Recently in Health Category
The old phrase holds true, "God love 'em." And I do too, that's the
fact, so my patience-level is generally high when I encounter them on
the sidewalks and standing in lines. There's no denying it, old people walk slow. But then again, they're never in a hurry, either.Here in Spain you can't help but notice the quantity of octogenarians walking the streets, playing cards in bars, going shopping and out-in-the-public. This sharply contrasts to the older folk in the United States where older people, and many others, 1) live in houses outside of the downtown, and 2) don't leave home as often because to do so they'd have to drive - and maybe they can't/shouldn't.
One has to wonder about the attitude of older people when mixing with the general (younger) population. Do they think, "I've worked hard and paid my dues to society so everyone else can kiss my arse." Or do they simply not realize they walk slow? Sure, even if they wanted to walk faster many cannot. Not to mention the dying custom of taking strolls for pleasure. NO ONE does this anymore except for the old timers who have the freedom to do it.
How many times have I been walking down the middle of my neighborhood's narrow sidewalk only to encounter a slow-strolling old man or woman, using a cane at approximately one foot to the left or right of their body, and causing me to either walk out into the street to pass them or to "whoosh" by them when there's a garage entry? And when you do pass them they're sometimes 1) startled or 2) angrily look at you with a "How dare you. I own this sidewalk" expression. And if two of them are walking to the market, side by side or arm-in-arm, you can just forget it, might as well cross the street and get on with your own life because you're not going pass them anytime soon.
But you really do have to love and respect them. They have worked hard all their lives, growing up, surviving, and persevering through Spain's darkest decades. Many of them are so charming, affectionate, and truly enjoy their golden years. Sure, some are crotchety old geezers whom find no good remaining in this world. But many many others are so happy to be retired, to do what they want - when they want, and have a kind word, conversation, or a kiss for anyone willing to take the time to be with them.
Oftentimes the highlight of their day is going to the local bar for a coffee or do the shopping. Men go to play cards with other men. Women meet other women for merienda to chat and gossip. And they all love encountering neighbors or old friends in the street for an extended chat about the weather and discussing the pills they're taking for their latest pains.
Doctors' visits for them, as frequently as they go, is another highlight. Whenever I'm there for mine I'm always surrounded by them, all chatting amongst themselves, eavesdropping on other conversations and commenting about them with the older stranger sitting next to them.
Last week I had a doctor's appointment. While waiting, one old lady received a cellphone call. She took it out, fiddled with the buttons, and answered it. She loudly spoke to the person calling about another doctor's appointment she had at some other location, repeating the date and hour out loud. When she hung up, she said, "Oh my, what day and time did they tell me I had the appointment?" And with that at least 10 (older) people spoke up to confirm the date/hour she had vocalized. Not surprisingly, many among them auditorily-challenged, conflicted in their account and began to debate, almost argue about what they believed they heard. The woman receiving the call, now frustrated, said she would call back later to confirm the appointment.
The above is really neither here nor there. In the one-block near any health-center, you can always calculate there to be a higher percentage of old people to young people. Sure, older folk need more care and have more health issues, I understand that. Or maybe it just appears that way as young people tend to "get out" of the area a lot faster than older people. Nah. It's the former.
How many times have I respectfully allowed a old woman or man to get on the bus ahead of me when I was at the bus stop first? Many. Fine. That's the least we kids can do. Afterall, they remind us of our grandparents. But after they run their monthly BONO ticket through the machine they stand there in the aisle, just inside the bus' entrance, carefully re-turning their ticket to its special BONO-bus ticket carrier. Meanwhile, I and a half-dozen other people are standing behind him/her, waiting for her to finish and choose a seat to sit down. Keep in mind there's no space to pass by - although more and more youngsters shove their way through with not so much as a "pardon me" or ask permission to pass through. Kids, these days. (now it's me who sounds like an old man)
Once a week at 6pm I take an 83 year old woman to have merienda at the local bar. We spend a casual hour chit-chatting about her day at the senior citizens center or, sometimes, she asks what I've been up to. After that I accompany her to her home, climb up 4 flights of stairs, unlock her door and turn on the heat, replace any light bulbs, listen to answering machine messages, open/close her windows, and do whatever else she needs. I'm certain it's the highlight of her week. While we're walking to/from the bar she walks very very slowly, stopping every 20 or 30 meters to either tell me something, oftentimes as people are waiting behind us to pass, but otherwise with her head down, examining the sidewalk for cracks, dog crap, or holes which may complicate her passage. She does all this while holding onto my arm, which is sweet and I love it, but she always steers me into building corners or oncoming pedestrian traffic. She's none-the-wiser but I like her just the same. The truth is, I speak more Spanish with her than anyone else in Spain as I call her daily on the phone too.
Old people walk slow. So what. What're you gonna do? Just make the best of it. Many of us will be the same way someday. Besides, it's not their speed which makes them who they are. For that, you have to go deeper than physical attributes and abilities. And when you learn the often colorful life they've led you can't help but be amazed and respect them even more.
Fear stimulates the economy - and the H1N1 Swine Flu virus "pandemic" scare is helping a lot during this worldwide economic crisis. In other times wars were started to pull us out of recession and put people to work.
The big "winners" of such a scare are the pharmaceutical companies. Other big winners are the media outlets themselves, many of which have never had higher TV ratings, higher newspaper sales, or greater circulation. Secondary winners go to those in the health care-related industry, whether privately or publicly driven institutions, hiring more personnel, opening up new health centers under the guise of "Better Serving Joe Citizen", and justifying already bloated budgets. Other "winners" include companies producing health-related products like anti-bacterial hand cleansers. Consumer Reports itself that "Antibacterial soaps do not kill viruses":
Reports estimate the risks to pregnant women contracting Swine Flu is 1 in 300,000. One friend in the USA told me two pregnant women in her community died from Swine Flu. That is truly terrible. She didn't know if H1F1 virus was confirmed via an autopsy or before death, but I wondered if these same women would have died had they contracted the typical seasonal flu virus. I also wondered if these same women had been vaccinated - during pregnancy - with one of these new vaccines to supposedly ward off the H1F1 virus. If so, this may also have explained their death as vaccinations of any kind for pregnant women can be very dangerous.
The media jumps all over scares such as these and the public eats it up with a big spoon. There are constant, long-length coverage, discussions, and debates on this topic and all their "experts" seem to be on the same page. So you might say, "If everyone (on TV) agrees, how could it be anything but the truth?" This is an excellent question.
A nurse friend of mine at a local Madrid hospital told me just last night that there's a great increase of people in their waiting rooms, presumably scared to death they've contracted the Swine Flu after their first cough, when few - or none - actually have it. She also told me that even the doctors at that hospital have commented that all the "special scare" is for nothing, that those who may die from the "Gripe A" typically die because they have some pre-existing health condition which lowers their ability to fend off the flu, ANY FLU, not just the H1N1 flu. People with "normal defenses" will get over this flu in 3 days and be good as new, just like any other flu. Still, the public is taking Swine Flu in Spain very seriously.
The U.S. Government bought 140 Million Units of the vaccine to fight what could be (or could have been) a serious epidemic/pandemic. I don't have any problem in being prepared. But then they realized the seriousness of the H1N1 Virus was no where near the original apocalyptic estimates.
There have been fewer deaths from any flu this year than last year. In terms of flu, this has been one of the mildest flus ever recorded. So far, 5,400 people have died from this flu - out of 7 Billion people on the planet.
Take a look at the 9, 10-minute videos below of Dr. Mercola's Swine Flu Interview with Dr. Blaylock either below or, even better, on his article posted just today entitled, "Swine Flu: One of the Most Massive Cover-ups in American History". Better to watch the video on his website than via YouTube.com because the videos on YouTube is confusing and all 9-parts don't seem to be available. Listening to 90-minutes of video on this topic sounds boring but it's extremely enlightening. You might think, "How could HE be right about all this and go against common public perception?" Another good question. But would he have to gain by this? It couldn't be financial gain. Popularity? Maybe. Get more "hits" on his website? Possibly.
The big "winners" of such a scare are the pharmaceutical companies. Other big winners are the media outlets themselves, many of which have never had higher TV ratings, higher newspaper sales, or greater circulation. Secondary winners go to those in the health care-related industry, whether privately or publicly driven institutions, hiring more personnel, opening up new health centers under the guise of "Better Serving Joe Citizen", and justifying already bloated budgets. Other "winners" include companies producing health-related products like anti-bacterial hand cleansers. Consumer Reports itself that "Antibacterial soaps do not kill viruses":
Washing your hands frequently with regular soap and water is important to help prevent the spread of germs. But while antibacterial products may seem like a stronger cleaning option, they are no more effective in cleaning your hands than regular soap and water--and they do not kill viruses like H1N1 (swine) flu.Just in the last few months I've started to see antibacterial gels being sold at the end-caps and check-out lanes at supermarkets. And these gels are expensive!!! The same gels being sold in the USA are a tiny fraction of the cost. Why is that? Because people are afraid. And when people are afraid, no price is too high for security. Unfortunately, poor education and overzealous media have convinced us that washing your hands - and frequently - can help slow or stop the spread or contraction of the "Gripe A" or Swine Flu here in Spain.
Reports estimate the risks to pregnant women contracting Swine Flu is 1 in 300,000. One friend in the USA told me two pregnant women in her community died from Swine Flu. That is truly terrible. She didn't know if H1F1 virus was confirmed via an autopsy or before death, but I wondered if these same women would have died had they contracted the typical seasonal flu virus. I also wondered if these same women had been vaccinated - during pregnancy - with one of these new vaccines to supposedly ward off the H1F1 virus. If so, this may also have explained their death as vaccinations of any kind for pregnant women can be very dangerous.
The media jumps all over scares such as these and the public eats it up with a big spoon. There are constant, long-length coverage, discussions, and debates on this topic and all their "experts" seem to be on the same page. So you might say, "If everyone (on TV) agrees, how could it be anything but the truth?" This is an excellent question.
A nurse friend of mine at a local Madrid hospital told me just last night that there's a great increase of people in their waiting rooms, presumably scared to death they've contracted the Swine Flu after their first cough, when few - or none - actually have it. She also told me that even the doctors at that hospital have commented that all the "special scare" is for nothing, that those who may die from the "Gripe A" typically die because they have some pre-existing health condition which lowers their ability to fend off the flu, ANY FLU, not just the H1N1 flu. People with "normal defenses" will get over this flu in 3 days and be good as new, just like any other flu. Still, the public is taking Swine Flu in Spain very seriously.
The U.S. Government bought 140 Million Units of the vaccine to fight what could be (or could have been) a serious epidemic/pandemic. I don't have any problem in being prepared. But then they realized the seriousness of the H1N1 Virus was no where near the original apocalyptic estimates.
There have been fewer deaths from any flu this year than last year. In terms of flu, this has been one of the mildest flus ever recorded. So far, 5,400 people have died from this flu - out of 7 Billion people on the planet.
Take a look at the 9, 10-minute videos below of Dr. Mercola's Swine Flu Interview with Dr. Blaylock either below or, even better, on his article posted just today entitled, "Swine Flu: One of the Most Massive Cover-ups in American History". Better to watch the video on his website than via YouTube.com because the videos on YouTube is confusing and all 9-parts don't seem to be available. Listening to 90-minutes of video on this topic sounds boring but it's extremely enlightening. You might think, "How could HE be right about all this and go against common public perception?" Another good question. But would he have to gain by this? It couldn't be financial gain. Popularity? Maybe. Get more "hits" on his website? Possibly.
Regarding vaccines in general and including the H1N1 vaccine, Dr. Blaylock states, "
"If you live long enough you'll see nearly everything."
I'm sure this quote is true for average people. Today I came another step closer to realizing it as I was walking through my Madrid neighborhood this morning at 8am.
Only one block from my building was where the elderly 80-plus year old woman, no taller than 4 foot 10 inches, shouted in my direction in such a hushed voice I wasn't sure she was even talking to me. Then I turned to see her looking my way, walking slowly and asking for something. I was sure she was panhandling.
But when the surrounding traffic noise passed, her slight voice was clearer. She was saying, "Please, Sir, my sister has fallen and can't get up. Can you help us?" Her hands and eyes were trembling so I assumed it to be the truth, and followed her through the front door of a building - which had no doorknob and an empty foyer - and thought, "Hmmm... What am I getting myself into?"
I must admit that when she first approached me I was going to just keep walking on down the street and let someone else deal with whatever this woman wanted. But two steps later I thought better of it, realizing she was an old woman and surely had no bad intentions. But once I walked into her quiet house alone I did feel as if I was being trapped, entering the unknown. I wasn't carrying anything of value, no watch, no cellphone, no wallet, nothing more than my house keys.
She didn't shut the front door behind me which eased my nerves and lowered my adrenalin just a bit. But once she led me to her sister's bedroom and I saw her sister's skin-and-bone body lying on the floor, my nerves and adrenalin shot through my body twice as hard.
"Oh - My - God," I thought. "Surely she's dead." But she wasn't. Having spent a surprising amount of time with elderly people in my life, both here and in the USA, in their houses, hospitals, and Alzheimer patient retirement homes, I'd seen just about everything with regards to the elderly.
But I'd never seen SUCH an old woman, 90-years old I'd learned, writhing and moaning gently on the floor in a small puddle of feces and urine, the latter of which soaking her nightgown front and back. I could see she had been bleeding from her left arm near the elbow and, upon my asking, complained of pain in her left hip, presumably from the fall. She was stretched out across the floor, half under the bed and a pillow under her head. Surely she was cold. She wasn't covered with a blanket and was wearing only a thin, short nightgown which she constantly tugged down to cover her exposed "privates" as I spoke to her. According to the younger sister, she'd fallen out of bed the night before and there was no one in the building to help her.
She told me she'd called the emergency telephone number and they'd told her to give the fallen sister some strong pain relief medicine and with that she may be able to get up. If not, to call her local doctor's office to see if a doctor there could make a house call (something still common in Spain). But SURELY she was mistaken with this information. I was certain that upon calling they'd have sent an ambulance immediately to - at the very least - check on her.
So I called myself, trembling with nerves, realizing I'd soon have to describe a medical condition, IN SPANISH, to a new ear BY TELEPHONE. Oh gawd. The attention was fast, only taking a few seconds after dialing 112 (the emergency telephone number) when a human took my call and the information of the situation. Whew! We'd have results soon. The operator asked the name and address and, with the help of the mobile sister, whom didn't live there but was just staying briefly to take care of her elder sister, helped me with the details. NOW we'd be in business and an ambulance would be arriving soon. WRONG.
The emergency operator transferred me to a doctor and I again described the situation and visible injuries. The doctor told me just what the mobile sister had told me earlier, that she was to call the doctor's office and ask them to prescribe some strong pain relief, that sometimes older folks have pains so strong that prevent them from being able to move. I asked the doctor to repeat this for the younger sister and, while listening, she was shaking her head, she'd been told the same information now twice and hung up the phone.
So she said to me, sadly, "Just put her on the bed." So we walked to the bedroom, the fallen woman having twisted her legs around the bed's legs, so I first attempted to untangle them, all the while speaking to the old woman in my Spanish which, it seemed, was understood. I got her untangled, got her sitting up, I squatted all the way down with my hips, wrapped my arms around the old woman, and lifted with my legs - NOT WITH MY BACK - picking her up and setting her gently on the bed. An audible sigh of relief escaped the woman's mouth and a glow of comfort overcame her face. I asked, "How do you feel?" She then lightly chuckled when I added, "Better than on the floor, right?" I could see she was more comfortable. Now was the work of the younger sister to clean her up, change the sheets, and get her some medicine. I recommended she go first to the pharmacy next door when it opened to get some stronger pain relief and, at the very least, ask their advice.
Saying my goodbyes and good lucks to the elderly woman now comfortably in her bed, the younger sister said to me, "Wait. I want to give you something," and started rummaging in the top drawer of the bedroom dresser. I asked what she meant and she said, "Something for you or for your children." Realizing she was talking about paying me for my help I said, "No. No. No. Just give me a hug and a kiss. To me, that's more valuable than money." And with that, she turned to me as if it was scene in a Hollywood movie, tears in her eyes as she approached me slowly with her arms open and gave me a very gentle, but very long hug. I could hear her weeping on my shoulder and I told her it was okay, her sister was now in bed and comfortable. I nearly cried myself. She thanked me and said goodbye as I left.
I'm not sure if the half-dozen Red Cross CPR-First Aid courses I'd taken throughout my life actually helped me but I think it did. At least I remembered to ask where she hurt and considered other options before finally moving her. I was more afraid of hurting her further if she'd had broken bones, possibly a broken hip. But she didn't wince much as I initially lifted her so I figured she was well enough.
The poor woman. I really felt bad seeing her cold and suffering on the floor. But when I saw her relaxed in her own bed I felt more at ease. And better yet, her sister, although also elderly, was staying with her. She told me she'd call the elder sister's children to see what they'd say. With that I thought to myself, "WHAT?! This old woman has children and she's living ALONE? Why isn't she being taken care of (at least) in a "residencia" (retirement home)?!"
So now, the event replays in my mind and surely will be replayed countless times more in the days and to come. Sure, I feel I did my duty as a citizen, helping the elderly. I did a good deed, etcetera etcetera. I think it's more more and more rare that we're called upon to do such things as people become more and more self-reliant (out of shame or stubbornness) and as social services take better care of our ailments and the elderly. Sadly, more and more often we can't be bothered with the problems of others, not so much because we can't help but that our apathy overpowers us, that any effort is too much.
These days nearly no one knows their neighbors. At one time neighbors relied on one another when a family member fell ill or died, when they went on vacation or needed their mail collected, and when people looked out for one another.
I'm sure this quote is true for average people. Today I came another step closer to realizing it as I was walking through my Madrid neighborhood this morning at 8am.
Only one block from my building was where the elderly 80-plus year old woman, no taller than 4 foot 10 inches, shouted in my direction in such a hushed voice I wasn't sure she was even talking to me. Then I turned to see her looking my way, walking slowly and asking for something. I was sure she was panhandling.
But when the surrounding traffic noise passed, her slight voice was clearer. She was saying, "Please, Sir, my sister has fallen and can't get up. Can you help us?" Her hands and eyes were trembling so I assumed it to be the truth, and followed her through the front door of a building - which had no doorknob and an empty foyer - and thought, "Hmmm... What am I getting myself into?"
I must admit that when she first approached me I was going to just keep walking on down the street and let someone else deal with whatever this woman wanted. But two steps later I thought better of it, realizing she was an old woman and surely had no bad intentions. But once I walked into her quiet house alone I did feel as if I was being trapped, entering the unknown. I wasn't carrying anything of value, no watch, no cellphone, no wallet, nothing more than my house keys.
She didn't shut the front door behind me which eased my nerves and lowered my adrenalin just a bit. But once she led me to her sister's bedroom and I saw her sister's skin-and-bone body lying on the floor, my nerves and adrenalin shot through my body twice as hard.
"Oh - My - God," I thought. "Surely she's dead." But she wasn't. Having spent a surprising amount of time with elderly people in my life, both here and in the USA, in their houses, hospitals, and Alzheimer patient retirement homes, I'd seen just about everything with regards to the elderly.
But I'd never seen SUCH an old woman, 90-years old I'd learned, writhing and moaning gently on the floor in a small puddle of feces and urine, the latter of which soaking her nightgown front and back. I could see she had been bleeding from her left arm near the elbow and, upon my asking, complained of pain in her left hip, presumably from the fall. She was stretched out across the floor, half under the bed and a pillow under her head. Surely she was cold. She wasn't covered with a blanket and was wearing only a thin, short nightgown which she constantly tugged down to cover her exposed "privates" as I spoke to her. According to the younger sister, she'd fallen out of bed the night before and there was no one in the building to help her.
She told me she'd called the emergency telephone number and they'd told her to give the fallen sister some strong pain relief medicine and with that she may be able to get up. If not, to call her local doctor's office to see if a doctor there could make a house call (something still common in Spain). But SURELY she was mistaken with this information. I was certain that upon calling they'd have sent an ambulance immediately to - at the very least - check on her.
So I called myself, trembling with nerves, realizing I'd soon have to describe a medical condition, IN SPANISH, to a new ear BY TELEPHONE. Oh gawd. The attention was fast, only taking a few seconds after dialing 112 (the emergency telephone number) when a human took my call and the information of the situation. Whew! We'd have results soon. The operator asked the name and address and, with the help of the mobile sister, whom didn't live there but was just staying briefly to take care of her elder sister, helped me with the details. NOW we'd be in business and an ambulance would be arriving soon. WRONG.
The emergency operator transferred me to a doctor and I again described the situation and visible injuries. The doctor told me just what the mobile sister had told me earlier, that she was to call the doctor's office and ask them to prescribe some strong pain relief, that sometimes older folks have pains so strong that prevent them from being able to move. I asked the doctor to repeat this for the younger sister and, while listening, she was shaking her head, she'd been told the same information now twice and hung up the phone.
So she said to me, sadly, "Just put her on the bed." So we walked to the bedroom, the fallen woman having twisted her legs around the bed's legs, so I first attempted to untangle them, all the while speaking to the old woman in my Spanish which, it seemed, was understood. I got her untangled, got her sitting up, I squatted all the way down with my hips, wrapped my arms around the old woman, and lifted with my legs - NOT WITH MY BACK - picking her up and setting her gently on the bed. An audible sigh of relief escaped the woman's mouth and a glow of comfort overcame her face. I asked, "How do you feel?" She then lightly chuckled when I added, "Better than on the floor, right?" I could see she was more comfortable. Now was the work of the younger sister to clean her up, change the sheets, and get her some medicine. I recommended she go first to the pharmacy next door when it opened to get some stronger pain relief and, at the very least, ask their advice.
Saying my goodbyes and good lucks to the elderly woman now comfortably in her bed, the younger sister said to me, "Wait. I want to give you something," and started rummaging in the top drawer of the bedroom dresser. I asked what she meant and she said, "Something for you or for your children." Realizing she was talking about paying me for my help I said, "No. No. No. Just give me a hug and a kiss. To me, that's more valuable than money." And with that, she turned to me as if it was scene in a Hollywood movie, tears in her eyes as she approached me slowly with her arms open and gave me a very gentle, but very long hug. I could hear her weeping on my shoulder and I told her it was okay, her sister was now in bed and comfortable. I nearly cried myself. She thanked me and said goodbye as I left.
I'm not sure if the half-dozen Red Cross CPR-First Aid courses I'd taken throughout my life actually helped me but I think it did. At least I remembered to ask where she hurt and considered other options before finally moving her. I was more afraid of hurting her further if she'd had broken bones, possibly a broken hip. But she didn't wince much as I initially lifted her so I figured she was well enough.
The poor woman. I really felt bad seeing her cold and suffering on the floor. But when I saw her relaxed in her own bed I felt more at ease. And better yet, her sister, although also elderly, was staying with her. She told me she'd call the elder sister's children to see what they'd say. With that I thought to myself, "WHAT?! This old woman has children and she's living ALONE? Why isn't she being taken care of (at least) in a "residencia" (retirement home)?!"
So now, the event replays in my mind and surely will be replayed countless times more in the days and to come. Sure, I feel I did my duty as a citizen, helping the elderly. I did a good deed, etcetera etcetera. I think it's more more and more rare that we're called upon to do such things as people become more and more self-reliant (out of shame or stubbornness) and as social services take better care of our ailments and the elderly. Sadly, more and more often we can't be bothered with the problems of others, not so much because we can't help but that our apathy overpowers us, that any effort is too much.
These days nearly no one knows their neighbors. At one time neighbors relied on one another when a family member fell ill or died, when they went on vacation or needed their mail collected, and when people looked out for one another.
When one neighbor helps another neighbor we become a stronger, richer, community.
This has happened to me more than once - more than 10 times, probably. Yes, the neighbors have seen me naked. This isn't hard to do since the neighbors across the 5 meter-wide side street have windows facing my living room and one bedroom. They can't see into my "sleeping chambers", thank goodness, as it's on the OTHER side of the house, so I do have ONE totally private room in the house, along with the kitchen, where no one can see me from any angle.
This is a common (?) occurrence in cities where the streets are narrow and the multi-level building have no where to turn but to face their neighbor. People in New York City probably know what I'm talking about but most others in the USA don't since many of them live in houses with big yards. Even many people in apartments, as I used to have in Columbus, Ohio, may face a large (green) space and no one could see you without binoculars.
But here in Madrid it's common. I see and greet my neighbors daily, open-window to open-window. We talk about the weather, the heat, or discuss some streetside disturbance which happens down below. We even see each other out in the neighborhood doing our shopping and merely exchange greetings in passing but I know they're thinking, "I've seen him naked!".
They have a window and I have an enclosed terraza so oftentimes I pass through the living room and see the neighbor lady leaning on the windowsill and looking skyward. I do the same thing from time to time, just to feel like I'm outdoors a little. Although my terraza window has an all-covering curtain, I most often leave it pushed open to allow light and air to pass through to the house.
So, humans as we are and me as I am - especially when it's hot - I don't usually wear a lot of clothing around the house at any time of the day or night. And on some rare occasions, I don't wear anything - like when I take a shower, when I change out of sweaty gym clothes (ON the terraza), and, well, when I just don't feel like wearing anything.
The neighbors' window is directly about 5-10º higher than mine so they can see down and into my house while I can only see up through theirs, only seeing the ceiling lamp and their heads from the neck up if they're in the middle of their living room. That being the case, they can actually see through my living room and bathroom to the far wall - and can see my knees if I happen to be sitting on the toilet. I know. That's a nice thought, eh? And no, I don't like to shut the bathroom door in my own house if I'm alone. In these situations, if I happen to see the neighbor lady hanging out her window I'll lean over and push the door shut. This hasn't happened to me many times - but it has happened!
MANY times, when I've just come home from the gym, I've peeled off my sweaty clothes on the terraza to hang dry before putting them in the clothes hamper, and look up to see the darting eyes of the 60-something year old neighbor lady. Funny, I never see her husband or 30-something son ever hanging out the window. Well, sometimes I do but it's rare. In these cases I WILL pull the terraza curtain across to shield me, but if I see their window closed I won't bother and just let the clothes fall where they may. It HAS happened that WHILE I'm taking off said sweaty clothes and my eyes blinded, I hear the familiar noise of the neighbor's window blind rolling up and then, inevitably, the window opening. THAT's when I jump aside, barely out of view.
In summers, as stated above, I'll wear nearly nothing while in the house, usually only boxer shorts. So when I'm watching TV from the couch I feel comfortable because they can't see me from their living room window - BUT CAN FROM THEIR BEDROOM WINDOW! When I hear that window blind rolling up, well, I know then that they're in for a show - so I cross my legs or grab a cushion. Living in big, old, European cities (and some villages) like Madrid forces us to redefine the word "intimacy" - or maybe we just have a different perspective of the word from birth.
Sometimes, when the situation arises, when I'm with Spanish women and, well, they may be changing clothes or just out of the shower, and it seems the neighbors may see them I warn, "Hey! Be careful! The neighbors will see you!!" And their answer is always, "So let them look. Why should I care?" Sure. That's the answer I should've expected but don't instinctively consider. This, coming from a nation of topless sunbathers and cleaning ladies in the men's locker room. What was *I* thinking?
This is a common (?) occurrence in cities where the streets are narrow and the multi-level building have no where to turn but to face their neighbor. People in New York City probably know what I'm talking about but most others in the USA don't since many of them live in houses with big yards. Even many people in apartments, as I used to have in Columbus, Ohio, may face a large (green) space and no one could see you without binoculars.
But here in Madrid it's common. I see and greet my neighbors daily, open-window to open-window. We talk about the weather, the heat, or discuss some streetside disturbance which happens down below. We even see each other out in the neighborhood doing our shopping and merely exchange greetings in passing but I know they're thinking, "I've seen him naked!".
They have a window and I have an enclosed terraza so oftentimes I pass through the living room and see the neighbor lady leaning on the windowsill and looking skyward. I do the same thing from time to time, just to feel like I'm outdoors a little. Although my terraza window has an all-covering curtain, I most often leave it pushed open to allow light and air to pass through to the house.
So, humans as we are and me as I am - especially when it's hot - I don't usually wear a lot of clothing around the house at any time of the day or night. And on some rare occasions, I don't wear anything - like when I take a shower, when I change out of sweaty gym clothes (ON the terraza), and, well, when I just don't feel like wearing anything.
The neighbors' window is directly about 5-10º higher than mine so they can see down and into my house while I can only see up through theirs, only seeing the ceiling lamp and their heads from the neck up if they're in the middle of their living room. That being the case, they can actually see through my living room and bathroom to the far wall - and can see my knees if I happen to be sitting on the toilet. I know. That's a nice thought, eh? And no, I don't like to shut the bathroom door in my own house if I'm alone. In these situations, if I happen to see the neighbor lady hanging out her window I'll lean over and push the door shut. This hasn't happened to me many times - but it has happened!
MANY times, when I've just come home from the gym, I've peeled off my sweaty clothes on the terraza to hang dry before putting them in the clothes hamper, and look up to see the darting eyes of the 60-something year old neighbor lady. Funny, I never see her husband or 30-something son ever hanging out the window. Well, sometimes I do but it's rare. In these cases I WILL pull the terraza curtain across to shield me, but if I see their window closed I won't bother and just let the clothes fall where they may. It HAS happened that WHILE I'm taking off said sweaty clothes and my eyes blinded, I hear the familiar noise of the neighbor's window blind rolling up and then, inevitably, the window opening. THAT's when I jump aside, barely out of view.
In summers, as stated above, I'll wear nearly nothing while in the house, usually only boxer shorts. So when I'm watching TV from the couch I feel comfortable because they can't see me from their living room window - BUT CAN FROM THEIR BEDROOM WINDOW! When I hear that window blind rolling up, well, I know then that they're in for a show - so I cross my legs or grab a cushion. Living in big, old, European cities (and some villages) like Madrid forces us to redefine the word "intimacy" - or maybe we just have a different perspective of the word from birth.
Sometimes, when the situation arises, when I'm with Spanish women and, well, they may be changing clothes or just out of the shower, and it seems the neighbors may see them I warn, "Hey! Be careful! The neighbors will see you!!" And their answer is always, "So let them look. Why should I care?" Sure. That's the answer I should've expected but don't instinctively consider. This, coming from a nation of topless sunbathers and cleaning ladies in the men's locker room. What was *I* thinking?
Although the title makes it sound like a scene from a sexy porno movie, the fact remains that there are constantly women in the men's locker room at my gym! On at least 10 different occasions I've seen the cleaning women in the men's locker room. Doesn't this strike anyone else as being odd? Or maybe it's simply explained by the phrase, "This is Spain."
The first time, I was standing at the locker room urinal doing my bid'ness when I heard rustling behind me at the always-locked supply closet. I turned my head to see a short, middle-aged woman wearing what looked like loose-fitting hospital scrubs. Quickly, I turned my head back, eyes front, hands steady at the wheel.... Suddenly, I was nervous, shifting slightly my orientation in the opposite direction to further block any potential gaze until she left with her bags, bottles and such. "Whew. That was a close call. What's she doing in here?!"
Another time I was arriving at the gym and entered the locker room. No sooner had I turned the corner when I was passed by another woman, same hospital-looking garb, wearing yellow rubber gloves and carrying cleaning supplies. She was on her way out. But as soon as I passed her at least 2 naked men were entering the showers, crossing the same path which she had just walked.
On a different day, I was getting dressed and facing my open locker door, sinching up my shorts when another cleaning lady, this one much younger, passed through the entire length of the locker room. No one flinched, No one grabbed a towel. No one said a word. AND THESE WERE SPANISH MEN!!!
The above accounts happened at my current gym, where I've been going for about 1.5 years. At my previous gym, at the "Piscina Miami", the same kinds of things happened until the closed for some building violation. The building, which was a combination-use gym and swimming pool, and has since been demolished.
Even at that previous gym there were always women in the men's locker room, casually mopping the floors and cleaning the toilets every morning at 9am, shortly after they opened. And there I was in all my morning glory getting dressed. Actually, my "glory" was nothing more than me in a sweat suit because I always arrived fully dressed and ready to peel-off the sweats and get bizzy. But many other guys at that gym were struttin' their stuff when walking from their lockers to the showers after a workout.
At first I thought it must be difficult working in such an environment, seeing all these naked, sometimes muscular men in the same place where you work. Or maybe, like male gynecologists, when you see this kind of thing everyday you become totally desensitized to it all. And maybe the same goes for the guys in the locker room whom see these cleaning women in their daily midst. No big dillio.
I've YET to see any high-heal-wearing cleaning ladies with tight shorts, tight half-shirts, with large artificial breasts, winking at all the guys as she struts through the locker room like in the porno movies - not that I'd know anything about that. This is a family forum, afterall. Gyms are places for getting "fit", not for getting "it".
The first time, I was standing at the locker room urinal doing my bid'ness when I heard rustling behind me at the always-locked supply closet. I turned my head to see a short, middle-aged woman wearing what looked like loose-fitting hospital scrubs. Quickly, I turned my head back, eyes front, hands steady at the wheel.... Suddenly, I was nervous, shifting slightly my orientation in the opposite direction to further block any potential gaze until she left with her bags, bottles and such. "Whew. That was a close call. What's she doing in here?!"
Another time I was arriving at the gym and entered the locker room. No sooner had I turned the corner when I was passed by another woman, same hospital-looking garb, wearing yellow rubber gloves and carrying cleaning supplies. She was on her way out. But as soon as I passed her at least 2 naked men were entering the showers, crossing the same path which she had just walked.
On a different day, I was getting dressed and facing my open locker door, sinching up my shorts when another cleaning lady, this one much younger, passed through the entire length of the locker room. No one flinched, No one grabbed a towel. No one said a word. AND THESE WERE SPANISH MEN!!!
The above accounts happened at my current gym, where I've been going for about 1.5 years. At my previous gym, at the "Piscina Miami", the same kinds of things happened until the closed for some building violation. The building, which was a combination-use gym and swimming pool, and has since been demolished.
Even at that previous gym there were always women in the men's locker room, casually mopping the floors and cleaning the toilets every morning at 9am, shortly after they opened. And there I was in all my morning glory getting dressed. Actually, my "glory" was nothing more than me in a sweat suit because I always arrived fully dressed and ready to peel-off the sweats and get bizzy. But many other guys at that gym were struttin' their stuff when walking from their lockers to the showers after a workout.
At first I thought it must be difficult working in such an environment, seeing all these naked, sometimes muscular men in the same place where you work. Or maybe, like male gynecologists, when you see this kind of thing everyday you become totally desensitized to it all. And maybe the same goes for the guys in the locker room whom see these cleaning women in their daily midst. No big dillio.
I've YET to see any high-heal-wearing cleaning ladies with tight shorts, tight half-shirts, with large artificial breasts, winking at all the guys as she struts through the locker room like in the porno movies - not that I'd know anything about that. This is a family forum, afterall. Gyms are places for getting "fit", not for getting "it".
Today's blog entry is somewhat of a rant and has little to do with Madrid or with Spain - I hope.
DISCLAIMER: The following is not intended to generalize about all health clubs in Madrid or the exercise professionals working in them. It's only my personal experience with one gym in Madrid.
I like to go to the gym. Well, I don't LIKE to go but I know that if I don't I'll have more difficulty living daily life in the present AND in the future. I do it not because I love the pain, the heavy breathing, the constant sweating, the hot and humid locker rooms, the frequently empty toilet paper dispensers, and certainly not to look like many of the 20-somethings I see around me with their "fit and trim and hardly exercise to get that way".
I do it also to avoid - or to stave off - becoming overweight, which is a greater challenge with every passing year. I do like having visible muscles and a flat stomach but haven't had the latter for quite awhile now even though I only eat two meals a day. That is to say, I have bran cereal for breakfast, a big lunch, and only fruits and vegetables for dinner - and almost no snacks. So how is it possible that I DON'T have a flat stomach with this kind of diet and this amount of exercise?? Could it be genetics? Age? Or maybe the fact that apart form the gym I have a sedentary lifestyle, sitting most of the day in front of a computer. Well, I suppose all these things are factors in how we are. And it's funny - or not - that as my shoulders get broader, my chest wider, my arms and thighs bigger - but little of the fat is reduced. We all know that muscle weighs more than fat so..... instead of losing weight, I'm GAINING weight and my pants get tighter and tighter. It's not at all fair.
"The Population" at the gym is varied. You have your small, thin, petite girls. You have your 0% fat guys and lean muscles. You have your seriously overweight and desperate men and women. You have your older folks whom seem to spend more time talking and reading the sports newspaper than actually exercising. And you have your gym trainers.
Ahhh... the trainers. Of course, the trainers are there to help with your exercise form, help with the use of XYZ machines, and of course, to be personal, paid trainers for those who want personal assistance. I've been exercising all my life, off and on, and I'm amazed to watch some of the gym-goers exercising using such incredibly poor form - right in front of these supposed exercise professionals. The "clients" are going to fast or have their arms or seat in the wrong position and all the while the trainer is chit-chatting with the client about what they're going to do that upcoming weekend. I have only seen a few trainers actually stop at an exercise station and correct a person's form. There are few particular trainers whom always seem to be training the prettiest girls, never the old or the overweight, ONLY the pretty girls. And boy do these trainers take interest in them. They're all the while rubbing their shoulders, smiling, being charming, and doing very little "training". And the girls seem to like it too! No matter that the client is doing all the exercise in a nearly dangerous and harmful manner. And other trainers are like real gigolos - or so they believe themselves to be. When girls enter the gym the trainers always walk along side them, smiling, taking their arm or stroking their backs, doing things which would certainly get you arrested as sexual harassment in the United States. But again, the girls seem to like it. Or maybe they're afraid to say anything. Who knows.
When I exercise I do a kind of circuit training routine. For example, I will do one set of an upper-body exercise on MACHINE A, upon completion of that one set I get up and go to MACHINE B where I'll do one set of lower-body exercise, then immediately back to MACHINE A. I do this back and fourth, completing 4 sets on each machine - WITHOUT STOPPING. It's good upper and lower body exercise but also good aerobic exercise. After completing MACHINES A & B I'll take a very short 2 minute break to take a drink and wipe off the sweat from my face and then go to MACHINES C & D and do the same. This way I get double the exercise in the same amount of time and plus it's even better exercise. I leave the gym exhausted but feeling good.
The morning hours, until about 11am, is very very busy and all the machines are in use, causing long waits between machines. From 11am to 2pm it's not busy at all. But regardless of the hour, it's nearly inevitable that I have to wait for the machine to which I'm going to use because people see me leave MACHINE A and assume, correctly, that it's not in use. I snooze, I lose. But it never fails. While waiting to return to MACHINE A, I wait and wait and wait because the user is an older person who's in no hurry to finish with his/her exercises. Sometimes I think they just want to sit there and relax because there are no chairs in the gym. And you know you're in trouble when the person at the machine brings along a newspaper. WHO READS A NEWSPAPER WHILE EXERCISING???!! Answer: People not very serious about exercising. So there I am, standing behind the occupied machine while the person sitting there reads through an article about the latest Real Madrid soccer match, sometimes 5 to 7 minutes pass until they go back to their exercising. I know I'm within my rights to ask them if I can take a turn while they're waiting, and sometimes I do, but the answer is sometimes a gruff reply, upset I've disturbed their "resting station" while they "possess" this machine until they choose to leave it. So usually I don't ask and just wait. It's at these times when I fully understand why rock and movie stars have their own personal in-home gyms. ¡OJALA! But you can usually tell when a person will be more cheerful and more than willing to offer up the machine in between their sets. These people are usually more serious about their exercise and more mindful of others around them whom are "cooling down".
Do you ever get on a treadmill next to someone and 10-seconds later you think to yourself, "Man, this guy stinks!" and feel ashamed to immediately change to a treadmill further away because he'll somehow know?
I've even seen a few women with breast implants, but not too many. And when I say "breast implants" I don't mean these enormous pornstar-style breast implants (not that I've ever seen any, of course), but rather "average size" implants. One of these particular woman is one which proudly sunbathes topless in warmer weather. This same woman must have forgotten her gym shoes so she was doing all her exercise wearing high-heeled boots. It looked more funny than sexy as she strutted from one machine to another. I've never seen this particular woman crack a smile, she never talks to anyone and no one talks to her, she's very serious about her exercise.
(saving...writing more... about topless sunbathing, breast implants, and girls in the men's locker room - all the usual gym anecdotes, right?)
DISCLAIMER: The following is not intended to generalize about all health clubs in Madrid or the exercise professionals working in them. It's only my personal experience with one gym in Madrid.
I like to go to the gym. Well, I don't LIKE to go but I know that if I don't I'll have more difficulty living daily life in the present AND in the future. I do it not because I love the pain, the heavy breathing, the constant sweating, the hot and humid locker rooms, the frequently empty toilet paper dispensers, and certainly not to look like many of the 20-somethings I see around me with their "fit and trim and hardly exercise to get that way".
I do it also to avoid - or to stave off - becoming overweight, which is a greater challenge with every passing year. I do like having visible muscles and a flat stomach but haven't had the latter for quite awhile now even though I only eat two meals a day. That is to say, I have bran cereal for breakfast, a big lunch, and only fruits and vegetables for dinner - and almost no snacks. So how is it possible that I DON'T have a flat stomach with this kind of diet and this amount of exercise?? Could it be genetics? Age? Or maybe the fact that apart form the gym I have a sedentary lifestyle, sitting most of the day in front of a computer. Well, I suppose all these things are factors in how we are. And it's funny - or not - that as my shoulders get broader, my chest wider, my arms and thighs bigger - but little of the fat is reduced. We all know that muscle weighs more than fat so..... instead of losing weight, I'm GAINING weight and my pants get tighter and tighter. It's not at all fair.
"The Population" at the gym is varied. You have your small, thin, petite girls. You have your 0% fat guys and lean muscles. You have your seriously overweight and desperate men and women. You have your older folks whom seem to spend more time talking and reading the sports newspaper than actually exercising. And you have your gym trainers.
Ahhh... the trainers. Of course, the trainers are there to help with your exercise form, help with the use of XYZ machines, and of course, to be personal, paid trainers for those who want personal assistance. I've been exercising all my life, off and on, and I'm amazed to watch some of the gym-goers exercising using such incredibly poor form - right in front of these supposed exercise professionals. The "clients" are going to fast or have their arms or seat in the wrong position and all the while the trainer is chit-chatting with the client about what they're going to do that upcoming weekend. I have only seen a few trainers actually stop at an exercise station and correct a person's form. There are few particular trainers whom always seem to be training the prettiest girls, never the old or the overweight, ONLY the pretty girls. And boy do these trainers take interest in them. They're all the while rubbing their shoulders, smiling, being charming, and doing very little "training". And the girls seem to like it too! No matter that the client is doing all the exercise in a nearly dangerous and harmful manner. And other trainers are like real gigolos - or so they believe themselves to be. When girls enter the gym the trainers always walk along side them, smiling, taking their arm or stroking their backs, doing things which would certainly get you arrested as sexual harassment in the United States. But again, the girls seem to like it. Or maybe they're afraid to say anything. Who knows.
When I exercise I do a kind of circuit training routine. For example, I will do one set of an upper-body exercise on MACHINE A, upon completion of that one set I get up and go to MACHINE B where I'll do one set of lower-body exercise, then immediately back to MACHINE A. I do this back and fourth, completing 4 sets on each machine - WITHOUT STOPPING. It's good upper and lower body exercise but also good aerobic exercise. After completing MACHINES A & B I'll take a very short 2 minute break to take a drink and wipe off the sweat from my face and then go to MACHINES C & D and do the same. This way I get double the exercise in the same amount of time and plus it's even better exercise. I leave the gym exhausted but feeling good.
The morning hours, until about 11am, is very very busy and all the machines are in use, causing long waits between machines. From 11am to 2pm it's not busy at all. But regardless of the hour, it's nearly inevitable that I have to wait for the machine to which I'm going to use because people see me leave MACHINE A and assume, correctly, that it's not in use. I snooze, I lose. But it never fails. While waiting to return to MACHINE A, I wait and wait and wait because the user is an older person who's in no hurry to finish with his/her exercises. Sometimes I think they just want to sit there and relax because there are no chairs in the gym. And you know you're in trouble when the person at the machine brings along a newspaper. WHO READS A NEWSPAPER WHILE EXERCISING???!! Answer: People not very serious about exercising. So there I am, standing behind the occupied machine while the person sitting there reads through an article about the latest Real Madrid soccer match, sometimes 5 to 7 minutes pass until they go back to their exercising. I know I'm within my rights to ask them if I can take a turn while they're waiting, and sometimes I do, but the answer is sometimes a gruff reply, upset I've disturbed their "resting station" while they "possess" this machine until they choose to leave it. So usually I don't ask and just wait. It's at these times when I fully understand why rock and movie stars have their own personal in-home gyms. ¡OJALA! But you can usually tell when a person will be more cheerful and more than willing to offer up the machine in between their sets. These people are usually more serious about their exercise and more mindful of others around them whom are "cooling down".
Do you ever get on a treadmill next to someone and 10-seconds later you think to yourself, "Man, this guy stinks!" and feel ashamed to immediately change to a treadmill further away because he'll somehow know?
I've even seen a few women with breast implants, but not too many. And when I say "breast implants" I don't mean these enormous pornstar-style breast implants (not that I've ever seen any, of course), but rather "average size" implants. One of these particular woman is one which proudly sunbathes topless in warmer weather. This same woman must have forgotten her gym shoes so she was doing all her exercise wearing high-heeled boots. It looked more funny than sexy as she strutted from one machine to another. I've never seen this particular woman crack a smile, she never talks to anyone and no one talks to her, she's very serious about her exercise.
(saving...writing more... about topless sunbathing, breast implants, and girls in the men's locker room - all the usual gym anecdotes, right?)
To say I'm a FAN of olives and olive oil would be a gross understatement.
Olives and olive oil are part of a Mediterranean diet - and certainly are part of my daily diet. It's rare if I pass one day here in Spain without eating olives and often have a dish of them with my dinner or lunch or just for an afternoon or evening snack with a can of beer. Being offered a small plate of green olives in bars is always a very welcome free tapa.
Here at home I frequently make pasta or rice dishes and one of the most important ingredients is green olives. For these dishes I'll buy the small, sealed plastic bags of green manzanilla olives "Sin Hueso" - without pitts. These olives are always from the Seville area.
I also always keep a good supply of canned green olives stuffed with anchovies. What?! ANCHOVIES? That's disgusting, right?! RIGHT! They were disgusting the first, second, and even third time I tried them. After that, I was hooked. And I don't even like anchovies! In Spanish, they're called "Aceitunas Rellenas de Anchoa". Mmmmm.... SO delicious. And I can't think of a healthier snack!
Growing up in north central Ohio we usually had cans of California black/ripe olives in the cupboard and jars of green Spanish olives in the refrigerator. The latter were always stuffed with red pimento. Pimento? Yes, it's a kind of sweet red pepper cut, folded, and stuffed into the olive. But why were they always refrigerated after opening? Like so many food items in the USA, I guess, it carried the labeling, "REFRIGERATE AFTER OPENING". And like the green olives, the black olives were usually only eaten when added to salads or just on a relish tray for "picking".
Olive Oil. Now I put olive oil into everything including soup broth, pastas and rices, and use it when frying anything like eggs, meats, and broiling chicken and pork steaks. It's always applied to salads along with vinegar - the ONLY way make salad dressing in Spain.
We almost never had olive oil back home in Ohio. We always used vegetable oil for cooking and frying eggs and bottles of Thousand Island or Ranch dressing for our salads. I think we started having olive oil in the cupboard when I was in high school but it was used sparingly as it was so expensive.
It was after my first visit to Spain in 1995 when I began taking on a more Mediterranean Diet. And WHAT are the staples of a good Mediterranean Diet? That's easy. Olives and Olive Oil.
I first started buying olive oil in those little 12 ounce bottles at my local Kroger grocery store in Columbus, Ohio. I remember it was expensive and they only had two brands - and ALL of the brands were of ITALIAN olive oil. The was a default - and still is in the American Olive Oil Market. I guess it doesn't matter to anyone that 60+% of the "Italian" Olive Oil comes from SPANISH olives and then blended with local olive oil in order to put the "ITALIAN" on the label. THAT'S marketable. Imagine if they put bottles of SPANISH olive oil on the shelf next to the ITALIAN olive oil in your local supermarket. NO ONE would buy the Spanish one. Or would they?? Quick answer is NO. Read on, MacDuff!
It's my understanding that one of the reasons why the Spanish olive oil industry doesn't market its olive oil abroad is because of the long-term agreements they have with the Italian olive oil industry. The Italian industry is set throughout the world and, possibly, the Spanish olive oil industry find they make more money in selling directly to the Italians than the possibility/probability of losing money in marketing, unsold olive oil, and the like.
After a few visits to Spain and as I was in my self-prescribed-process of Spanish-izing myself for my hoped-for move to Spain, I found the local Latino Products supermarket was carrying Spanish Olive Oil AND Spanish Olives - both of the GOYA brand. They were expensive but I was just happy to be able to consume products from Spain. The delicious and popular anchovy-stuffed olives were a whopping $2,99 per can. OUCH! I'd buy 4 at a time and save them for a special evening when I'd have my weekly "Spanish Tapas at Home" dinner which usually consisted of cheese, the olives, a poorly made tortilla de patatas, some chorizo, baguette bread, and Spanish wine. I would even make flan for dessert.
Final thoughts: A number of NON-Europeans choose NOT to use olives or olive oil in their diets because they're high in fat. That's totally true. But don't forget that olives and olive oil has healing properties as well!
FYI: Right now I'm eating anchovy-stuffed green olives to inspire me for this blog entry. Mmm...
Olives and olive oil are part of a Mediterranean diet - and certainly are part of my daily diet. It's rare if I pass one day here in Spain without eating olives and often have a dish of them with my dinner or lunch or just for an afternoon or evening snack with a can of beer. Being offered a small plate of green olives in bars is always a very welcome free tapa.
Here at home I frequently make pasta or rice dishes and one of the most important ingredients is green olives. For these dishes I'll buy the small, sealed plastic bags of green manzanilla olives "Sin Hueso" - without pitts. These olives are always from the Seville area.
I also always keep a good supply of canned green olives stuffed with anchovies. What?! ANCHOVIES? That's disgusting, right?! RIGHT! They were disgusting the first, second, and even third time I tried them. After that, I was hooked. And I don't even like anchovies! In Spanish, they're called "Aceitunas Rellenas de Anchoa". Mmmmm.... SO delicious. And I can't think of a healthier snack!
Growing up in north central Ohio we usually had cans of California black/ripe olives in the cupboard and jars of green Spanish olives in the refrigerator. The latter were always stuffed with red pimento. Pimento? Yes, it's a kind of sweet red pepper cut, folded, and stuffed into the olive. But why were they always refrigerated after opening? Like so many food items in the USA, I guess, it carried the labeling, "REFRIGERATE AFTER OPENING". And like the green olives, the black olives were usually only eaten when added to salads or just on a relish tray for "picking".
Olive Oil. Now I put olive oil into everything including soup broth, pastas and rices, and use it when frying anything like eggs, meats, and broiling chicken and pork steaks. It's always applied to salads along with vinegar - the ONLY way make salad dressing in Spain.
We almost never had olive oil back home in Ohio. We always used vegetable oil for cooking and frying eggs and bottles of Thousand Island or Ranch dressing for our salads. I think we started having olive oil in the cupboard when I was in high school but it was used sparingly as it was so expensive.
It was after my first visit to Spain in 1995 when I began taking on a more Mediterranean Diet. And WHAT are the staples of a good Mediterranean Diet? That's easy. Olives and Olive Oil.
I first started buying olive oil in those little 12 ounce bottles at my local Kroger grocery store in Columbus, Ohio. I remember it was expensive and they only had two brands - and ALL of the brands were of ITALIAN olive oil. The was a default - and still is in the American Olive Oil Market. I guess it doesn't matter to anyone that 60+% of the "Italian" Olive Oil comes from SPANISH olives and then blended with local olive oil in order to put the "ITALIAN" on the label. THAT'S marketable. Imagine if they put bottles of SPANISH olive oil on the shelf next to the ITALIAN olive oil in your local supermarket. NO ONE would buy the Spanish one. Or would they?? Quick answer is NO. Read on, MacDuff!
It's my understanding that one of the reasons why the Spanish olive oil industry doesn't market its olive oil abroad is because of the long-term agreements they have with the Italian olive oil industry. The Italian industry is set throughout the world and, possibly, the Spanish olive oil industry find they make more money in selling directly to the Italians than the possibility/probability of losing money in marketing, unsold olive oil, and the like.
While Italy enjoys a reputation as the bottler of the world's best olive oils, too few Americans take note of the products' origins, said Jeffrey Shaw, marketing director of Foods From Spain. "Spain is the No. 1 world producer of olive oil ... And Italy is our best customer," Shaw said. About 60 percent of Spanish olive oil is exported to Italy, and much of it is used by Italian brands, he said. (2004 source)Since the Italian olive oil was the only and cheapest olive oil available - and STILL very expensive - and because I was using it in greater and greater quantities I started buying the large CANS of olive oil. It was cheaper to buy it in larger containers, maybe $30 per can, and still Italian. I'd always have to ask one of the clerks to take down one of the cans from on top of the display racks because NO ONE bought those. In my last few years before moving to Spain, my local Kroger supermarket started carrying olive oil from Spain and, unfortunately, the local latino market stopped carrying the Spanish olives. Oh well. Soon was I was to be IN Spain anyway.
After a few visits to Spain and as I was in my self-prescribed-process of Spanish-izing myself for my hoped-for move to Spain, I found the local Latino Products supermarket was carrying Spanish Olive Oil AND Spanish Olives - both of the GOYA brand. They were expensive but I was just happy to be able to consume products from Spain. The delicious and popular anchovy-stuffed olives were a whopping $2,99 per can. OUCH! I'd buy 4 at a time and save them for a special evening when I'd have my weekly "Spanish Tapas at Home" dinner which usually consisted of cheese, the olives, a poorly made tortilla de patatas, some chorizo, baguette bread, and Spanish wine. I would even make flan for dessert.
Final thoughts: A number of NON-Europeans choose NOT to use olives or olive oil in their diets because they're high in fat. That's totally true. But don't forget that olives and olive oil has healing properties as well!
The beneficial health effects of olive oil are due to both its high content of monounsaturated fatty acids and its high content of antioxidative substances. Studies have shown that olive oil offers protection against heart disease by controlling LDL ("bad") cholesterol levels while raising HDL (the "good" cholesterol) levels. (1-3) No other naturally produced oil has as large an amount of monounsaturated as olive oil -mainly oleic acid.
Olive oil is very well tolerated by the stomach. In fact, olive oil's protective function has a beneficial effect on ulcers and gastritis. Olive oil activates the secretion of bile and pancreatic hormones much more naturally than prescribed drugs. Consequently, it lowers the incidence of gallstone formation. (source: HealingDaily.com)
FYI: Right now I'm eating anchovy-stuffed green olives to inspire me for this blog entry. Mmm...
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.
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.
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.
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.
For customer service, Spanish pharmacies are near the top!
Unlike in the USA, when you want to buy something like Alka-Seltzer, diarrhea medicine, ASPIRIN, or condoms, you MUST go to the pharmacy. For Spaniards, this is a common fact of life. For Americans, we say, "WHAT?! I have to ask a pharmacist for CONDOMS?!" or "WHAT?! I have to admit to the pharmacist that I have diarrhea?!" or "WHAT?! I have to pay 4 Euros for a pack of 20 aspirins??????!!!"
All these things for Americans is, to say the least, unusual and uncomfortable. We can semi-secretly put boxes of condoms and diarrhea medicine under our arms and face the teenager cashier at any grocery store, convenient start, or drug-store-super-store and we don't have to ask anyone to buy them. Walk up, take it off the hook, and carry it directly to the cash register.
We're also NOT accustomed to paying such prices for aspirin! This, for me, is the most shocking thing. We in the USA (can) pay about $1.50 for a bottle of 100+ aspirin! This is something so common! And store-brand Alka-Seltzer can cost $.200 for a box of 50. So what do I do, I stock up on all these things when I go to the USA and bring them back to Spain with me so I don't have to pay such prices or face such embarrassment at the pharmacies here in Spain.
All that said, wow, I'm beyond impressed with the professionalism of the pharmacies here. These people not only know their stuff (as any self-respecting pharmacist would), but they also take their take to understand your problem. They really tend to treat you like family, always very friendly, always very helpful.
And while the aspirin might be expensive the prescription drugs are DIRT-CHEAP!! WOW! There is one prescription I had filled for the last 10 years in the USA - nothing REALLY necessary but helpful - which cost me $20-per-unit. Here, it costs me 2.40€!!!! This fact reminds me of a number of scenes in the Michael Moore movie SICKO where he goes to Canada, England, and France and asks the people how much they pay for their prescription drugs - and the answer is always the same - IT'S CHEAP compared to the USA.
Don't get me started on the US Healthcare System but let me say this, when I go to the doctor I first ask for an appointment. When I show up for my appointment the doctor calls out 5 people's name for my particular time-slot and we take turns depending on the order of the names called. I've never waited more than 20 minutes for my name to be called and the care has always been professional.
Back to pharmacies: they do observe siesta-hours. But there is always a 24-hour pharmacy available in nearly every neighborhood for emergencies. And I've never walked away from a pharmacy without them giving me some kind of little freebie like a box of sugar-free throat lozenges, a pack of facial tissues, or something like that. What a nice detail which costs them little and strengthens the pharmacist-patient bond. Children always get sugar-free suckers too.
I've gone to a couple different pharmacies here in the neighborhood and so they know me by my face and my nationality. As I've said before, I'm CLEARLY the only United Statesen in THIS neighborhood. They always treat me so nicely, very friendly, asking about me and when I've visited home last, telling about how their daughter is now studying English or recently visited England or Boston.
I think Pharmacies are very similar across Europe so I doubt someone from Sweden would be surprised about what I'm writing because "that's the way it is". But for an American it's a true experience.
By the way, I'd imagine one could also buy condoms in a Sex Shop in Madrid, for example, but... I don't think I'm ready for that - YET.
Saludos, MadridMan
Unlike in the USA, when you want to buy something like Alka-Seltzer, diarrhea medicine, ASPIRIN, or condoms, you MUST go to the pharmacy. For Spaniards, this is a common fact of life. For Americans, we say, "WHAT?! I have to ask a pharmacist for CONDOMS?!" or "WHAT?! I have to admit to the pharmacist that I have diarrhea?!" or "WHAT?! I have to pay 4 Euros for a pack of 20 aspirins??????!!!"
All these things for Americans is, to say the least, unusual and uncomfortable. We can semi-secretly put boxes of condoms and diarrhea medicine under our arms and face the teenager cashier at any grocery store, convenient start, or drug-store-super-store and we don't have to ask anyone to buy them. Walk up, take it off the hook, and carry it directly to the cash register.
We're also NOT accustomed to paying such prices for aspirin! This, for me, is the most shocking thing. We in the USA (can) pay about $1.50 for a bottle of 100+ aspirin! This is something so common! And store-brand Alka-Seltzer can cost $.200 for a box of 50. So what do I do, I stock up on all these things when I go to the USA and bring them back to Spain with me so I don't have to pay such prices or face such embarrassment at the pharmacies here in Spain.
All that said, wow, I'm beyond impressed with the professionalism of the pharmacies here. These people not only know their stuff (as any self-respecting pharmacist would), but they also take their take to understand your problem. They really tend to treat you like family, always very friendly, always very helpful.
And while the aspirin might be expensive the prescription drugs are DIRT-CHEAP!! WOW! There is one prescription I had filled for the last 10 years in the USA - nothing REALLY necessary but helpful - which cost me $20-per-unit. Here, it costs me 2.40€!!!! This fact reminds me of a number of scenes in the Michael Moore movie SICKO where he goes to Canada, England, and France and asks the people how much they pay for their prescription drugs - and the answer is always the same - IT'S CHEAP compared to the USA.
Don't get me started on the US Healthcare System but let me say this, when I go to the doctor I first ask for an appointment. When I show up for my appointment the doctor calls out 5 people's name for my particular time-slot and we take turns depending on the order of the names called. I've never waited more than 20 minutes for my name to be called and the care has always been professional.
Back to pharmacies: they do observe siesta-hours. But there is always a 24-hour pharmacy available in nearly every neighborhood for emergencies. And I've never walked away from a pharmacy without them giving me some kind of little freebie like a box of sugar-free throat lozenges, a pack of facial tissues, or something like that. What a nice detail which costs them little and strengthens the pharmacist-patient bond. Children always get sugar-free suckers too.
I've gone to a couple different pharmacies here in the neighborhood and so they know me by my face and my nationality. As I've said before, I'm CLEARLY the only United Statesen in THIS neighborhood. They always treat me so nicely, very friendly, asking about me and when I've visited home last, telling about how their daughter is now studying English or recently visited England or Boston.
I think Pharmacies are very similar across Europe so I doubt someone from Sweden would be surprised about what I'm writing because "that's the way it is". But for an American it's a true experience.
By the way, I'd imagine one could also buy condoms in a Sex Shop in Madrid, for example, but... I don't think I'm ready for that - YET.
Saludos, MadridMan
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