last vacation shots

the last stop on my trip was a tiny village in an area of spain known as picos de europa. these are rocky peaks, rising out of rivers and lakes as if a child had been asked to draw a mountain.

we did a hike along the cares river gorge, ten kilometers between two villages on a path carved into the side of a cliff. the mountain rose thousands of meters above and below our trail and everywhere was the most imposing, stunning, larger than life scenery i have ever seen. my guide book called it "a horizontal walk in a vertical world" and i think that is an apt description.

this is classic photos-don't-capture-it territory, folks. words are even proving to be quite futile. even the mountain goats were all like "dudes, can you believe this?" and we were all "um, no. get away from my lunch."

all i can say is that i highly recommend this walk for anybody who visits spain. it's not even that challenging, the trail is mostly flat, giving you the feeling of being among alpine peaks without all the pesky walking uphill.

check out this photo of michael resting by the side of the trail, my favorite from our trip. this was the last day of my twenties i can't imagine a more perfect ending.

tragedy

(vacation photos will resume shortly)

i don't like it when news of the us appears on spanish television. it's always something bad.

it's weird, i read the news every day and every day i think that there is something extremely wrong with this world. americans die in iraq every day, by the tens and dozens, both military and civilians. students and other innocents dying of disease, hunger, and shootings cover the front page on a daily basis. so is this worse? is the news today more f'ed up than usual?

i'm not looking forward to going to work tomorrow, or being asked to explain by any non-americans why such an unthinkable thing can happen in our county. and seems to happen with some regularity.

backroads

i sold my car two years ago, before moving to europe. the advantages are numerous. i mean, besides not paying for gas, insurance and repairs there is the self-satisfied feeling of not adding to global warming in one small little way. don't even get me started on parking. however, the benefits of having a car are not lost on me. one of the best parts is the freedom of your own wheels, the freedom to go anywhere there is a road.

and during my vacation i felt that freedom again, a whole week with a rental car, free to explore the backroads and little villages of spain. here are a few pictures from those adventures.

i love fishing villages more than regular old landlocked villages. perhaps because they remind me of rockport and gloucester and other towns in massachusetts where i grew up. i just like those colorfully painted boats and the salty men who own them. also, of course, there is the sea, never more forboding and full of potential then surrounding a town full of fishermen. and even though they say that the freshest fish in spain is in madrid, fish never tastes better than from where you can smell the salt air and meet the guy who caught it.

coruna

my guide book called coruna the most underrated city in spain. interesting, i thought, how can something so old and established be underappreciated? either something has changed in the sands of coolness, or there is some barrier stopping people from loving this place as it deserves.

and in the end, i can't say i found either of these cases to be true, and coruna is indeed one of the best cities i've visited in spain. maybe having santiago close by but infinitely more famous keeps the city slightly hidden in plain view?

it reminded me of san sebastian: modern, surrounded by water, with a kick-ass beach right in the middle. it reminded me of san francisco: can any city surrounded by water on three sides not be stunning? it reminded me a little bit of new england: the fishing boats sitting sleepily in the harbor, a breakwater you can walk along, even a building that is an avatar of one in boston.

but ultimately, coruna was completely unique and seemed perfectly appropriate for its location. you were never more than a few steps from the water in every direction. seafood bars and restaurants lined those windy medieval streets. cathedrals and plazas appeared gracefully, without seeming dominating or imposing. if a place can be energetic and laid-back at the same time, coruna is it

what, no easter bunnies?

easter in spain reminds me that i live in a foreign country. first of all the holiday occupies more space than at home, taking up four days that for a teacher stretches into a full week off of work.

however, long weekends aren't so rare around here. the real spanish-ness of easter is its religious/secular duality, much like the country itself. i've heard it quoted that over 95% of spain is catholic, yet i've never seen such a group of christians come off so liberal, so laid-back. in essence, spaniards are catholic in name only, yet the architecture and rituals of christianity are deeply ingrained in the culture.

and nowhere more so than during easter week. spaniards use jesus' death as an unequivocal excuse to go on vacation. there could not be less religious significance to the holiday. however, no trip to the beach during holy week would complete without watching a procession, an ancient and quite spooky parade of virgin statues escorted by hooded bearers and haunting drum music.

in the context of something modern and secular you have a throwback to medieval rites. and all around it, before and after, the people spill out of the bars into the streets, drinking, being spanish, celebrating easter by enjoying their days off.

castle rocks

if a child drew a castle it would look like this:











and if you were a child you would want every castle to be exactly like this. empty, rocky and pointy. with slits for shooting arrows and a tower to scale. no guardrails or roped-off areas, no restricted access. not to mention free. well done, portugal, yet again.

check out portugal

hey it's me. i'm back. a little older and slightly tired. lots to show and tell. first of all, i have lots of photos from my trip. the last week has been a whirlwind: cities, villages, beaches, mountains. since i'm not going anywhere for a couple of weeks, i'm gonna kick back and relax around here with some photo posts.

first we went to oporto in northern portugal. oporto is on the douro river and is famous for port wine and cod. i like it because the buildings are dirty; it makes me think that although they are doing their best to support a tourist industry, they aren't going so far as to polish off their buildings. despite the greyness washing over everything -- years of built-up exhaust and grime -- the city stays colorful. the red tile roofs, the charcoal bridge, the odd yellow building, the blue tiles. i also dig the setting of oporto, right on the river and near the sea. the bridge through the center of town is perfectly beautiful and useful: elegant, convenient and multipurpose.

we walked up hills and climbed a tower -- setting the template for the rest of the week's activities. windy medieval streets, check. stairs, check.

well there's lots more but my pictures are being uploaded to blogger at a snail's pace. more asap.

vacation message

my bags aren't packed but i'm on my way. tomorrow i leave for a week's vacation to portugal, galicia and asturias. i'll have my computer but i doubt i'll get around to blogging.

but before i go,

an early shout-out to my friend paul, whose birthday is tuesday. paul is my bff, except when he isn't. he's the best customer of my terrace hair salon. and although he calls me kiddo, he's still younger than me. happy birthday, beavis.

also, my friend joie has a new website along with her group of writer friends. check it out: crutial minuiae. joie is a writer and a thinker and i'll be checking out her kidz today column every wednesday.

see you when i'm 30.

yoga hostility

when i first read this article, slate's "the hostile new age takeover of yoga," i was nodding my head in agreement. yes, yoga has been commercialized, dumbed down and misinterpreted via its entrance into american gym culture. yes, yoga's eastern principles of meditation and breathing have been diluted, with the help of magazines, to include the very western concepts of power and immediacy.

yes, many yoga-addicted americans are more interested in the workout aspects of their practice than the breathing and focus that our yoga teachers are constantly telling us are of primary importance.

yes, yes, yes. ok. we're so american. this is not news, and certainly not the first article of its kind.

but the more i thought about the article, especially on the walk back from my yoga class yesterday, the more i have come to think: so what? so american culture tends to commodify eastern philosophy. so american women admit to appreciating yoga's physical benefits. so there are stupid magazines at supermarket checkout lines that speak to the lowest common denominator.

but does this really consist of a hostile takeover? i mean, i practice ashtanga yoga twice a week, and while i work very hard on the mental aspects of it, the truth is that i'm there for the exercise. should i feel bad about this? isn't it better that i drag my american ass to the class at all? am i somehow involved in a coup?

and what is more trite actually, the way yoga has been appropriated by american culture or the complaining about said appropriation? i find it hard to believe that there isn't a thoughtful yoga magazine out there, or a yoga studio that doesn't include a power yoga class. if the author is really so offended by his yoga options, perhaps he should move to india.

vacation horizon

i'm in pre-vacation impatient mode. semana santa begins for me on thursday at 4pm and i can't get there fast enough. after a slightly bummed out weekend, i'm ready to shed the routine and get out of town.

on the agenda: saturday morning arrival of mr. michael from the homeland. our chariot awaits us sunday morning (rental car) and we run for the border. two days in northern portugal then northern spain. galicia, asturias and picos de europa. i'm excited to see new parts of the country and spend a week disconnecting from madrid.

four more days.

meanwhile, happy monday. here's a list of some things i've been reading:

• bravo buys television without pity. will the snark end?
  
• the show with ze frank ends. slate answers the question, what's with the no blinking?
• did you read that spider article in a recent new yorker? holy shit. i'm at once appalled, fascinated and itchy. (hey, the new yorker website got a redesign. nice)
• guitly pleasure: happy birthday perez
• via whatevs: recordreviews.org
  

seasonal confusion disorder

over the weekend when it was 70 degrees i was marveling at the fact that it was technically still winter. i cautiously put away the space heaters and eyed my summer clothes. terrace parties, suntan lotion. talk of the "ool."

and just as spring actually arrives, the weather regresses back to winter. a cruel twist of events. and for the moment i'm at home, don't expect me to come out until spring returns.

humph.

goodbye

what a weekend. days on the terrace sunbathing, gossiping, playing with the puppy. nights staying out until dawn, saying goodbye to two close friends.

it's weird when somebody leaves. it's a very intense moment of sadness: the tense moments leading up to The Moment, the hugs, the ceremonial bequests of personal belongings.

(i made out pretty well from these two -- a tennis racket, a printer, a george forman grill, a shawl, a sweatshirt, a book. you might think, as somebody callously observed, i was circling like a vulture, just waiting to pick over the remains. but no! i cried real tears!)

anyway, what i find even weirder than the sadness is the way things return to normal mere moments later. we all shift and readjust and of course miss the person who has left, but shake off the sadness rather quickly. phone calls are replaced by emails. afternoon coffees in madrid are replaced by happy hour drinks in new york.

to live this kind of life, to move around, to find homes in many places or none at all, to just as often be the one saying goodbye as the one being said goodbye to requires this level of resilience. it necessitates a sort of friendship that isn't disturbed by location, or months without contact. it leaves a trail of friends across continents each punctuated by various goodbyes and hellos.

but i did cry, for the first time in probably six months.

moments later, i felt better.

photo by paul

happy birthday stib

who is that dashing gentleman in the fancy getup?

why, that's my cousin steve. nobody rocks a leather body suit like he does. and today he's 31.

steve and i both grew up without siblings, so we had each other in a pinch when the family situation demanded a child of similar age. like trips to see grandma in florida, or studio portraits at the mall.

i always thought he had the best toys. when we were kids it was the legos. later, the best bikes and skateboards. nowadays he had an amazing house and an even more amazing dog.

growing up we were always kind of a pair, we always hung out together and got along. the best part is that we still do.

my new friend

meet zas, my new little friend. weighing in at 1.7 kilos (3.7 pounds) zas is half chihuahua, half angel and half sweetie pie. he likes long walks in zoe's apartment, quiet nights romping in bed and harmless biting. he specializes in bringing the fun and the cuteness.

bracketology

march is here, which means it's bracket time. if you live in an office or if you're a guy, chances are you've filled out your ncaa championship bracket and have a little money riding on it. i like the bracket idea; elimination tournaments, while possibly not the fairest, are always the most exciting.

this year i have noticed a trend: bracket mentality is seeping into non-sports related competitions. competitions are even being invented to capitalize on the effectiveness and pervasiveness of bracketology in march. see the morning news' tournament of books (bracket here for easy printing) and accompanying blogger's office pool for all the literati who feel kind of left out while the rest of the world watches sports.

well, all my pondering on this subject was answered, or usurped, by slate's cover article today the enlightened bracketologist. their essay explains how the "ingenious" bracket structure can help solve some of "life's most nagging questions." the article is mostly fluff, but there are some fun interactive brackets aiming to sift out best ad slogans, best film deaths, best marital fights and best 'where were you' moments. they take about two minutes each and then you can see how your bracket stacks up against the "expert"'s.

it kind of makes you think: wow, what else could i decipher this way? maybe best sexual encounters? all i have to do is come up with a power-of-two numbered seeded set of things, arrange them judiciously so there are no easy outs in the first round, then make a series of either-or type judgments. what could be easier? turns out, skipping the exercise entirely and writing a blog post about it, then watching the latest episode of 24.

today's question: i did the best ad slogans bracket and 'just do it' won. any other results?

can't we all just get along?

i've been reading about, and hearing about, the daylight savings time shift in the us. the hysterics were reminiscent of the y2k meltdown. y2k-2k7? but over here in spain, nobody has their panties in a bunch about this one. in fact, nobobdy seems to know when we turn our clocks ahead.

so i did a little bit of research and turns out, rather than being one week ahead of the u.s. daylight savings time shift as in past years, we are now two weeks behind. this means we set our clocks ahead on march 25 and that for the next two weeks europe is only 5 hours ahead of the eastern u.s. that's right all you friends and family: think twice before picking up the phone to make that long-delayed call to yours truly. 5 hours time difference. you've been warned.

spring fever

with warm days seemingly here to stay i find myself out of my winter slump. suddenly my days are fuller, i have plans every night, i'm exercising more, i feel better. not that i don't appreciate seasons or the value of a crisp cool day, but it's safe to say that winter is not my best time of year. here in madrid it only lasts a couple of months...perhaps 8 weeks moping around the house is a healthy respite in a busy year? not that i was exactly in the bell jar, but slightly down from my usually chipper self.

i've realized that my moods are rather mellow. i rarely get outraged, or depressed, or feel ecstatic or miserable. as a result, i feel slight ripples in my smooth sailing acutely; i'm fairly accustomed to a general sense of contentedness and i like it that way. a slump can feel like a canyon.

tonight i face a dilemma: to go see a band i really like or go play a friend's new wii. seems like the band should by all accounts win here.

quarterly review

awww, kind of reminds me of home.

so, you may be wondering about my resolutions so boldly presented earlier this year. remember, they were fail-safe...or were they? how about a list?

• yoga: ok, i didn't start in february due to financial reasons. but i did start in march, and i'm in the second week. that means lots of pain and frustration at backsliding, but general feeling of well-being and renewed sense of amazement at the awesomeness of yoga. and renewed crush on borja, my instructor.
• 30th birthday: plans are moving along at lightening speed. mr. michael coming from brooklyn for roadtrip through northern portugual and northeastern spain. birthday bash planned for the following weekend. feeling wonderful about this birthday, check.
• guitar: check. playing on terrace, check. but i'm still a little shy to play in front of other people. i'll work on this one.
• edit the novel: not ready to hang the "mission accomplished" banner on this one quite yet. i did read it at the beginning of february, but i'm having a hard time uncapping the red pen for editing. it's not that i don't want to edit it, at least to a presentable-to-friends version, but process of editing a 120-page document seems imposing --not that writing one wasn't -- and arduous. i liked the productiveness of writing and what i expect to be the slow nitpicky-ness of editing just doesn't appeal to me in my free time. especially when there is a guitar to be played. any advice?

so overall, not so bad. 3 out of 4. and i still have 10.5 months. goals are fun!

and the cleanse, you ask? well, those results have been less visible. i'm on day 34 and faithfully sticking to the routine. in the cleanse's defense, i didn't have any of the symptoms or problems that it claims to heal, so i'm not sure what results i could have expected to see. my hair and skin are, well, fine. not sure i've lost weight. the inside of my colon feels...squeaky clean? i'll trust that it is.

so that's the update, folks. in the pipeline: a few visits from the us. a few trips planned. if you can believe it, the summer is already filling up. i have a new project in mind that i'd like to start, more about that soon, i hope.

fresh air achieved

given all the weekends i spent hanging around my apartment and staying out all night, i can be proud of an accomplished plan to get out of the city. saturday i woke up relatively early and hopped on train with sights set on the distant mountains. i went to el escorial, a city in madrid province and skirted the giant monastery on the way to the fresh air of higher elevations.

i spent a few hours climbing over a mountain, stopping to take in the panoramas every so often. there is a great moment when you leave the crowds of families and people who drove up to the lookout point and the noise subsides and you find yourself alone in the quiet among the mossy rocks and occasional cowbell. there is another great moment, pictured above, when you reach a small valley between two peaks and begin your descent down the opposite side, and are rewarded with a whole new vista in front of you. for some reason the rocky hillsides gave me vertigo as i traversed across them.

and i did get my minimum recommended monthly dosage of fresh air, but check out that picture above. check out that hazy cloud, which became brown and heavier in the distance over madrid. it was as if i was looking through a flimsy curtain, as if everything had been bleached by years of sun. perhaps this is why i can't breathe?

meanwhile, i thoroughly enjoyed the day alone. i have to remember to do things like this more often. and today, back refreshed in the city, i had my first pre-season terrace get-together. a few new faces, one that will soon be gone, and a couple old favorites. ah, spring is here.

city mouse coughing

lately i've been feeling a little bit polluted by city living. maybe it's this cough that i can't seem to get rid of, but the air seems a little poisonous. i'm always breathing car exhaust of stale subway air or second-hand smoke. last weekend i came home friday and saturday feeling as if i'd smoked a carton of cigarettes. i think after i'm done here in madrid, my next home will be in the country somewhere.

i've been living in cities since 1999 and in a way it has seemed the only sensible place for a single girl to live. i love cities. i love walking everywhere, i love the plethora of social options. i love that any time of day or night there is something to do, even if it's just walking around under the street lights. i love the idea of a neighborhood and the simultaneous feelings of closeness and anonymity with the people around you. i love having an airport nearby.

yet i loved living in the country as well, i was never bored. granted, it was college and i was surrounded by people my own age in a town with plenty of cultural activities. also, at that point in my life i had only ever lived in the suburbs, so city life wasn't there for me to miss yet. i just worry that if i moved to the country -- back to new england for example -- i would be staring at the four walls every night with nothing to do. but at least i would have fresh air!

in the short term, i'm absolutely taking a day trip this weekend to somewhere outdoors and unpolluted by cars and smokers.

bonobo birthday

as i mentioned, keeping in touch with my exes is not my strong suit. keeping in touching with other people's exes, however, i can handle. case in point: bonobo, whose birthday is today.

and in the days where forgetting birthdays is impossible if you are connected to the internet, the thoughtfulness of a happy birthday email or (shudder) ecard is even more diminished from its already tenuous position. and real cards are reserved for grandparents. thus the birthday blog post.

jeff is funny and he's a thinker. he's got this very complete cynicism that i suspect has a small kernel of idealism wrapped up inside. and most importantly, he's lots of fun. so happy birthday.

and incidentally, jeff is not that drag racer guy pictured above, although he shares the same name, and if you ask me an uncanny resemblance. he must be a cousin, or an evil twin.

ex-clamation

twice this week emails from ex-boyfriends have dropped out of the ether into my unsuspecting inbox. eek. i'm not one of those people who stays in contact with exes; there is only one who i could honestly call a friend -- meaning when we are in the same city we have lunch. which happens once every couple of years.

so i'm wondering if it's a pattern. and basically, if there are any others of you out there, this is the week to send me a random email. just saying hi has been done, so has inviting me to your wedding. maybe you could send me a flickr album of your new baby? or solicit a donation for a charitable walk/run/bike ride you're doing? or some spam about how barack-ing the vote? i know you're out there, and you obviously know my email address...

in other news, my roommate just came back after being gone for 5 weeks. my apartment is suddenly no longer my private enclave. back to the toilet seat being up. and conversations. but he's leaving in a week, moving back to the states. so i found a new guy, named fan, who is spanish and will be living here for the next six months until sky returns.

here's a list, because it's friday and i like you:

• bonobo's site has a fun collection of freaky muppet videos. hey, you don't feel like working anyway.
• a pretty animation of flight patterns over the us. um, it's cooler than it sounds.
• redesigns: whatevs and imdb. but you already knew that.
• islamic artists: avant garde mathematicians?
  

lucky pig

with chinese new year we enter the year of the pig, a supposedly fortuitous year whose luck is only increased by this being a year of the golden pig. it is a good year to bear children, which has many chinese women stalking the hong kong border trying to avoid their country's one child policy.

i was born in the year of the snake, which according to some sources is the unluckiest year. but according to other sources, snakes are "perhaps the wisest and most enigmatic of all." doesn't sound so bad...

not that i believe in astrology, chinese or otherwise. actually, i don't believe in lucky or unlucky either. there's too much fate for me, it would be too much like believing in god.

however, if i did believe in luck i cannot imagine myself much luckier than i already am. i live a life unoppressed, enjoying myself, safe, doing pretty much exactly what i feel like. i have amazing family and friends. i have enough money to support my whims and travel and enough free time to spend my money. i am healthy, smart and educated. most importantly, i'm happy.

but teaching english i have realized that much of our language assumes bad luck. statements like "as luck should have it..." and "with my luck..." imply that we all think we are quite unlucky. how can this be? i would be willing to bet that most people who use these phrases are among the luckiest in the world.

today's question: do you believe in luck?

lessons from scotland

i'm back from my weekend in scotland. here are some things i learned, and didn't learn, presented for you in my favorite format - a list.

learned:

• scottish history. this is comprised of many wars with england, as the brits came marching up every hundred years or so to storm the castle and lay siege and perform other forms of bloody warfare. when the british weren't around, the scots would massacre each other, clan vs. clan. i'm surprised there are any of them left.
• scottish geography. what a small country. you can drive across it in a few hours.
• scottish weather. not as cold or as dark as expected. and according to one guy, you used to be able to ski in the north, before the americans ruined the environment. sorry, mates!
  
• how to use my camera. my friend marisa has the same one and she actually read the manual. my new knowledge ranges from simple things such as how to shut off the flash to snazzy tricks such as how to use the underwater functions to take cool pictures inside clubs at night.
• how people are impressed by "new york." throw that word around, and people will let you do just about anything, convinced that you are somehow famous and so will they be by proximity. embarassing, but true.
  

didn't learn:

• how scotch whiskey is made. all the distilleries were closed. this did not prevent me from drinking lots of whiskey. some missions know no defeat!
• how to understand or be understood by the scottish. at least it was mutual.
• what haggis tastes like. or kippers. or tatties. i usually make a point of eating the local dish but this time i avoided

more to come soon, including my photo documentary.

v.e.-day

valentine's day finds me happy to live in europe. it passes without much notice, as it should. i guess this balances out superbowl sunday.

a friend said it best a few years ago when he said 'every day is valentine's day.' they should have a holiday to celebrate single people.

well, enough on that, lest i begin to sound bitter.

i'm going to edinburgh tomorrow to drink scotch and drink more scotch. and go to the highlands, where, apparently, the movie highlander takes place. i feel as if i should have watched it in preparation. instead i watched the last king of scotland.

be my valentine. i love you.

guitar heroine

my latest hobby is the guitar. i was lucky enough to be semi-permanently loaned a classical guitar from a friend and it has been my constant occupation for the last week or so. i used to play a bit in college and i had forgotten how fun it is.

i specialize in springsteen, the slow jams. i like to mix in a few acoustic renditions of guns 'n' roses tunes and the occasional joni mitchell, when i can handle it. i have some elvis costello in the works as well as a couple by the decemberists. i like singers with low voices that i can almost approximate. i'm a rockstar alone in my room, yet am incredibly shy to play in front of people. i invision sing-alongs on the terrace this spring.

anybody have any other recommendations for what i should play?

spaniversary

today is my spaniversary. two years since i arrived here with a stick over my shoulder and a kerchief tied around it containing all my belongings. i spent the first few months shining shoes for pennies in the rastro before getting an apartment among the gypsies. they taught me their secrets and i stole their tears.

more or less...

novel read

so, i've read my novel. i started it yesterday afternoon and finished it a few moments ago. somehow this was such a hurdle for me, picking it up to read again was in a way more difficult than writing it. i guess i was scared that it would suck, or that i wouldn't know what to do with it. i liked basking in the accomplishment of just finishing it and was unsure of the next step.

so, next step taken, i was surprised to discover that i really like what i wrote. i like the story, i'm still engaged in the characters and parts made me smile and even laugh a little. the last 40 pages or so aren't as good, they need work. so i'm going to work on it.

unrelated: i like lists. here are a few more:

• apparently i'm not alone. here are 8 reasons why internerds like lists. my favorite: they are skimmable (she notes, while skimming the article)
  
• the morning news is doing a series of "best of" lists for every year since 1978
• kevin smith's top ten films of 2006
• another good spin on usual list....top ten discovered albums
  

potty mouth

how can i say this delicately? well, it's as simple as this: i'm doing a colon cleanse. i'm on day 5 of what will be a two-month process designed to evacuate the impacted fecal matter from the inside of my colon.

i first heard about the cleanse from the coolest girl in michigan, "cousin" susan, while we were sipping margaritas and floating around the big fat boat at big star lake last summer. and, as is natural in such situations, the conversation drifted to colons. she testified that dr. natura changed her life in various amazing ways, and with that i was sold.

fast forward to january, where mr. michael and i perused the website, and were taken with such phrases as "death begins in the colon" and statistics claiming that the average person has 10-20 pounds of impacted fecal matter weighing them down. and don't even get me started on the photo gallery! (not for the squeamish)

so it has arrived, and i have diligently been cleansing for five days. this consists of 4 pills and a scoop of fiber powder in the morning, 2litres of water during the day and a tea at night. other than that you eat and live your life as normal, although what happens in the bathroom is promised to be anything but ordinary.

so far my life hasn't been changed, but i have 55 days left to go! i'll keep you updated.

and, in other less shitty news:

• my buddy paul revamped his website, lots of great pictures of spain and our friends
• mcsweeney's lists: mission pimpossible and "hi, i'm buying alcohol" "and i'm paying rent"
• are you a liberal anti-semite? take this quiz to find out!

today's question: after the colon is squeaky clean, what should i cleanse next?

sore loser

one thing i really miss about living in the us is superbowl sunday. the excitement, the office pools, the commercials. here the superbowl starts after midnight and can be watched only in irish pubs full of studying abroad american college students. but the absolute worst part is what happens when the football isn't being played. instead of commercials starring keven federline or even intelligent commentary, skysports, the broadcasting company that shows american football in europe, cuts to their all-white studio that resembles a high-school av room. there sit three british guys who attempt to discuss the game.

i don't know what's worse, the fact that it's these same three guys over and over - no replays, no shots of the field, no stats, no graphics - or the fact that they're british. somehow, hearing brits talk about american football seems sacreligious. sometimes they even go so far as to identify these blokes, and two of the three are actually soccer commentators. they couldn't rustle up three americans to discuss the nfl? i'm sure you could mine any 3 american drunks out of the irish pub and come up with a better commentary.

but the real reason i didn't watch the superbowl last night is that my heart just wasn't in it after the conference championship games. my team, the patriots, lost in the 4th quarter to their rival and eventual superbowl champs the colts. the second team i was rooting for, the new orleans saints, lost to the chicago bears, who i still hate from beating the pats in the superbowl in 1985. so the nfl season ended for me two weeks ago, and as much as i love the superbowl i just couldn't drag myself to the irish pub at midnight to see some brits discussing two teams i hate.

thoughts on 24

a few thoughts on season 6:

• why is chloe so second-rate this season? why is she interrupting meetings with buchanan, milo, british guy and everybody else to bring news of a phone call? she should be in the meeting, running com and opening sockets and making sour faces. it's almost like she has been demoted, when she should obviously be the boss of everybody there.
• is it just me, or does the silver fox (buchanan) bear a certain resemblance to tim gunn from project runway? they obviously see the same hair stylist, but i'm sensing something deeper. admit it, you can picture buchanan saying "sturm and drang."
  
• my money is on milo and natalia being positioned as the new tony and michelle. meanwhile, chloe is completely insane in her choice of men! whingey british minger over foot fetish cutie? dude, "reposition" the "satellite." (narf)
  
• i know we're all wondering...where's jack's chinese prison hottie girlfriend? he ususally starts each season with a new babe, from whatever adventures he's been occupying himself with during hiatus, be it mexican druglording, living in a trailer park, or working with the secretary of defense. i'm thinking...zhang ziyi cameo?

anything to add?

homeless

i'm in the middle of two books right now, and both have me thinking about the idea of home, and what it doesn't mean to me.

one is mountains beyond mountains, a story about a guy who splits his time between peru, haiti, boston, moscow and paris, rarely staying for longer than a week in any one place. this person is so obsessed with his quite honorable profession that he is essentially homeless, defined more by his work than his location: home is where his work is.

and the second book is all souls, a memoir about a person and a place, in which hometown and identity are so intertwined that they are inseparable. this person cannot define himself without his city, his neighborhood... without his corner of the neighborhood, without his family and neighbors and enemies. home is a specific place, filled with specific people.

what shocks me is how these two protagonists ache for their homes, how their lives feel unfulfilled when they are away. and i ask myself, where/who/what is home for me? i'm not aching for any one place, person, activity or job. i'm often asked where feels like home for me, and i don't have a good answer. so i ask myself, somewhat facetiously: am i homeless?

well obviously i'm not homeless. i guess i'm homeful, lots of places feel comfortable and homey and full of people who have known me forever. homeful, yet at the same time a little bit homeless. i feel pretty lucky.

emily melle

today emily turns 30. i wish i could celebrate with her, i would buy her a nice glass of single malt scotch and then another, because the second is twice as good as the first.

emily is a poet, a troubadour and a philosopher queen. she is effortlessly brilliant, yet thoughtful, a conversationalist of infinite wit and depth. she loves calling me on my bullshit and i love her for it. happy birthday em, miss ya.

brrrr...

winter has arrived in my apartment. it is brisk in here to say the least; there is no heating. beyond the obvious cold of fingers and toes, it is the unexpected coldness of random household objects that chills me even more. the body lotion is icy, not a welcome feeling after warming up in the shower. socks ignore their duty, cold to the touch of a bare foot. a cold spoon will cool off a hot sip of soup, a mug of tea will too quickly find its way to room temperature.

i'm fighting this by spending lots of time in bed. the only warm spot in the house.

molasses

making oatmeal is a visceral experience for me, full of memories of my grandparents. will i ever stand over the stove stirring my oatmeal without thinking of childhood breakfasts at their house, how i would stand outside their bedroom door yelling for them to wake up, how they wouldn't hear me because they didn't sleep with their hearing aids in, how grandma would get up and offer me the choice of oatmeal or cream of wheat? will i ever not smile to myself, remembering how my grandfather, a building contractor, would call the oatmeal redi-mix?

will i ever wait impatiently as the molasses eases its way down the side of the bottle without hearing my grandfather eternally describe his wife to be "slow as molasses?" and, always, will i think to myself, actually molasses is pretty damn slow?

hermitage

i have been holing up, staying in, bunkering down. i've been relishing every moment of solitude in my cozy apartment, spending hours upon hours watching movies and reading.

i have the added benefit of an empty house for 5 weeks. just me, my wifi and five new english non-fiction books brought back from the u.s.

but all around me it seems people are doing the same thing. are we in a slump, as my sister likes to say, or has global warming heated us into a haze? this may have been the most universally antisocial weekend since i've lived in madrid, but it was perfect.

and is it really antisocial to hang out with yourself? it's not like i'm moping, i'm genuinely having a good time here. it wasn't until five years ago that i learned to appreciate being alone. the most amazing thing is being able to do exactly what you want at every moment.

but somehow i always feel a little guilty about staying home, my conscience tells me i should be "doing" something. when do i have a genuine cause for concern? it's been about 5 days now. if i haven't regained my vitality in a week, please raise your eyebrows disapprovingly at me, deal?

until then, i have the new erik larson to read and a scanner darkly just finished downloading...

today's question: does today's picture remind you of anything? (you know who you are)

holy shit

the new york times puts the cost of the iraq war in perspective. for $1.2 trillion we could, for example, significantly beef up our health care and cancer research systems, provide global immunization for children, rebuild new orleans, make our country safer against terrorism and still have some change left over to go properly kick the taliban's ass in afghanistan.

or, the war in iraq.

those other things are less important apparently. because we're fighting for....i mean against....i mean because of, or due to, or to prevent, or to deter, or what exactly?

$300 million a day. it is unfathomable, outrageous.

but, salon asks, where's the outrage? where is the antiwar movement? in the absense of a draft, this war is too impersonal; the middle class doesn't feel affected by this unreal war of the rich being fought by the poor. so let's bring it to your front doorstep: $300 million a day. get mad!

on a much less horrifying -- somewhat calming actually -- numbers-related topic, scientific american discusses the history of zero and early expressions of the concept of nothingness.

resolve

i like new year's, it is one of my favorite holidays. i like that it isn't a hallmark holiday, there is no gift buying and no card sending. just a party, some introspection and -- if done right -- a great little trip out of town with friends.

this year i spent new year's weekend in martha's vineyard, a posh island off the coast of cape cod where i summered as a 3-year old. i returned for bike trips, once on the back of a motorcycle with my dad, and again for high school weekends to visit a friend's cousin -- titillating slices of frat life a few months before college started.

but winter was entirely different; there is something magical about the off season. as if you are privy to a secret shared by only the knowing few. it's like being in somebody's house while they're away on vacation; you get that delightful sense of sneaking around, stillness appreciated as an absense of the usual noise.

and i especially like to make new year's resolutions -- the kind that i know i will keep -- in the vein of "keep doing this great thing i'm already doing." that way there is no disappointment, no letting myself down. it's like writing something down on a to-do list that you've already done, then checking it off. self-serving? definitely. missing the point? probably.

here is a selection from jacki's resolutions, 2007:

• start yoga again in february, continue for the rest of the year except for months when i'm not entirely in madrid
• celebrate my 30th birthday in style. feel wonderful about being 30.
• pick up guitar again. sit on my terrace playing guitar in summer.
• read the novel i wrote in november. edit it, if it seems worthy.

today's question: what's your favorite resolution that you've already kept?

volver

and just like that, i'm back in madrid. time flew quickly in the u.s., as it tends to do. i came, i saw, i worked, i left exhausted and itchy (metaphorically speaking). as much as this back-and-forth suits my personality, every time i arrive back in spain i go through this cycle of introspection: what am i doing here, will i know when it is time for a change, am i just spinning my wheels, etc.

you may recall, i've vented this before. this is always brought on by people asking me if i'm excited to come back. and i never really am, but i don't notice until i'm asked. it's not that i'm not excited, it's just that the realization that i'm not particularly excited throws me for a loop.

so, i have a pattern. that's ok, right? better than to be stuck in a rut? or am i in a rut, just one that involves alot of intercontinental flights?

meanwhile i've deemed 2007 the year of the cleanse. more on that later.

i will now resume posting as promised, more or less daily.

today's question: my 30th birthday is on easter this year. should i, as a friend suggested, create a burning christ effigy on my terrace to celebrate? just wondering....

i haven't forgotten

greetings from u.s. and a.

the posts around here have been spare -- a comment on my new york life perhaps? no time for reflection...mornings rudely interrupted by the alarm clock, days spent toiling hour by hour at a desk, evenings find me avoiding computer contact at all cost.

the upside is that every time i come back to new york i find myself appreciating the (my) spanish lifestyle with a newfound vigor. yet somehow it simultaneously feels extremely vital to be here, as if i am anxiously catching up on things that i've missed.

it suits me to live this balance, however. transitioning back and forth between madrid and new york, between my serious and non-serious jobs, between the two lifestyles, enforces the choices i've made and calms my internal jitterbug that, without so much movement, would flare up and require another actual move -- the type that requires forwarding addresses etc. so i hope you'll excuse me the lack of writing for the time being.

and i will return to my (semi)-regular posting schedule as of january 14.

happy hanukkah

most years i have made the traditional potato latkes with my dad. the making is a tradition in itself, the ceremonial changing of shirts - me wearing one of my dad's big t-shirts - the swathing of the kitchen in aluminum foil, the scrubbing of the potatoes.

and the conversation is also ritual. we discuss whether or not to peel the potatoes, we comment that the meal is so unhealthy - unlike spaniards we don't keep a deep fryer on our kitchen counter, this is a special occaison. but, we say, it's just once a year. then the stories, how as a child aunt joan used to eat fifty latkes by herself when my grandfather would make them. my aunts and father would eat them fresh off the stove, as fast as they were made.

and the grating of the potatoes. every year as we toss the potatoes and onions into the cuisinart we harken back to the days of hand grating, every memory exaggerated by the continued retelling. papa would spend hours, hours! grating those potatoes by hand.

so it was that this year i thought about my grandfather and his toils as we hand-grated the 3kilos of potatoes for our hanukkah party in madrid - no cuisinart i'm sorry to say. but here's a secret: between you me and papa, the hand grating really isn't that bad.

related: my friend joie wrote an op-ed piece about anti-semitism in iran. check it out.

bullets

i've been busy. i'll be back in the u.s. and a. in five days. meanwhile, here's a hasty update on what has been catching my eye (and ears)

reading:

• happy hanukkah: why are american jews so funny?
• related: circumcision makes straight men less prone to AIDS. in my pros and cons list, america just scored one under "pro"
  
• wine and yoga: obviously
• the new yorker examines the office
• the economist's year in 2007 issue. i'll summarize it for you: we're screwed.
• best of 2006 lists (all over the place)
  

listening:

• are we not horses (rock plaza central)
• beast moans (swan lake)
  
• the crane wife (the decemberists)
  

watching:

• slap shot
• operacion triunfo
• justin on snl: hottness!

i'll be stateside from dec. 22-jan. 13, between framingham, martha's vineyard and new york. let me know if you'll be around.

bev

slate takes a moment to reflect on the "revolutionary" genius that was beverly hills, 90210 with the release of its first season on dvd. as you probably already know, i was a huge fan of bev, from its beginnings when i was in junior high to the later years, when i was a senior in college. although most critics would disagree, i dare to say that the show got better with age, like a fine wine. say what you will about friends, or dawson's creek, or any of the other shows that purported to speak to our generation, bev was the original: the clothes, the hair, the angst, the musical guests, david silver.

not to mention the earnest parade of teen issues through every episode. for example, in the first season alone there was "shoplifting, long distance relationships, language barriers with your Hispanic maid, cheating, drugs, adultery, AIDS, teen pregnancy, sex ed in schools, breast cancer, fear of heights, date rape, and affirmative action." fear of heights?! this shit was real! (that episode rocked)

and that's just in the first 22 episodes! off the top of my head, future seasons wrestled with such themes as diet pills, underage drinking, gun control, gambling addiction, cutting, corruption, murder, drunk driving, heroin, cocaine, crystal meth, LSD-spiked punch, stalkers, lesbians, lesbian stalkers, regular (non-date) rape, abusive relationships, bulemia, and about fifty donna martin haircuts that stung the eyes.

but to look at this, it seemed like one big dance party.

and by the way, that's why i love slate. they're not afraid to get a little lowbrow and throw bev on their front page and call it revolutionary, without a touch of irony.

surf's up in cleveland

they surf in cleveland. cleveland? i didn't even quite realize it had beachfront. here's a map to help. well, looky there, right on the shores of lake erie.

and, they have a metro system! check it out:















and, this site has maps of subway systems all around the world, convenient!

ok, i digress. where was i? oh yeah, surfing in cleveland. take it from one of the dedicated few, who rather proudly claims "surfing lake erie is basically disgusting." brown water, twenty degree temperatures, freezing rain and snow, ice chunks the size of bowling balls, these are just some of the attractions of cleveland's beaches. but wait, there's more! the most popular spot, nicknamed sewer pipe, has a beach littered with used syringes and condoms and the water floods with untreated waste from a nearby water treatment plant.

the locals want to keep their surf spots secret, harkening back to the surf culture of the mid-twentieth century when surfing was a "renegade sport of social misfits." somehow, i don't think they'll find too many crowds at sewer pipe.

unrelated: a long-held superstition is proven: apparently wearing a helmet in new york city makes bicylists more prone to accidents.

aqueduct

this weekend is an aqueduct...three days appended to the usual two. despite my fiercest intentions to leave town, here i remain in madrid. if only i could relive the following weekends:

• 1996, lake powell, utah: a broken tooth, a trip out of town, a suite at the hilton. a much-needed change of scenery and re-entry to the "real world." a drive through the desert in the light of dawn, racing toward the ferry, shiny new tooth and weekend complete.
• 1998, long beach island, new jersey: a typical new york weekend away from dartmouth resuted in a beachy vacation on the jersey shore. i remember asbury park, batting cages and a perfect burger. for the unfortunate landlocked, any contact with the beach is a bonus, no matter the company or the weather.
  
• 2003, atlantic city, ny: a spontaneous roadtrip, we were homesick for our westcost casino options and sought shelter in south jersey. after much trolling and much disappointment it was the lounge at harrods that scratched the itch. normally, ice-laden beer taps would be but a novelty, but combined with the wiley matchstick bar tricks of our trusty server there was undeniable magic in the air.
  
• 2005, denmark. we went to gabe's wedding, only to find out that it wasn't so much a wedding as a luncheon. but no matter, sky and i had been to copenhagen before so we didn't mind the sojourn into the danish countryside. a four-hour train ride from the airport and we arrived in the middle of nowhere with snow falling and nobody to pick us up, the train emptied and everybody else hastened off into their cars while we stood in the dark night waiting. there is the moment when you realize nobody is coming, and you drag your rolling suitcase into town, find a phone and call gabe. hours later all was well, we were among friends and subject to the best non-wedding lunch in western europe. then days of finicky weather, danish country culture, gabe's offspring and levys galore. all in all, a memorable weekend.
• 2006, portugal. one year ago, to the date. another random roadtrip, a journey that ended on the white-sand beaches of portugal, warm in the dead of winter. we soaked in the beach villages, collected shells, revelled in the simplicity of a peaceful weekend away. at night there were three chiringuitos on the beach, one was full of guitar-playing hippies who were somehow intimidating. yet, we made our way in and moments later i was strumming and ariel was singing: joni mitchell. the night fishermen came in for their espresso, we had a few port wines and headed back to the guesthouse, opening the oven to warm ourselves up. do you remember portugal? can a weekend be more idyllic?

today's question: how much can you squeeze out of a weekend? is a weekend time to rest or to rage?

lunacy

so we're going to be putting people on the moon again. that's nice. call me when i have health care.

i mean, it's bad enough that we're supporting a useless space station. and it's not like our government has money to burn. could there be a more frivolous waste of money? how would you feel reading this if you lived in new orleans? we can't build a simple levy but we need to permanently install people on the moon?

am i the only one who pictures george bush like a little kid playing with his space-themed legos?

being american is ridiculous sometimes. one small step backwards...

love in the time of nostalgia

another story about games, but this time it's board games. they meet, they play monopoly in bed, they always guess 'secretariat' in original trivial pursuit, they agree that sorry is overrated. could it be love?

but then trouble sets in. can a couple who can't play (taboo) together stay together? oh, the embarassment, as all the other couples effortlessly read each others' minds! the relationship comes to a breaking point over a game of scrabble. it could be solved by simply consulting a dictionary, but the truth is, it's about so much more than whether 'beeatch' is a word.

yet when all hope was lost it was the brusquely-spinning wheel of life at a family christmas party that brought them back together, made them see through their differences. and because this is a fable, we chuckle at the unsubtle irony of it all and sigh at the inevitable simplicity of yet another story about love and christmas.

or just chalk it up to that nobody wants to be single during the holidays.

humbugism

i've been thinking about gifts lately, as it is that inevitable time of the year again. the obligatory buying of gifts in december is one of the most dreaded traditions of the western world, in my humble opinion.

well, one of the top fifty most dreaded at least.

one of the best gifts i've gotten in the last few years has been an international subscription to the new yorker. maybe it's that i get less mail here, or maybe its just nice to have such a juicy package of high-quality english to read every week, or perhaps i'm just another pretentious new yorker reader who would equate the lack of said subscription with a crime against humanity. but meanwhile there have been some great articles lately.

here, from the financial page, is a quick analysis of the video game industry, pegging nintendo as a successful third place to sony and microsoft. did you know that playstation loses $240 on the sale of each $650 ps3?

then there was the incredible piece on the rise and fall of donald rumsfeld, how he reformed the military after what was apparently a confidence crisis following the clinton administration, rose to power, kept his blinders on to the counterinsurgency in iraq, and finally got shitcanned. fascinating read.

and a beautiful profile of olafur eliasson (excerpt here), the icelandic artist and former breakdancing champion of scandanavia who will have shows next year at sfmoma and ps1. yesterday i saw one of his pieces in the louis vuitton store in madrid, a giant reflective eye. i stood and looked for ten minutes, interacting as intended.

today's question: new yorker, love it or hate it?

december is here

and i'm finished. clocking in at 67,926 words and 124 pages, my novel is done. i haven't so much as read a paragraph of it yet, while writing i let the forward momentum propel it along, afraid of psyching myself out by actually reading it. i'm going to let it rest for a couple of days and then start from the beginning.

what an amazing project, i recommend it to anyone with a little bit of free time and a desire for a quick confidence boost. it's one of the most self-indulging things you can do, create an entire world of your own, be the puppetmaster, fill these characters' lives with words and events. i'm not sure if it's good, but it was good for me.

i started with a big story in my head and the end result is a very pared down version of that. what's it about? it's about an inner struggle catalyzed by a recurring dream. maybe you can read it, but i need to read it first.