Spring has arrived to southern Spain. We've got temps in the 70s, lots of sun. The dark house is light once again. On the weekends, the strip of grass in front of the river is crowded with young people (does it mean you're old when you start referring to 18-25 year olds as "young"?)...They are out, scantily clad, the males riding their vespas past the females, guitars, and lots of rum and coke...This all looks fine, but later, they come stumbling home by my house, screaming and breaking bottles and often vomiting outside my door....
One things I won't miss in Spain. Well, 3 things, actually: garbage in the street, dog shit in the street and passing vomit on my way to gatitos school.
Why live here? This past weekend, we rented a car and went out with the Danish friends to explore the countryside. We visited 3 sets of Roman ruins, one right next to the beach with columns and statues and a salting factory where they salted the tuna and made garum....a delicatessen condiment made from fish guts and other things. Apparently, this stuff was more expensive than caviar. I love walking the old Roman streets, smelling the rosemary that has been planted there and imagining Trajan and Hadrian who were born and lived in these places. In so many ways...so little has changed: people live, eat, die, fall in love, out of love, empires rise and fall....(odd to think we're on the downturn of our own empire right now.....what will they say of the USA people 2000 years from now?)
Sunday, March 4, 2007
Saturday, February 17, 2007
Suffering the Consequences
Gatito finally got me to rent rollerblades! Once I had them on I was a lot less sure about the plan than before I put them on, but away we went on the not-so-smooth Spanish sidewalks. He, of course, is a little pro and he was able to give me pointers:
"The first time, is hard. The second is easier. After that, you'll get really good like me."
So, we skated around the 'route' he'd invented for us and when we passed by one of many half-dead caterpillars trying to cross the sidewalk, gatito says, "That caterpillar is suffering the consequences of the end of life." He then explained to me is the same as "suffering the consequences of the end of the game."
So there I have it. Philosophy from gatito!
"The first time, is hard. The second is easier. After that, you'll get really good like me."
So, we skated around the 'route' he'd invented for us and when we passed by one of many half-dead caterpillars trying to cross the sidewalk, gatito says, "That caterpillar is suffering the consequences of the end of life." He then explained to me is the same as "suffering the consequences of the end of the game."
So there I have it. Philosophy from gatito!
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
No Basketball Stars in This Family!
Back from Paris, one thing jumped out at me. Gatito's friend Javier grew about 3 cm while I was gone. Gatito did not. He is even more dwarfed by every single one of his classmates. This isn't a little dwarfing. What's an already obsessive mother to do? Start worrying. Call the retired pediatrician grandfather. Email Dr. Bell, read up on the internet, finally buy a tape measure.
I mean, Gatito's always been small. Born average, he fell off the average curve and dropped to 10% and sort of stayed there (except for the times he's dipped into 3%). I'm getting projected final heights of 5.4.
Dr. Lou says, "Short parents; short kid". Bone scan at age 3 was normal. I don't want to fall into the appearances trap....looks ain't or shouldn't be everything, but still, a man of 5.3 or 5.4 just simply has a tougher time of it.
The good news. He is growing (2 cm since October). More important: He's happy, smart, healthy, not bothered by size.
Dr. Jenny to the rescue. She says it's just too early to know. And, if need be, therapy looks like a good option. "Safer than a lot of what we do," but in any case, it's too early to "do" anything. So, we're supposed to sit back, relax and wait.
Tomorrow: rollerblading!
I mean, Gatito's always been small. Born average, he fell off the average curve and dropped to 10% and sort of stayed there (except for the times he's dipped into 3%). I'm getting projected final heights of 5.4.
Dr. Lou says, "Short parents; short kid". Bone scan at age 3 was normal. I don't want to fall into the appearances trap....looks ain't or shouldn't be everything, but still, a man of 5.3 or 5.4 just simply has a tougher time of it.
The good news. He is growing (2 cm since October). More important: He's happy, smart, healthy, not bothered by size.
Dr. Jenny to the rescue. She says it's just too early to know. And, if need be, therapy looks like a good option. "Safer than a lot of what we do," but in any case, it's too early to "do" anything. So, we're supposed to sit back, relax and wait.
Tomorrow: rollerblading!
Friday, February 9, 2007
Hotel Sylvia
The up-side of sabbatical (is there a down-side you ask....well, no, actually, there isn't). The up-side of things generally already "up" is the visit of friends to said sabbatical location. We've been particularly lucky. The year was started off by a visit by my Danish host-brother. He was 11 when I lived with his family (I was 18) and well, he was cute, but also annoying..more than once grabbing the lunch I'd prepared off my plate! I know, not a real offense, but I was 18 and everything is annoying at that age. I really didn't know him and when I saw him again in 1998, he was busy and we still didn't meet as adults. But here he was arriving to Sevilla, a full-grown man, interesting and fun and a Danish designer to boot. We had a wonderful time. After Jorn (cross that o with a null sign for correctness), we had Laura and Pachi our Spanish friends, followed by Gene and Janis (almost Trianeros themselves) and also a couple of nice evenings with the infamous, fearless herpetologist Norm Scott and his wife, Joan.
Christmas brought the much-awaited Lynn, Jason and Ross and well, we've already talked about how GREAT that was (also how much I paid for it in liver and thigh size, but no money to eat in Paris solved that).
Now that the new year has turned, we've gotten to see Lynn Loveless, a biologist friend of Don's for the past 30 years. With Lynn we got to explore Italica, the Roman ruins right outside of Sevilla where Hadrian and Trajan were born... one of the largest amphitheaters still around--think 25,000 seats and lion dens below and Cordoba, with the best kept mosque from 1000ad times, hundred of red and white brick arches with a bonafide Catholic church plunked into the middle where I kept thinking, "man, this would be a great place for a yoga class."
We now await the arrival of Leif and Kirsten, my Danish host-parents, on Tuesday...to be followed shortly thereafter by, Mor Mor and Bio (my parents) and then Laura again, and then Jacob (18 year old filmmaker son of my friend Ruth) and then Jessica, coming under the auspices of 'graduate student doing field work with Don'...but really, I'm more looking forward to great company & conversation, and then John and Carola for a quick night of tapas, flamenco and who knows what else?, and then Stephanie & Alessandra down from Paris for their both birthday weekends and then (HOPEFULLY) Fabio from Italy and then quite possibly Marc and Noah from Boston.
Sound crazy to you? Not at all to me. I feel only lucky. Lucky because all of these people bring energy and life and wisdom and laughter and on top of it all, they know me. So, when I disappear for a time-alone-nap, no one bats an eye. They go off and entertain themselves, come back with interesting wines to drink, cheeses to nibble, wait for me to wake up and get out into the Spanish night.
I ain't complaining 'bout nothing, as the Don would say, and hey, there are still some weekends unbooked, so if you've got a frequent flyer ticket, here's the address. Rodrigo de Triana 87. Clean beds are waiting and there's a pretty damn good cook in the kitchen.
Christmas brought the much-awaited Lynn, Jason and Ross and well, we've already talked about how GREAT that was (also how much I paid for it in liver and thigh size, but no money to eat in Paris solved that).
Now that the new year has turned, we've gotten to see Lynn Loveless, a biologist friend of Don's for the past 30 years. With Lynn we got to explore Italica, the Roman ruins right outside of Sevilla where Hadrian and Trajan were born... one of the largest amphitheaters still around--think 25,000 seats and lion dens below and Cordoba, with the best kept mosque from 1000ad times, hundred of red and white brick arches with a bonafide Catholic church plunked into the middle where I kept thinking, "man, this would be a great place for a yoga class."
We now await the arrival of Leif and Kirsten, my Danish host-parents, on Tuesday...to be followed shortly thereafter by, Mor Mor and Bio (my parents) and then Laura again, and then Jacob (18 year old filmmaker son of my friend Ruth) and then Jessica, coming under the auspices of 'graduate student doing field work with Don'...but really, I'm more looking forward to great company & conversation, and then John and Carola for a quick night of tapas, flamenco and who knows what else?, and then Stephanie & Alessandra down from Paris for their both birthday weekends and then (HOPEFULLY) Fabio from Italy and then quite possibly Marc and Noah from Boston.
Sound crazy to you? Not at all to me. I feel only lucky. Lucky because all of these people bring energy and life and wisdom and laughter and on top of it all, they know me. So, when I disappear for a time-alone-nap, no one bats an eye. They go off and entertain themselves, come back with interesting wines to drink, cheeses to nibble, wait for me to wake up and get out into the Spanish night.
I ain't complaining 'bout nothing, as the Don would say, and hey, there are still some weekends unbooked, so if you've got a frequent flyer ticket, here's the address. Rodrigo de Triana 87. Clean beds are waiting and there's a pretty damn good cook in the kitchen.
Thursday, February 1, 2007
Andalucia Once More
Leaving Paris wasn't so hard after all. In the last days, I became anxious to see el gatito again and hear him chatter about life and legos (really what else is there? He is now calling Spanish toy stores by himself to ask whether they have 'numero 9200?' Obviously, El Don can't or won't do it...and so motivation makes the world go round). I must say in the last days, the gray Parisian sky, the misty rain, the blaring of gendarmes horns lost its charm.
Yesterday, I rolled my big black suitcase down to the metro at Bastille, managed to carry it down the steps, force it through the turnstall and get it onto an overflowing metro, but of course, when I got to the first of two change points, there were steps. LOTS of steps. And here I was, trying to leave the city looking chic....dress and boots. But of course, there is always a knight who comes along, isn't there? This time in the form of a handsome, well-muscled African man who kindly carried my bag down all flights of stairs, smiled and wished me Bon Voyage....
As the plane landed (15 mintues early) in Sevilla, I felt myself coming home again...and what a homecoming it was. El gatito, with friend, Javier, had, in the last hours I am assured, torn the otherwise clean and orderly house apart. Pillows, legos, blankets, stuffed animals everywhere. Where was El Don you ask? Where else? In the kitchen with his biologist friend, Lynn, just in from Hamburg, drinking wine and talking science.
El Gatito: "Mommy, tomorrow I'm going to clean EVERYTHING!"
And so today, I make the strange and natural transition back to domestic life. I am mother once more, already being told that homework can be postponed, that he doesn't want to go with us to Italica or Cordoba on the weekend, etc. El Don is glad I'm back. Competent alone with gatito for a month? Absolutely. Tired? Definitely. We'll see if I can pick up some slack before I try to draft out MY yearly marital review!
Yesterday, I rolled my big black suitcase down to the metro at Bastille, managed to carry it down the steps, force it through the turnstall and get it onto an overflowing metro, but of course, when I got to the first of two change points, there were steps. LOTS of steps. And here I was, trying to leave the city looking chic....dress and boots. But of course, there is always a knight who comes along, isn't there? This time in the form of a handsome, well-muscled African man who kindly carried my bag down all flights of stairs, smiled and wished me Bon Voyage....
As the plane landed (15 mintues early) in Sevilla, I felt myself coming home again...and what a homecoming it was. El gatito, with friend, Javier, had, in the last hours I am assured, torn the otherwise clean and orderly house apart. Pillows, legos, blankets, stuffed animals everywhere. Where was El Don you ask? Where else? In the kitchen with his biologist friend, Lynn, just in from Hamburg, drinking wine and talking science.
El Gatito: "Mommy, tomorrow I'm going to clean EVERYTHING!"
And so today, I make the strange and natural transition back to domestic life. I am mother once more, already being told that homework can be postponed, that he doesn't want to go with us to Italica or Cordoba on the weekend, etc. El Don is glad I'm back. Competent alone with gatito for a month? Absolutely. Tired? Definitely. We'll see if I can pick up some slack before I try to draft out MY yearly marital review!
Sunday, January 21, 2007
Paris in the Winter
It's Sunday and I'm again in the Falstaff Bar...thinking how sad it is that I only have about 9 days left in Paris, but then again, it also means that I get to see gatito and el Don soon. Besides, I'm already coming up with a plan to return avec famille for 6 months! (unbeknownst to them).
Intensive language courses work. I am understanding more, and making mistakes-- such as telling people where I live when they really asked how long I'll be in Paris--much less often.
The best part of this time, though, is friends. I've got to be the luckiest lady on earth. Dinners with Judy and family, shopping with Judy at the haute couture Bon Marche where I did NOT buy the gorgeous skirt for 300 euros (on sale, half price, or was the 600 euros the half price?! We weren't sure), dinners with Stephanie and friends in which we speak Spanish (but could just as well speak English because they all speak that too). In fact, last night we were out and I understood that one man was from Great Britain but really he was from Brittany...and since we were all speaking Spanish and then I heard him speak to the German woman in German and then he spoke also some English (he lives in Canada), when he finally was speaking to Stephanie, I said, "Shit, this guy is really good. He sounds so native." So I ask him where/when he learned French and of course everyone burst out laughing.
This week the agenda is: the picasso museum, the D'Orsay, more avoiding of Marc (the frenchman who keeps calling me) and Caberet on Thursday, more french blunders.
The writing, you ask? Hemingway inspiration? Don't. It just isn't happening. I wish I could just give up this urge to write altogether, but of course when gatito overheard me tell the Don that, he said, "Why mommy? I can't WAIT to read your new book!"
Intensive language courses work. I am understanding more, and making mistakes-- such as telling people where I live when they really asked how long I'll be in Paris--much less often.
The best part of this time, though, is friends. I've got to be the luckiest lady on earth. Dinners with Judy and family, shopping with Judy at the haute couture Bon Marche where I did NOT buy the gorgeous skirt for 300 euros (on sale, half price, or was the 600 euros the half price?! We weren't sure), dinners with Stephanie and friends in which we speak Spanish (but could just as well speak English because they all speak that too). In fact, last night we were out and I understood that one man was from Great Britain but really he was from Brittany...and since we were all speaking Spanish and then I heard him speak to the German woman in German and then he spoke also some English (he lives in Canada), when he finally was speaking to Stephanie, I said, "Shit, this guy is really good. He sounds so native." So I ask him where/when he learned French and of course everyone burst out laughing.
This week the agenda is: the picasso museum, the D'Orsay, more avoiding of Marc (the frenchman who keeps calling me) and Caberet on Thursday, more french blunders.
The writing, you ask? Hemingway inspiration? Don't. It just isn't happening. I wish I could just give up this urge to write altogether, but of course when gatito overheard me tell the Don that, he said, "Why mommy? I can't WAIT to read your new book!"
Sunday, January 7, 2007
Sevilla-Barcelona-Paris
What can I say??? We had a fabulous time with friends for Christmas in Sevilla, lots of amazing good food cooked by The Don. Then, we jetted off to Barcelona where we stayed in a prime-location apartment, ate MORE good food (cooked again by The Don...in case you're wondering it was fish stew catalan style and then duck for new year's eve). The city, though, was crowded. Italians like the plague. French a close second. Everything Gaudi was over-run. I've decided the city would be NOTHING if not for Gaudi. He brings in thousands, probably millions of tourists per year and think of all those tourist euros.
La Sagrada Familia: Gatito said, "This church is impossible." I would have to agree. He has decided to return in exactly 50 years when he is The Don's age to see if it's done.
Now, here I sit in nothing less than the Falstaff cafe next to the Bastille. They have free internet (for 30 min), but my espresso cost 3.20 euros (that would be $4.00), but then again, what does a stupid Starbuck's in SLC cost? And all you get is a paper cup, no Parisians smoking at the next table saying "oui oui" (at least this is mostly what I understand them saying), no Bastille or guillotene history, AND no free wifi! Besides, I WANT to be in Paris drinking expensive coffee.
Tomorrow I start THE FRENCH COURSE (Time out: I just saw a small mouse run across the floor in the outdoor part (but enclosed) of the cafe). Soon I will say more than bonjour and oui oui.
Met up with ma amie, Stephanie, yesterday. She speaks English like a native; then we went to meet another friend, Alexandra. They began in Italian; When Alexandra realized I couldn't understand she switched to French saying Do you prefer French or do you speak Italian? Then she tried in Spanish and finally realized English would work best. (Stephanie, of course, speaks ALL of these languages beautifully). Okay, so much for my linguistic envy.
A bientot mon amis!!!
La Sagrada Familia: Gatito said, "This church is impossible." I would have to agree. He has decided to return in exactly 50 years when he is The Don's age to see if it's done.
Now, here I sit in nothing less than the Falstaff cafe next to the Bastille. They have free internet (for 30 min), but my espresso cost 3.20 euros (that would be $4.00), but then again, what does a stupid Starbuck's in SLC cost? And all you get is a paper cup, no Parisians smoking at the next table saying "oui oui" (at least this is mostly what I understand them saying), no Bastille or guillotene history, AND no free wifi! Besides, I WANT to be in Paris drinking expensive coffee.
Tomorrow I start THE FRENCH COURSE (Time out: I just saw a small mouse run across the floor in the outdoor part (but enclosed) of the cafe). Soon I will say more than bonjour and oui oui.
Met up with ma amie, Stephanie, yesterday. She speaks English like a native; then we went to meet another friend, Alexandra. They began in Italian; When Alexandra realized I couldn't understand she switched to French saying Do you prefer French or do you speak Italian? Then she tried in Spanish and finally realized English would work best. (Stephanie, of course, speaks ALL of these languages beautifully). Okay, so much for my linguistic envy.
A bientot mon amis!!!
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