one more before Christmas break

Merry Christmas, dear friends. I know only about 5 people read this so I don't get to tell as many as I would like but at least I get to say it to you. I hope that 2006 is better for all of us because I don't think 2005 has been a banner year for anyone I know and certainly it hasn't been too swift for me. I have a little of that cautious optimism going still and I believe that 2006 will bring peace and resolution to a lot of people I know. I think this time next year we're all going to feel a lot better.

A couple of years ago I sent out a Christmas letter with a poem by U.A. Fanthorpe that I loved... Tim said nobody got it. Before I sign off for a few days I thought I'd share it here... because I believe people will get it. I think it's pretty profound to think that one child's birth literally changed the way we define time.

BC:AD
This was the moment when Before
Turned into After, and the future's
Uninvented timekeepers presented arms.
This was the moment when nothing
Happened. Only dull peace
Sprawled boringly over the earth.
This was the moment when even energetic Romans
Could find nothing better to do
Than counting heads in remote provinces.
And this was the moment
When a few farm workers and three
Members of an obscure Persian sect
Walked haphazard by starlight straight
Into the kingdom of heaven.

(By the way, that's my new grand-nephew standing in for the baby Jesus.)

Merry Christmas, Rose

pray hard

I love hands. In my favorite baby picture I look not at the faces but rather at the hands: how my mother is holding me and how I hold mine out to touch the photographer, the camera, the world. That I am reaching out for something is abundantly clear.

In the last few years, my oft abused hands have started showing my age. My face doesn't as much... I'm often guessed to be younger than my 38 years, sometimes much younger. But my hands tell the story. Puffy from salty holiday food and an overheated office, broken nails dotted with those little white marks people sometimes get, scars, a new mole, heavy lines. I have a numb spot and a c-shaped scar on the tip of my left ring finger from when I cut the tip with a kitchen knife one Saturday morning. I still remember all the places I had terrible warts as a young teen and a skin rash attributed to "nervousness" when I was a girl. I am constantly lotioning and balming all winter long to ward off dryness and hangnails. I joke that my hands are my picture of Dorian Grey-- while my face doesn't show my age, my hands grow older by the minute.

Today, though, besides the usual physical flaws and the simple, beautiful wedding rings T bought me, there is a new addition to my hand. My friend Frau Lobster sat with me over dinner last night and in conversation, pulled something off her finger. "I got you this a long time ago," she said, dropping a silver ring on the table. Carved in to the band were the words, "Pray Hard". I immediately tried it on every digit until I found the one that fit best. I was glad to slip it on my own finger while it was still warm from hers.

Today I catch myself looking at it often. I've been needing a reminder lately because I feel like I've been reaching for God and He's been just out of touch. I know that I'm the one that has drifted away -- because God never moves. So I look down and I remember that I need to talk to him. After all, it's open communication that creates intimacy in relationships and the reminder to "pray hard" is just what I need right now.

Just as I was in that long ago baby picture, I guess I'm still grasping for something.

Welcome home, little birdie

After 4 months in Spain, our girl is finally coming home. Her jubilant father just e-mailed me to tell me the "birdie has landed" at Newark, NJ. By tonight she'll be tucked in to her bed in middle America with visions of Spanish sugarplums dancing in her head.

It is a troubling, joyful truth that we parent-types work to give our children a glimpse of what is possible, even knowing that when they see for themselves, they may never want to come home. For now the birdie is home to roost but she's already planning to fly away again -- and maybe next time, for good.

Christmas gifts I would like to give

Wendy McClure over at Pound has a list of things she'd like to get for Christmas, which inspired me this morning to create a list of things I'd like to give ... and a few things I would like to get.

1) For T: comfort, peace, a sudden overload of holiday cheer and a job he can love, get promoted in and retire from. Comfortably. Also a killer BBQ sauce recipe we can later sell to Kingsford.

2) For A: an open-ended, use-whenever-she-wants ticket to Spain and a vision of heaven she can get excited about. Also when she's in Spain, menus with pictures in every restaurant.

3) For K: a four-year scholarship to the school of her choice and the confidence to be true to herself. Also, her own Bath & Bodyworks store with constantly rotating stock of new scents.

4) For mom: a 30 year old body to go with her 30 year old mind and all the chicken livers and vanilla cokes she wants with no consequences.

5)For the Lobster and Frau & Deester and Ern: perfect health for every member of the family: no more pills, no more surgeries, no more runs to the emergency room. And a magic wormhole that zaps me to them in seconds, not hours.

6) For MT: to wake up on Christmas morning like Jimmy Stewart in "It's a Wonderful Life" and realize it was all a horrible dream and things are as they should be.

7) for the boss: normal, boring relatives.

8)for the Cat: her boy back (and the only attitude he has is "new"). And a miracle baby 'cause she's crazy and thinks she wants one.

For myself I would like to know the perfect thing to say and do every time I open my mouth. I would like a scale that always reads 135# and a body to match. I would like about 150 do-overs. And today, I'd take a chair and a fireplace and my cats and a good book.

Habla usted Ingles?

My post today was inspired by the above article. I am not going to even address the hateful comments made by some who view Kansas as barefoot-ignorant and undeserving of a place in the Union. To get things rolling, I pose two questions: 1) what is our national language and 2) why does it matter?

A: Surprise! The U.S. has no national language. While we have a national bird, a national anthem, even a national flower, there is no national language. But we've been doing OK so far: for a while now, everyone's been getting off the boat and generally agreeing to American English. We've managed to work in some non-English words too -- we borrow liberally from everyone to reflect the many Irish, Italian, German, Polish, Greek, Cuban, Chinese, etc. etc. people who've joined our ranks here in the USA over the last 300 years. But mostly we speak English.

A #2: A national language is really only about convenience. In basic terms, taxpayers don't want to pay what it would take to communicate to the hundreds of nationalities that live here in their own native tongues. Until science perfects a Star-trekkie instant language converter, we have to manage the old fashioned way: we have to learn the dominant language of the country in which we choose to live. Therefore, if I decided to say, move to Spain, I would definitely need to work on the Castillian, 'cause mine sucks. If I wanted to move to France, well, I just wouldn't. French seems too hard.

I guess it could also be a sign of unity and maybe that's why we're struggling now... It's no longer really cool in the world view to be "American". The world thinks we're fat, we're arrogant and we have lousy food. They want our lifestyle but no longer want our culture or our values. In my opinion this is starting to foster a national attitude of self-loathing and has made us kind of cranky and fractious.

Moving on to the issue of Spanish vs. English:
Hispanics moving to the US want to preserve their language and their culture. Hooray for them. That's not sarcastic, I mean it. It's great. BUT if you want your kids educated in public school they should 1) be told to follow instructions and 2) it should be expected that they will need to speak the dominant, if unofficial, language, which is English. If you want your kids to speak only Spanish, you should home school. (Again, if you are going to move to another country to live, it really behooves you to learn the language. And yes, I know it takes time: we'll wait.)

The kid in question was born here-- Spanish is no more his "native language" than French is mine. His father's - yes. OK. But he is, whether he likes it or not, (North) American -- just as I am. The thing that really jumped out to me when I read this article is that this incident took place in an alternate high school, known here as AEP. That means this 17 year old American kid was kicked out of regular high school -- I'm sure he didn't just up and volunteer to go to AEP, which is usually not a super-fun place to be. He was warned previously that day about speaking in Spanish and if quizzed, probably a whole bunch of times before that. I know it sounds dumb to make a rule against speaking Spanish, but consider: I don't know about you but if I'm a teacher in any high school and particularly an urban AEP, I want to know what the kids are saying. If this information is still applicable in 2005 (and I'm sure it is), 4 out of every 100 teachers is attacked by a student... in a district the size of USD 500, Turner and Piper (lumped here for convenience and referred to as the KCK schools) that's about 2 teachers per year being jumped by kids. But that's a national average, which factors in rural and private schools. These are urban schools and in urban schools the numbers are higher. So asking a 17-year old American male who is months away from being an adult and most likely pretty grownup sized to speak English in an AEP suddenly becomes more reasonable, at least it does to me.

To summarize, I think it might be wise for the federal government to designate something as the national language, as our neighbors to the north have done. English seems the natural choice as it is still the primary language of at least 70% of Americans. This is not to exclude anyone but rather to preclude any more bickering and any possible lawsuits that may come of the issue. We've more important things to worry about, don't we?And following the crafty Canuck's example, we can designate a second language, too, this perhaps being Spanish. Why not? It couldn't hurt our kids to be bilingual -- practically every other country in the world requires their kids to learn another language. We can too.

If schools want to preclude kids from speaking anything except proper English, they better have it in writing and give the parents plenty of warning and a reasonable explanation. Personally I think they should preclude kids from talking teenagerish: this means no use of the words "like", "totally", "tight", "da bomb", "hella" and "bling". I find that far more obnoxious and just as indecipherable (Good God when did I become an old lady?).

And, finally, if you want to preserve your culture, please do so. Most of us in the US are pretty open minded. We understand that you don't want to forget your background -- neither do we. That's why we celebrate St. Patrick's Day, Cinco de Mayo, Columbus Day. That's why there are still places where whole towns plant tulips in the spring and why you can walk in to the stores and buy anything from Kimchi to Kolachis. But let's NOT twist what is really a disciplinary matter and make it in to a racist incident. While we have certainly had our problems in the past it's still a national point of pride that this may be the one place on earth where pretty much everyone is welcome.

snow day

Coming to work when there's 8" of snow on the ground is not so much fun, except that my boss sometimes feels bad for those of us who actually hauled our cookies in, so we get free pizza. That's cool.

Here's a picture of the view out the front door as T was shoveling our cars out at the crack of dawn (the one still covered in snow is mine... it's behind the car on the right)and the view from the back door to the deck (which was frozen shut). Brrrr.

K was still toasty warm in bed when we left ... made me want to go in and mess with her a little bit. But I remember the joy of the high school snow day ... my mom and I would sleep late and then get up and make these long sled runs and sled with the dogs on our laps. So I let her be.

Our weather forcasters called for the following amounts on Tuesday night:
CBS - 6"
ABC - 1-2"
Fox - 2-3"
NBC - 2-4"

Actual amounts around town? 7.3-9.5". One more reason why the most reliable weather coverage we have here is the ol' "walk out your door" method. This approach is especially amusing when you do and the weathercasters don't and as you're watching the hail/rain/snow fall they say "we might see some precipitation ..." No kiddin'. Thanks.

In the meantime I'm enjoying a quiet day at the office, some hot chocolate and looking forward to the pizza.

cozy

Crappy weather inspires me to go inside and start rearranging the furniture. It's been cold and grey and threatening snow now for 3 days.

This weekend was enjoyable for the sheer fact that I got to "cute up" my house a little bit. We spent all day Saturday running: eye doctor, car service, lunch with in-laws, auto parts store, cleaning out the cars, Christmas shopping, grocery shopping. By the time we stopped it was nearly 9pm and my house was still under 3" of dust and cat hair and the tree was still in the attic. So, Sunday after church, the fun got under way. Let me tell you, there is nothing a man loves better than moving furniture. After a large amount of grouching on his part, I finally let him climb underneath that afghan you see on the couch and nap while I enjoyed the benefits of my spiffy new Dirt Devil and cleaned enough cat hair out of our house to knit a new cat.

At 12:30 am Monday morning I finally finished turning the place upside down and putting up what modest Christmas decorations I was in the mood for. I think the results are ... cozy. My mother did a good job of teaching me how to do something with not much. For this I thank her, a lot. Amusing little side notes about the above picture: 1) I bet not many people you know under the age of 70 still have a console TV! Yep, that baby's probably 20 years old and hasn't died yet. 2) The brown lump in the chair is my favorite Christmas reindeer. He's super soft and has little bells on his antlers. 3) Notice the position of honor the Grinch gets on the tree. T does love the Grinch. 4) I gotta get rid of those granny lace sheers sometime, that's a little too much lace for me.

For now, anyway, the house is clean, the tree is up, some of the gifts are purchased (although none are wrapped, that's next) and my house is pleasing to me.

OK, NOW let the Holiday season begin!

finished photo album

pics from Spain

and this is the last time I talk about it, I promise...

November 13/14 - Barcelona

Last full day in Spain.

After breakfast at the hotel we took off walking in a light rain that became a heavy one. Stopped to buy a cheap umbrella and headed off to the beach. It absolutely poured, so much that before we got to the Colon statue my feet were sopping inside my shoes -- I could see water bubbling and squishing out of the seams. I kept praying for the rain to stop -- and you know, it did! And not just for a little while but for about 5 hours, which was extra nice of God.

We followed the waterfront walk past some brightly colored graffiti to Playa Barceloneta and went down the steps to the shore to get her sand and my mom's rocks. We've been picking up sand for the birdie from every beach we've been to since 1993 and she has a great collection of mementos from all over the world. Lacking a film canister (my personal favorite receptacle for beach sand) we used a plastic cup I grubbed from the trash. The waves were dark and dramatic since it had been storming and the water was icy cold but I had to stick my feet in it anyway. I love the ocean -- always have -- so whenever I get close I like to just stand on shore and watch it go in and out. They had built a walkway and on the walkway were a group of concrete lounge chairs, all facing the sea but angled off slightly to the right (south). It took me a minute to realize they were facing the sunrise. That to me speaks Spain perfectly -- a city with a place dedicated just to watching the sun come up each day over the beautiful Mediterranean. We sat down on those chairs to catch a little bit of the weak sunshine and wring out socks and brush off the sand before heading off toward Barri Gotic.

Per my usual dumb luck we came up on the side of Santa Maria del Mar and went in. Saw some older Catalonians laying flowers at the memorial for the martyrs of the War of Spanish Succession -- unfortunately Catalunya picked the wrong side. Walked out the front and headed toward the main cathedral (Le Seu) and just caught the end of mass a 15 minute break and the beginning of another. I made a quick round of all the chapels and made myself small while they started mass again. A and I walked out the front and over to the gift shop and then all around the cathedral area, including an art installation that protested the violation of human rights all over the world. It was the most grotesque thing I had ever seen -- life size bronze statues of mutilated bodies hanging from ropes. If the artist's intent was to disturb, he or she did an excellent job.

For lunch, A picked a Mexican restaurant and after my considerable harassment we had a good lunch. As you can imagine, Mexican restaurants are sort of a novelty in Spain and they're extremely plentiful at home so I found her choice curious but hey, I'm just here to please (and pay the check).

Barcelona is an awesome city, so diverse and interesting. Walking down the sidewalks you hear Catalan, Castilliano, French, German, English, Chinese. This is the off season and a Sunday, yet the sidewalks are filled with people. I can see why people choose Barcelona over Madrid, even though I think both have a lot to offer. I'd love to come back some day.

At 4pm we ducked back in to the hotel so A could gather up her things and at 5 I put her in a taxi. I tried to make the goodbye brief -- anything more would be too hard and I was already feeling so lonely and teary-eyed. I watched her taxi pull away and then since there was a break in the rain I headed back up Passeig de Gracia to Casa Mila for an evening tour. Because of the rain (which came on and off all evening) I couldn't go up on the roof but I toured the apartment and spent some time in the museum, at least until they kicked me out. From the windows in the museum I could see the famous chimneys and that was enough for me. Then it was back to the hotel with a short stop at Pans & Company (a Spanish sandwich chain) for a sandwich -- I'd tell you what I had but I really don't know since the menu was in Catalan but it seemed to be a cheese sandwich on an olive bread. This with the last of my Pringles bought at El Corte Ingles in Murcia made for a quiet last meal in Barcelona. Then I had to tackle the packing while my umbrella, jeans, shoes and socks dried by the radiator. And I realized I needed to get up at 6 and had no clock and no wake up call ... so I set the extra obnoxious siren alarm on my phone and fell asleep to the steady murmur of foot traffic on La Rambla. I've loved being here but I am also ready for home.

Nov 14 - flying home
Spent my last few euro on a chocolate croissant and coke light and bought some candy for T at the duty-free. In Paris I thought I'd gotten off easy and could walk to my gate but instead of walking on to a plane, we walked down some stairs and outside to a bus, which when fully loaded, promptly broke down. We all unloaded (many, many Americans now -- sort of nice to hear the familiar rhythms of my own language) and got on the bus behind us. After a short delay we settled in for the long flight home. Continental's food and amenities aren't as nice as Air France but I did get to watch the Fantastic Four about 3 times. Yippee. In Houston I went through the long lines at customs and headed for my flight to KC. Home at last!

And now ...

it's hard to believe I was ever there. Going through my pictures and journals makes it seems more real but it's hard for me to even say "I was in Spain" with a straight face. When I talk about it I know I wander off in to the land of boring with my historical and cultural background-giving but every facet of the trip was a wonder to me and I don't know that anyone really understands -- except the birdie, who is still living it every day.

Having a passport with a stamp in it has given me wanderlust, even worse than before. I want to go somewhere else now.

November 12 - Barcelona

Got a good start this morning -- quick breakfast at the hotel and then a walk up La Rambla. We found Casa Batllo and found out that they offer tours so we went in. I cannot explain how wonderful this place is, every nook and cranny is fantastically beautiful. Only part of the house is open -- it's very large. Just touring the open parts took over 2 hours.

After that tour we took off to find the Sagrada Familia. This is a place I have only seen in books... my ex had a tape of Alan Parsons Project's album "Gaudi" and ever since (16 years?) I have wanted to see it, though I never really thought I would. We went through a small plaza in front of the Temple and watched a man and his baby daughter feeding the birds, including some beautiful green Monk Parakeets. They would fly down and pick up the chunks of bread and take them back up in to the trees to eat them, holding them in one little claw while they balanced carefully on the other.

We went to get in line for the tour and I got my first glimpse. Beyond the scaffolding and the cranes the place is mind boggling. There are simply no words to describe the vision that Gaudi was reaching for and that he managed to translate so much of it to this building is, what? incredible? awesome? fantastic? all words too weak for the reality of the place. I spent a lot of time just studying each of the two finished facades and trying not to get teary-eyed. We rode the lifts to the towers and climbed up a little narrow stairwell to a bridge between 2 towers for a terrific view of Barcelona and the Mediterranean. Climbing back down scared the crap out of me and the birdie and by the time we got to the bottom we had jelly legs so bad we had to regroup. We visited the museum and all of it's plaster models, so carefully rebuilt after they were smashed to powder in the Spanish Civil War. Also paid our respects to the man himself, peering through a little glass window down into the crypt where Antonio Gaudi is buried.

Barcelona is such a beautiful city-- even if you took the Gaudi architecture away it's still wonderful. Each building seems to be more beautiful than the last. After the Sagrada Familia tour we walked back to Passeig de Gracia to a restaurant for tapas -- a tortilla, vegetables with goat cheese, manchego cheese, stuffed olives (which make my mouth water when I remember them) and a Chocolate Volcano which was as yummy as it sounds. Then a little shopping since Barcelona was still going full force at 9 pm on Saturday night. We spent some time in Sfera where I lusted after the bohemian winter skirts and wished I had some cool boots to wear with them. I love shopping here though I never buy anything because I am just too conservative and self-conscious. But if I were to be suddenly transported on to the show "What Not to Wear" and was the lucky recipient of a wardrobe makeover, I'd have to have some of these things. I've had the urge lately to be a better dresser but I lack the funds and the taste to do much better than I'm doing now. I have made a vow to never buy another denim dress though and unless I see a jumper as cute as the one Meg Ryan wore in "You've Got Mail", I'm not buying any of those, either.

God, I love Barcelona!

a break from the Spain trip

Happy belated Thanksgiving. At least I hope it was.

Mine was pretty OK. We had a long trip to see T's sister and during the drive I had a lot of time to think about stuff. Someone I know has been feeling very low and bad and not only did I not help, I didn't even know. Then there were days when I felt low and bad too -- but it passed. And I wanted to tell that person that we all feel this way sometimes. There are days when we all sit outside the circle, feeling fat, feeling old, feeling like we don't fit in. We all feel like the square peg in a whole world of round holes... too dumb for some company and too smart for others. We all crack jokes and hope someone will laugh and cringe when they don't. We all do what we can to feel secure in a world that's made to hurt us. We all long to be home and hope like hell that it feels right when we get there.

It's easy to start thinking that it must be better elsewhere: some other state, some other job, some other continent, some other plane of existence. But I personally can't keep looking ahead for what will make me happy. I know I need to find it here, today.

The foolish man seeks happiness in the distance, the wise grows it under his feet. -James Oppenheim

November 11 - last day in Murcia

Spent a really nice afternoon & evening with the birdie. We tried to have paella but it was too late. Instead we had pastry filled with chicken & seafood and a long talk about the nature of heaven.

After lunch we went to the casino which was small but beautiful inside -- like everything else in Spain, under renovation. We missed the box on the outside of the door for the ballroom and couldn't figure out how to get the lights on but a French tourgroup came in and they put a euro in the slot and the ballroom blazed to life and these older French ladies were waltzing away to the music. There was a collective "awww" when the lights and music went off again. And finally -- on my last full day here -- I walked back out on the Traparia and found that the doors to the cathedral were open! So I spent a happy hour or so looking at each chapel. Beautiful art, inspirational setting, a few dead guys. I was deliriously happy to have finally seen the cathedral, and just in time.

After the cathedral I dogged A while she power shopped and then at 9 we headed back to the apartment to make "burritos". After a shower at midnight and an hour for my hair to "dry" while reading the Magician's Nephew, I finally went to sleep.

later that day ...
Spent the morning repacking and packing again all my stuff and what A wants me to take back to the States for her. And buying a few last minute items -- a blue and gold mug for T, ingredients to make a Murciano tapa, snacks for me, etc. etc. I called him a little while ago and we had a great talk... I'll be glad to see him soon.

We left for the bus station as soon as A got out of class but by the time we'd drug all our things to the bus station we had missed the earlier bus to to Alicante and there was only a 5 pm and the flight was at 7:30 -- couldn't determine if that would leave us with enough time so A called Juan and begged him to please help us out ... I gave him 20 euro for the gas, I felt so awful about having to bother him for a ride. In the bus station was the one time I allowed myself to have an "ugly American" moment -- sometimes the language barrier is so frustrating and a little humiliating too. Makes me realize how it must be for the Hispanics in the U.S. Anyway, we made the plane in plenty of time, connected in Madrid and got here to Barcelona. Hotel is small and old but exceedingly clean and has a tiny balcony that overlooks Las Ramblas -- at night it looks like something out of a picture book. Tomorrow we head for the Sagrada Familia...

November 10 - Murcia

Spent the rest of yesterday just bumming around. I looked in several stores for English language books and right before siesta I located a shelf of classics and a few odds and ends in a University bookstore. But of course the store was closing so I had to wait 2 hours and head back. Once again -- my Spanish sucks. It's a major deal just to ask where the English language books are and then understand the answer. He tried to sell me a phrase book (no buddy, believe it or not, I have one!) and then finally I caught the word "novelas", ah, si, si! I bought the birdie "The House of Sand and Fog" and "Tales of the Unexpected" by Roald Dahl. That, along with "Syrup" should hold her until Christmas.

Last night, I went to El Corte Ingles to tackle the grocery shopping for the chicken dinner and A and Juan met me there. Got everything we needed and headed back the throw the chicken in -- ugh. Started to clean it and found it came complete with the head still on it and the guts still in it. Good thing I grew up on a farm. I hacked that head off like a good country wife and got the chicken seasoned and in the oven. At 9 we were supposed to eat but the chicken was nowhere near ready so I panicked and ran back to El Corte Ingles and bought two precooked chickens -- upon my return found that I only needed about 20 more minutes for the chicken I made... so I guess the girls will have plenty of chicken for a while. Everything was ready at 10 but the landlady showed up to collect rent so at 10:30 we finally sat down to fresh roast chicken, garlic mashed potatoes, green beans, rolls and fresh pears for dessert. And possibly the most pathetic chicken gravy ever made. But hey, it was gravy and A and Kristen thought it was cool. I did it! I cooked! Biggest relief EVER.

This morning I went to the outdoor market... I wanted grapes but decided not to go through the hassle of asking for them (is the word uvas? I think so, I don't know). So just walked the length of the market and enjoyed all the sights and smells. Unlike El Rastro, this is a farmer's market too. You can buy everything from underwear to pickled onions in this place. Churros con chocolate, fruit, jeans, vegetables, shoes, scarves, fish, jamon, fabric, many varieties of tomatoes, striped eggplant, pajamas, olives, tiny pickles, figs. Looking at all the food is like eating it -it's really what people mean when they say "a feast for the eyes". Also the nose and the ears. So wonderful! I walked and walked in a slow drizzle, drinking Coke Light and snacking on these little croissants with a nutella filling. Loved it.

After the mercadona I went to the Salzillo museum and was adopted by a museum guide named Antonio. One guard kept following me around and trying to talk to me. Funny thing -- here you say you don't speak Spanish and they think you must be kidding or that you just don't speak it well. I tried to talk to that guy and I guess I answered his question wrong ... all I caught was Aleman (German) so I don't know. But not long after my failed attempt to communicate, Antonio showed up and gave me a personal tour -- telling me all about Semana Santa and the Salzillo sculptures. He had taken English at a language school in Murcia so he spoke very well. And I enjoyed talking to him. Because they get so many Brits here and because they can't hear the difference between the Bristish and American accent he was surprised to hear I was American... don't imagine they see too many Americans in this part of Spain. If you hear someone speaking English with an American accent your head snaps around and you immediately want to say "hey, me too!" Yesterday I was walking down A's street and hear a guy with a Jersey accent talking to his kids. It was a very odd moment for me. Even in Madrid I stood in the line for the Prado in front of a guy from Chicago and he was so excited to hear English because he had been in Madrid for 4 days and hadn't bumped in to any other Americans. Anyway, I digress. Back to Francisco Salzillo: on Good Friday they empty out the museum and penitents carry the statues (life size and decorated with accents of fresh fruit, flowers, palms, etc.) on the shoulders through the streets of Murcia. The statues are so detailed. Much like the Penitent Mary Magdalene I saw at the Prado. After the Salzillo museum I went to the Museo de Cuidad (City Museum) and that, along with El Centro de Bellas Artes makes a neat little trifecta of Murciano museums. One thing I have noticed is that Spanish art vs. the rest of European art was/is intensely focused on the religious. This is still a VERY devout country. The first question Antonio asked me was not where I was from or even my name, but was I Catholic?

I'm hoping I don't get the cold these girls are kicking around. I don't know if it's the weather (it's actually raining a little here, which is never does) or a virus but I feel a little scratchy and stuffy. After A has her cup of tea to warm up we are headed to the Casino, which is actually not a casino but a reading room/gentlemen's meeting place. But it's supposed to be beautiful and so far I haven't gotten past the stained glass doors because I've been waiting for her to go with me.

Nov 8/9 -- Murcia

Almost 1/2 way over. Today we have to wash a few things and make a trip to the mercado, also maybe a cyber cafe so I can e-mail T. I talked to him a little bit yesterday while he was still at work and so did A but when we called he thought it was K calling and didn't know it was us until she put me on the phone.

Things I've noticed you can't get here:

1. instant anything that looks appetizing.... their canned foods and packaged stuff looks terrible. No instant rice or noodles, no Spaghetti-Os or mac & cheese. What's a college kid to live on? I noticed that they do have small packages of flour & corn tortillas here but they're sort of a novelty. It's definitely a healthier way of eating -- just cooking with whole foods.
2. Velveeta. Wish I could. Daniela (one of the Italians) love mac and cheese and I could make her some that would knock her socks off if I could find it. I'm going to have T pull together some things for a care package including blueberry pancake mix, Kraft macaroni & cheese and some other things.
3. cottage cheese
4. cheese-its
5. pop tarts
6. Hershey's anything. This is an M&M/Mars country. Also Toblerone, Nestle and Cadbury. All good -- but A wants Hershey's.
7. fresh milk or eggs -- everything's in a box and the eggs are sold in 6 packs and don't need to be refrigerated. What do you have to do to an egg to not have to refrigerate it?

Another thing I'm going to do today is go in to full mom mode and take some pictures of the things that are broken around here. I intend to write ISEP a letter when A gets home. There's no heat or air (the landlady has taped over the controls and claims it's broken), they can't get to the laundry line because the window's locked and she won't get a key made, the dishwasher's broken and taped up with about a roll of package tape. There's 2 bulbs in A's room, about 10W each. She has a desk lamp that only works if you hold the cord and your tongue just right. It wouldn't bug me so much but each of the girls pay 210 euro. Times 5 and that's almost $1200 per month plus the electric. I think they're getting ripped off.

Nov 9

Yesterday was sort of another non-event day. A and I went shopping at Zara for Juan Antonio's birthday. I accidentally dropped my jacket and it took forever to find it. When Spanish women shop they mob the displays and throw everything around. Nothing stays folded or where it belongs and there's store employees running all over just doing nothing but picking up and refolding. I told A it looks like Penny's during the After Thanksgiving sale at home. I figured my jacket was buried at the bottom of a pile or hung on a hanger somewhere but one of the employees had picked it up.

After lunch (tuna & egg empenada and a mushroom and artichoke mini pizza) we walked down the Traperia and over to Sephora, then hung around the cathedral Plaza a little while. Still trying to figure out when I need to be there so I can go inside the cathedral. I did make it to the internet cafe and sent T a really long e-mail. I miss him and think about him and how he'd like it here. While Juan and A were out I sat down to read "Syrup" by Maxx Barry and read the whole book... oops. I told her I'd leave my Chronicles of Narnia but now I'm out of reading material so I might have to take it back.

Nov 7 - Murcia

Spent about 3-4 hours just walking around -- saw the main cathedral here, many plazas and my first introduction to El Corte Ingles which is like Dillard's, Target and a grocery store all rolled in to one.

Spent the afternoon shopping for a casual shirt, also went to Zara but didn't find anything there that looked big enough (Evidently, "French Women Don't Get Fat" and Spanish women don't either.) Zara for those of you not familiar with this stylish Spanish chain is a clothing store that is part of a large group that includes other stores I found up and down Murcia's Gran Via: Stradivarius, Oysho and Berksha. Zara has a lot of cute stuff and priced over a wide range from shirts, skirts and pants (on sale) under 20 euro all the way up to whatever. I had never heard of them but apparently they do have stores on the coasts here and in places like Houston, Orlando and Vegas. A's Canadian roommate says they have them in Canada too and they're decidedly more expensive there than in Spain, which is where they're based. (Shame. They had the best bohemian skirts and I already regret not buying one.)

Took A to a quick lunch between classes. She had soup, which looked great. I had --- yeah, stupid--- a cheeseburger. If you are from a meat-raising part of the United States like, say, myself, never, ever, ever order a hamburger somewhere else. It resembled a hamburger like the Epcot Center resembles Europe. I don't know what possesses me to order this stuff, except it takes me so long to semi-decipher a menu without pictures that sometimes I just panic. A's chicken soup had the heart in it and after she identified all the parts I dared her to eat it and she did. Pretty good for a girl who couldn't stand to hear the word "blood" for about three years without getting grossed out completely.

After spending the afternoon wandering around and being, admittedly a little lonely and sort of bored I came back to meet A and found out her roommates were cooking dinner for everyone (a rarity that they all sit down to a meal together, so I feel special!). They started with appetizers -- chicken nuggets, empanadas with tuna and tomato, cheese, sausage and crusty bread spread with a jamon (ham) cream cheese. Then Natalie presented us with Belgian sausages and stoemp (which is mashed potatoes and other stuff -- I googled it and saw that is can contain root veggies, spinach, cabbage, leeks, etc.) We finished up with a birthday cake for A and also enjoyed some really cheap wine (which wasn't that bad, actually) and San Miguel.

I fell asleep trying to think of some basic meal I could cook for everyone without screwing it up and with the ingredients I could find here -- and the cooking tools we have available in the apartment. They don't have much beyond basic pots and pans and there's no micro (not a disaster, I've done without one before, it CAN be done). I decided on roast chicken, garlic mashed potatoes with gravy and sort of southern-style green beans with onion and bacon. Simple and something I shouldn't be able to screw up. I really want to do something nice for them as I am totally invading their space, sharing their bathroom, etc.

Madrid

before the camera broke...

Madrid, November 6/Murcia, morning of the 7th

Got up around 9, showered, dressed and headed for El Rastro, a monster flea market that goes on from 10 am - 2 pm on Sundays. We bought a bunch of scarves -- OK like, 12 -- but they were only 2 euro each and so pretty, they totally make you look like a European (everyone's doing it!) haha! Anyway, the crowd was so heavy that we got tired pretty quickly and decided to get out and head to Centro des Artes Reina Sofia to see Guernica. We got in with just 45 minutes (but free on Sundays, yay!) until closing time and hustled up to the Picasso gallery. I don't think A was very impressed but it was definitely a moment for me... Also saw a few Miro and Dali paintings. Tried to make the bookstore but it closed before we could get there. Very sad.

Walked across the street to Atocha station and since I'd heard it was worth a look we went inside. There's a ton of construction around it -- I don't know if that had anything to do with the bombing there last year or just more Madrid construction -- it's everywhere. Very pretty, has a tropical rainforest in the middle of it. Like our own Union Station it was adandoned and nearly demolished but now it's a Renfe station. It's hard to believe looking at the old pictures and news reports that this place was the scene of so much chaos and death. It's absolutely serene now -- the misters for the rainforest create a soft foggy effect as the sun streams through the windows. It's gorgeous. If Juan had not come to Madrid for A's birthday we would be taking the train from here to Murcia, but Juan is driving us back.

Walked some more and stopped for lunch at VIPS -- just a diner type of place - club sandwich, how very cop-out of me. After VIPS, we went back to the hotel and A proceeded to open up and model every scarf we'd bought. Juan picked us up for the drive back to Murcia which was so great of him-- and until the sun set I was able to watch the scenery roll by. So much desert! I didn't know... very once in a while you'd see a town with an old church or some castle ruins at the top of a hill. Houses are just what you'd imagine, whitewashed with red tile roofs, groves of olive trees everywhere. Juan was listening to Queen -- unexpected but fun, I love Queen. I could never have imagined myself in a million years flying down a Spanish freeway in the back of a Mercedes SUV listening to -- Queen. Life does take it's strange turns.

Came back to Murcia and met all Angie's roommates (there are 4, two Italians, a Belgian and a Canadian) - Natalie, the Belgian, was sick and coughed all night, poor thing. They have these metal blinds on the exteriors of all the homes that roll down and totally block out the sun. Great for sleeping, terrible for my body clock. It feels like I never want to wake up. Right now I'm sitting up in bed looking out over the courtyard and watching a woman hang her clothes on the line outside her window (the apartments have a small washer, no dryer)

... The whole time I've been writing there's been a pack of people outside on a balcony drinking, smoking, eating and talking. Don't these people work??

I can hear Natalie speaking French to someone -- her parents? They and her boyfriend have been visiting and are heading back to Belgium today.

OK, it's 11:30 am, I need to get up and get going! A pointed out El Corte Ingles to me, guess I'll go check that out. I'm off!

November 5 - Madrid

A's 21st birthday! Feliz Cumpleanos little birdie! She arrived here before 3 pm yesterday and after a tearful, noisy American reunion in the lobby we came upstairs for showers and I had a brief (too brief) siesta. Then we took off walking to wherever and ended up in Plaza Puerta del Sol. We window shopped and walked, then stopped for a bite -- not technically dinner since it was only 6pm. I had a Spanish omelet with some kind of really good sausage and A had a bocadillo (sandwich) & cerveza. Then we walked back up Gran Via and basically ran out of steam by 8 pm. We finished up the night with Hershey's cookies & mint bars and all those magazines I carted here (glad to get rid of those!)

So this morning we are off to the Prado after breakfast.

later that day ....
We tried to get breakfast at a cafeteria but the service was so slow (even by Spanish standards) we ended up leaving and walking down to Paseo del Prado and through a pretty little park. Across from the Prado we found a Starbuck's and had a non-traditional breakfast of tea & sandwiches. I spent a ton of time in the Prado. I was so amazed to see paintings I had only seen in books. Walking around every corner I had to keep from gasping out loud. (Yes, I am an art dork.) The portrait of Mary Tudor is here (see above, poor thing, she was not pretty) and I hear the Hans Holbein Henry the VIII is at Thyssen-Bornemizsa across the street. How did father and daughter, 2 English monarchs, end up in Spain I wonder (although Mary was 1/2 Spanish and married to a Spaniard as well). Saw an amazing wood sculpture of the penitent Mary Magdalene which completely blew me away. I wish I could find an image of her, she was amazing. Ummm, so much more: Rubens, Titian, Valasquez and Goya of course, El Greco. Oh! and the Lobster's favorite, Bosch. When you see Dali's work it's clear where he got his inspiration. Loved the Goyas -- even the black period. Very tragic stuff.

A abandoned me to my artistic love affair and so later we met up at the hotel again and I met Juan Antonio, her Spanish boyfriend... he led the way to Plaza Mayor. I got some great pictures and then my camera croaked. Canon is going to get a very nasty letter from me about the infamous E18 error.

After walking around Plaza Mayor we walked to Palacio Real and then back to Plaza Mayor hoping to catch an early dinner at Botin (the world's oldest restuarant and where Ernest Hemingway used to hang out) but 15 minutes after they opened they were on an hour wait so we went to another restaurant nearby, Las Cuevas de Luis Candelas. Juan ordered tapas and we had a pitcher of Sangria -- we had morcilla (black pudding-- I can't believe I ate that but it was actually good), potatoes with ailioli, bread, calimari, Spanish omelet. All very yummy! A got flan with a candle in it for her birthday. Ended up hanging in the hotel while A and Juan went to a disco -- I was watching MTV with German subtitles -- it was all I could find in English except for Sky News.

A wonderful day except for the broken camera. grrrrrr.

excerpts from Nov 3/4

Warning: all excerpts edited for content and embellished with afterthoughts.

11/3: random airport thoughts

1. white guys who eat at Panda Express with chopsticks -- little bit pretentious? Even the Asians are eating with forks.
2. Is pink camo so you can hide from Barbie?
3. Spent some quality time in L'Occitane and bought A her 21st birthday gift, Honey Harvest Body Balm.
4. backpack weighs 400# and is actually gaining the longer I carry it.

Have a terrible nervous stomach and am sick -- good I have a 5 hour wait. (In retrospect, not a great way to start the trip but felt like I had at least gotten that out of the way and in fact I wasn't sick the whole time I was in Spain, even with ice in my drinks, etc.)

11/4:

Sitting at the H10 Villa de la Reina waiting for my room to be ready. Stomach settled down in time for the flight which was uneventful except for one glitch in KC. The blonde at the Continental desk kept telling me I'd have to pick up my bag in Paris but with only 55 minutes layover I didn't think I'd have time to make my Madrid flight. I kept trying to question her and she was in a huff so T turned to me and said "Just talk to someone in Houston", referring to rebooking my Paris-Madrid leg so I'd have time to pick up my bag and recheck it. I guess she got offended because about 10 minutes later she stopped us in the terminal and said she'd checked my bag all the way though to Madrid "since we acted like she didn't know what she was doing". I didn't think she knew what she was doing but I never said so. We tried very hard to be polite and explain that we were concerned about the short layover -- she was having nothing to do with us. I figured my suitcase would end up in Venezuela but it was actually first off in Madrid.

Once I got to Madrid I thought I'd have to go through customs but there was nothing. I was even stopped by a police officer who just waved me on. What is up with this room? Trying to be patient. Drinking old Sprite and eating trail mix, want a shower and a nap and want to call A. It's 2 pm Spain time and 8 am my time ... 3 hours of sleep in the last 26 hours. Tengo mejor jet lag.