a dozen times in the last nine and a half years. Ismael insisted on not only blaring the music but on turning on the windshield wipers to clean the windows and it made me extremely paranoid. In Europe, there are tons of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">retondas</i> and you have to get in the proper lane to exit. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Last year, we rang in the New Year in Rome, which was amazing. As we were walking across the <a href="http://www.museumstuff.com/learn/topics/Pons_Cestius">Ponte Cestio (Travestere) Bridge</a>, some Italians noticed that we didn’t have champagne and next thing we knew, we were drinking <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Asti spumante</i> out of plastic champagne flutes. Fireworks lighted the midnight sky, it was amazing.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Traditionally, we have celebrated the New Year with two dear friends who travelled to Israel this year.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">In Spain, the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">noche vieja</i> is a pretty big event. Many chose to celebrate in the <i><a href="http://www.gomadrid.com/sights/puerta-del-sol.html">Puerta del Sol</a></i>, the epi-center of Spain. We went one year and we had a blast; it was Ismael’s first time celebrating it with all of the tourists!! Traditionally, at midnight, you are to eat a grape with each of the 12 tolls of the bell. The grapes in Spain usually have pits so you have to prepare your grapes in advance, take out the pits and some people peal off the skin. After you have stuffed your mouth with the 12 pudgy grapes, you wish everybody a happy new year, which undoubtedly hinders your speech and sounds so funny, and then you follow that by giving a kiss on each side of the cheek which usually makes the grapes turn to mush.</div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiJ2VcvVIhA7JJERuekeAy0wGMjuQ9r7WIQpszvBvKwBmlD9-n7IVc2PYErThjV2-tYCWUIMNNoctH8Xy-XWJXvs8X5Insm3ohk8NTgcKeZPWHV_wbv6xTaCclGasTC20gIWyLrAPo2fc/s1600/Madrid+-+March+-+April+2009+260.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiJ2VcvVIhA7JJERuekeAy0wGMjuQ9r7WIQpszvBvKwBmlD9-n7IVc2PYErThjV2-tYCWUIMNNoctH8Xy-XWJXvs8X5Insm3ohk8NTgcKeZPWHV_wbv6xTaCclGasTC20gIWyLrAPo2fc/s200/Madrid+-+March+-+April+2009+260.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Preparing the grapes</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">It is also a tradition to wear red undies. I tried to figure out the origins of the red undies but didn’t find anything extremely relevant. All of the lingerie stores sell them. I sent my sister a pair of red thongs last year and when she opened the wrapped present her kids asked where the butt of the undies was!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Since I have eaten my 12 grapes and wore my red undies, I am now prepared for 2011! However you chose to ring in the new year, I would like to wish you a Happy New Year and I only hope that 2011 will be everything that you hope for.</div>A Broad Abroadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06134219236774703943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-249887358205562354.post-65198685750016473912010-11-19T11:13:00.001+01:002010-11-19T11:15:24.693+01:00The Wringer<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb_1vHe5BKJ07rXAmzIzj-YDoQSstLPWlRQcWQ_2juPIjLlhRJtKNjUUplrsFjCLDvcEiLbAnolCP-2BYXnG0ujWsfi-LOPPP5gE71dzqryk_kKZYK6Vp8_iEcuu4wZvPM9MHL5euGNdE/s1600/Etiqueta.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb_1vHe5BKJ07rXAmzIzj-YDoQSstLPWlRQcWQ_2juPIjLlhRJtKNjUUplrsFjCLDvcEiLbAnolCP-2BYXnG0ujWsfi-LOPPP5gE71dzqryk_kKZYK6Vp8_iEcuu4wZvPM9MHL5euGNdE/s400/Etiqueta.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Or give it to your mother, she'll know what to do...</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span></div><a name='more'></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Aye, Isma, hay que cambiar tu jersey, está manchado.” I tell Ismael that he needs to change his rugby, as there was an enormous grease stain on the front.</span><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> “Acabo de ponermelo, está limpio.” Isma informs me that it is brand, spanking clean and then he adds, “Es que nunca en mi vida he tenido la ropa tan manchada de grasa. Es que mi mamá nunca dejó manchas en la ropa limpia. Hay que limpiar las manchas mejor.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“¿Cómo que quieres que yo limpie cada mancha mejor?” As the blood is starting to fill my head due to the anger, I ask Isma how exactly am I supposed to clean each stain better as I think to myself that he has obviously whacked his head at some point by confusing me with his mother or the </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">cha cha </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">(*) and that I wasn’t the one who got the stain there in the first place. How should I know that he decided to use his shirt as a napkin?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Isma implied in that moment that my laundering skills are about as up to par as my cooking skills and that apparently, his mother never left stains on his clean clothes. I beg to differ as I think that my laundering skills are that of a professional dry cleaner. I have been washing and ironing my clothes since I was able to reach the knobs of the washer and dryer which was a test that I managed to pass when I was about 11 years old. I remember my mom lining us up in front of the washer to see if we could reach them, she made it seem like it was a great privilege and that washing your own clothes would be fun. Tuesdays were my day to wash and dry my clothes. I grew up under the motto that “if you dirtied it, you cleaned it” as we had to put our dirty dishes in the dishwasher as well.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Since I have been living in Madrid, all I do is wash clothes, it could almost be considered a compulsive habit. The household washers in Europe are generally very small. If you were to compare a European washer to an American one, you would almost think that it was part of a child’s kitchenette. Ours can wash up to 5-8 kilos; about 2-4 button down shirts, a pair of pants, 2-4 t-shirts and a bunch of socks and underwear fits in one load. Mind you, if you are a couple and both dress in business clothes and casual clothes and gym clothes, that would be about a load of laundry to do every other day, now that is a lot of laundry to do.<o:p></o:p></span></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkADCf_tbeLS0rIB-nOTFzxt_TWC9g7COnv6ASS-B4-3U1zAK3C4xt63okJLF6qYt6mA-2uCunWnrSC0RSQ4brGuDl8o-aeTL2GssC1dGxhs1Hb_Pve5TCMuotJ-SzzDUseR2PXfQNhuc/s1600/integrated-washer-dryer-teka-lsi-1260-s.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkADCf_tbeLS0rIB-nOTFzxt_TWC9g7COnv6ASS-B4-3U1zAK3C4xt63okJLF6qYt6mA-2uCunWnrSC0RSQ4brGuDl8o-aeTL2GssC1dGxhs1Hb_Pve5TCMuotJ-SzzDUseR2PXfQNhuc/s200/integrated-washer-dryer-teka-lsi-1260-s.jpg" width="115" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Integrated Washer Dryer -<br />
fits right under the counter, in between<br />
cabinets.</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ismael and I are fortunate enough to have a washer- dryer combo. Dryers in Spain didn’t exist up till recently and are still considered to be </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">un lujo</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> as it is such a warm climate, they aren’t entirely necessary. I find them necessary because who wants to dry themselves with a piece of cardboard or a lufa? Who wants to wear stretched out clothing? I like my towels fluffy and I like clothes to fit. When clothing comes out of the washer, it looks like it has been through the wringer about 10 times and if you were to hang them on the clothes line, when they are dried stiff they will undoubtedly have to be ironed, creating more housework.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When I studied my year abroad in Málaga, Juanita, my host mother, or the </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">señora de limpieza </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">washed and ironed all of my clothes and I mean all of my clothes, even my undies. I remember Juanita asking me where my dirty clothes were after I had been there for about 2 weeks. I had been stuffing them all into plastic grocery bags and was trying to figure out how to ask her the “where, when, how, and what” I had to do to get clean clothes in Spanish. She made me show her. So up the stairs we go and I show her the grocery bags full of dirty clothes. She takes the bags and I follow. Down the stairs, through the kitchen and out to the back.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Sarah, yo te lavo la ropa. Nadie toca mi máquina.” She told me she was going to wash my clothes and that nobody touches her machine. I am feeling totally humiliated. It’s not that my clothes are totally soiled but I hadn’t had anybody other than me wash my clothes for as long as I could remember. I kept trying to tell her in my crappy Spanish that I would wash them myself but she blatantly ignored me. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I remember eating lunch later and turning my head and suddenly feeling totally mortified. There they were, I could see them right through the kitchen window-it’s like they were giving me the finger, singing, “na ni, na ni, boo boo!” my socks, my underwear and the rest of my garb blowing in the wind.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A few days go by and I try my hardest not to think about the fact that my host mother is washing my clothes, that my clothes are blowing over Málaga for all to see when one day after class, there are several nice piles of clothing on my bed along with a hamper in the corner. My underwear was even ironed. “Wow, that’s pretty nice.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I must say my year in Málaga was quite the luxury. I had my own room, my own bathroom (we won’t talk about how I thought the bidet was a foot washer and the perfect place to shave my legs), my own deck with a view of the Mediterranean Sea, my clothes were washed, I was always served hot, freshly cooked Mediterranean food, the house had a pool, gazebo, and two gardens; basically I lived like a Spanish Princess for an entire academic year. It was nice.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It did take me a while to overcome my </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">vergüenza </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">of having my clothing washed but after a month, I decided to get over it. Spaniards, on the other hand, have a very different mentality about living in the lap of luxury. Per usual, I did a survey and my results were quite mind-boggling.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My survey was not limited to my co-workers this time. I actually surveyed several friends and it was done via email and through personal interviews over a </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">copita de vino</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">. I simply asked four questions: until what age did they live with their parents (ie after studying, etc), if they lived in a rented or owned apartment, who they live with, when did they start washing their clothing and if they iron their own clothing. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><span lang="ES-TRAD"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1.</span><span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span></span><span lang="ES-TRAD"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">¿Hasta qué edad viviste con los padres? O sea, ¿viviste con los papas hasta después de los estudios universitarios, hasta casarte, etc.? (Necesito detalles)<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><span lang="ES-TRAD"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">2.</span><span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span></span><span lang="ES-TRAD"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Vives en un piso alquilado o comprado - ¿Con amigos, cónyuge, novio?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><span lang="ES-TRAD"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">3.</span><span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span></span><span lang="ES-TRAD"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">¿Cuándo empezaste a lavar tu propia ropa? <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><span lang="ES-TRAD"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">4.</span><span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span></span><span lang="ES-TRAD"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">¿Planchas tu propia ropa?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I must say that I actually started the first half of this blog about a month or so ago after I got a forward with the clothing label that is at the top of the blog. My friend wrote, “It should say, </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Give it to Sarah</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">…” I actually found it so humorous, so Spanish, and it sooo made me think, “What I have gotten myself into?” I got all excited and decided to react with my survey. I got so overwhelmed with the responses that I actually felt that I was on deadline to get my thesis done and I wasn’t sure how to finish this blog entry or how to even begin to justify their answers. As one friend wrote:<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Mis respuestas en tu correo, la verdad es que las leo y me dan miedo. Tía me doy cuenta que los españoles vamos un poco retrasados.” She says that she has responded to my answers and that truthfully, after reading her answers, it frightens her and that she has realized that Spaniards are a bit behind the times. She lived with her parents until she was 26 and didn’t wash her clothes until she was sent to work abroad. I think that it precisely the reason I am struggling to finish this. The responses have shocked me as they have frightened her. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I think that it is generally fair to state that North Americans, at least a high percentage, start doing their laundry when they head off to the University at age 18. Parents, grandparents, inheritance or the dreadful student loans like Sallie Shit (aka Sallie Mae) pay for the university. So with that said, some Spaniards have the same conditions as North American university students although the vast majority live at home while studying, as it is cheaper and more comfortable. The few that share the same conditions as Americans, out of the people I surveyed, is because they came to study in Madrid from other Providences. Generally speaking, upon graduation and ready to enter the labor market, Spaniards have the tendency to “over-extend” living with their parents long after graduation, and I mean LOOooooNG.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">According to an article published in </span><i><a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_69340780"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">La Razó</span></a></i><i><a href="http://www.larazon.es/noticia/677-mas-de-la-mitad-de-los-jovenes-espanoles-viven-con-sus-padres"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">n</span></a></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">, the number of Europeans from the ages of 18 to 34 still living with their parents is 46% higher in Spain than the rest of Europe. The Eurostat has confirmed the fact that many Spaniards live with their parents and have no intention of moving out, such as one of the people I surveyed and surprisingly enough, many didn’t even bat an eyelash when they responded to my questions.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“¿Hasta qué edad viviste con tus padres?” (Until when did you live with your parents?)<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“¡Qué va! Yo sigo viviendo con mis papas.” He’s 46 and still living with his parents. You don’t have to go back and re-read that – he is 46.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“¿Lavas tu propia ropa?” I ask him if he washes his own clothes.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Mi mamá no me deja tocar la máquina. Voy a una lavandería y pido ‘el completo’.” His mom doesn’t let him touch her washer, won’t wash his clothes so he takes his dirty clothes to a Launder and asks for the works which cost him a mere 10€. This not touching the </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">máquina</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> must be a Spanish thing! No wonder the women get stuck washing their kids clothes!<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“¿Planchas?” Do you iron, I ask. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Sí, hago gambas a la plancha siempre.” He says, “Yes, I always cook shrimp on the griddle.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Is he for real? I felt like I had just found a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. He was precisely the stereotypical Spanish man that refuses to leave the care of his mother although his mom is a bit atypical by making him take his washing elsewhere. I wasn’t sure if I should laugh or shake my head but I really couldn’t say anything at all because the word </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">plancha</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> in Spanish is an iron and it is also a hotplate/griddle in English.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I think that it is understandable for a person who is unemployed or a current graduate to live with their parents while looking for a job but to have a job and to continue to live with them is a bit hard for me to digest. According to the article en </span><i><a href="http://www.larazon.es/noticia/677-mas-de-la-mitad-de-los-jovenes-espanoles-viven-con-sus-padres"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">La Razón</span></a></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">, the Eurostat specifically says that living with parents does not reduce poverty levels and states that 15% of those living with their parents are in poverty risk; they are also at risk of having no concept of taking care of themselves. Also, if everything is already done for you, what do you strive for? <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Another friend responded that she is 36, still lives at her parents’ home and only washes her clothes when she is on business. She adds,<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Es decir, soy el prototipo del joven español con complejo de Peter Pan.” She wrote that she is the stereotypical, young Spaniard with the “Peter Pan</span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Complex”. It sounds funny – who wouldn’t want to be Peter Pan? Is that what it is? A Peter Pan Complex? I see it as a massive lack of independence. How will this “complex” affect future Spanish generations?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My friend who is frightened by her responses lives in a purchased flat with her boyfriend and 7-month-old boy. She says that she is going to make her best efforts to raise her son differently but she isn’t sure how she is going to do it.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">One interviewee actually recognized that she is not proud of her current situation. The fact is that she left Tenerife where she never had to wash or iron clothing to study in Madrid at age 19 (she is 30). She lived in a </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">colegio mayor</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> (dorm), and then with 2 of her best friends, completed two Masters and after living the </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">sindrome de la bolsita</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> (bringing a sack of clothes to the boy friend’s house) for two years, they decided to rent a flat together, she currently does all of the house chores and the laundry. She found it difficult to assume these responsibilities at first and has a hard time accepting that she is living her mother’s role, she adds, “Si eso no es machismo español, no sé qué es.” But is it really </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">machismo español</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">? Or is it because it is part of the on-going cultural cycle that the woman in Spain must be in the kitchen and do all of the housework? <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Three out of the several men I surveyed, currently live with their wives in purchased flats and they share all the household chores as a couple. On average, they moved out of the house at age 25, “todo un pipiolo” (as a kid). One stated that he even irons his own clothes as he is “un tío con caracter” (a guy with personality), he also added, “buahh, buahh quiero a mi mamaaaa!” (he loves his mom but who doesn’t?). One woman said that she wouldn’t dare iron her husbands clothing as he irons better and prefers to do it himself. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Meanwhile, two of the women I surveyed wouldn’t dare wash their clothing and both pay a </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">cha cha</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> to wash and iron it all. One of them lives in her parents’ flat as they have retired and live outside the city, all of her expenses are paid. She owns her own flat and rents it, she states, “porque como en mi barrio de toda la vida, no voy a estar en ningún sitio.” She isn’t going to be better in any other place other than her lifelong neighborhood. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Out of all of the Spaniards I surveyed, only one friend started doing her laundry at the tender age of 15 when she was in high school. She lived with her mother and had to do chores. She currently lives with her boyfriend and their son in a purchased flat. She says that they both do laundry and that she tries not to buy clothing that doesn’t need to be ironed and if it does need to be ironed, if she doesn’t have time, she leaves it for her partner or the </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">cha cha</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My husband says he has never had to wash clothing in his life and that he never will, hence why it seems that I have a compulsive disorder with washing the clothes. When he lived in Colombia and Chile, he had a cleaner come everyday. I remember when he lived in Italy, he came back to Madrid every Friday and dropped off a suitcase full of dirty clothes at his mother’s. She spent the entire weekend washing and ironing, poor Carmina! I told Carmina about the stain incident mentioned above and that I told Ismael that he should bring his clothes over to his mother’s since she washes it so well, her eyes almost fell out of her head out of disbelief! She recommended some stain removers and told me how to scrub stains that aren’t mine.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I think that Ismael has done two loads of laundry in his life. I happened to be away so the first time he used liquid dish soap and was so engrossed in his video games that he didn’t notice the foam extending through the entire living room. The second time, he washed a red blanket with all of his white work shirts. I took them to the best dry cleaner in Israel and the guy just shook his head-450 shekels later, they were like new. That’s about 90 Euros. I, honestly, prefer to do the laundry, although I have had my occasional run-in, like the time I washed Ismael’s passport. I am convinced that men claim they don’t know how to do laundry or iron so that the women get stuck doing it.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I, admittedly, have a cleaner. Her name is Pilar. She is wonderful. I got a cleaner because of the crazy boss Loopy (see older blog). He was driving me nuts and I was exhausted and at wits end. One weekend while I was cleaning the windows, Ismael pointed out that I had missed a spot, meanwhile, he was still in pjs, playing videogames. Pilar doesn’t wash the clothes, perhaps it is the “hands off my máquina syndrome” but she folds and irons it all. It is a total relief. I no longer spend my weekends like Cinderella. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A recent survey by Coca Cola indicated that </span><a href="http://www.telecinco.es/informativos/sociedad/noticia/100019894/Espana+el+segundo+pais+mas+feliz+de+Europa"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Spain is the second happiest country in all of Europe</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">, followed by Romania. I am not surprised, if I could be Peter Pan till I am 46 and not have to wash my clothes, I would be happy as a clam too! I am not sure how this cultural phenomenon of not washing your own clothing or living at home till you are almost over-the-hill is going to effect future generations or the Spanish Economy but I do think that if Spain could change their ways, share the responsibilities, it would take away some of the </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">machismo</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">, create confidence and as my friend stated, build character. Any task at hand is always more entertaining and takes less time when done together. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBTeIiUpdDECqIZR0NofJVNqhYyKUAgBvyCOEvw1rusCvhoLRMSqlHHZrDTk5pI0ztgfxsQPbwNVh89RpmY51mhJqWAIksLCm_9W_FAdX7pWKAdDBMpqzao4gr26f5SPGDmAJd1bj4HFI/s1600/American+Washer+%2526+Dryer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBTeIiUpdDECqIZR0NofJVNqhYyKUAgBvyCOEvw1rusCvhoLRMSqlHHZrDTk5pI0ztgfxsQPbwNVh89RpmY51mhJqWAIksLCm_9W_FAdX7pWKAdDBMpqzao4gr26f5SPGDmAJd1bj4HFI/s400/American+Washer+%2526+Dryer.jpg" width="300" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">This is my mom's laundry room - Please note the size of the washer and separate dryer. <br />
It would be a total luxury in Europe. Bolita, my pooch, doesn't look too happy!</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">*</span><i><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">CHA CHA</span></b></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">: el cha cha que se baila o la mujer a la que a parte de pagarle un dineral, hay que hacerle un monumento por salvarte de las pelusas y las discusiones matrimoniales y darle un libro de instrucciones para que por Dios no ponga lejía en la ropa de color.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">*</span><i><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">CHA CHA</span></b></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">: as defined by a friend, is the dance or the woman that apart from paying her a lot of money, a monument should be built in her honor for saving your from the dust bunnies and arguments with your partner and in the meantime, gives a book with instructions that bleach should not be added to the load of colors.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="ES-TRAD"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">**Quiero agradecer a todos que me han ayudado con este blog – sabes quien eres y agradezco mucho tu participación en mi encuesta. Bss mil**</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>A Broad Abroadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06134219236774703943noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-249887358205562354.post-75817278333627164972010-09-10T19:44:00.001+02:002010-09-13T10:51:36.311+02:00Planes, Trains & Automobiles: The World Traveler<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"> </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFqAe66Q_qDSBKBiZGlFzuDoxiugmB3cQXXzeQjg_60tyPcy6xGMPzNGN4_NpV8G2nRSbmaryZwrWUk8fHpR7rOs8HLntleKe2evRpBVhKr-2Nz8yUL3wv6TWzpN7NRdHtJXYfNwlF8vM/s1600/Jan-Feb+2009+024.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFqAe66Q_qDSBKBiZGlFzuDoxiugmB3cQXXzeQjg_60tyPcy6xGMPzNGN4_NpV8G2nRSbmaryZwrWUk8fHpR7rOs8HLntleKe2evRpBVhKr-2Nz8yUL3wv6TWzpN7NRdHtJXYfNwlF8vM/s320/Jan-Feb+2009+024.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Madrid Barajas - Terminal 4 (long line to change a ticket)</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">PLANES.<o:p></o:p></b></div><div class="MsoNormal">“Buenos días”, I say to the man at the ticket counter as I hand him my ticket, passport, and a happy morning smile.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I was so excited to go to the States that I actually got to the airport a bit early, thinking that perhaps if I got there early, the flight would leave early too. I wasn’t on the same flight as Ismael who, essentially, would be on a direct flight later that day that would arrive at about the same time.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Buenos días”, he replies.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">A few long minutes go by and I ask him, “¿Pasa algo?” </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Pues, sí. Tu vuelo fue ayer,” he says to me as he hands back my ticket and passport to a shocked frown.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“AYER, por Díos, ¿Qué hago?” I ask this man who is now telling me that my flight was the day before what I should do. It was 5:30 AM on December 23<sup>rd</sup> and I was supposed to travel to the States for Christmas. Ismael and I lived in Tel Aviv at the time and we had flown to Madrid a couple of days before the US flight to celebrate Christmas with his family first. I, admittedly, bought the cheaper ticket that had a layover in London so I could buy the latest season of Sex and the City on DVDs that would work in our Spanish DVD player in Israel. What I didn’t realize is that according to my ticket, I was to fly in the day before Ismael and then go pick him up at the airport.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I whip out my phone and call Ismael.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Mi vuelo fue ayer, ¿qué hago?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Ismael is not a morning person and was probably having some lovely dream that I interrupted with my panic as he was just plain rude on the phone.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Sarah, son las 5:45 de la mañana, ¿están abierto los mostradores?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“No.” I respond. No ticket window was open; in fact, there was almost nobody in the airport. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Pues, yo no puedo hacer nada. Hay que esperar hasta que abran,” says an angry Ismael.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">At 6:00 AM, my cheap ticket with the layover in London to buy the DVD turned into an expensive ticket as I had to pay a fine to change the flight and the woman told me that I was lucky I had gotten there so early as I lucked out and got the last seat, in the last row, right next to the bathrooms on the flight to JFK from London. Lucky me!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">My mom has always referred to me as the “World traveler” as I just can’t seem to get enough of traveling. I love seeing, feeling, tasting, and taking lots of photos of new places. By my mom calling me the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">world traveler</i>, it makes me feel like it should be my profession, perhaps I should be writing travel books or interesting articles about what I see and eat or write that fiction novel I have been dying to write. But I think a better profession would be to perhaps entertain people about my travel flops! I may be the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">world traveler</i> to my mom but let the truth be told, I have no idea how to read a map, I buy travel guides to read the brief history, see what the prime museum to visit is, where the best shopping is and to make sure I eat or have a drink at the best local restaurants. I tend to get so excited that my travel adventures start before I even get to my destiny.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Yet another incident happened just a few months ago. My flight was delayed by a couple of hours and I was feeling chatty so I called Eli. We were chatting on the phone and laughing, etc and finally, it was time for me to board. I continue chatting on the phone, show the man my boarding pass and up the ramp I go. I am still chatting on the phone and tell Eli that I have to hang up because I am getting on the plane. (I really can’t stand the people that talk while on the plane so everybody on board can hear their conversation and for the rest of the flight we know too much about the person.) </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Perdon, ¿me podría usted ayudar a subir la maleta?” I ask the flight attendant if he could help me put my case in the overhead compartment.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I am about to sit down and notice that there is a man in my seat. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Perdon, hay un hombre en mi asiento”, I tell the flight attendant. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">He checks my boarding card and looks at me with big astonished eyes and says, “¿A dónde va usted?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Bruselas.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Este avión va a Dusseldorf - ¿le han dejado entrar el avión?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Pues, sí. Eso parece.” I answered the man even tough I was thinking, “DUH, I am on the plane so of course they let me on it.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">He lowers my case and off I go running to find the correct plane. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">As I am getting off the wrong plane, a person getting on the right plane asks me, “¿Todo está bien?” and I assure them that everything is fine but I just happened to get on the wrong plane.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">As I am walking down the ramp, 5 security guards are coming towards me in Spanish style to escort me off the plane. I am not sure how I got confused because I generally check the departure board 7 times and check the boarding gate 7 times before it is even boarding time but I still managed to get on the wrong plane. Ismael would have freaked out as he was driving from Dusseldorf to pick me up in Brussels. It is scary that I was allowed to get on the plane but I was so worried about getting on the right plane to Brussels that I didn’t even really think about it at the time. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">TRAINS:<o:p></o:p></b></div><div class="MsoNormal">When I was a student in Madrid, my stepdad had a business trip in Salzburg, Austria. My mom and I thought it would be fun if we met up there and enjoyed the city while Jorge, my stepdad who is really named George, had his conference.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I went to the travel agency, Viajes Zeppelin, for students in Madrid and managed to get a really cheap ticket, only it had a 5-hour layover in Amsterdam on the way to Salzburg. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Cool, I get to see two cities for the price of one!” I thought to myself.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Ismael assured me that I could make it to the center of Amsterdam and back to the plane in 5 hours because the train service in Holland was excellent.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">My flight arrived in Amsterdam and I buy my train ticket to the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">city centre</i>. I asked 2 people how to get to the center and they both pointed to a train. So, I hop on.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I ended up sitting next to a student who was studying US History, she probably knew more about US History than I do. We talk about US History and Europe and the journey seemed to be taking longer than the 20 minutes Ismael insisted that it took to get to the center. The landscapes I saw from the train were simply amazing; flatland, very green and the occasional windmill, I was imagining people skating on the dam that followed the train.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Where are you headed?” she asks.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizVO9EdzzyAKvJ86Axq8kHNpRn4frge-SptFnJC5u_uFXwMQJBaQ0yNegzYhMTeflkdz0PmFYMEXAR00G763iAfRn7RvrM7RNI23vTdQFSeTIYWOBAS1NBDHb8ZTWWFvAvT1QimaqV9i8/s1600/IMG_0660.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizVO9EdzzyAKvJ86Axq8kHNpRn4frge-SptFnJC5u_uFXwMQJBaQ0yNegzYhMTeflkdz0PmFYMEXAR00G763iAfRn7RvrM7RNI23vTdQFSeTIYWOBAS1NBDHb8ZTWWFvAvT1QimaqV9i8/s320/IMG_0660.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Amsterdam Train Station & Bikes</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal">“To Amsterdam.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Her face distorted and she tells me I must get off at the next stop because we were headed in the other direction.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Here we go again!” I thought to myself.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">So, a quick goodbye when the train stopped and I quickly run down the stairs through the tunnel and make it up to the other side of the platform and hop on the train, the train to the center of Amsterdam.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">By the time I actually got to Amsterdam, two and a half hours had past. So, I quickly walked around, had a coffee and headed back to the airport.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">and…AUTOMOVILES:<o:p></o:p></b></div><div class="MsoNormal">I had another incident in Costa Rica – I was on the bus and I was going to meet Kim & Kristy in Quepos, a small town on the coast. I fell dead asleep and all of the sudden I hear the driver yell, “JACÓ”. I had to take a bus to Jacó and then catch another bus to Quepos. So, I get up, grab my backpack, and jump off the bus. When my eyes finally opened, I was in the middle of nowhere! I was in the middle of the jungle with an elderly woman at the bus stop drinking a coke out of a plastic bag. I asked her what time the next bus came and she told me in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">2 horas</i>, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">si Díos quiere</i> (in 2 hours, God willing.)</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">So, I parked myself next to the woman and we started chatting. Next thing I know, she is inviting me to her house to drink cokes out of baggies. Off we go trekking through the woods. We arrived at her house and it was the typical Costa Rican wood slatted house with a tin roof. She lived with her daughter and her 5 kids. Next thing I know, I am being served beers and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">arroz con pollo</i>. I took several photos and wander back through the woods to the bus stop.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I finally made it to the final destination. We meet up at the local <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">pulperia</i>, check into our bungalow and off we go to the beach. After our beach time, we go back to the room to find that we had been robbed! They took all of Kim’s money, my watch and my CAMERA! I have no proof of my bus incident in the middle of nowhere!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Ismael always asks me about 10 times if we have the tickets. On one of our trips to the States, I claimed I had them. I swore I had them. So, we get to Barajas and wait on queue to fly Delta Airlines for 3 hours. Finally!! Our turn to check-in.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“May I have your tickets and passports, please?” asks the woman at the desk.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We hand over our goods and she asked us once again for the tickets.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“¿Billetes? ¿No son electrónicos?” asks Ismael.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I could feel my face turning white as the memories came flashing in a wild gush to my brain. We had received paper tickets in the mail months before and I safely stashed them in a drawer in the apartment.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I tell Ismael to stall the queue, as there were still about 30 more passengers to check in. Off I sprint.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I ran through the airport like a mad woman and ran to the taxi station. I showed a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">taxista</i> a bill and essentially told him that I would double it if he could get to my house in Vallecas and back to the airport in 20 minutes. The <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">taxista</i> seemed all ready for the feat and when we got to my street, he actually timed me! I hadn’t been timed since my brother said he would time me to see how long it took to make him 2 pb & j’s with a glass of milk!! </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I made it back to the airport almost exactly 25 minutes later with the tickets in my hand and an empty wallet. We made it on the flight.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I tend to think that adventure follows this <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">world traveler </i>wherever I go. I never manage to have a dull moment, always happen upon fascinating things, and always learn a lot; I even know where to get a tire changed in Ft. Williams, Scotland. Luckily, some former workmates gave me a bubble gum hot pink travel case that fits passport, frequent flyer cards and boarding passes and it has a strap so I can wear it on my wrists so I don’t have as many “incidences” anymore. I say that if you love to travel, just remember your passport and tickets, bring extra batteries for your camera, an empty stomach and let the adventures follow, or, lead you! </div></span></span><div class="MsoNormal"></div>A Broad Abroadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06134219236774703943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-249887358205562354.post-1582264742446924902010-08-26T17:17:00.001+02:002010-08-26T17:30:22.595+02:00Carmen, not the barrio!<div class="MsoNormal">Before I left for Madrid back in 2001, NYU sent a dossier with a bunch of apartments in it. I remember calling a friend who lived in Málaga to ask him which were the best areas, etc. He called a friend who lived in Madrid and he informed me of the best <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">zonas </i>(areas). I ticked my three choices and sent the dossier back to NYU. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I soon received my soon-to-be address in the mail, calle Doctor Esquerdo. Cool! Couldn’t wait – I can’t remember if it was my first choice or not but I knew that I was going to be living with 3 other Americans and that the apartment building was relatively new. NYU had suggested that we spend the first semester in the housing that they have agreements with the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">dueños</i> (owners). </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I landed in Madrid and my friend from Málaga met me in the airport. He told me we should take the metro as it was cheapest. He had already been to see my future apartment and knew the way. It was great to see him but seeing him somehow made me feel like I had a pit in the bottom of my stomach. I left NYC wanting a change and I wanted a smaller city, I also wanted to learn, feel and discover Madrid on my own. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Finally, we arrived at the apartment. It was lovely! The building was brick and brand new, very common in this neighborhood. As I was one of the first ones there and as I was going to be the mother hen, I decided that I needed to pick my room and to have my own bathroom. No one seemed to argue! After we shifted roommates – there were originally 2 grads and 2 undergrads in the apartment which NYU undoubtedly should know that undergrads and graduate students don’t always mix, especially not in a city that never sleeps where agendas would clash, ie, partying all night vs. being a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ratón de la bibilioteca </i>(a book worm). With that settled, we were 4 grad students living together on calle Doctor Esquerdo, metro stop Conde de Casal on the circular, gray line, had to figure out how to get to the Instituto Internacional on calle Miguel Angel. After trying to figure out the metro map, to travel to school everyday, we had to take the circular gray line 6 and then change to the green line 4, to finally arrive to the metro stop, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Rubén Dario</i>. If you have read a previous blog, you would know I absolutely can not stand either of those lines even though I did get to see the Pink Fairy on the circular.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">So, my first apartment in Madrid on calle Doctor Esquerdo is located in the Zona Retiro, Barrio Estrella. This is quite a posh neighborhood as there are lots of trees, it is right near the Parque Retiro, there are lots of schools, there is a mix of old and new buildings, lots of women pushing baby stollers, there is no noise, but for a foreigner looking for adventure, the neighborhood really doesn’t offer much more, ie, there are no bars, cafés, not much movement, etc. I loved the apartment, I love my roommates who are still my dear friends, I loved living near the park, I loved that there was a supermarket and a gas station where I could buy Doritos and Magnum Dobles at 5:00 AM but not only was there nothing else, it had the most inconvenient metro line – no matter where you went, you had to get on the circular, gray metro line. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYQ9QBlZaK57_bmMJ8AsS4Cb1viyDfFHgSTV8vPVUm-D5hF6_Pz9-LpZzu8X3wtvyUbcj-Y-hcXICjbbBfbrMnPLzxkH6hPQL48UMpk9PdNAUxjqK6y5AWmP_Z94MTWgitADWXT62nrjk/s1600/Instituto+Internacional.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYQ9QBlZaK57_bmMJ8AsS4Cb1viyDfFHgSTV8vPVUm-D5hF6_Pz9-LpZzu8X3wtvyUbcj-Y-hcXICjbbBfbrMnPLzxkH6hPQL48UMpk9PdNAUxjqK6y5AWmP_Z94MTWgitADWXT62nrjk/s200/Instituto+Internacional.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Instituto Internacional</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal">Us roommies knew that we were going to move out in December so my next task was to find a new apartment that didn’t involve the circular, gray metro line and was close to the Instituto Internacional, a lovely building that used to house the majority of the US universities and it is also the where I worked for ACCENT. Luck bestowed me and a NYU doctoral candidate told me I should take over her room when she headed back to NYC. WHOOPIE! I was going to move to calle Miguel Angel, right next to the Instituto Internacional where NYU is located and live with 2 gay Colombians, Juanca and Marino. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">This barrio in Madrid is called Chamberí, it is also very posh. It is where a lot of wealthy people live, it is right near many government buildings, the British Institute, Museo Sorolla, the Paseo de Castellana (a long road that goes through the center of Madrid), the plaza de Chamberí and it is very quiet. The houses are old with beautiful windows, there are nice restaurants and a one night club in the area but it was VERY quiet area and on Sundays, it was almost impossible to have a coffee at a café without having to walk 15-20 minutes.</div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiByKNefY8k8P7zKdFrZHdXKbq5D0ZDUGxECpeEz8GIJohJPABF-Eys9L64Azpyzc7fCUrgfcnwhaDS5ZmBRvsFqtm6bv8R1OyoNoy4fNvygG1xT0ZCL7ps-eqWL-c6hqQVdt28qnOgwl8/s1600/Plaza+de+Chamberi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiByKNefY8k8P7zKdFrZHdXKbq5D0ZDUGxECpeEz8GIJohJPABF-Eys9L64Azpyzc7fCUrgfcnwhaDS5ZmBRvsFqtm6bv8R1OyoNoy4fNvygG1xT0ZCL7ps-eqWL-c6hqQVdt28qnOgwl8/s320/Plaza+de+Chamberi.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Plaza de Chamberi</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">My roommates slept all day as they worked as waiters in restaurants in the night, so there was never any clashing. Marino never learned my name and always called me “Chiqui”, “Chiqui” is better than being called Sandra, but that is beside the point. Shortly after I moved in “Antoni” moved in, a gay American from “Iowa, not to be confused with Idaho, the potato state as Iowa is the corn state”. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I liked this apartment but I wasn’t terribly convinced about the neighborhood despite the fact that the neighborhood was charming and filled with beautiful old buildings, I wanted to see people, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Madrileños</i> and hear noise. Yes, living there was great, I literally walked a block and a half to classes and the library, which was very convenient, and to top it off, I didn’t have to take the circular gray line. My roommates were always cleaning and listening to great music. I, admittedly, spent a lot of time at Ismael’s apartment when he was working in Madrid (he lived in Rome when I met him) and Antoni will tell you that I was barely there, except to study during the day, take a siesta, do laundry, shower, have a chupito of limoncello with Antoni (I kept a bottle I had bought in Rome in the freezer) and clean my room. Antoni never understood why I cleaned it when there was really never anything to clean. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">After I finished the first part of my masters, luck bestowed me again as after I was finished with classes and summer was over, Ismael was getting transferred to Israel and said I could live in his bachelor pad where we continue to live today. His bachelor pad has still not undergone a woman’s transformation but I have never been much into interior decorating as I like to be <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">en la calle </i>as they say in Spain, which my translation would be out and about. I remember when I lived on calle Doctor Esquerdo which is about a 15 minute walk to Ismael’s apartment and he asked me to go to Ikea with him. Ikea?, sure why not. I have only been back there 3 times since I don’t really like my furniture coming from a box and then you have to laboriously sweat your guts out to put it together. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh51LYpO6LGzRCw24ut1ZAW-p8koaYiSxex-obsFtcFIz9SdOpstaogaq8oqKv9IT4dnvVtMgwuFdwysa_JW6Miuhqh9wuKTZNun1mpwmUFoWTcrNuucqPTzEHuakIxqeRHELwDZ-Qb6Qk/s1600/View+from+Boobie+Park+in+Vallecas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh51LYpO6LGzRCw24ut1ZAW-p8koaYiSxex-obsFtcFIz9SdOpstaogaq8oqKv9IT4dnvVtMgwuFdwysa_JW6Miuhqh9wuKTZNun1mpwmUFoWTcrNuucqPTzEHuakIxqeRHELwDZ-Qb6Qk/s320/View+from+Boobie+Park+in+Vallecas.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View of all of Madrid from the Boobie Park in Vallecas</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Ismael’s apartment is located in Vallecas, metro stop Puente de Vallecas, light blue line 1, one of the only metro lines I like. It is 7 stops away from Sol (the center of Madrid), has busses that go just about anywhere in the city and is very blue collar. It is a VERY noisy neighborhood, full of people, and has often been referred to as the ghetto as it used to be known as the slums. Finally, I got to see people and have lots of noise. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Vallecanos</i> are the people from my neighborhood. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Vallecanos </i>used to refer to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Vallekas</i> as a different city than Madrid because it is separated from Madrid by the Puente de Vallecas. Vallecas is the home to the PSOE,<a href="http://www.ska-p.es/"> Ska-P</a>, a renowned Spanish ska group, has el Parque de las Tetas with the best view of all of Madrid. Most Vallecanos support the soccer team, el Rayo Vallecano whose stadium is a hop, skip, and a jump from Ismael’s apartment. Vallecanos say that once a vallekano, always a vallekano. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Vallecas, even today, still considers itself a town. It is conveniently located on Metro line 1, just like the 1 indicates, was the first metro line in Madrid built under the reign of King Alfonso XIII and it opened in 1919. The original metro line didn’t extend down to Vallecas till 1923. Despite the fact that Vallecas is conveniently located on the blue line 1, not many <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">madrileños</i> will venture there. Better for the vallecanos. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Vicente, a neighbor who takes great pride in the fact that he lives in the only red building in Vallekas, says that his mom used to say that she was going to the city when she had to buy something in the center.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Vallecas, according to Boss 1, has had the highest increase in real estate prices out of any other neighborhood in Madrid, he says that most houses have gone up in value by 20-50%. I believe this is the case due to be the fact that Vallecas keeps improving. I remember when I moved to Vallecas back in 2002 or 2003, the neighborhood was a total dump, quite dodgy and every year it improves; more policemen patrol the area, entire buildings are constantly being demolished and reconstructed, and Madrid keeps expanding, making Vallecas part of the heart of Madrid.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">For the most part, I don’t mind living in the ghetto. The people are generally very friendly and they are very Spanish and what I love most is that they have great pride in themselves and Vallecas. One of the oldest bars with vermut on tap is just around the corner, there is an old fashioned market right nearby, about 3 supermarkets, a post office almost in front of our apartment, la Cervecera where we celebrated our wedding, a gym and a posh pub with European beers and ciders that we have been going to for years. We have made friends with people from all necks of the woods. We are friends with politicians, doctors, the original drummer from Ska-P and his darling girl friend, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">funcionarios</i> (civil servents), one of which is one of the first female metro conductors, IT specialists, importers, exporters, electricians, etc. I think it is the one place in the world where the postman actually sings me happy birthday every year, in Spanglish!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYwscSQGpQA0JCemJsfkofx53-UfazOc_4rmS5EjEjsksOnX0DEhkXtE0x2hIMFkZu3JWQXikO-tfRD1Qz0rkjSyYp-7QSqpqPGw2GsoSkvv3oO3nT2SZobq2AIBEHZ25d83Bc4XidD3o/s1600/Carmen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="131" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYwscSQGpQA0JCemJsfkofx53-UfazOc_4rmS5EjEjsksOnX0DEhkXtE0x2hIMFkZu3JWQXikO-tfRD1Qz0rkjSyYp-7QSqpqPGw2GsoSkvv3oO3nT2SZobq2AIBEHZ25d83Bc4XidD3o/s200/Carmen.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Aldomovar's Carmen</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal">With living in Vallecas comes Carmen who attributes to a big part of the noise. The building that houses Ismael’s apartment is a new construction; they tore down the old and built up the new. Ismael’s apartment is on the first floor and right next to Carmen. Carmen is the heart of the building; she is your typical Spanish lady, one that you would find in Pedro Aldomovar’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Volver</i>. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnrjSbPv5RaBux9kzTQVLFDY29e3J48a_qK8E7Z7WvPhRc5dhu5EGQeylyQ4vuTWY6NYFbPeJUeuTttiC2vbIdLKootBoxDg24Vzq_7_B8kTs4QZorhQtaGBEmFoaafGnufs2kJnW4uQ0/s1600/IMG_0396.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnrjSbPv5RaBux9kzTQVLFDY29e3J48a_qK8E7Z7WvPhRc5dhu5EGQeylyQ4vuTWY6NYFbPeJUeuTttiC2vbIdLKootBoxDg24Vzq_7_B8kTs4QZorhQtaGBEmFoaafGnufs2kJnW4uQ0/s320/IMG_0396.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our corrala, aka the plaza de toros</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal">The building is built in a 15<sup>th</sup> century Spanish architectural style called <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">corrala</i>. A <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">corrala</i> is a building that has a big open space in the middle that typically no taller than 3 stories high. Back in the old days they would put on <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">zarzuelas</i> (Spanish operettas) or have a market. When a <i>zarzuela </i>preformed, it was for the people, some would even hang out their windows or over the balconies to see it. I love <i>zarzuelas</i> but not when it is a modern day saga of the neighbors shouting from one balcony to the next. I refer to the open space a plaza de toros. I see it as useless space as the neighbors won’t allow for tables, chairs, a bbq or anything of the sort but only the clothes lines. I would also state that the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">corrala</i> allows for Carmen to let her grandkids run loose and make more noise than she does. The <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">corrala</i> also allows for all of the neighbors to gossip from one floor to the next, more noise. Most of the time, I can tell you who has achy joints, who is eating what for lunch, the temperature as the weather is a big conversation and if somebody needs garlic. I actually think that Carmen needs a hearing aid as unfortunately, she is ALWAYS the loudest. I can hear her talking through the walls. Carmen is so loud that I actually had a minor dispute with her. Carmen, despite her uncontrollable loudness, has a heart of gold. One day when I was sick, she noticed that I had gone into the apartment and hadn’t left for a couple of days. She knocks on the door and asks me if everything is ok. I was extremely sick and had lost my voice. She offered to make me food and said if I needed anything, I knew where to find her. Those were her quietest days ever. Not one peep! BUT once I was up and running, the volume went back to normal!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">It is funny because I now have all of the noise and all of that people watching that I was craving for when I was a grad student but now I don’t want it. Madrid has a ton of zonas, barrios, and all have their charm. I love going to La Latina on Sundays but I would never want to live there. I love going out in Malasanya but I would never want to live there. I must say that I have grown found of Vallekas but I would give my ears to live in one of the quiet neighborhoods I resided in before but then again, perhaps in a quiet neighborhood nobody would sing me happy birthday or knock on my door when I am sick. Whatever the hood, Madrid is a fascinating city.</div>A Broad Abroadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06134219236774703943noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-249887358205562354.post-15848256434756534782010-07-23T10:36:00.002+02:002010-08-21T18:10:46.777+02:00Shitgrins (a.k.a. Sjögren's)<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4jtZUby0W8UdHgRgWpseTXV9_YP7fE6kcHZycE9TAUTdTTWlCCa09k2CndIetTLOpaWENeGjNmtTdq6eHHkq5dTLJ3Cjb63MMguCFKshyKoX84icnXYf5zPKltTycjc2vbtBWxjr9jig/s1600/IMG_0317.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4jtZUby0W8UdHgRgWpseTXV9_YP7fE6kcHZycE9TAUTdTTWlCCa09k2CndIetTLOpaWENeGjNmtTdq6eHHkq5dTLJ3Cjb63MMguCFKshyKoX84icnXYf5zPKltTycjc2vbtBWxjr9jig/s200/IMG_0317.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was my hand in August 2008</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I am never really sure what I should write in my blog and I am never really sure who really reads it.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I started it because I always wanted to be a novelist.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As an avid reader, I can’t imagine what I would write that would top a NY Times bestseller.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Today is a special day for me, I could say that I have tears in my eyes but I no longer have tears.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Today, according to the <a href="http://www.sjogrens.org/home/about-sjogrens-syndrome">Sjögren’s Foundation</a> that was founded in 1983, is the First Annual Sjögren’s Awareness Day, July 23 because </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">because it is Dr. Henrik Sjögren's birthday, the man who discovered it</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I refer to this particular </span></span><span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1279872757_19" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(54, 99, 136); border-bottom-style: dotted; border-bottom-width: 2px; cursor: pointer; line-height: 1.2em; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: initial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">autoimmune disease</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> as </span></span><i style="line-height: 1.2em; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: initial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Shitgrins</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> as the autoimmune disease is total shit but I have found that the more cheerful and positive that I am, the better I feel, hence the grin part! </span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was officially diagnosed with the <i>Shitgrins</i> in October 2008.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I made my dear friend Annabel go to the best Rheumatologist in Spain with me for the diagnosis because my hubby was in Germany.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was shaking in my shoes.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I had been poked and prodded for months.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It all started in March 2008.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I thought I had broken a bone in my hand from carrying a box of paper up to another floor.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So, off I went to a Traumatologist. He told me I had temporary arthritis, gave me a prescription and told me if my right hand was still swollen to get an X-ray.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">15 days go by and I then had 2 swollen wrists.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I had to figure out where to get the X-ray done.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I finally get the X-ray done and he tells me to take the pills for longer.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The end of May rolls around and I started to swell up like a beached whale that had been in the sun.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I decide that I need to go to another doctor.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So, I go to a general doctor.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He prescribes more tests and more drugs.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I go with the paper to the lab and get the blood drawn.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A few weeks later, I am back in his office.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Your cholesterol is high, you have to go on a diet”.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I am thinking to myself, “What the hell?</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I eat no fat, barely like any foods and go to the gym-I have NEVER had high cholesterol."</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A month goes by and I have gained more weight and can no longer sleep because I am achy and any move hurts and I found myself crying all the time.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I go back to that doctor but when I am in the doctor’s office, a different doctor appears.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He told me that I was obviously not following the diet and the cholesterol was going to my joints.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“HELLLLLLO?, anybody in there?”</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I knew something was wrong.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTLcOpyb9_7xx6atKh-xuEqguYLkQIbguTA-0TzKn-9_n6Y06uUS8PnvbVNDSHLVK7iwuijIhv2ENxQ1Swxe7OuFF0iYQfMIY6w1SfbDnMbgfo1YnR-TOpggBzrNfRGGQv3SjrvDIM9Zo/s1600/WizardTinManClose%5B1%5D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="163" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTLcOpyb9_7xx6atKh-xuEqguYLkQIbguTA-0TzKn-9_n6Y06uUS8PnvbVNDSHLVK7iwuijIhv2ENxQ1Swxe7OuFF0iYQfMIY6w1SfbDnMbgfo1YnR-TOpggBzrNfRGGQv3SjrvDIM9Zo/s200/WizardTinManClose%5B1%5D.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I felt like the Tin Man</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I go to the States in August, and all I can do was sleep, be mean, sleep, be mean and barely eat, in the meantime, I kept getting LARGER.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After seeing 3 doctors in Spain, my cousins who are prominent doctors/surgeons told me what tests I needed to have done; Lyme, Celiac and to see a Rheumatologist (whoever that was).</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I went to see my mom’s doctors who I now think are total shit along with the <i>Shitgrins</i> for them to tell me that I don’t have Lyme nor am I a Celiac.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Hmmmmm…The husband doctor gave me the results of my tests and proceeds to tell me me that I am depressed and should consider taking anti-depressants.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Anybody who really knows me would never tell me I am depressed, a bit crazy, but depressed never.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So, I head back to Spain a bit discouraged and LARGE.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I can no longer sleep because my entire body hurts.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So, BLAH BLAH BLAH.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Finally, a diagnosis!!! It took 11 doctors to finally assure me that it wasn’t me being a hypochondriac.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Primary Sjögren’s Syndrome.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">WTF is that?</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It is an autoimmune disease that affects the glands and essentially makes the internal organs not so happy.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So there, to make a long story short, and with the help of Dr. Gumers, Marty, and Josette, I found myself seeking alternative treatments because the corticoids and other drugs made me feel crappy.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I found Fruitcake through Celia, a dear workmate.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Fruitcake is a Biological Medicine doctor that does nose jobs on the side.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He is a quake, sometimes a perv, but he is fixing me through extensive biological analysis.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I often think that Fruitcake is from another planet.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He makes me drink things that taste like they came from the bottom of the faucet drain, my fridge is filled with vitamins, I go to his office once a month and I get IVs for 3 and a half hours, it’s EXPENSIVE, BUT it works!!</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Less shoes, better health, right?</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He has never told me that I have Sjögren’s but rather a body out of balance, which essentially is the description of Sjogren’s.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I just want to take a moment to give a shout out to those of you who have an autoimmune disease or something that inflicts your health.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It can suck, it can be the pits, you feel lost, you feel alone, you feel like you want to die, you feel like you want to break something, you feel it isn’t fair, you feel you want to cry but, out of experience, the more positive you are, the more meditation you do (check out my blog on the <a href="http://abroadornottoabroad.blogspot.com/2010/03/yoga-mentalespecially-for-those-of-us.html">yogi guru</a>), the more love you receive, the more you laugh, the more you see that life is lovely, you can overcome.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Love you all for your endearing support.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">First Annual Sjögren’s World Awareness.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Helvetica;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Helvetica;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjcaEEtcQV9Iq0ATPgy-7eMqurjOAWHicLzjh5U9eHXWawIWTDUKrgUI12kD4XxDuMRIIFyvQvVRPodb-G6jCed_n80QBbSqHY6SLG7dJEARxRb5pkq2G0m3lMf0ltfeUxE_bIfx1vwF4/s1600/IMG_1828.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjcaEEtcQV9Iq0ATPgy-7eMqurjOAWHicLzjh5U9eHXWawIWTDUKrgUI12kD4XxDuMRIIFyvQvVRPodb-G6jCed_n80QBbSqHY6SLG7dJEARxRb5pkq2G0m3lMf0ltfeUxE_bIfx1vwF4/s320/IMG_1828.JPG" /></a></div><br />
</div>A Broad Abroadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06134219236774703943noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-249887358205562354.post-17848871435945173082010-06-30T13:22:00.002+02:002010-07-23T10:45:47.550+02:00Metro Madrid le informa....STRIKE!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmMDrWUUDjQgPH4NZsxzIxWcESAsWfR0G9GeXo_krdh9ReeKMwNaREGLX80B0xIwx38pD0g5I_6gWNgXRH0wqGmeYpRSsHHC-KY9w9ZVmANXL-dpwSmEXNxzjulzdkIzyvER8_5WNNM2c/s1600/metro+%26+shoes+003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmMDrWUUDjQgPH4NZsxzIxWcESAsWfR0G9GeXo_krdh9ReeKMwNaREGLX80B0xIwx38pD0g5I_6gWNgXRH0wqGmeYpRSsHHC-KY9w9ZVmANXL-dpwSmEXNxzjulzdkIzyvER8_5WNNM2c/s400/metro+%26+shoes+003.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Right outside Atocha Renfe Train Station</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">On my way to work last week, the </span></span><st1:stockticker><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">EMT</span></span></st1:stockticker><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">, public transportation of </span></span><st1:state><st1:place><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Madrid</span></span></st1:place></st1:state><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">, was handing out little blue booklets titled, "<i>Muévete major en el autobus, Viajar en los autobuses de la </i></span></span><st1:stockticker><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><i>EMT</i></span></span></st1:stockticker><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">." I knew something was up as I can not fathom who on earth needs instructions on how to get on the bus, what to do while on the bus, and how to get off the bus and mind you, I was coming up the stairs from the local trains. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-7HeEQ2Jh-6HAzrs3Bk01Po76gu8TrQBiRDo7KntEyTTYC6s-7w6zCjYvV_M4nfQV-S1RuRoM-wvuIL4NzPOHRRRoeoe1Qlqpn2RxIdZLZhizd5MYqrP7K5sWEUqKBbFjzKOhBSbRU_E/s1600/EMT+Antes+de+Subir+el+bus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="112" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-7HeEQ2Jh-6HAzrs3Bk01Po76gu8TrQBiRDo7KntEyTTYC6s-7w6zCjYvV_M4nfQV-S1RuRoM-wvuIL4NzPOHRRRoeoe1Qlqpn2RxIdZLZhizd5MYqrP7K5sWEUqKBbFjzKOhBSbRU_E/s320/EMT+Antes+de+Subir+el+bus.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pamphlet on how to get on and off the bus <br />
which includes how to behave on the bus</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Metro Strike! The strike started yesterday and according to <a href="http://www.elmundo.es/elmundo/2010/06/29/madrid/1277810680.html">El Mundo</a>, it is going to continue. The article gives no specific termination date which in </span></span><st1:country-region><st1:place><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Spain</span></span></st1:place></st1:country-region><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"> that means indefinitely. The metro workers are government employees and to help with the Spanish deficit, all government employees are going to have their salaries lowered by 5% as of January 2011. </span></span><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="ES-TRAD" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">The metro workers are protesting such decrease and the Canarian in my office comments, "Lo que me da rabia, es que van a bajar los salarios de todos los funcionarios y los trabajadores de Metro parece que son los únicos que pueden provocar problemas por eso a todos lo demás." </span></span><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">She essentially has stated that it bothers her that the metro workers are the only ones that can cause problems due to the salary decrease. I tend to agree with Mauricio who claims that he would make a "<i>nueva plantilla</i>" (an entire new staff) as currently, </span></span><st1:country-region><st1:place><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Spain</span></span></st1:place></st1:country-region><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"> has an unemployment rate of 20% and surely there are enough people out there who would be delighted to have a job.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">A metro strike happens almost every year, I should be used to it by now. The underground workers always seem to be able to complain about something. Strikes in </span></span><st1:country-region><st1:place><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Spain</span></span></st1:place></st1:country-region><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"> are a nightmare; it is the time when you see </span></span><st1:country-region><st1:place><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Spain</span></span></st1:place></st1:country-region><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"> at its' finest. The day starts out with traffic that doesn't move, no taxi in sight, and having to queue for at least 15 minutes to cram yourself into an overstuffed bus where you find that you have an unknown man's penis pressing on your thigh, a woman's arm flattening your boob, and something that you hope is a bag pressing on your ass. To add to the flavor of being stuffed into a sardine can, there is the typical man, yelling his complaint about how the strike is not legal to the entire bus. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">I get my daily routine interrupted by the transport strikes which makes me extremely exhausted and gives me anxiety. A trip to work that normally takes me about 15 minutes can extend into an hour and forty minute bus ride, packed with people, and then a ten minute walk. Due to lack of metro services, the crowded sidewalks are enough to give you claustrophobia. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">"Nunca me ha dado cuenta de la cantidad de gente que </span></span><st1:country-region><st1:place><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">usa</span></span></st1:place></st1:country-region><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"> el metro, </span></span><st1:city><st1:place><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">como</span></span></st1:place></st1:city><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"> la gente está bajo tierra," The Canarian commented that she never realized just how many people used the metro because you don't see anybody because they are all underground. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="http://www.elmundo.es/elmundo/2010/06/29/madrid/1277810680.html">El Mundo</a> states that 2 million people in the Community of Madrid have had to figure out alternative ways to get to work. Luckily, the local trains and buses are still circulating but they are over-crowded and even still, the metro seems to be door to door where the others have their routes and often don't leave you right by the door. A friend from </span></span><st1:country-region><st1:place><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Finland</span></span></st1:place></st1:country-region><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"> had to walk an hour to work yesterday, mind you it is hot out and arriving to work sweaty is not always pleasant.</span></span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">The public transport in </span></span><st1:state><st1:place><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Madrid</span></span></st1:place></st1:state><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"> is usually quite exceptional, a traveler can basically get anywhere in the City by Metro or bus quite easily. Somebody once told me that the Metro was designed so that you could get from point A to your destination without having to change more than 2 trains; so far that has been my experience. I am the queen of the public transport. I have even taken the metro to a wedding! A monthly pass, <i>abono de transporte</i>, cost a mere 46 Euro which if compared to </span></span><st1:state><st1:place><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">New York</span></span></st1:place></st1:state><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">, is a bargain. Basically, I can travel anywhere in Zone A as much as I like via buses, metro, local trains (<i>cercanías</i>). I must say, on lazy or hot days, I love my <i>abono</i> as I will take the metro or the bus only a couple of stops.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">The Metro designed a new map in 2007 and it resembles </span></span><st1:city><st1:place><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">London'</span></span></st1:place></st1:city><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">s Tube map. I find the map awful and illegible. I have the worst sense of direction and the new linear design has made it worse so I use the maps that I saved from previous years. My old, tattered maps don't have all of the new lines on it but I figure if I have to travel out of Zone A, I better be in a car.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH0Uvf_9ZMI5IiqSlzHM1Gx5D7vuTgnX_2MJcqT5zZQuosq9uZRn0kopLkSzcyAUR7nmtoVhtberaQqze7aPJuHPPD8bKbNbrLySir5z-LtOkoAkQBKKJsgfxz8YkSTY-5Vn6mGe8u-ps/s1600/Metro+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="145" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH0Uvf_9ZMI5IiqSlzHM1Gx5D7vuTgnX_2MJcqT5zZQuosq9uZRn0kopLkSzcyAUR7nmtoVhtberaQqze7aPJuHPPD8bKbNbrLySir5z-LtOkoAkQBKKJsgfxz8YkSTY-5Vn6mGe8u-ps/s200/Metro+2.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Section of the OLD map</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">When I was a student at NYU, I was obsessed with writing an article about the metro experience. My brilliant idea was to spend an entire day riding the Gray Line, Line 6, the Circular. Spaniards generally refer to the line number where I usually associate the different metro lines by color. I think that the Circular is the worst line ever, along with the Green line, Line 5. The Circular trains make you feel like you have gone back to the 50s as they are cumbersome and outdated. You can find all types of people on the Circular as the line just travels round and round and round </span></span><st1:state><st1:place><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Madrid</span></span></st1:place></st1:state><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">. So my obsession with the Circular just kept growing as I find people fascinating. It seemed as though this one crazy lady would always travel at the same time I did and boy did she make my day. I called her the "Pink Fairy" as she always dressed different shades of pink and a tiara with missing plastic jems. She didn't really look like a fairy as her over-bleached teased hair was dirty, she caked hot pink make-up all over her face and the pink clothes were soiled but without fail, she always wore the tiara. The first time I saw the Pink Fairy, I looked around for a hidden camera after she got out of the wagon. She got on the train in her big pink outfit and the tiara with a ton of plastic bags, started singing, sat down in a seat and started opening up cans of tuna and eating the tuna with her fingers. It was totally nasty and yet totally fascinating. I remember the next time I was riding on the Circular and she entered, the shocked look on the others faces was priceless. I haven't seen the Pink Fairy in years as I have tried to avoid the Circular but I remember her with a smile on my face.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Like I said before, normally, the Metro is great. I only hope that the strikers resolve their issues so I can get on with my routine and keep claiming that the metro in </span></span><st1:state><st1:place><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">Madrid</span></span></st1:place></st1:state><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;"> is really great. If they can't resolve their issues, I hope that the government will insist on having the military drive the trains as they did in January 1976 according to <a href="http://www.elmundo.es/elmundo/2010/06/29/madrid/1277838432.html">El Pais</a> or that the the strikers are replaced by more willing employees.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div>A Broad Abroadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06134219236774703943noreply@blogger.com2