What is Last-itis you ask? We'll it's constantly thinking that this is the last time you will do thing X. And I can feel a bad case of it coming on. I've got a little more than a month left of this adventure but I only have three more days left at work. Most people would be thinking "F Yeah!" but I've loved my work this year. Not necessarily loved what I do but more so who I do it with and the fact that it's with kids.
My coworkers have been amazing and are a huge reason why I've enjoyed my time in Spain so much. Being able to relate and have real relationships with Spanish people has made me feel just that much more Spanish myself. Likewise, spending lots of time with my Spanish family has led to so many long conversations about the past, the family (which is VERY large), and life in general.
This whole experience has been so refreshing that it pains me to think about giving it up. I seriously get sad thinking about having to say goodbye for good to some of these people - to some of the kids and even some of my coworkers who I may never see again. It's been a while since I've felt like a goodbye was forever because at Princeton you see everyone again, especially those that you want to see again. And high school before that was the same. So saying goodbye to some of these people "me va a dar algo" as they say in Spain (meaning that you'll get choked up kind of).
So my case of Lastitis has started really early and I find myself missing Spain long before I'm even packing my bags.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Thursday, June 11, 2009
The French Riviera
Wow. Blogging is getting harder and harder these days. Perhaps it's because there are only a handful of people who actually read what I write. Perhaps it's because I'm lazy. Either way, pictures available on facebook.
The French Riviera. When I heard that phrase in the past, I always thought to myself, what a grandiose place. Meaning, "hey, french riviera, get over yourself." But, I really do think that it lived up to all the hype. All the fancy shops, fancy restaurants, ritzy places and other grandiose things were counterbalanced by beautiful scenery, quaint streets, and overall extremely friendly people. In fact, the most unfriendly person we encountered may have been the Prince of Monaco who declined our invitation to get schwasted and roam the city of Monte Carlo.
Anyways, the trip started in London with a 5 hour layover that lasted 5 lifetimes. London has the reputation of having horrible weather, all the time. I had previously assumed that this was limited to outdoor areas but the London Lutton airport quickly corrected that misconception by exposing its patrons to the coldest conditions in the transportation business since the Titanic (da dun chsshhh). After nearly escaping death by freezing, we made it to our hostel in Nice at around 10 pm.
We immediately set out for an American-style bar called "Wayne's" which was well known for its reputation of having more people dancing on tables than on the floor. Perfect. We passed the night with a few drinks watching the many drunk Americans doing what they do best. Jessica managed to make friends with a 60+ year old Bulgarian woman who was going nuts on the tables. Surprise, surprise...
The next day we went to a small mountain town called Vence. We were actually trying to stay in the town "St.Paul d'Vence" but something got lost in translation and we made a hotel reservation in the nearby but obviously distinct town of "Vence". Luckily, Vence was a cute town and boasted the only giant statue of a dove/pigeon that i have ever had the pleasure to see. Plus our hotel was amazing and came fully stocked with things such as purple sheets, a green bathroom, and a lounge cat.
We went out to dinner at a really nice french restaurant and had some amazing food. The food in the south was a mix of French and Italian food and we had some really impressive dishes of gnocchi and scallops and a cornucopia of other delights.
We made it to St. Paul d'Vence for a few hours the next day on our way back to Nice. It was a really pretty town with tiny streets and lots of flowers. There wasn't really anything to do there so Jessica temporarily quelled her insatiable appetite for sweets with a crepe (on a cannon, not to be confused with Christ on a bike).
The night that followed was poorly planned, poorly executed, and epic. The plan was to go to Monaco, a place where we could not afford to stay in a hotel. So that meant we were going to leave all of our stuff in a locker in the Nice train station and spend the night in Monaco, not going to sleep. We bought food for a picnic dinner and rum and mixers to save money as well. One poor choice in particular was the downfall of the entire night. Let me explain.
(Jessica changing clothes in a photobooth in the Nice train station)
When we got off the bus we walked around to some very pretty gardens and to the palace of the Prince of Monaco. We stopped in a small garden near the palace to eat and start to drink. Upon opening the bottle of rum we realized that we had made a grave mistake. Buying a 6 euro bottle of rum was a poor decision. After saving money by not eating at a restaurant and not getting a hotel room, we should have thought about classing it up and buying the 10 euro rum. But, stingy is a hard thing to give up and we paid for it. The rum was terrible and left us with some pretty wretched hang overs.
Anyways, life goes on, sort of. We went to the casinos and did our thing but the nightlife in Monte Carlo was not what we expected. We both got really tired around 4 AM so we decided to go find a place to sleep until the 6 AM bus came. In a half-daze, we wandered all the way back to the garden next to the palace and passed out on the benches there. I kid you not when i say that the palace is up a huge hill that must have taken a half hour to walk up but that didn't enter our half asleep minds.
We caught the 6 AM bus but I quickly decided that I didn't belong on the bus. Taking the turns along this windy coastal road did not agree with me or my stomach and I barely managed to run off the bus to vomit. Out with the bad. This, of course, was after contemplating relieving my stomach into Jessica's cloth travel bag. Long story short, we fell asleep on the bench and managed to miss the next bus, giving us a cumulative hour long wait.
When we got back to Nice we went to the beach to sleep off the poor choices of the previous night. We were rudely interrupted by what appeared to be an Indian wedding party shouting and screaming and being generally loud all around us. Jessica managed to get really burned bring the poor choice count up just a smidgen. We both managed to recover slightly. The rest of the day was a wash. Nothing bad, nothing great.
However, it was this night that we decided on the Chicken Plan of 2009 which consisted of buying a rotisserie chicken and eating it on the beach for dinner the next day. And we did just that, but not without our fare shares of close calls.
When the time came to carry out the Chicken Plan of 2009, we were ready. We walked to the hole in the wall meat store and salivated in the direction of the full rotisserie, spinning delightfully with at least 15 golden chickens. Of course the butcher/15 year old boy only spoke French but we managed to understand that the chickens weren't ready yet, they needed 30 more minutes to slowly and deliciously turn in circles and drip glorious juices. So we went to a nearby plaza to wait. I didn't want to go back right at thirty minutes so i tricked Jessica into waiting 35. When she found out, she furiously exclaimed "What if there's a Chicken Blowout and there's none left!". As we picked up the pace and rounded the corner, we saw the rotisserie, nearly devoid of delicious-looking birds. Thankfully, there was one left and we snagged him just in time, right before a hippie couple tried to get him.
We continued to the beach and had ourselves a (winner winner) Chicken Dinner despite the near-atrocities of the Chicken Blowout of 2009.
We left Nice the next morning and headed back to Madrid via the ice palace of the London Lutton airport. To take our mind off the cold, this time we decided to watch Slumdog Millionaire (great movie by the way). We got a little absorbed in the movie and ended up heading towards our gate about 10 minutes before departure. We quickly learned that this was a bad idea when we showed up at the gate and they told us that we had missed our flight. I called them on their bullshit and they kindly made a call to the airplane and opened the door again for us. Crisis averted, we arrived in Madrid, safe and sound.
The French Riviera. When I heard that phrase in the past, I always thought to myself, what a grandiose place. Meaning, "hey, french riviera, get over yourself." But, I really do think that it lived up to all the hype. All the fancy shops, fancy restaurants, ritzy places and other grandiose things were counterbalanced by beautiful scenery, quaint streets, and overall extremely friendly people. In fact, the most unfriendly person we encountered may have been the Prince of Monaco who declined our invitation to get schwasted and roam the city of Monte Carlo.
Anyways, the trip started in London with a 5 hour layover that lasted 5 lifetimes. London has the reputation of having horrible weather, all the time. I had previously assumed that this was limited to outdoor areas but the London Lutton airport quickly corrected that misconception by exposing its patrons to the coldest conditions in the transportation business since the Titanic (da dun chsshhh). After nearly escaping death by freezing, we made it to our hostel in Nice at around 10 pm.
We immediately set out for an American-style bar called "Wayne's" which was well known for its reputation of having more people dancing on tables than on the floor. Perfect. We passed the night with a few drinks watching the many drunk Americans doing what they do best. Jessica managed to make friends with a 60+ year old Bulgarian woman who was going nuts on the tables. Surprise, surprise...
The next day we went to a small mountain town called Vence. We were actually trying to stay in the town "St.Paul d'Vence" but something got lost in translation and we made a hotel reservation in the nearby but obviously distinct town of "Vence". Luckily, Vence was a cute town and boasted the only giant statue of a dove/pigeon that i have ever had the pleasure to see. Plus our hotel was amazing and came fully stocked with things such as purple sheets, a green bathroom, and a lounge cat.
We went out to dinner at a really nice french restaurant and had some amazing food. The food in the south was a mix of French and Italian food and we had some really impressive dishes of gnocchi and scallops and a cornucopia of other delights.
We made it to St. Paul d'Vence for a few hours the next day on our way back to Nice. It was a really pretty town with tiny streets and lots of flowers. There wasn't really anything to do there so Jessica temporarily quelled her insatiable appetite for sweets with a crepe (on a cannon, not to be confused with Christ on a bike).
The night that followed was poorly planned, poorly executed, and epic. The plan was to go to Monaco, a place where we could not afford to stay in a hotel. So that meant we were going to leave all of our stuff in a locker in the Nice train station and spend the night in Monaco, not going to sleep. We bought food for a picnic dinner and rum and mixers to save money as well. One poor choice in particular was the downfall of the entire night. Let me explain.
(Jessica changing clothes in a photobooth in the Nice train station)When we got off the bus we walked around to some very pretty gardens and to the palace of the Prince of Monaco. We stopped in a small garden near the palace to eat and start to drink. Upon opening the bottle of rum we realized that we had made a grave mistake. Buying a 6 euro bottle of rum was a poor decision. After saving money by not eating at a restaurant and not getting a hotel room, we should have thought about classing it up and buying the 10 euro rum. But, stingy is a hard thing to give up and we paid for it. The rum was terrible and left us with some pretty wretched hang overs.
Anyways, life goes on, sort of. We went to the casinos and did our thing but the nightlife in Monte Carlo was not what we expected. We both got really tired around 4 AM so we decided to go find a place to sleep until the 6 AM bus came. In a half-daze, we wandered all the way back to the garden next to the palace and passed out on the benches there. I kid you not when i say that the palace is up a huge hill that must have taken a half hour to walk up but that didn't enter our half asleep minds.
We caught the 6 AM bus but I quickly decided that I didn't belong on the bus. Taking the turns along this windy coastal road did not agree with me or my stomach and I barely managed to run off the bus to vomit. Out with the bad. This, of course, was after contemplating relieving my stomach into Jessica's cloth travel bag. Long story short, we fell asleep on the bench and managed to miss the next bus, giving us a cumulative hour long wait.
When we got back to Nice we went to the beach to sleep off the poor choices of the previous night. We were rudely interrupted by what appeared to be an Indian wedding party shouting and screaming and being generally loud all around us. Jessica managed to get really burned bring the poor choice count up just a smidgen. We both managed to recover slightly. The rest of the day was a wash. Nothing bad, nothing great.
However, it was this night that we decided on the Chicken Plan of 2009 which consisted of buying a rotisserie chicken and eating it on the beach for dinner the next day. And we did just that, but not without our fare shares of close calls.
When the time came to carry out the Chicken Plan of 2009, we were ready. We walked to the hole in the wall meat store and salivated in the direction of the full rotisserie, spinning delightfully with at least 15 golden chickens. Of course the butcher/15 year old boy only spoke French but we managed to understand that the chickens weren't ready yet, they needed 30 more minutes to slowly and deliciously turn in circles and drip glorious juices. So we went to a nearby plaza to wait. I didn't want to go back right at thirty minutes so i tricked Jessica into waiting 35. When she found out, she furiously exclaimed "What if there's a Chicken Blowout and there's none left!". As we picked up the pace and rounded the corner, we saw the rotisserie, nearly devoid of delicious-looking birds. Thankfully, there was one left and we snagged him just in time, right before a hippie couple tried to get him.
We continued to the beach and had ourselves a (winner winner) Chicken Dinner despite the near-atrocities of the Chicken Blowout of 2009.
We left Nice the next morning and headed back to Madrid via the ice palace of the London Lutton airport. To take our mind off the cold, this time we decided to watch Slumdog Millionaire (great movie by the way). We got a little absorbed in the movie and ended up heading towards our gate about 10 minutes before departure. We quickly learned that this was a bad idea when we showed up at the gate and they told us that we had missed our flight. I called them on their bullshit and they kindly made a call to the airplane and opened the door again for us. Crisis averted, we arrived in Madrid, safe and sound.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
La Riviera Francesa
Para que sepáis la razón de este viaje, Jessica y yo hemos pasado los dos años juntos y queríamos celebrar el aniversario de verdad. Así que hemos planeado un viaje a Niza para visitar la costa al sur de Francia. Podeís ver algunas fotos en la parte de la riviera francesa en inglés y en facebook.
Para llegar a Niza, tuvimos que volar hacia Londres y luego hacia Niza. Para ahorrar dinero, cogimos algunos vuelos más baratos que nos dieron una escala de 5 horas durante la ida y la vuelta en Londres. De repente, volábamos por el aeropuerto Lutton que está de 1.5 horas a la ciudad y no podíamos hacer nada de turismo allí. Pues nos quedábamos en el aeropuerto para lo que sentaba como un eterno. Para hacer un poco más daño, el aeropuerto estaba completamente helado y allí pasábamos un frio que te pelas. Lo peor era que el único enchufe que funcionaba estaba alado del chisme que produce el aire acondicionado. Así que allí estuvimos con un frio que te cagas viendo los últimos capítulos de la temporada tres de Héroes. Como te puedes imaginar, salimos de Londres cagando tomates.
Bueno, llegamos a Niza por la noche, encontramos el hostal sin problemas y salimos de marcha como los españoles que ya somos. Encontramos un bar que se llama “Wayne’s” y es un bar en plan Americano que tenía un grupo de música que tocaba los éxitos de los años ochenta y noventa. Se dice que en Wayne’s hay más gente bailando encima de las mesas que en el suelo. Nos divertíamos mogollón viendo a gente borrachísima y bailando a la música como locos.
El primer día pasábamos el tiempo en Niza haciendo un poco de turismo y andando por la ciudad. La costa allí es un milagro, desde las colinas cubiertas con casitas preciosísimas hasta la playa construida completamente de piedras pequeñas, sin ninguna miga de arena. Para ver un poco del paisaje, hemos decidido pasar la noche en un pueblito que se llama Vence. El viaje en autobús tardaba tres cuartos de hora y nos llevaba entre algunos paisajes magnificentes.
Esta noche era mi favorita porque era la verdadera celebración de nuestro aniversario. Cenamos en un sitio muy bueno que ofreció un menú con dos platos y un postre y todo estuvo ricisimo. Comimos muy bien y volvimos a casa para ver el ultimo capitulo de Héroes (vaya celebración era, te juro!).
Una nota sobre la comida de esta zona de Francia - me sorprendió pero como vi, mucha de la comida tiene una gran influencia de Italia. Había un montón de cosas como pizza y lasaña y más que eran del estilo Niceno.
El siguiente día, visitábamos un pueblo cercano que se llama San Paul de Vence y tiene unas calles muy estrechas con flores. Es muy pintoresco. Después de pasando unas horas en este pueblito, volvimos a Niza para empezar una noche impresionante. El plan era para pasar la noche en Mónaco. Pero como puedes creer, Mónaco es un sitio muy caro y no tenemos suficiente dinero para pagar para un hotel allí. Pues pusimos las mochilas en la consigna de la estación de trenes y fuimos a Mónaco con la cena, la bebida y la máquina de fotos para trasnochar y divertirnos en el país más pequeño del mundo (menos el vaticano).
Pasábamos fenomenal andando y viendo unos jardines preciosos y la costa de Mónaco. Empezamos de cenar y beber a las nueve en un jardín alado del palacio del príncipe de Mónaco. El no quiso salir con nosotros pues cenamos solos. Lo que olvidábamos era comprar un alcohol que costaba más que seis euros. Así que el “Rhum” que tuvimos estaba malísimo. Casi no lo podíamos beber. Pero nos emborrachábamos allí alado del príncipe y salimos a los casinos de Monte Carlo para gozar en el ambiente de ellos. Era ahora cuando Jessica perdió la habilidad de animarse y la tenía que animar yo. Y te juro que esto era un trabajo muy duro. Al final, fuimos a un bar completamente lleno de gente mayor que 45 anos para bailar. Salimos de allí para buscar un sitio para dormir a las 4 de la mañana. Al final, en nuestro estado un poco perdido, volvimos al jardín del príncipe para dormir en unos bancos allí. Levantamos a las seis para coger el autobús hacia Niza. Como en mi juventud, mi estomago no estaba alucinado de estar en un vehículo poco predicable y tuvimos que bajar para que pude “recuperar”. Otra vez nos pusimos a dormir y perdimos el siguiente autobús y tuvimos que esperar una hora entera. Mala suerte…
Pasábamos el día siguiente en la playa durmiendo como vagabundos. Jessica, como que no tiene la sangre española, ha quemado mucho y salió de la playa con su frente completamente rojo y su espalda blanca. Este día nos pasó rápidamente y sin mucha animación.
No hacíamos muchas cosas el último día porque no había tanto para hacer y no queríamos ir a Cannes. Así que andábamos por las calles y hacíamos un poco de turismo mientras gozábamos el ambiente de la Riviera Francés. El momento cumbre del día fue la cena en que planeábamos hacer unos bocadillos con pollo asado comprado de una rotisería. Cuando llegamos a la tienda nos dijeron en francés que tardaba 30 minutos más para asar todo el pollo. Volvíamos 35 minutos después y solo había un pollo, un pollo dorado como los tesoros de las aztecas. Comíamos el pollo precioso en la playa y volvíamos a casa.
Más que esto, no ocurrió nada importante entre Niza y Madrid. Menos que casi perdimos el vuelo en Londres y tenían que llevarnos al avión personalmente, llegamos sin problemas. Era un viaje magnifico.
Para llegar a Niza, tuvimos que volar hacia Londres y luego hacia Niza. Para ahorrar dinero, cogimos algunos vuelos más baratos que nos dieron una escala de 5 horas durante la ida y la vuelta en Londres. De repente, volábamos por el aeropuerto Lutton que está de 1.5 horas a la ciudad y no podíamos hacer nada de turismo allí. Pues nos quedábamos en el aeropuerto para lo que sentaba como un eterno. Para hacer un poco más daño, el aeropuerto estaba completamente helado y allí pasábamos un frio que te pelas. Lo peor era que el único enchufe que funcionaba estaba alado del chisme que produce el aire acondicionado. Así que allí estuvimos con un frio que te cagas viendo los últimos capítulos de la temporada tres de Héroes. Como te puedes imaginar, salimos de Londres cagando tomates.
Bueno, llegamos a Niza por la noche, encontramos el hostal sin problemas y salimos de marcha como los españoles que ya somos. Encontramos un bar que se llama “Wayne’s” y es un bar en plan Americano que tenía un grupo de música que tocaba los éxitos de los años ochenta y noventa. Se dice que en Wayne’s hay más gente bailando encima de las mesas que en el suelo. Nos divertíamos mogollón viendo a gente borrachísima y bailando a la música como locos.
El primer día pasábamos el tiempo en Niza haciendo un poco de turismo y andando por la ciudad. La costa allí es un milagro, desde las colinas cubiertas con casitas preciosísimas hasta la playa construida completamente de piedras pequeñas, sin ninguna miga de arena. Para ver un poco del paisaje, hemos decidido pasar la noche en un pueblito que se llama Vence. El viaje en autobús tardaba tres cuartos de hora y nos llevaba entre algunos paisajes magnificentes.
Esta noche era mi favorita porque era la verdadera celebración de nuestro aniversario. Cenamos en un sitio muy bueno que ofreció un menú con dos platos y un postre y todo estuvo ricisimo. Comimos muy bien y volvimos a casa para ver el ultimo capitulo de Héroes (vaya celebración era, te juro!).
Una nota sobre la comida de esta zona de Francia - me sorprendió pero como vi, mucha de la comida tiene una gran influencia de Italia. Había un montón de cosas como pizza y lasaña y más que eran del estilo Niceno.
El siguiente día, visitábamos un pueblo cercano que se llama San Paul de Vence y tiene unas calles muy estrechas con flores. Es muy pintoresco. Después de pasando unas horas en este pueblito, volvimos a Niza para empezar una noche impresionante. El plan era para pasar la noche en Mónaco. Pero como puedes creer, Mónaco es un sitio muy caro y no tenemos suficiente dinero para pagar para un hotel allí. Pues pusimos las mochilas en la consigna de la estación de trenes y fuimos a Mónaco con la cena, la bebida y la máquina de fotos para trasnochar y divertirnos en el país más pequeño del mundo (menos el vaticano).
Pasábamos fenomenal andando y viendo unos jardines preciosos y la costa de Mónaco. Empezamos de cenar y beber a las nueve en un jardín alado del palacio del príncipe de Mónaco. El no quiso salir con nosotros pues cenamos solos. Lo que olvidábamos era comprar un alcohol que costaba más que seis euros. Así que el “Rhum” que tuvimos estaba malísimo. Casi no lo podíamos beber. Pero nos emborrachábamos allí alado del príncipe y salimos a los casinos de Monte Carlo para gozar en el ambiente de ellos. Era ahora cuando Jessica perdió la habilidad de animarse y la tenía que animar yo. Y te juro que esto era un trabajo muy duro. Al final, fuimos a un bar completamente lleno de gente mayor que 45 anos para bailar. Salimos de allí para buscar un sitio para dormir a las 4 de la mañana. Al final, en nuestro estado un poco perdido, volvimos al jardín del príncipe para dormir en unos bancos allí. Levantamos a las seis para coger el autobús hacia Niza. Como en mi juventud, mi estomago no estaba alucinado de estar en un vehículo poco predicable y tuvimos que bajar para que pude “recuperar”. Otra vez nos pusimos a dormir y perdimos el siguiente autobús y tuvimos que esperar una hora entera. Mala suerte…
Pasábamos el día siguiente en la playa durmiendo como vagabundos. Jessica, como que no tiene la sangre española, ha quemado mucho y salió de la playa con su frente completamente rojo y su espalda blanca. Este día nos pasó rápidamente y sin mucha animación.
No hacíamos muchas cosas el último día porque no había tanto para hacer y no queríamos ir a Cannes. Así que andábamos por las calles y hacíamos un poco de turismo mientras gozábamos el ambiente de la Riviera Francés. El momento cumbre del día fue la cena en que planeábamos hacer unos bocadillos con pollo asado comprado de una rotisería. Cuando llegamos a la tienda nos dijeron en francés que tardaba 30 minutos más para asar todo el pollo. Volvíamos 35 minutos después y solo había un pollo, un pollo dorado como los tesoros de las aztecas. Comíamos el pollo precioso en la playa y volvíamos a casa.
Más que esto, no ocurrió nada importante entre Niza y Madrid. Menos que casi perdimos el vuelo en Londres y tenían que llevarnos al avión personalmente, llegamos sin problemas. Era un viaje magnifico.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
A Family Picnic and Chris Leaves
The picnic was amazing, great food, fun, and a really relaxing day. I seriously love my family here in Spain and I am finally feeling like a part of it all. To be able to sit and talk and feel like a part of the family is something I've never been able to do until this year and it is something I am now very thankful for.
From the following picture, you can basically tell that I fit in with the family, at least the youngins.
It's sad that Chris has left us and the apartment definitely won't be the same without him. In fact, it may be a little dirtier and the fridge a little more empty. But, alas, life goes on and you've got to enjoy the time that you have because eventually you're going to go to graduate school and sign your life away. Oh, wait, thats just me...
Saturday, May 30, 2009
5 Things I Love About Madrid
I hope everyone is enjoying Princeton Reunions without me. But I'm in Madrid, and This Is Why I Love It...
1) Nothing matters.
Seriously. Almost nothing matters in this country. It's a blessing and a curse. But, I love it. The lifestyle is one of a kind. On a Thursday evening you can find 40 year old people in suits sitting outside calmly drinking beer until midnight. It may be more common to pee on the street than to pee in a toilet. People take a 45 minute break to "eat breakfast" about 1.5 hours after they get to work. You can drink on the street and it doesn't matter that it's against the law. And the whole country basically takes the month of August off of work.. Of course, this all has an evil twin brother which goes like this:
Ryan solicits his Spanish Nationality in mid-February. The people pushing papers tell Ryan to wait about 2 months for it to be finished. Ryan waits and waits and eventually begins calling to figure out why it isn't finished. They don't give him any information. Ryan then goes in person with his Aunt and waits in line forever (while three of the workers leave at 10:30 to get breakfast). Then they tell Ryan that the papers didn't arrive in the proper building until early April, thus taking about a month and a half to travel the distance of about an hours walk away. But the lifestyle is still amazing.
2) The Language
The Spanish Language has many things that the English language doesn't. Obviously this goes both ways but I think Spanish is, in general, more fun to speak. Little phrases, diminutives, and to-the-point slang and swear words make conversation funnier and more interesting. There is a common phrase to say just about everything in Spanish. For example, one of the sayings that always comes to mind, taught to me by non-other-than my father - "teta, la que en la mano quepa" which means that the best boob is the one that fits in the hand, anything more is excess.
3) The Food
This is, in large part, due to my family because my grandmother and aunt's are all amazing cooks. We eat at their house about three times per week and it's always the best food we can get. From simple things like sandwiches, to more complex Spanish meals like garbanzos estofados, it's always amazing. Plus my grandma has gotten into the habit of making us her homemade tomato sauce every week which is probably one of the 7 modern wonders of the world.
4) The Nightlife
It's great to live in a city. I've never lived in a place that is going 24/7 and you can do anything anytime (except during lunch time and on Sundays, and in the month of August (see section "Nothing Matters")). Where we live, in the center of the city, there is any type of disco playing any type of music within a 20 minute walk. You can drink on the walk there, you can drink on the metro there and you can sneak drinks in, making the night cheap and amazing. Something that is unique to Spain is the time span of a normal night. People will go to small bars or drink at home/in a plaza until around 2 or 3 pm. Then the clubs fill up and people stay until they close around 6 or 7 AM. By this time, the metro has started up again and everyone heads back home to sleep until lunch the next day, aka 3 pm.
5) Adorable Children aka Denisa
So, I basically have 2 girlfriends now in Madrid. One is Jessica, 23 years old, 5 foot 6ish, blonde hair, green eyes. The other is Denisa, 5 years old, 3 feet tall, brownish hair, adorable, and entirely and irrevocably embarrassed around me. She actually just turned 5. Which was a big day for both of us. Anyways, Denisa fell in love with me (and I with her) at the Christmas Festival for my school. Ever since, she has been intensely embarrassed when around me and very shy. This week, for her birthday, I did a big first and bought my first pair of jewelery for a girl - a 1 euro bracelet with a silver chain and blue "stones". I gave it to her on her birthday - well I went out to the playground, she tried to hide, I called her out and talked to her in Spanish, gave her the bracelet and she gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek in return and hasnt stopped showing it to everyone in the school since. She is so adorable and I really just wish that she wasn't so shy around me because then we could have so much fun together! So this isnt really about Madrid at all but i had to put it in.
1) Nothing matters.
Seriously. Almost nothing matters in this country. It's a blessing and a curse. But, I love it. The lifestyle is one of a kind. On a Thursday evening you can find 40 year old people in suits sitting outside calmly drinking beer until midnight. It may be more common to pee on the street than to pee in a toilet. People take a 45 minute break to "eat breakfast" about 1.5 hours after they get to work. You can drink on the street and it doesn't matter that it's against the law. And the whole country basically takes the month of August off of work.. Of course, this all has an evil twin brother which goes like this:
Ryan solicits his Spanish Nationality in mid-February. The people pushing papers tell Ryan to wait about 2 months for it to be finished. Ryan waits and waits and eventually begins calling to figure out why it isn't finished. They don't give him any information. Ryan then goes in person with his Aunt and waits in line forever (while three of the workers leave at 10:30 to get breakfast). Then they tell Ryan that the papers didn't arrive in the proper building until early April, thus taking about a month and a half to travel the distance of about an hours walk away. But the lifestyle is still amazing.
2) The Language
The Spanish Language has many things that the English language doesn't. Obviously this goes both ways but I think Spanish is, in general, more fun to speak. Little phrases, diminutives, and to-the-point slang and swear words make conversation funnier and more interesting. There is a common phrase to say just about everything in Spanish. For example, one of the sayings that always comes to mind, taught to me by non-other-than my father - "teta, la que en la mano quepa" which means that the best boob is the one that fits in the hand, anything more is excess.
3) The Food
This is, in large part, due to my family because my grandmother and aunt's are all amazing cooks. We eat at their house about three times per week and it's always the best food we can get. From simple things like sandwiches, to more complex Spanish meals like garbanzos estofados, it's always amazing. Plus my grandma has gotten into the habit of making us her homemade tomato sauce every week which is probably one of the 7 modern wonders of the world.
4) The Nightlife
It's great to live in a city. I've never lived in a place that is going 24/7 and you can do anything anytime (except during lunch time and on Sundays, and in the month of August (see section "Nothing Matters")). Where we live, in the center of the city, there is any type of disco playing any type of music within a 20 minute walk. You can drink on the walk there, you can drink on the metro there and you can sneak drinks in, making the night cheap and amazing. Something that is unique to Spain is the time span of a normal night. People will go to small bars or drink at home/in a plaza until around 2 or 3 pm. Then the clubs fill up and people stay until they close around 6 or 7 AM. By this time, the metro has started up again and everyone heads back home to sleep until lunch the next day, aka 3 pm.
5) Adorable Children aka Denisa
So, I basically have 2 girlfriends now in Madrid. One is Jessica, 23 years old, 5 foot 6ish, blonde hair, green eyes. The other is Denisa, 5 years old, 3 feet tall, brownish hair, adorable, and entirely and irrevocably embarrassed around me. She actually just turned 5. Which was a big day for both of us. Anyways, Denisa fell in love with me (and I with her) at the Christmas Festival for my school. Ever since, she has been intensely embarrassed when around me and very shy. This week, for her birthday, I did a big first and bought my first pair of jewelery for a girl - a 1 euro bracelet with a silver chain and blue "stones". I gave it to her on her birthday - well I went out to the playground, she tried to hide, I called her out and talked to her in Spanish, gave her the bracelet and she gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek in return and hasnt stopped showing it to everyone in the school since. She is so adorable and I really just wish that she wasn't so shy around me because then we could have so much fun together! So this isnt really about Madrid at all but i had to put it in.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
A Tale of Two Kitties
Not by Charles Dickens. Meaning, not incredibly boring.
About a month ago, my Mom contacted an advertisement for calico kittens. This is about 8 months after our last cat, Molly, died. So, my mom shotgunned one kitten and started to wait until the creature was old enough to leave its mother. Over the course of a few weeks, the kitten, Lucy, grew from an odd looking ball of fuzz into an adorable precious little thing.
When my mother went to pick up the new kitten, she found out that some other people bailed on their adoption of another kitten in the litter so she adopted the two of them. So she came home with two little bundles of joy and set to work making them their new home. Over the course of the week, they became more and more confident with their new domain and began to settle in.
The second kitten, named Gabby due to her gregarious approach to life, was very active and constantly playing with something, whether it was sitting in front of the computer screen and following the cursor as my dad moved the mouse or repeatedly biting Lucy's tail.
Well. Life was seeming pretty perfect for my parents until the vet brought some bad news. Apparently, both kittens tested positive for FIV, feline immunodeficiency virus. The current theory is that their mother got knocked up by some street cat who had seen one too many corners. There is a 50% chance that the mother passes the infection to the kittens but there is no way to differentiate between presence of the virus and presence of the antibodies. So, we aren't 100% sure that they have the virus. But, in the end, we decided it was better to return the kittens to their previous owner who said they will take care of them because kittens with the virus dont live much over a year or so.
So, my parents are, again, kittenless. Poor little things. The kittens of course.
About a month ago, my Mom contacted an advertisement for calico kittens. This is about 8 months after our last cat, Molly, died. So, my mom shotgunned one kitten and started to wait until the creature was old enough to leave its mother. Over the course of a few weeks, the kitten, Lucy, grew from an odd looking ball of fuzz into an adorable precious little thing.
When my mother went to pick up the new kitten, she found out that some other people bailed on their adoption of another kitten in the litter so she adopted the two of them. So she came home with two little bundles of joy and set to work making them their new home. Over the course of the week, they became more and more confident with their new domain and began to settle in.
The second kitten, named Gabby due to her gregarious approach to life, was very active and constantly playing with something, whether it was sitting in front of the computer screen and following the cursor as my dad moved the mouse or repeatedly biting Lucy's tail.
Well. Life was seeming pretty perfect for my parents until the vet brought some bad news. Apparently, both kittens tested positive for FIV, feline immunodeficiency virus. The current theory is that their mother got knocked up by some street cat who had seen one too many corners. There is a 50% chance that the mother passes the infection to the kittens but there is no way to differentiate between presence of the virus and presence of the antibodies. So, we aren't 100% sure that they have the virus. But, in the end, we decided it was better to return the kittens to their previous owner who said they will take care of them because kittens with the virus dont live much over a year or so.
So, my parents are, again, kittenless. Poor little things. The kittens of course.
Saturday, May 16, 2009
10 Days of Glory
I'm still in shock from the last 10 days of amazingness that 3 Texans brought into the Iberian Peninsula. Charlotte and two of Jessica's good friends from Tech, Jamie and Shawn, came to visit us for "10 days". Although the "10 days" was only really 8, we made the most of the time we had.
They arrived on Friday morning and we flew out to Barcelona on Saturday morning. Shawn said "Swine flu Schmine flu" and came to Spain with a large infection on his ankle which quickly began to spread. Either due to the infection, a lack of sleep, or being way to happy for words, Shawn was down for the count for the first 24 hours, spending most of it feverish in the hostel - a fate I wouldn't have wished upon anyone in that hostel, not even our favorite Zimbabwean (pray she doesn't stalk my blog).
With Shawn TKO'd, Char and Jamie did a little sight seeing while Jessica and I napped in a park having done it all before and not wanting to pay again. We bought some goods for the night and headed back to the hostel. We grabbed dinner at the "PitaInn" which boasted the sale of a PizzaCone which turned out to be less impressive than hoped but still ranked among the top 10 inventions of the past half-century.
Shortly there after, we began our night at the statue of Columbus with a "botellón". We drank just about the entire contents of the bottle of rum between the four of us by playing "Tails Never Fails" - shout out to Jon. We then proceeded to a nearby club that we thought would be decent. We made many a stops along the ten minute walk including climbing a palm tree and peeing in a moat.
Just before arriving at the club, I walked past a very familiar face and did a double take. Upon confirmation, I scurried away to inform Charlotte that Victor Noskov of Forbes Inn fame had just walked by. I quickly changed into Hot Pursuit mood and began screaming "VIC! VIC!" which resulted in the awkward reunion of him not recognizing me. Woooooops. Anyways, he took us to a house party and we hung out for a bit and then peaced back to the streets of Barcelona.
We spent the rest of the night on the street doing what we do best and ended the night at a doner kebap stand to kick our early morning tummy growls. When we woke up the next morning, Shawn was cured and we were ready to rock out at the Dali museum in Figueres.
I had been to the museum before but it was still pretty fantastic. I wish I understood more of the paintings and his motifs but the aesthetic appeal was still enough to get me through a second time. Everyone seemed to really enjoy it, probably because Dali was and is posthumously a badass.
We finished out Barcelona and came back to Madrid for the remainder of their trip. For the most part, Jessica and I had to work while they did their own thing in the city. However, Charlotte was able to come along with the third grade class on our field trip to the Madrid Zoo and Aquarium. It was a pretty great success.
Charlotte immediately became the object of interest for all of the adorable third grade girls and was walking through the zoo holding hands with a line of 5 girls. Georgina, one of the smartest ones, quickly realized she was capable of holding Charlotte's hand and mine at the same time and capitalized. She also learned the pouty lip pose in a matter of seconds. This picture pretty much sums up why she is my favorite third grader.
Fast forwarding a little, we all went out on Thursday night to a club called Joy Eslava. I found the place to be teeming with slightly creepy really aggressive guys, much more so than the other clubs I've been to in Madrid. But we had ourselves a good time and went home around 6:30 like the Spanish do.
Friday was a holiday in Spain called San Isidro who is the patron saint of Madrid. We had a big lunch with the family and went walking around to see some of the festivities. Then we came home and cooked some tapas for dinner and played Taboo. Just a relaxed night.
It may have been the eggs in a basket that we cooked or it may have been something else but Jess got deathly ill on Saturday and was bedridden like Shawn on day 1....sweatin in her underpants.
Saturday was their last day in town. They spent a large part of it shopping and walking around. At night we went to Kapital, our obvious favorite night club with 7 stories and a wealth of things to do. We had an awesome time, all the while missing Jessica, and ended the night with Churros con Chocolate at the Churreria San Gines. We, again, made it till la madrugada and arrived safely at home at 7:30.
The weekend was amazing. It was a reminder of how much I miss my friends from Princeton and of how big of a part of my life they all were and are. It was so great to see Charlotte and to just have some time to talk and joke and live it up.
They arrived on Friday morning and we flew out to Barcelona on Saturday morning. Shawn said "Swine flu Schmine flu" and came to Spain with a large infection on his ankle which quickly began to spread. Either due to the infection, a lack of sleep, or being way to happy for words, Shawn was down for the count for the first 24 hours, spending most of it feverish in the hostel - a fate I wouldn't have wished upon anyone in that hostel, not even our favorite Zimbabwean (pray she doesn't stalk my blog).
With Shawn TKO'd, Char and Jamie did a little sight seeing while Jessica and I napped in a park having done it all before and not wanting to pay again. We bought some goods for the night and headed back to the hostel. We grabbed dinner at the "PitaInn" which boasted the sale of a PizzaCone which turned out to be less impressive than hoped but still ranked among the top 10 inventions of the past half-century.
Shortly there after, we began our night at the statue of Columbus with a "botellón". We drank just about the entire contents of the bottle of rum between the four of us by playing "Tails Never Fails" - shout out to Jon. We then proceeded to a nearby club that we thought would be decent. We made many a stops along the ten minute walk including climbing a palm tree and peeing in a moat.
Just before arriving at the club, I walked past a very familiar face and did a double take. Upon confirmation, I scurried away to inform Charlotte that Victor Noskov of Forbes Inn fame had just walked by. I quickly changed into Hot Pursuit mood and began screaming "VIC! VIC!" which resulted in the awkward reunion of him not recognizing me. Woooooops. Anyways, he took us to a house party and we hung out for a bit and then peaced back to the streets of Barcelona.
We spent the rest of the night on the street doing what we do best and ended the night at a doner kebap stand to kick our early morning tummy growls. When we woke up the next morning, Shawn was cured and we were ready to rock out at the Dali museum in Figueres.
I had been to the museum before but it was still pretty fantastic. I wish I understood more of the paintings and his motifs but the aesthetic appeal was still enough to get me through a second time. Everyone seemed to really enjoy it, probably because Dali was and is posthumously a badass.
We finished out Barcelona and came back to Madrid for the remainder of their trip. For the most part, Jessica and I had to work while they did their own thing in the city. However, Charlotte was able to come along with the third grade class on our field trip to the Madrid Zoo and Aquarium. It was a pretty great success.
Charlotte immediately became the object of interest for all of the adorable third grade girls and was walking through the zoo holding hands with a line of 5 girls. Georgina, one of the smartest ones, quickly realized she was capable of holding Charlotte's hand and mine at the same time and capitalized. She also learned the pouty lip pose in a matter of seconds. This picture pretty much sums up why she is my favorite third grader.
Fast forwarding a little, we all went out on Thursday night to a club called Joy Eslava. I found the place to be teeming with slightly creepy really aggressive guys, much more so than the other clubs I've been to in Madrid. But we had ourselves a good time and went home around 6:30 like the Spanish do.
Friday was a holiday in Spain called San Isidro who is the patron saint of Madrid. We had a big lunch with the family and went walking around to see some of the festivities. Then we came home and cooked some tapas for dinner and played Taboo. Just a relaxed night.
It may have been the eggs in a basket that we cooked or it may have been something else but Jess got deathly ill on Saturday and was bedridden like Shawn on day 1....sweatin in her underpants.
Saturday was their last day in town. They spent a large part of it shopping and walking around. At night we went to Kapital, our obvious favorite night club with 7 stories and a wealth of things to do. We had an awesome time, all the while missing Jessica, and ended the night with Churros con Chocolate at the Churreria San Gines. We, again, made it till la madrugada and arrived safely at home at 7:30.
The weekend was amazing. It was a reminder of how much I miss my friends from Princeton and of how big of a part of my life they all were and are. It was so great to see Charlotte and to just have some time to talk and joke and live it up.
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