Shitgrins (a.k.a. Sjögren's)

This was my hand in August 2008

I am never really sure what I should write in my blog and I am never really sure who really reads it.  I started it because I always wanted to be a novelist.  As an avid reader, I can’t imagine what I would write that would top a NY Times bestseller.  Today is a special day for me, I could say that I have tears in my eyes but I no longer have tears.  Today, according to the Sjögren’s Foundation that was founded in 1983, is the First Annual Sjögren’s Awareness Day, July 23 because  because it is Dr. Henrik Sjögren's birthday, the man who discovered it. 

I refer to this particular autoimmune disease as Shitgrins 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!  

I was officially diagnosed with the Shitgrins in October 2008.  I made my dear friend Annabel go to the best Rheumatologist in Spain with me for the diagnosis because my hubby was in Germany.  I was shaking in my shoes.  I had been poked and prodded for months.

It all started in March 2008.  I thought I had broken a bone in my hand from carrying a box of paper up to another floor.  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.  15 days go by and I then had 2 swollen wrists.  I had to figure out where to get the X-ray done.  I finally get the X-ray done and he tells me to take the pills for longer.  The end of May rolls around and I started to swell up like a beached whale that had been in the sun.  I decide that I need to go to another doctor.  So, I go to a general doctor.  He prescribes more tests and more drugs.  I go with the paper to the lab and get the blood drawn.  A few weeks later, I am back in his office.  “Your cholesterol is high, you have to go on a diet”.  I am thinking to myself, “What the hell?  I eat no fat, barely like any foods and go to the gym-I have NEVER had high cholesterol."  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.  I go back to that doctor but when I am in the doctor’s office, a different doctor appears.  He told me that I was obviously not following the diet and the cholesterol was going to my joints.  “HELLLLLLO?, anybody in there?”  I knew something was wrong.

I felt like the Tin Man

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.  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).

I went to see my mom’s doctors who I now think are total shit along with the Shitgrins for them to tell me that I don’t have Lyme nor am I a Celiac.  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.  Anybody who really knows me would never tell me I am depressed, a bit crazy, but depressed never.

So, I head back to Spain a bit discouraged and LARGE.  I can no longer sleep because my entire body hurts.  So, BLAH BLAH BLAH.

Finally, a diagnosis!!! It took 11 doctors to finally assure me that it wasn’t me being a hypochondriac.  Primary Sjögren’s Syndrome.  WTF is that?  It is an autoimmune disease that affects the glands and essentially makes the internal organs not so happy.

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.  I found Fruitcake through Celia, a dear workmate. 

Fruitcake is a Biological Medicine doctor that does nose jobs on the side.  He is a quake, sometimes a perv, but he is fixing me through extensive biological analysis.  I often think that Fruitcake is from another planet.  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!!  Less shoes, better health, right?  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.

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.  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 yogi guru), the more love you receive, the more you laugh, the more you see that life is lovely, you can overcome.

Love you all for your endearing support. 

First Annual Sjögren’s World Awareness.

Metro Madrid le informa....STRIKE!

Right outside Atocha Renfe Train Station

On my way to work last week, the EMT, public transportation of Madrid, was handing out little blue booklets titled, "Muévete major en el autobus, Viajar en los autobuses de la EMT."  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. 

Pamphlet on how to get on and off the bus
which includes how to behave on the bus

Metro Strike! The strike started yesterday and according to El Mundo, it is going to continue.  The article gives no specific termination date which in Spain 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.  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."  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 "nueva plantilla" (an entire new staff) as currently, Spain has an unemployment rate of 20% and surely there are enough people out there who would be delighted to have a job.

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 Spain are a nightmare; it is the time when you see Spain 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.

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. 

"Nunca me ha dado cuenta de la cantidad de gente que usa el metro, como 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.   

El Mundo 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 Finland had to walk an hour to work yesterday, mind you it is hot out and arriving to work sweaty is not always pleasant.

The public transport in Madrid 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, abono de transporte, cost a mere 46 Euro which if compared to New York, is a bargain.  Basically, I can travel anywhere in Zone A as much as I like via buses, metro, local trains (cercanías).  I must say, on lazy or hot days, I love my abono as I will take the metro or the bus only a couple of stops.

The Metro designed a new map in 2007 and it resembles London'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.

Section of the OLD map

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 Madrid.  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.

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 Madrid 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 El Pais or that the the strikers are replaced by more willing employees.

7 Weddings in 5 Months means Crisis

The Chinese say that it is the Year of the Tiger, Spanish newspapers claim it is the year of the crisis, 2010 for me is the Year of the Weddings. My husband and I have officially been invited to 7 weddings over a span of the next 5 months; we have R.S.V.P.ed “no” to 2 of them and will do our best to make the other 5.

While I was eavesdropping on the elevator ride up to my office, I overheard two women talking about the number of weddings they had in the next year and I just had to say:

“Mi marido y yo hemos sido invitados a 7 bodas en los próximos 5 meses.”

“Buah, es una multa!,” she replied almost in shock. She said that my situation was like receiving a ticket or a fine. I probably couldn’t have said it better.

5 out of the 7 weddings we have been invited to are in Spain and 2 are in the United States. Weddings in Spain are quite the affair, perhaps which is why I opted for the “are you sure you aren’t pregnant?” type of wedding, in Spain, this type of wedding is known as “se casan de penalty”, meaning they are getting married because the bride is pregnant. I got an estimate for the type of wedding I wanted in Spain from Toda Boda, a Spanish wedding planner agency and the estimate was about the same cost as my student loans which in Spain, many couples take out loans to pay for their weddings. Ridiculous.

I used to LOVE weddings, I still do but in a different way.  When I was a bit younger and I dreamt of the day that I would get married and hoped that it would be an event right out of a fairy tale. But as time has gone on, each time Ismael and I get an invitation; I chuckle and actually get a bit claustrophobic which you will understand the reason why just shortly.

I think that the process of the wedding is pretty similar in Spain as it is in the States – it all starts with the engagement: you hear first about the engagement through word of mouth, or in these days, the news arrives via some form of cyber space.

Traditionally, the engaged couple arranges a “cena de pedido”, an engagement dinner, where both sets of parents are invited to have a dinner. This can be quite “violenta” as it is typically the first time the parents meet. Tradition has it that the groom’s parents give the “novia” a ring while the bride’s parents give the “novio” a watch. The diamond ring is a new concept that has been adopted all over Europe which I think is due to the American influence and I must admit that I don’t always like the selected engagement rings and have found that they are much lovelier in the States where you can even get them custom made.

Once word has been spread around, you soon learn of the date via email, sms, phone call or whatever. One of my American friends who is getting married on September 11th sent a paperless post save the date and I thought that it was adorable and very formal.

Soon the invitation arrives, which is usually handed out personally by the bride and groom in a bar or over tapas and if you couldn’t make it out on that particular day, it is sent via post.

The first wedding I went to in Spain was our friends who got married in Southern Spain. They got married in Marbella in 2003. I remember when their invitation arrived and it had little numbers on it.

“Isma, ¿Qué es esto?” I ask Ismael what the numbers meant.

“Es el número de la cuenta.” He tells me it is the account number.

“¿Qué cuenta?”, not knowing what the account number was.

“La cuenta bancaria”, Ismael responds in a duh tone as if I should know.

The typical, traditional Spanish wedding invitation is nothing that special in my eyes but I shouldn’t really criticize them as I sent all 27 guests to our wedding an evite. The traditional sort is a rather large piece of cardboard in a selected color; I received one in pea green once, with calligraphy. In the top corners are the names of the parents and in the middle the names of the bride and groom with all of the other pertinent wedding information.

Then just in the corner is the RSVP and just below that is the bank account number, printed directly on the invite. If the account number doesn’t appear directly on the invite, the happy couple usually encloses a little piece of paper with the 20 magic numbers on it so that you can make a transfer from your account to theirs. If the invite doesn’t come with the little paper, you feel obliged to email and ask what it is. Hell with registering for gifts, right?

The going wedding rate these days is 150€ a head, that is about $190.19. I can’t remember the last time Ismael and I ever spent 300€ on a dinner out, probably because we never have. I find it a bit outrageous and I, admittedly, never transfer that amount of money. As a tradition, you are supposed to pay for the cost of the dish which usually runs around 40-60 bucks.

A co-worker commented on the transfers by saying that “ellos se van de luna de miel y volvemos a Madrid con una resaca de cojones y sin un duro”, claiming that the couple goes on their honeymoon while we go back to Madrid with a huge hangover and empty pockets.

After you figure out which hotel to stay in and how you are going to get there, soon before you know it, The BIG Day finally arrives.

In Spain, there is no rehearsal dinner the night before a wedding which I have found that I sometimes like the rehearsal dinner more than the wedding itself. Instead of a rehearsal dinner, there is usually a more informal dinner or tapas followed by “copas”. The “copas” can be un peligro total as you usually end up having the worst hangover the next day and have to celebrate the big day with the happy couple.

Guests at Spanish weddings, I am referring to the women, tend to dress quite fancily, although, in my opinion, some can get way over dressed and appear almost gaudy. Most women wear some type of dress or suit, get their hair done which usually includes a tocado, a personal fav, and a fan. Men usually wear the same suit they wear to work.. A bride’s dress is according to her own taste but they can be quite costly. Some of the major brands for gowns are Pronovia, Sarda, Frikki, Rosa Clara or to have one made from scratch. There are no bridesmaids and I have been asked at every Spanish wedding if I have been a bridesmaid in the States and if I had to wear the same dress as the others and if it was as ugly as some seen in the US films.

I remember one year Ismael and I had so many weddings in all different parts of the world that I got away with wearing the same red, long BCBG dress to almost all of them, the almost is because the day arrived when my husband actually told me I had to buy a different dress because he was sick of looking at the red one and from the photos, all of the weddings seemed the same!

In Spain, being the couples’ testigo (witness) is a very important role and everybody wants to be it which I find funny because very seldom do the youngsters stay at the church for the ceremony, most head to the nearest bar to have a beer or wine while the couple is tying the knot.

After the ceremony has finished, there is a cocktail hour, followed by lots of food and more wine, followed by a dance. A typical Spanish wedding can finish well into the next day.

While you are eating your dinner, guest constantly stand up and shout,

“Vivan los novios” or “que se besen, que se besen”…

and at that point everybody raises their glasses, watches the newly weds kiss, and gives a toast, chin chin.

The couple usually gives out little party favor to the guests which are passed out as the desert is being served, mind you, there is no cutting of the cake, by the woman witness and a couple of dear friends of the bride. The typical present is cigarettes and cigars but at the most recent weddings, we have received alpargatas, fans, pins, visnagas, etc. Ismael and I gave out a CD with our favorite tunes on it.

The Spanish newspapers can’t seem to write enough about the crisis, does a crisis cause more people to tie the knot? Since we have been invited to 7 weddings in 5 months in 2 different continents, I am led to believe that crisis definitely bring people together whether it be through marriage or something else. Whatever the occasion, I am always honored to take part and take loads of pictures.

Operación Bikini

“Sarah, ya es tiempo de Operación Bikini,” said my workmate who I always refer to as Mr. GQ as he could be a model for the magazine.

“Buenos días”, I respond. 

“Hmmm, it’s already time for Operación Bikini?  Has a year gone by that fast?” I think to myself as I remove my wool coat and hang it in the closet. 

Next week, Spain celebrates the Semana Santa, Easter holiday, where all of the Catholics and non-practicing Catholics celebrate their Catholicism and sins with beautiful tronos for everybody to enjoy.  The tronos, or Saints, that are on floats, are carried by the members of a church, los costaleros throughout the cities that have processions.  There are only a few tronos in Madrid.

Los costaleros carry big floats with statues of Christ or the Virgin Mary, covered with candles and flowers.  These floats can weigh up to 3 or 4 tons and are paraded throughout the streets by the members of the particular church.  One of the best processions I have ever seen was with my mom back in 1997 when I lived in Málaga.  I was showing her the city and we just happened to go into the church there when suddenly it got really quite and then we heard, “thump, thump, thump, thump” and in came the procession.  It was breathtaking.

Around the tronos carried by the costaleros, are other members of the cofradia, dressed in outfits that consist of a robe with a cone hat.  Some say that the Klu Klux clan stole the idea of their outfits from the Spanish processions.  There are also drummers and as they beat the drum, the cofrades take their pasos.  It is all quite intense and worth a visit to Spain to see.

Along with the processions during Easter week, comes a few days off from work which usually means, too much eating, relaxing and drinking.  It is right after the Easter holidays due to the extra pounds put on during the holiday, that leads up to the when the Spaniards and all of the news feeds start spreading the word about Operación Bikini. 

I typed Operación Bikini into www.google.es and thousands of articles came up on how to lose the “Michelin”, Spanish for “the spare tire”, for bathing suit season.  There is even one article that states that Operación Bikini will make it to the school cafeterias with healthier foods to help control obesity in children.  The articles I found write about what to eat, how often to eat, how to prepare your skin for the sun, what exercises are best and all say to drink lots of water.  It all seems like basic health stuff to me.  The Spaniards actually become quite obsessed with this "operacion bikini" concept.  These are the times when I walk in to office kitchen during an on-going session of Camera Café and opt to eat something when a co-worker snickers that it is going to ruin the operación bikini and they like to know how often one goes to the gym.  I have even caught them comparing their cholesterol.  

I am an avid gym freak even though I have had to tone it down a notch; I go every other day for about a half hour to an hour and a half, but this is the season when I actually don’t like going to the gym because it fills up with all of the “get-ready-for-bathing suit-season” temporary members.

It may seem odd that I have chosen to write about two subjects that really do not go hand-in-hand.  Well, they don’t at all.  Nobody is going to go to an Easter procession in a bikini or swim trunks but perhaps due to lent and giving up the foods one loves or due to the fact that there are so many holidays in Spain that this is the prime moment when the media goes on a frenzy about diets and skin scare.  Holidays in Spain could be defined as a time to eat too much, a time to take a really long siesta after eating and drinking too much, a time to do absolutely nothing, the list could go on.  But my theory is, is that if you can’t pinch an inch after a holiday, then perhaps you didn’t enjoy it.   

For the body conscious and body obsessed, now is their time to shine, after the Semana Santa that is, and for those of us who don’t really care or who maintain a healthy well-balanced lifestyle all year round, we feel stuffed at the gym by all of the extras.  Needless to say, I don’t think that people should really need the “operación bikini” as an excuse to take better care of themselves but if it is an initiative, I say go for it – just don’t hog the treadmill. 

*Note: The photo of the woman in the reindeer antlers is courtesy of Juan Ignacio Garcia who took the photo while on holiday in the Canary Islands. 

"Te pega un eBook"

"Te pega un eBook," said Dimix. 

"Hmmm'," I thought to myself.  I wasn’t sure how to respond to that statement as I am still not sure how to feel about the new era of electronic devices to read books and I certainly don’t think that it suits me.

"No creo," I reply. 

"No?" Te imagino con el eBook en tu bolso y sacarlo con mucha sofisticación," added Dimix.

"Hay ciertas cosas que no quiero que modernicen."  I reply.  Although it may look sophisticated to pull one out of your purse, call me old fashioned but I prefer a book with pages and a cover and an edition and a particular smell.

I had to go on to explain that a book for me is like a newspaper for some.  I left out the fact that I can not stand newspapers as I find them dirty and really do not like getting that black ink on my fingertips; they make me feel like I just changed the toner of the photocopy machine or the oil of my invisible car.  Many people just need something tangible. 

I love going to read with my book at the Café Cerveceria Santa Bárbara in the Glorieta de Alonso Martínez where they have a long bench covered by a velvet fabric in deep red where I occasionally lift my head to people watch as there are mirrors above the benches.  I admittedly spill on my books constantly, but it is back to the idea of possession, it is mine and I don't think that I would be able to savor the time I spend at Spanish cafés without the books I savor.

I lug books with me almost everywhere.  I love to dog-ear the pages, underline words that I will eventually look up in a dictionary, underline phrases that I like or find insightful.  I even have to admit that I have torn out the last page that has nothing on it to write down some notes.  I remember in the movie Finding Forrester, a personal fav, when William Forrestor (played by Sean Connery) comments that it is disrespectful to do all of what I do to a book - well, I paid my rights by buying the book and I do all the damage in pencil so it can be erased at some point or another.

In Spain, I have observed that the majority of the people cover their books with some sort of book cover.  Every time I hop on the metro, I count at least 5 women with a book cover that is either made of newspaper or white paper.  According to the Barómetro of the Editorial Federation of Spain (Informe de la Federación Gremios de Editores), 58.4% of the readers in Spain are women while an article states that Spanish men do the majority of their reading in the bathroom.  

The book cover reminds me of elementary and public school when you had to cover the public school books that they loaned you for the year with the brown paper bags my mom saved from the supermarket so that you didn’t accidentally destroy them.  I remember how some class mates got really fancy and covered their books with book-cover paper that reminded me of holiday wrapping paper.

I have various theories as to why Spaniards cover their books, i) it has been loaned to them, ii) it is something that has continued on from the time of Franco during a time in which there was huge censorship iii) they like to keep their books looking like it wasn't read iv) my preferred theory is that they are reading total trash and don't want anybody to know!

Per usual, I decided to do a survey around my office.

I asked the Canarian workmate how she feels about the eBook and she said:

"El otro día vi uno en el metro y no me hace gracia a mí."  Well stated, she said it wasn't for her, I couldn't agree more.

The Ibiza Boss said that he prefers paper as he glanced around his office looking at the number of books and old maps he had in frames and collects, the Brainy boss who happened to be there, said the same and added that it is all about tact.

Mr. GQ in my office said that he "lee poco y menos en el ebook" - he barely reads and would read even less if it were an eBook.

Now for the opinion of a true gadget lover, the Boss who is the ultimate Hacker, I enter his office to find him engrossed by the computer and I interrupt his intense concentration,

"Qué opinas del eBook?" I ask him with a smirk.  He finds my surveys quite strange but I had to remind him once again that I studied letras and not econmia.

"De hecho, voy a comprarme el iPad." As his eyes widen like a child with the simple idea that they are going to have a new toy and meanwhile he takes his iPhone out of his pocket and shows me how many books he has in there already and how you can change the view of how it is read by tilting it one way or another.

"Es mucho más cómodo leer en la cama con el iPhone y con el iPad va a ser genial.  Bueno, te digo, también me gustan los libros de papel pero por comodidad, los libros electrónicos son mejores."

Like I said before, there are certain things that I just don't think should modernize.  Paper books are a classic and they can ideally deal with the five senses (I have never seen anybody eat a book but surely there are people who have or do).  And how is the eBook going to serve for blind people?  What if they don't feel like being read to by some computerized voice but rather feel the brail?

So, for some, the eBook may look sophisticated, may be more comfortable to read in bed, may give you the option of reading about 100 books at the same time, but I just am not for it.  How would men stand up to their image of reading the paper in the bathroom? How would I feel about reading in the cafés with an electronic device?  What would happen to the device if I spilled my coffee or tea on it?  And, what if the battery dies in a tense moment of the book?  You are totally left hanging, can't turn the page.  Ultimately, I feel that there are certain things in modern-day culture where the old just does not mix with the new and a part of history would be lost without being able to turn the page.

So, no eBook for me, just call me traditional and unsophisticated.

Yoga Mental...especially for those of us who are quite mental...

I went to my first Yoga class ever yesterday evening.  I went to a center where my doctor, who I always refer to as “Fruitcake”, goes to Yoga class and highly recommends.  It is called Shadak and the center is pretty much across the street from my office, quite conveniently located. 

I have, admittedly, been on a self-destructive path since July of last year.  I got excellent tests results in June which left my totally dry-humored Rheumatologist with his mouth open and it was enough to convince me that I could party like a rock star and that my diagnosis of a chronic autoimmune disease had well past.  Well, apparently, my mind and body are quite fragile and need to always be taken care of, nurtured and be full of positive energy, I have never had a green thumb so taking care of my body and mind is quite the challenge. 

I got tests done for the Rheumatologist just a couple of weeks ago because I hadn’t been feeling that great and I also have my 6-8 month check-up.  I went to pick them up and from the first glance; I knew that they weren’t good.  In Spain, you have to go with a slip from your doctor to a place where they do blood analysis and then you pick them up yourself which for some like myself, is not a good thing because I start browsing the Internet to see what I can auto-diagnose myself with and basically give myself an self-induced heart-attack. 

Shortly alter emailing Fruitcake the past 2 blood analysis and confessing that I had been partying like I was somebody important, my cell phone rings.

“Querida Sarah, has empeorado y estás empeorando.  Después del correo que me has enviado, muchas cosas tienen que cambiar si quieres mejorar.”

“FUCK, FUCK, FUCK”, I think to myself.  Nobody ever likes to receive a call from a Doctor, slightly whacky, whose been making all his best efforts to help you, tell you that you are getting worse. 

He calls me into his office asap.  I got there and felt like I was at the Principals office, like the time after I did donuts with the car in the snow, but worse.  After a long talk and his psychoanalysis of yours truly, there are many things that need to be sorted in my life, psych wise, as I have not been very happy for a long time and according to Fruitcake, my well-being will start when I have found inner peace.  He said I must go to “Yoga Mental”.

Off I went.  I was quite nervous but noticed that everyone around me was mellow, so I relaxed and felt mellow.  It was strange but not as strange as the time I went to a session on how to line up the Chakras where no one in the room could cross their arms or legs and the monitors had to touch your feet and head to line up certain Chakras.  In that gig, the monitor kept asking us if we could feel the energy passing from one another, the only thing I felt was that the room was stuffy and the windows needed to be opened. 

But anyhow, at Yoga, we had to sit on the floor and meditate.  The Guru is named Ramiro Calle, an older man who is skinny as a stick and quite hairy.  He seemed to have a calm aura about him.  He told us the 3 phases of meditation and how to breathe.  I can’t remember the last time I took a minute for myself and actually could relax.  Later he allowed for questions and said some anecdotes.  It was great.

If and when I go to the Yoga física with the notorious Guru of Yoga, I will write about how inflexible and clumsy I am but at this moment, I am sticking to the meditation and start on the path to thinking with my positive side of the brain (can’t remember if it’s the right or the left side but it is working!)!!!

Don’t forget the stamp! Spanish Bureaucracy….ministro a ministro.

I am in such shock that I just had to write about my experience today on my blog! I got to work this morning at 10:00 AM after telling Boss 4 via SMS the night before that I would be late as I had to deal with Spanish bureaucracy to renew my social security medical card. He wished me luck and usually luck is what you need. In Spain, there is literally a paper for everything and in order for it to be valid, it must be stamped and duly signed. I find the stamp thing funny as there is no “official” stamp. Once a company or whatnot is created, the name approved, and the VAT number is received, you get a stamp made. That stamp needs to be stamped on everything for it to be valid – in my office; I am the “official stamper”!!

So, this morning, I woke up late as most government branches do not open till 9:00 AM and took a deep breath. Usually getting anything done within the Spanish Bureaucratic Systems makes you want to pull your hair out and yell at anybody who may interfere with the frustrating process. When Ismael and I got married, I think that we actually spent more money and time on getting the proper paperwork to get married than the actually wedding. We had a shotgun wedding so to speak, not because I was preggers or anything but due to date availability at the Civil Registry, or lack there of, our current residency in Tel Aviv, and my legality in Spain! To get married, all of my papers had to have The Hague stamp and then be translated by a traductor jurado, an official translator. The Hague stamp is actually quite nice – it is a raised golden or red seal.


To get married, we had to hand in my birth certificate, a police report, a medical report stating that I had no weird disease, the Spanish census certificate, a bunch of other papers along with a document stating that I was soltera. This document stating that one is “single” does not exist in the States – so yet another appointment, another line. I had to go to the US Embassy and state before a notary of the public that I was single. That costs about 70 bucks. The US Embassy actually staples a letter stating that such document doesn’t exist in the States, no wonder why those of the First Church (Mormon’s) got away with polygamy. Ismile’s paperwork was less extensive. Mind you, any “official” document in Spain is only valid for three months once it has been dated, signed and stamped which meant my mom had to get the police report from our local police station twice and get it stamped with the Hague Stamp twice, and FedEx it to me twice – now that costs even more money.

Once you hand that stuff in, you have to get a witness to state that you have been together for some time. We asked Carmina, Ismile’s mom, to be our witness. We were quite surprised as we were the only young couple in the room. Most of the other couples consisted of a viejo verde (dirty old man) and a foreign woman. Once that was done, you get a paper, with the stamp and signature; let us not forget that part, only then you can get married. By that time, your patience gets tested and you can see how your partner handles the situation and if all that work was truly worth it.

So, we said our sí’s, signed a document, it was stamped and then we were officially married. Once you are married, you are given a Libro de Familia, something that obviously lived on after Franco died and according to an article in El Mundo will cease to exist.

And once you have your libro, once again, lines and more paperwork to get my residency card which included finger printing. Unfortunately, my tarjeta de residencia expires this year on November 22nd. 5 years. I am now eligible for the “Permanent Residency” but yet, even that needs to be renewed in 5 years time. I already have a knot in my stomach just thinking about the entire process.


But anyhow, back to the bit of restoration of faith I had in the Spanish Bureaucratic system, this morning it took only 30 minutes to renew my social security medical card which entailed 3 stops at different Ministries; first I had to get a census certificate that verifies my address, then I had to ask for the renewal request at Ministry of Social Security by showing them the census certificate, and I had to show both the census certificate and the request at the outpatients’ department. The medical card will expire the same date as my residency and the woman behind the desk kindly explained that once I have the temporary residency card in November that I will have to file for a temporary medical card and that once I get the official residency card that I will have to reapply for an official medical card. I am tired just thinking about it.  At about 9:40AM, Boss 1 was texting me from inside an aircraft asking me if I could change his return flight that afternoon because the take-off was delayed.  So, off I went running to work to resolve the problem which as it turns out, I told him to get off the plane and attend the conference via phone.  If it could only work like this in Spain on a daily basis, everyone would be happier.