October 2007 Archives

easyJet really is easy. And CHEAP too!

I just got back from a few days visiting family in Geneva, Switzerland and flew easyJet for the first time. I was a little uneasy not knowing "how to do it" but learned quickly enough.

My reservations were booked a month in advance online - of course. The total price, after taxes, etcetera, was nearly 64 Euros. Oh, that's ROUND TRIP travel total! Incredible, isn't it! easyJet charges extra for everything over the base price. They allow one carry-on bag. More bags cost 6 Euros extra per bag, I believe. They charge extra for checked luggage too. They charge for drinks, snacks, and goods on the plane as well. There's no movie but they do provide their in-flight magazine which I found entertaining.

I arrived at Madrid Barajas Airport about an hour early for my 9am flight. There was a lonnnnnng line inside for some check-in counter but it wasn't for easyJet - NOT that it mattered to me because I was traveling super-light. Having ONLY my one carry-on bag and having already printed out my boarding pass a couple days earlier, I was able to go STRAIGHT to the security checkpoint. To my wonderful surprise there was only about 4 people in line. Woo Hoo! They stamped my passport and I walked through easily having only to take off my belt and not my shoes this time.

I have an hour to kill so I go to the duty free shop in Madrid Barajas to get some Spanish gifts for family members. I buy tins of Chupa Chups suckers/lollipops for the kids, polverones and Spanish dark chocolates for the adults. I'd hoped to buy some Spanish nuts (that is, Nuts from SPAIN - not "Spanish Nuts" as we have them in the United States) but all I could find were nuts bagged and marketed by EAGLE NUTS - an American brand, so I passed on those. The Chupa Chups were founded in Barcelona but now are an Italian-owned company.

So with my gifts bought and in their Duty Free bag, I head to the mens restroom. Hmmmm.. It's closed for cleaning with the yellow cleaning-crew cart parked in its entrance. Hmph. Fine. I'll go to the other one. So I walk to the other mens restroom at the other end of the terminal - and &^%!* it's closed for cleaning TOO?!?!!?!? SonsOfB******!! You'd think they'd clean one restroom at a time, right? Or at least clean ONE SEX restroom and then the other. Okay. I walk BACK to the first restroom and they're finished. Finally. And what is it about Madrid Barajas restrooms? They're always so hot! What is this, a Turkish Bathhouse? I CERTAINLY HOPE NOT!! I'm ONLY HERE TO DO ONE THING - and it's NOT THAT!

Boarding for the easyJet airplane begins shortly, about 25 minutes before takeoff. Since I'd printed out my boarding pass beforehand I have the paper in my hand. They call for those who've paid about 4 Euros for advanced boarding and about 6 people went through. Now they call "GROUP A" - which is me. I hand my sheet to the attendant and she gives me an actual boarding pass tear-off. There are no assigned seats on easyJet planes so I choose an aisle seat (my preferred seat) just past the wings on the righthand side. After stuffing my carry-on bag in the overhead compartment I take a seat. Hmmm.. This is pretty nice! I watch the remaining passengers, including those who were in "GROUP B" (presumably those whom did not print out their boarding pass?? or is it a random designation? No idea), boarding the plane. At the end the plane is about 1/3 full, all passengers sitting in their window or aisle seats and nearly no one in the middle seats. It's a 3-by-3 configuration on this easyJet airbus airplane.

I look around me as we taxi for takeoff and get our instructions from the flight crew. Passengers on this plane are mixed. There are Spaniards, Swiss (or maybe French - speaking French), and some English too. In about 15 minutes we take off. Smooth. I have no one sitting next to me in my 3-seat configuration so I crane my still-slightly-sore-neck out the window, trying to see Madrid as we takeoff.

Since this is my first time on easyJet I wonder about the details of the flight and the service. Once we level off and the captain turns off the seatbelt light and people make their dash to the restrooms (clean and "normal", by the way), the flight attendants bring the coffee-and-snacks cart down the aisle. I watch carefully to see how its done. To no surprise, I watch them ask one, then another, then another passenger if they'd like coffee. Most say no but some say no. Then they pour the coffee and hand it to the passenger. It's at this point that the flight attendant says, "That'll be 2 Euros," and the expression on the face of the passenger is often the same, "What? I have to pay for this?" Yup. You pay for everything on easyJet flights. THAT'S how they keep their prices low. It's a No-Frills airline. I passed on the coffee since it's only a 1 hour and 45 minute flight to Geneva Airport.

The flight is easy, typical, and fast. I read the magazine and carefully look over the flight destinations from Madrid. Wow! They go to Paris, Majorca, Ibiza, Edinburgh, and the Canary Islands! They DON'T flight, however, directly to Barcelona.

WHAT INCREDIBLE VIEWS of Switzerland as we were flying over the country. The snow-capped mountains, the greenery, the scattered clusters of villages. It was mostly clear skies until got near the airport. Then the airplane turned left towards the clouds and towards a "V" in the mountains. I was a bit nervous as we flew through the thick clouds.

The landing at Geneva Airport is easy as is the check-through customs. I swear, I've never seen such blatant DISREGARD for my passport before! I'm walking towards the guy in the passport control booth, still about a 2-feet away, he glances at it from that 2-foot distance and simply waves me through. No computer check. No passport stamp. Nuttin'! It was the same going back through passport control when I return to Madrid via the Geneva Airport. EXACTLY the same. A quick glance from a distance and then the wave-through.

Visiting the family is always nice. We entertained ourselves with at-home meals, late night movies and French wine, playing with the kids, and catching up on what's happened since the last visit. We went to a large grocery store and marveled at the kinds of foods they sell (and HOW they package it), went bowling with the kids (VERY popular there!), went to the local café for locally produced white and red wines, and took walks in the village where they live, about 20 minutes from the city of Geneva, Switzerland.

Something I noticed while there was that all the people in the service industry WERE SWISS!! How UNLIKE Spain. I was told that a law was passed years ago that required businesses to pay their service-industry employees a much higher salary and to OUTLAW TIPS! Wow! WHAT A GREAT IDEA! I'd vote for that! But for this reason, at least in part, everything in Switzerland is so much more expensive.

The return easyJet flight experience was equally as easy. Having my boarding pass in hand, got waved through the passport security checkpoint, and walked to the stand-alone easyJet terminal which had about 5-gates. One flight went to Madrid, another to Barcelona, and the others were in-waiting. They had ONE restroom for each sex.

LOTS of Spaniards going to (or back to) Spain on this flight. I was, again, in Group A and the instructions at the gate were given in English and in French - BUT NOT IN SPANISH, so all the waiting Spaniards were a bit confused. I asked a few in a huge group queuing to board if they had tickets in "GRUPO A" and they said no and backed up a bit while I passed through. The flight back was a bit faster and I sat just a bit further back, the flight more full than before. Again, I took an aisle seat and to my luck no one sat in the window seat so I was able to switch seats as we neared Madrid to get a GREAT view of the landscape.

Then landing in Madrid Airport. Ahhh.. What a wonderful feeling that always is to me. The flight took just 1 hour and 27 minutes. Fast! We all grabbed our backs once the airplane came to a complete stop and the seatbelt sign was turned off. Then we wait. Upon getting off the airplane I started my watch's stopwatch function as I wanted to see how long it would take to get home. Luckily, there was almost no line at passport control and waited about 3 minutes or less. Here, they carefully checked my passport and gave me the passport stamp. Since I had no luggage to pickup I walked directly out of the baggage claim area, through the "Nada de Declarar"/"Nothing to Declare" doors as the Guardia Civil guard eyeballed me and everyone. Now to the metro.

Here's where the effort takes place. I've got my one roller bag suitcase and my coat tied around the handle. I walk and walk and walk towards the sign for the metro. Took me a good 20 minutes to get to the metro where I passed my metroBus ticket into the machine. Hmmm.. It didn't work. Tried another machine. ERROR, it said. So I went to the metro window and told them it didn't work. To that, that attendant told me I had to pay a supplement of 1 Euro (per person - just me) for the metro from the airport. Hmmm.. I thought that was ONLY for the new Terminal 4. Nope. I now remember. It's now for all terminals. Hmph. I've done this so many times in the past few years without having to pay the supplement. Fine. I pull back and dig out my wallet from my rollerbag and get back in line to pay the supplement. She takes my 1 Euro coin and ticket, runs the ticket through her machine, and gives it back to me. Then it magically passes through the metro pass-through machine and I pull my bag through behind me.

I get onto the metro with few others but still have to stand with my bag in the middle of the metro car. At every stop more people board the metro train car. I change at the metro line's end-line, Nuevos Ministerios, and get on the next line, line 10, with A LOT of other people. I change once more to take me to the OPERA station where I leave the metro station and then wait for my bus which takes me to my building. I lug my suitcase to the 4th floor (or 5th floor in USA terms) and check my watch. Ha! The whole airplane-to-home trip takes the same amount of time as the flight from Geneva to Madrid! 1 hour 27 minutes.

I'M HOME! And happy to be here. I turn on gas and the water too and go to wash my hands after so much public transportation (a habit of mine). Lo and behold THERE'S NO WATER!!! I ask the neighbors and no one has water! They've asked at the bar downstairs and no one in the area has water. I wash my hands with some bottled water from the refrigerator. That night, last night, I don't wash up for bed and don't brush my teeth because the water's still off. So Welcome F'in Home to ME!

Next morning, this morning, the water's back on and all's normal - for now. It's so great to be back in Madrid, Spain.

The last several days I've been a pain in the neck - to myself!

Sunday night, a few hours after returning from Porto, Portugal I was washing up for bed, tilted my head back, and POW! A shooting pain went through my neck. It was as if I'd been stabbed with an icepick.

That night I didn't sleep much as you can imagine, every change in position made me moan in agonizing pain. Man, that was bad. Day by day it got a little better but still decided to keep a Wednesday noon appointment at the local physical therapy center. It was worth a try. I went, paid my 33€ for the hour-long painless massage, and left feeling exactly as I did when I arrived. The therapist offered no suggestion or recommendation as to the possible problem; a pinched nerve, a muscle strain, or a mental condition. hehehe...

Now, Thursday afternoon, I feel a little better but haven't had the "ganas" to go back to the gym - although I could - and should. Maybe tomorrow morning if I feel just a little bit better. At least now I can almost turn my head to the points of my shoulders before feeling any pain. Someone suggested I go instead of a chiropractor but the whole concept scares me. I thought a neck massage was going to be painful but it wasn't. I can almost guarantee a torturous experience at a chiropractor! But maybe that's what I need.

My my subconscious was hoping to ease my neck pain a bit because I stopped in 3 neighborhood bars for a caña and free tapa before lunch on my way home. One of these three bars gave me TWO free tapas; one plate of olives and a 2 croquetas. The second bar gave two peel-and-eat shrimps. And the third bar gave two potato halves covered in bravas sauce. Mmmm... Each of the three bars charged just 1.10€ for the glass of beer. A good price. Two of these three bars were new to me and I'd always wanted to stop in and see how they were from inside. As expected, they were typically old fashioned (1970s style). Few people were inside due to the lunch hour and thought I'd take the opportunity. So to pass the time I sat at the bar with my beer and tapa and grabbed the nearby AS or MARCA sports newspapers - but they're mainly soccer newspapers - which are always lying around in these bars. You rarely get a daily news newspaper, just sports.

Afterwards, back home, already feeling sleepy, and make a light lunch and lay down on the sofa for a short siesta. Nice. This is the life.

The thing about living in Europe is that everything, everything in Europe that is, is so close.

Every American kid remembers long, 20-hour drives to Florida in the back of your station wagon on summer vacation. This pales in comparison to the meager 6 hours driven to Porto, Portugal from Madrid, Spain. That is to say, 6-hours estimated time on a normal day.

We left on Thursday afternoon, the beginning of the Puente del Pilar - a national 3-day weekend when everyone in the country is on the move. El Pilar is officially on Friday, the 12th of October in Spain. We did meet with some traffic from Madrid until the other side of Segovia but that was it. We were shocked. Returning on Sunday afternoon was the same. It was smooth sailing until we reached Segovia and then we had stopped traffic. But the gods were smiling on us as the traffic lightened shortly thereafter and were only delayed maybe 30 minutes.

So we arrived in Porto, Portugal at about 2am after being on the road for 8-hours. This included a 1-hour dinner stop just at the Spain-Portugal border at about 11pm. We checked into the only 5-star hotel in Old Porto, Portugal, the Hotel Infante Sagres, in Old Town Porto. Porto, by the way, is called Oporto in Spanish. The outside of the hotel is really plain and the construction around the front of the hotel didn't help our spirits much after being on the road all evening either.

We walked parked the car immediately in front of the hotel, the doorman directed us to the desk, and we checked in. The hotel itself, inside, is probably the most elegant hotel I've been in  - including 2005's 4-star Hotel Alhambra Palace. This Porto hotel was elegant, historical, and something out of the 1930s. The staircase was incredible with it's stained glass work from top to bottom. The old elevator with the cushioned seat on one side was a surprise to us. The lounge rooms, old bar, and seating areas throughout the ground floor really showed this was someplace really special in its heyday.

The room itself was pretty simple but ours, on the 4th floor, was one of the few with a balcony facing the front of the hotel. It had a nice view of the construction mess below and, to the right, the main city square. The room was of average size but the bathroom was something special, large, tiled, and with all the 5-star extras you expect. The bed was a queen size and comfortable. We left the balcony window doors open most nights although it was cool. There were lots of TV stations in English, Spanish, and Portuguese but mostly news and economic stations. The one Spanish station we watched was TVE. The one English station we watched was CNN.

Breakfast was included with the room and it was given in an elegant dining room, chandeliers, formal waiters, buffet breakfast with eggs, hams, bacons, cheeses, breads, a dozen fruits, and good coffee.

Thursday night was straight-to-bed. Friday morning we slept late and just made it to breakfast before the 10:30am cutoff. We got out to the streets of Porto by noon, perfect, pretty well-rested and ready to see the city. It was a beautiful day, perfectly sunny and about 68ºF - a perfect day for MadridMan.

We decided to go directly to the City Sight Seeeing Hop On Hop Off Bus and take the red circuit first, then the blue circuit. This was a wonderful way to see the city in about 3 hours total. We took one circuit, didn't get off until the end, then got on the shorter blue circuit route which crossed the Ponte de Don Luis I (bridge) over the Rio Douro in Porto - which is the same Ría de Duero in Spain - in the village of Gaia to see the Port bodegas, mostly empty now. What a great trip on the top deck of the double decker bus and multiple languages to give you explanation.

We got off the bus and walked along the picturesque and chose one of the many terraces for lunch where we had cod - very typical in Portugal. We were under an umbrella on the terrace of Restaurante Simbiose on Rua Infante D. Henrique, Nr. 133. Good food, good prices, and we resisted the urge to order and entire bottle of Vinho Verde - which is a kind of carbonated white wine and the most typical Portuguese wine. It would have been very refreshing on this warming day but we feared the resulting sleepiness would hamper our sight seeing energies. So fine. One glass only.

After lunch we took a long walk along the river, walking towards the Atlantic Ocean. We didn't walk that far but only to the edge of Porto's old town. I was so impressed with the city, very enchanting, very "Old World", very little renovation or modernization going on here. It appeared to be unchanged in 40 years. Streetcars continue to operate throughout the old city of Porto and I was surprised they were filled with tourists - ONLY locals going to/from work or getting around the city. I was also surprised to see so little immigration here. There was almost no evidence of other cultures apart from Portuguese except in some of the restaurants where some Brazilians worked as servers.

We went back to the hotel at about 7pm to relax until dinnertime, take a nap, watch some TV, and just unwind. Not wanting to leave the room by 10pm, we decided to simply order room service. And after the huge lunch we had we only ordered sandwiches and white wine.

We did a little better the next morning, Saturday, waking at about 9am and made it to our elegant breakfast downstairs with no hurry. This day we drove 45 minutes to the nearby village of Guimarães. Wow. What a town. So beautiful, clean, in very very good condition, no graffiti, and much of the old town is from the 15th century. It's a very small Old Town so we walked it all in about 2 hours and had a simple lunch in a terraza. This town is a must-see easy daytrip from Porto. Very impressive, clean, nice, OLD, and tourists of Spanish and Portuguese nationalities mainly.

After lunch and another short walk, we left Guimarães for the nearby city of Braga. The name, Braga, always made me laugh because "Bragas", in Spanish, means "underwear". We liked Braga but not as much as Guimarães but was worth the 2 hours we spent walking the Old Town, entering the Cathedral and countless other churches, and visiting the Santa Barbara Gardens. It was near the gardens where we stopped for merienda at about 6pm for a coffee and pastry in an old, small pastry/coffee shop. Good visit, Braga. Now back to Porto.

We get back to the hotel, shower and change, and leave for our 9pm dinner reservation at the historic Café Guarany, just around the corner from our hotel, on Avenida dos Aliados, 89/85. There, we had our dinner with a FADO performance - just what we were looking forward to for this trip. FADO is a Portuguese-specific form of singing, usually done in a dark setting, and songs are typically sad or melancholy. The Fado singer, Joana Costa, is very talented, young, and obvious enjoys her work. Our table was two tables from the performance and we enjoyed ourselves as the singer involved the full dining room - full of international tourists. The Fado show was free for those with dinner reservations.

After the good dinner and good fado entertainment, we left wanting more, some more authentic Fado - if it existed. Knowing how flamenco is in Madrid I somewhat doubted having an "authentic" Fado experience. We went back to the hotel to ask at the desk. The suit-wearing reception attendant suggested a place called O FADO, about a 10 minutes walk in Old Town Porto. We arrived at about 11:30pm and walked in to a full, very rustic dining room. The performance was just finishing and no table was available. We were told to wait a few minutes, and were seated at a table for two in the center of the room, right in front of the performance area. The next performance was at midnight and we ordered a required minimum consumption so we ordered a bottle of Vinho Verde. We enjoyed the 2-hour show, ending at 2am, mostly in the very dark room with melancholy songs, a good view, and good conversation - in English - with the traveling Brazilian couple next to us. We were surprised we weren't charged for entry to the show, only 13 Euros for the bottle of wine. A good deal! Many others around us had ordered dinner. Our walk back through Old Town at 2am was wonderful, quiet, safe, and we admired more old, run-down yet architecturally beautiful buildings on our way to the hotel. What a nice Saturday night, our last night in Porto, Portugal.

Sunday morning we woke at 9am, had our last wonderful breakfast in the hotel, sat in the lounge awhile to enjoy the surroundings, and then packed up and left the hotel at about 10:30am, paying the 23 Euro room service tab fo the sandwiches and wine. Putting our bags in the car, we walked through Old Town Porto one last time, visited the cathedral and poked our heads in the few open shops, and slowly made our way back to the car and left Porto.

We weren't looking forward to the likely 7 or 8 hour drive but it went surprisingly well with absolutely no traffic. SHOCKING! The weather was perfect. We finally reached our only traffic jam near Segovia and took a quick pit-stop in an "Area de Servicio" for a bathroom break before entering the long wait in traffic. It was about 7pm. Wow. That place was PACKED with cars, trucks, and people!! Everyone stopping for the same reason we were. Men were seen coming out of the bushes after urinating and the lines at the bathrooms - for women - was outside the building and around the corner. Yikes. So I, being a man, walked past about 40 women and directly into the empty men's restroom and thought, "My goodness. This should be a crime." I felt so guilty passing all those waiting and anxious women. Got back on the road entering the traffic jam. But 20 minutes later we were flying freely at the maximum+ speed limit on our way to Madrid. No problem.

What a great trip. We loved Porto, Portugal and hope to return with more time - and to ride a streetcar.

Do they BOWL in Spain? I've got news for you. They do! But it's certainly not a popular sport NOR a popular form of recreational entertainment in Madrid. Bowling in Spanish is.... "BOWLING"! But the Spanish word for bowling or the place where you go bowling is "Bolera". Spaniards will often say, "¿Quieres ir al bowling?" ("Do you want to go bowling?") - which sounds so strange to my American ears.

Last night a Spanish buddy and I went BOWLING to a nearby bowling alley in Madrid. We go bowling about once a month and go to a couple different places. We're even MEMBERS at one of them! That shows you we're serious about our bowling. hehehe...

So we arrive at the local lanes, about a 15 minute walk from my house, and go inside. The place was recently totally renovated, top to bottom - or so you'd think, given the opportunity to do so. The inside is quite nice, new bar, new billiards area, new table-top-soccer area, new bathrooms, the works. This was our second time to this place since they'd renovated it.

I recall the first/last time we went. I was immediately impressed with its interior. Nice! I was more than a bit amused, however, to find stamped on all the balls, "BRUNSWICK USA" - which is one of the most popular bowling products companies in the United States.

Went to the bowling ball rack to choose our preferred size, weight, finger-hole sizes, and took the pick of the litter - of all runts. All were old balls, full of nicks, gashes, & scrapes. Disappointing.and took our terrible balls to our assigned lane, placed them on the ball return rack, put on our shoes, and and loosened up. First, I have to tell you that not only were the bowling balls horrible but also were the old bowling shoes with frayed laces. The ball return equipment too appeared to be from the mid-1970s and all carried the name BRUNSWICK USA on them. I'm now more and more convinced all this equipment was sent over on a slow-boat from Podunk County, USA after some bowling alley went out of business and sold off their "assets" - HA! Assets. This stuff should've been in the liability column.

Still, having BRUNSWICK USA surrounding me swept me back to when I was 10 years old and on a Saturday morning bowling team. I felt all warm and fuzzy.

Throw the first ball down the lane. Hmmm.. I swear there's a strange, alternating thumping sound from the alley as the ball reaches the pins. Must be the ball. Try another ball. Different ball - same result. Good lawd, the lane's warped close to the end! My goodness. "Could this place BE any worse?" (in my best "Chandler" voice from the popular TV series "Friends") So we change lanes only to get the same result. I look down at the end of the lanes were the pins are and see an odd-looking pair of body-less legs standing in front of my pins. Then one leg disappears. Then the other. Hmmm.. That's strange. What if I throw this ball now and those legs reappear down there? The resulting limb severing would be worse than the Normandy Beach scenes in the movie "Saving Private Ryan".

Finally we find a lane which is semi-flat! Thank goodness! Now we can enjoy ourselves with these ripped up bowling balls. Still, it's fun and I don't do half bad.


Next time we'll have to go to our REGULAR bowling alley at the Bowling Studios (see photo) in the Kinépolis complex in the Ciudad de la Imagen. There, they also have a multi-plex cinema, restaurants, and more. Thing is, you have to drive there and it's not all that close to me but the lanes, balls, and everything is new new new. THERE, we're card-carrying members and I'm looking forward to going back.

Photo at Left:
MadridMan at the "Bowling Studios" at Kinepolis - a GOOD bowling alley!  - photo from April 2007 (don't pay attention to the direction of the ball - err.. I was practicing?)


At the Bowling Studios they have monthly tournaments and was even tempted to "Show these Spaniards how a REAL AMERICAN bowls!" Afterall, we invented it, didn't we? Okay, I don't think we invented but we certainly popularized it! But I never signed up for the tournament after seeing a few people practicing on lanes near me. Wow, could they bowl! My Spain-based, season-best score of 190 points would likely only embarrass me when competing with these guys who have it all down to a science with the swinging back of the leg, the right-to-left spinning of the ball as it nearly gutters to the right and then swerves back to the center 10-pin making a strike nearly every time. I'm a straight-down-the-middle kind of bowler. Nothing fancy. But I do have good aim.

But it's very enjoyable to go out bowling even though I tend to take it too seriously, too competitively. My bowling buddies all tell me this. At the Bowling Studios, LOTS of other bowling-for-fun participants in adjacent lanes are slinging the balls down the lanes with no apparent eye-hand-coordination, making lots of gutter balls, tossing the balls too high in the air and coming down with a terrible THUNK!, lots of slipping and falling over the line, and LOTS of laughter. Afterall, THAT'S what it's all about; good, clean, AMERICAN FUN - IN SPAIN!

Who'dathunk I'd ever do more bowling in Spain than in the USA? Now that's culture shock!

Start your Monday off with a smile and goooood feelings! Watch these 3 Spanish music videos (see below) and you'll be humming them throughout your workday.

A very good British friend of mine often mentions enjoying "Flamenco Chill" music in certain Madrid clubs and I really had no idea what he was talking about. What is "Flamenco Chill"?

This morning I'm surfing the internet, doing work and straightening my brain while having breakfast and preparing to go to the gym to start my day.

I come across a page which describes one of my favorite Spanish songs, "Ahí Estás Tú" by the Malaga, Spain originated group Chambao. Huh! I had no idea THIS was considered "Chill Flamenco" but I guess it makes sense. The vocals and music mix flamenco with... umm.. a kind of jazz and has a good, gentle rhythm which causes one's head to sway in, maybe, a Bob Marley fashion. hehehe... When I heard the song for the first time, I LOVED IT, and it made me think of beaches or islands or something of the like.

The Andalusian government uses their song(s) to promote tourism in the region which includes scenes of beaches or coasts or things like this so maybe they felt the same as me when they heard it. A VERY funny anecdote to this song is that for the longest time - until NOW, that is - I thought she was singing "Cállate Tú" which means "Shut Up!" in Spanish. Hahhaa.. Never seemed to go along with the tone of the song. Now THAT'S funny.

Watch the video below and prepare yourself to love it - if you haven't heard it before. The music Video itself is okay but it's the song which really grabs you.

"Ahí Estás Tú"

But the first - and even MORE amazing song by them - is the upbeat "Pokito a Poko". See below. I'm pretty sure the Andalusian Government uses this song in their tourist ads too. I'd heard this song before but didn't know it was them:

"Pokito a Poko"

Another song featuring the lead singer, La Mari de "Chambao", is her accompaniment on the live Ricky Martin song, "Tu Recuerdo". I've always been a fan of the Puerto Riqueño Ricky Martin but La Mari de "Chambao" REALLY steals this song. Watch/Listen below:
"Tu Recuerdo"

Hope the above starts your work week out well, world! Enjoy!

Last Thursday night, the same night I wrote the morning entry, "Rain in Madrid", I was seated here at the computer doing the usual stuff. It was raining solidly. The window was open slightly because I like the cool air - always, even in winter. And then I heard it at about 11pm.

From what I could deduce, there was a group of 3 or 4 late-teen gypsy girls on the street below, just around the corner out of sight from my building. Undoubtedly they were sheltered under an awning safe from the rain. 2 or 3 of them were all being "palmeras" while one sang.

"Palmeras" are the people whom clap in rapid succession at flamenco shows. One person claps the on-beat while the other claps the off-beat, the two varying the rhythm of the accompaniment by varying the rhythm of their clapping.

The precision of the rapid clapping, each of the songs lasting only about 30 seconds while the other woman sang, was truly impressive. The impromptu street concert lasted nearly an hour, off and on, and they'd chatter and laugh between each one.

I went to my balcony several times when they started a new "song" and got wet but I didn't care much. I was there listening, live, to Spanish gypsies, whom were clearly enjoying themselves as they could, as they do. It was certainly not flamenco, nor was it professional, but it was IMPRESSIVE and obviously their form entertainment on this rainy Thursday night.

The entertainment was intended for them but it was me whom felt entertained most. I wondered if the Spanish neighbors felt the same. I doubted it, though. They were likely more annoyed than entertained since they already have their "feelings" towards gypsies ingrained since birth and I'm just a permanent tourist, a foreigner whom does not have these little jewels of life given to him everyday. If only I'd lived across the street and could watch from my window to enjoy - and maybe video - this precious moment.

My desire was to get dressed and go down to the street and watch, listen, and experience this moment with them, talk to them. But I thought better of it. This entertainment was for THEM - not for non-gypsies - and definitely not for "rich tourists" whom could be paying for such things at Café de Chinitas instead of getting a free show on the sidewalk.

When living in a foreign land everything's new, fresh, and exciting to you. You see things and hear things other people mention in conversation.  But now you're here, seeing things with your own eyes, hearing things with your own ears, and having feelings you've never experienced before. Once-dormant parts of your brain are now alive and electric, absorbing the stimuli.

These are just a few of the many joyous things about living abroad. If everyone could have the opportunity their lives would be changed forever. Their minds would be open to new ideas, new ways of seeing the same things, new ways of interacting with others not of your own culture, and most importantly, a fresh, more objective view of the world in which we live. Afterall, it's not my planet. It's OUR planet. Let's share.

Wow! What a last couple of days here in Madrid - and in many parts in Spain! We've had so much rain here that you'd think the Rio Manzanares would look more like a RIVER and less like a GARDEN! But no. While maybe 6-inches higher, the river is still pitifully low. Why is that? Someone told me the river was being "retained" or collected upstream for reservoirs. I'll have to look into that to satisfy my curiosity.

It rained all day yesterday and the day before. Tuesday night, I think, it rained all night long. This is SO unusual for Madrid these past few years but I hope it's a trend. (I won't hold my breath, though) If it keeps up like this throughout the autumn and winter we should be standing very well for the next hot, dry summer of 2008.

I was out doing things all day yesterday, going to the Social Security Office in Aluche to clear up something (done!), then to the bank next door to TRY to clear up something (failed), then to Gran Via to drop off some papers for work (done!), then to visit a sick-yet-recovering friend. I did all this by taxi because A) It was raining, and B) because it was faster - but the three trips cost me about 25€. This is not cheap but yesterday the time saved was more valuable than the money spent. Had I taken public transportation it would've easily added 1.5 - 2 hours to my busy morning. Thank goodness taxis are so easy to find in this city.

There I was in the taxi, at every stoplight, marveling at the water cascading down the street. Just amazing for here. In Columbus, Ohio we would sometimes go an entire week of nearly non-stop rain in summer, spring, fall, and winter, but not here. That's why whenever the clouds billow up in the Madrid sky I always take a moment to admire them as they're so rare. And thunder, what's that?! Something also rare in Madrid.

What I do miss here are the storms. In Ohio we have huge, blustery, serious storms with rain, lightning, thunder, hard gusts of wind. LOUD storms. I miss those. I tell this to Spanish people and they think I'm crazy. "How can you miss storms? I'm afraid of them!", they tell me. I guess most people on earth are rightfully afraid of storms. I love them. There's almost no better way to experience nature's power and influence, to actually feel the world around you as if it's saying, "Hey insignificant beings! I'm here! Remember me? Tread Lightly!"

Today's a clear, typically sunny day. I like the clouds. They give the skies so much character. Who likes a blank canvass?

Statement made.

Self-indulgent title, I know. But I can dream, can't I?? Let me explain...

I'm NOT a "hot body" as in "I have Brad-Pitt-Abs-Of-Steele", GQ cover model material, or even MUSCLE MAGAZINE material. FAR FROM IT! (but I'm working on that too - why do you think I go to the gym everyday? Sometimes I ask myself that same question. If it weren't for the view .... But I digress)

By "hot body" I mean I have an unusually high skin-surface temperature. First, I hate summertime temperatures because I sweat like crazy, like no other human I've seen - with a few rare, sad exceptions. Shorts and sandals are my summer friends, making the temps bearable. At least it's a dry heat, right? Hmph. Yes, that helps but I still have sweat dripping off my nose in August when going up 4-flights of stairs, carrying 6 bags of groceries.

When late September, early October comes I'm in an uncomfortable state. Here we are now, Autumn, and some days are still hot. BUT IT'S AUTUMN! It's no longer socially acceptable to wear shorts. And some people on the bus and metro are wearing winter coats, scarves, and nary a shine on their foreheads. How do they do it?? It's like they turn the page on the calendar and change not only their wardrobes but also their body chemistry!!

Yesterday was a pleasant day in Madrid - for standing still. Perfect temperature and rained in the morning and later in the evening. Once active, my body temperature goes into hyperdrive. Walk a block and I sweat. Go up a flight of stairs and I sweat. I know. I know. "Why is he admitting to all this stuff?"

I was on the hot metro, standing. Seated next to me was a 20-something woman who'd obviously just gotten back from the airport, pulling luggage with an Air France tag, she was wearing a buttoned WOOL coat, scarf, long pants, and I couldn't help but notice her skin was perfectly dry. There must be something special about the Spanish biology which I'd love to be able to adopt, adapt, take as my own. But I can't. I was there in my jeans, SHORT sleeve shirt, shoes, and sweating like no one else on the metro. I'm sure the other riders were looking at me thinking, "Look at that guy dressed in "summer clothes", no jacket, and sweating! He must be on drugs!!" Yeah. Right. Me, on drugs. That'll be the day.

At least when I go to/from the gym I'm carrying my gym bag so I can at least pass for someone going to/from the gym!!! But still, when I leave the house wearing my shorts, going to the gym, I still get odd looks from the cold-weather-wearing pedestrians.

My blessed discovery this past less-than-usual hot summer was a pair of LINEN pants which I'd bought at El Corte Inglés. Wow. Those things were fresh! Light, airy, and almost better than wearing shorts when going out to dinner, flamenco shows, or meeting friends for nighttime tapas. Okay, often if the occasion was casual I'd still wear my shorts, but sometimes we'd go into a bar and I'd feel very self-conscious. But at least I was comfortable, right? Those linen pants were life savers. No wonder so many Spaniards wear them in summer.

Late autumn and winter are my best friends here in Spain. I love the cooler temperatures. But even with that I'm often seen wearing short sleeves and light jackets. Nothing worse than wearing long sleeves, sweaters, and all that winterwear and going into a hot restaurant and not being able to strip down - and start sweating. For goodnesss sakes! It's winter! HOW can you be sweating. Must be a law against that. Arrest me. I'm off to jail. Taken away for sweating without a license. Never to be paroled until the world freezes over. And they say Madrid will likely be 5ºC WARMER in 50 years. Ugh. Great. I can't wait. Maybe streaking will be legal by then.