me vaig. Posted on January 20, 2003 # adéu. kicking, screaming Posted on January 20, 2003 # I'd rather not be packing and cleaning, actually. mascot of diagonal Posted on January 19, 2003 # Every city has something. Barcelona has feral parrots. One word: zoobreak caca & huete Posted on January 19, 2003 # Beth and Celine have just left, bound for the culture-shock torn South of France, and I have all the confidence in the world in them. You ask why? Well, my friends, naysay my sister or her partners-in-crime (no matter their bizarre aliases) and you're in for a box of whoop-ass-o-licious. Why indeed. Following the first 8-hour bus ride, and packed snugly into their 48 hours in Barcelona--indeed, during a 14-hour stretch waking up at 3pm Saturday--the Darling Duo: scaled and tugged-of-war atop the Park Güell; did the hokey pokey at the Hospital Sant Pau; gawked at the Sagrada Familia; strolled gracefully down the Passeig de Gracia, taking in the Pedrera, the Casa Batllò and its competitors; treated their humbled host, and partook of snails from the shell (not Beth; she pitied poor Jose el Caracol as we chomped his family), whopping hunks of beautiful steak, and fruit with chocolate fondue; duelled the green fairy at famous Marsella (shh! don't tell!); roamed the Rambla and the Gothic Quarter, desserting with cafès cortado and English tea at El Salòn; and snubbed many a low-rent option to bring in the dawn in peals of laughter at the gorgeous La Paloma. What really impressed this tag-along was finding them less than 6 hours later adrift in the Parc del Laberint atop the city, braving reports of (perdoni?) rain. Here we see our heroines hopelessly lost, ultimately turning to devour their own clothing in utter despair. Final victory led to the inevitable Japanesing, followed by some well deserved Frenching. jubu intro Posted on January 18, 2003 # This Friday I am to meet the Jewish Buddha. I can't imagine a better blog post [1.17.2003] to welcome me back to the U.S. Thanks, JuBu. maths exercise Posted on January 16, 2003 # May not be partial diff eq's, but the Greta Garbo Home for Wayward Boys & Girls has seen, in chronological order: Dave Kerry Christine Michael & Kevin Pat Emily David Mom Yumiko & Emma Shannon & Noah Lee Beth Celine Awards are in order. Check back soon. soeur Posted on January 16, 2003 # "we're taking the bus, it takes 8 hours from marseille. finding the bus to marseille tomorrow morning will be an adventure." Beth! Against monumental 1st-week-studying-abroad odds, she and her trusty Tomato are scheduled to hit Catalunya tomorrow afternoon. ole, again Posted on January 16, 2003 # Oh, and we did it again. Even had a nice chat with the couple living out front. ack Posted on January 16, 2003 # ¡mierda! spain.licious is all but over. Somehow this reality slipped by me, and have clearly dropped the ball on mourning its passing. Ehh, who want to get all maudlin anyway. We'll continue as ever under different auspices soon enough. Still spain.licious? In the end, it should have been barca.licious or barce.licious...therein lies the problem, though. Phonetically it just falls on its face. Spain, however, this was not. silent tx Posted on January 15, 2003 # Pardon the mum-ness. Departure still set for Tuesday, pending a cancellation of Beth's visit this weekend. The 21st should see me in Annapolis with possible snow showers. After Super Sunday, I may well be on my way to San Francisco. The one legitimate bite I did get from that ad in the Metropolitan apparently thought I way gay based on my choices of city. Apparently all I lack in Amsterdam in this past year's repertoire. Then again, he's apparently putting up 2 of his employees in a separate apartment in the move to Barcelona. They're gay. Made 50 euro off passing him along to Marta, who is the front-runner in closer of the year. I pass the mantle to her, and wish her well in her local destination managing while I'm gone. Next job has to be more lucrative than this was. Then again, I'm no Shinchan. A life of ease is worth a lot. gokurosama Posted on January 15, 2003 # Tough day at the office for Shinchan. arenas de barcelona Posted on January 10, 2003 # Across the street from the police station in Plaça Espanya is the old bullring, Las Arenas de Barcelona, long condemned due to an old, tired foundation. You've seen the pictures by now; from the trees growing on the floor, it should be clear how long it's been in disrepair. Oh, and yes, we did break in, and yes, we did run up our own flag and salute. Yes, we are childish. And yes, it was worth it. I do, however, have a valid reason: it's going to be remodeled. From the photos from the roof, you can see why an overhaul is long since overdue: location, location, loc...you get the picture. Across the very central Plaça Espanya and in front of the stately MNAC and Montjüic is the Fira de Barcelona, one of Europe's largest convention center complexes. Uh oh. Getting the picture? What could replace a bullring in this day and age? What else? A mall. Before you recoil and retreat into a "never-be-caught-dead-there" mantra, the builders (Richard Rogers and the Barcelona firm Alonso, Balaguer y Arquitectos Asociados) have agreed to limit commercial space to less than 25% of the new structure, and battle to exclude nightclubs in the interest of the "neighborhood" (or what will remain of one) is apparently being won. There will be a good deal of convention/meeting space, a cinema, health and exercise centers, offices and three of the 6 floors will support 1250-car parking. The center will remain structurally open, so the whole complex will be visible from the inside, and the facade will remain, though it will be cleaned and, undoubtedly, touched up a fair amount. Much as I fear for the future, Rogers did create the Pompidou Centre in Paris; there is hope. After all, the bullring is and has been just sitting there, collecting dust and trespassers. arenas Posted on January 03, 2003 # Lee and Beth were incredible guests. You'll never believe what we got up to. Scroll through. I'll do an article on the Arenas in a minute. It's an interesting proposition, though I'm not sure which side of the flagpole I'm on about it. the park güell Posted on January 03, 2003 # Park Güell. December 29th. Pardon the discretion, and the delay. The Hope Diamond in a 13th-century white-gold band, for the visual effect it gives. In case you're wondering. A really marvelous couple of people. You may recognize them from such previous escapades as the Arenas de Barcelona, or 33 Crosby. Or you may not. Your loss. Congratulations. You'll have a relationship that'll average more fun than most people's prom. Come to think of it, how great is J. Q.'s prom? From a number of stories I've heard... So much fun that the rest won't bother but fall in line. In fact, watch. They'll make it look so easy, and rosy, and bloody hell, what abou.. Hopefully not with a ceremony that's bigger than the Beatles, but Tokyo Disneyland could drop to 2. ready quip Posted on January 03, 2003 # Whenever someone repeats the inevitable question, "Why did you move to Barcelona?" there are two options now readily at your tips: 1. It's January third. It's sunny and 65. 2. Read someone else's postcard on Barcelona's new street billboards. lucid moment? Posted on January 03, 2003 # Re-evaluation of purpose and direction is oddly still. After this glut of easy work and winged-sole experience, I could do something worth doing. I certainly don't lack in motivating examples; jump to anyone at right and the trend is clear. It's a lot closer to the bone. Like the end of a meal at Alba, digging for the last luscious pearls that in the end you can't help but prize highest. In reading Po Bronson blurbs, I feel cliche, and at the same time, glad to have company. over Posted on January 03, 2003 # They're gone. And with that, it's over. 2002 managed to carry over, in its slow, sticky torpor, through the last two visits of today, January 3rd. The continued presence of Shannon and Noah isn't like having guests. More like finally having friends, or family. I suppose it's more the size and diversity of visiting groups that puts everything else on frame-by-frame advance; it was the same with the pal and that record Greta Garbo crowd. Life moves on once the crowds thin, no matter who the crowds were made of. lazy Posted on January 01, 2003 # Lounging on the floor as 2003 roars in. 3 videos later, I'm off to see Una Casa de Locos at Verdi Park. back on Posted on December 30, 2002 # Licious is back on. Lee should already have touched down, Beth (aka The Mun) should arrive this evening, and everyone convenes tomorrow night at Greta Garbo to bid farewell (and in my case, say thanks) to 2002. living a lie Posted on December 30, 2002 # Life with a secret. Augh! the 4 point Posted on December 29, 2002 # Check the piano on timshel.org. For the record, he got straight A's his first semester in grad school, too. :D islam Posted on December 20, 2002 # This is what education is all about. Three cheers for the Key School, for Katherine Haas and Martin Beadle, and for the whole 4th grade class. You do more for Annapolis than anyone I know, and I appreciate you for it often. Did I ever tell you about the Maori in Guernika? Visiting the government seat of Basque Country in Spain, we came across a group of traveling Maori, singing in front of the 2nd generation tree, and spoke briefly with a few of them. "Choice!" was the emotional reaction I got when I told them of my 4th grade education at Key, learning Maori songs and playing the traditional sticks in a school play. An incredible education. lots of updates Posted on December 20, 2002 # After the flurry of updates below, we're off to Germany for Christmas. farewell Posted on December 20, 2002 # The first goodbye. Paco has gone back to Perth, and our best wishes for his father's health go with him. Having to cancel a New Year's trip to Prague with his girlfriend and take all his paid vacation from work and then some, he won't be back until his father has conquered lung cancer, undoubtedly after we go. A healthy non-smoker. Fair was never promised, but sometimes it's just not right. All our very, very best to the whole family. increasingly wayward Posted on December 20, 2002 # As if the New Year weren't bringing in the stockinged feet (no shoe rule) soon enough, Yumiko and Emma turned up as numbers 10 and 11 at Greta Garbo. As usual, the Home put on a tourist extravaganza, likely overdoing it, and leaving them modernismed to pieces. They were great sports, and in showing them around, I wonder how selfish it was to take them to my favorite spots: Park Guell, Sant Pau, Sol y Soler (in the Plaza del Sol, Gracia), and along the Passeig de Gracia. Thing about Barcelona is the tourist sites are actually worth seeing--it's the city herself that's such a marvel. Nightlife, daylife, beachlife, food, wine, wom...hmm... Count the women as part of the maravilla of the city, and that's the whole point. Like Paris, but for the beauty rather than the charm. I hope they enjoyed their time, even if they did miss the magic of Cafe Miranda. yokohama project Posted on December 20, 2002 # The event at ras promoting their new book looked to be a success of its own, though the project itself will have to be seen to be judged. Obviously I'm no eye for the architectural value, and though the book offers a tremendous amount of detail, its second-language nature led me to wonder about certain aspects of it. For instance, the shots of skateboarders and the blurbs on sports exhibitions fly directly in the face of an existing rule against skateboarding anywhere on the port. If you're in Yamashita Koen, take a look and contact licious. I'll need a firsthand opinion on this one. xmas curry Posted on December 20, 2002 # Christmas curry was a success. Following the first, the green chicken curry, with the palate-cleansing (and tongue-cooling) coconut yoghurt may have saved Sara from heading home early. The second, red chicken, wasn't as spicy as I'd predicted, to the delight of everyone...but me. It's always more fun when someone's crying and coughing and... I sound evil, don't I? seeing white Posted on December 15, 2002 # Masella, in the lower Pyrenees, is quality. Who knew, with this lows-of-50 degree Barcelona weather that 2 hours away you'd get dozens of slopes, two-foot powder (well, on the unoffical runs...) 22 euro boot and board rental, and simple, beautiful panoramas? Took Saturday to snowboard, and it's been a minute. Once in Nagano, once in Maryland, and that's all I can remember in the last half dozen years. I didn't even get my balance back till the afternoon; the 2nd run of the morning was a complete and utter whiteout. Heavy, wet snowfall with winds that gusted up to 30mph at times, in cotton-thick fog. We came over the rise on the lift and got it straight in the face, and didn't get out of it for another 20 minutes. Slopes are long--beautiful--and there's a red level between blue and black, making for a fantastic variety. Spent some time on untouched back slopes, introduced by a friend's boss who was out with a small crew, including his daughter. There does seem to exist a trace of the social togetherness of family memebers that I remember from Ecuador, which the American black community seems to have, and Japan doesn't. Again, the only apparent American in sight. The style pervades, as of course snowboarding would, but not so much that you couldn't tell you were abroad. Oscar, who drove, borrowed my baseball cap just for image. It cleared in the afternoon, an enormous improvement. Clear enough to see the whitewashed limestone hills all around and the scattered pines. Halfway down on one afternoon run, Oscar unstrapped his board and it got away. I've never seen anything like it; he's half-heartedly jogging down the hill, and just drops his hands on his head while nearly pleading, "board! board! oh.. board! aaaah.. boooard!" We didn't catch it for two hundred meters, two turns around the mountain later. I ate it, too--backward, and hard enough to throw the shades 30 feet, forward, while trying to hunt it down among the trees. well said. Posted on December 14, 2002 # Simply well said. "old hat" Posted on December 13, 2002 # The Shoe is indeed years ahead of our time. (Should he not be subsidized for this?) The 'moblog' he arranged so flawlessly for japalicious a year or two ago is now apparently all the mass-media hype. And now for an overly dramatic parallel to far weightier events, much appreciation to another itinerant participant-observer: "When you are taking part in events like these you are, I suppose, in a small way, making history, and you ought by rights to feel like an historical character. But you never do, because at such time the physical details always outweigh everything else." George Orwell, Homage to Catalonia I strongly recommend this book. It is no quirk of fate that there is a Plaza de George Orwell in this city, and no small thing to read his views and his style before his dispossession with the Socialist movement. los españoles Posted on December 12, 2002 # It's back! Perhaps only a temporary reprieve, but for now, the week-late posting of the last full-size email sent before the Curious Collapse of Cable--on Thanksgiving. Do note that construction continues on all fronts. --- --- --- --- (plagarized from a recent email) Around 9:30 AM: We are awoken for the fifth or sixth time this morning because of the machines and pounding down below (that will never cease, I now realize, in spite of all the "next week" "day after tomorrow" promises we've been given) and the mail/delivery/flyer-in-mailbox-stuffer men who ring EVERY doorbell to gain entrance to the building. There have been four this morning. FOUR. Around 1:00 PM: Successful completion of bilingual Spanish Scrabble. 1:10 PM: Attempt to photograph the board. For this one needs light; an attempt to pull up the Spanish shutters outside the window. This proves to be impossible. Here I note that we have guests-PLURAL- coming over for a DELAYED Thanksgiving dinner. (Did I ever tell you the one about the American couple that found a Turkey, made stuffing, and even found a Spanish oven to cook it in on Thanksgiving Day, but couldn't b/c they didn't think to check if the oven had an actual temperature gauge? They arrived, saw the choice of HIGH or LOW and were told, "It's great, it's gas, so it cooks really fast. Just set it on high and the turkey should be done in about 1.5 hours" It's a ten pound bird. "Grreeeat." 1:20 PM: Two Spanish workmen from downstairs (see aforementioned reasons for waking) arrive, solicited, to attempt to fix the problem. They inform us that it is broken, and not our landlord's problem, but ours, to fix it. Our guests are Spanish. Spanish people smoke a lot. Here I should note that in aformentioned conversations with said workmen I discovered that they were the ones who gutted and redid every inch of our apartment LAST YEAR. Thus, this is their handywork that has failed less than a year later. What to do now? Call the landlord? Can't really leave him a message b/c he can't call us back. Why? Having recently switched phone companies in an attempt to get digital cable (BBC!! English CNN!! VH1!!) the following has occurred: 1. we have one phone number from which we make calls. 2. we have a different phone number for receiving calls. 3. we cannot seem to access messages on either phone line because the old company won't give us the code to get to the messages and the new company provides all of the directions in CATA-#*@%ING-LAN. 4. we can only send email of limited size (think cell-phone short messaging). Ah. Los Españoles. wintering Posted on December 12, 2002 # I've noticed a hibernating air to many a blog these days, from Susan to the normally sleepless Shoe, and can't help but give in a little more myself. Next year's plans are rolling along, with or without my undivided attention, and after a little more holiday turkey, a lot more family, and a night out three weeks from now, it's simply going to be a new year. 2002 was payback. And it had to be. We got back our sanity, our peace, our friends, and maybe we spent a little more of what we'd had saved up, but looking around, we all look a little better for it. Next, I suppose it's time to take on some of the demons that have been gaining ground unchecked. I can't help but feel ready--who wouldn't after waking up at 2pm every day? After being denied the right to work? Being put on hold for half a year? Here's to having direction again, and to a better pace. meanwhile Posted on December 11, 2002 # Meanwhile, the Greta Garbo Home gears up for a couple more of the Wayward next week, followed by the holiday inundation. Can you believe it's over? I didn't intend for this to become a string, a lifetime? of social-gathering-appropriate anecdotes, but scrolling down I find it a difficult conclusion to refute. What was it all about? Halfway through my "Barcelona is first and foremost unlike anywhere I've ever been; at once lazy, tranquilo and inefficient, while somehow..." I realize I have not been up to much at all, and analysis would feel hollow. Maybe it's time to finally reflect on Japan, and to move forward again, for the first time in a long time. Or maybe it's not that big a deal at all, and needs nothing to mark its passing but another chocolate from the advent calendar. long overdue Posted on December 11, 2002 # I will go out tomorrow. Before 7pm. And, sadly, to an internet cafe, where I will finally post a long-overdue guest column on Just What Wakes Me Up and Keeps Me Underproductive. (still blaming external circumstances--notice that?) recently Posted on December 09, 2002 # No ability to email from home. (long story; basically a lousy provider.) Decided to leave Barcelona in January. Changed his mind about that. Changed it back? fear Posted on December 09, 2002 # This is what I'm afraid of. I think it's a funny pun. Not a funny idea--clearly I am not the least bit interested in anything violent or breaking any laws. Yet being fully cognizant that someone is recording this very page, and that some day a McCarthyesque attack on my freedom may result due to a play on words made in public, frightens me. "The fact is that every war suffers a kind of progressive degradation with every month that it continues, because such things as individual liberty and a truthful press are simply not compatible with military efficiency." George Orwell, Homage to Catalonia 75 Posted on December 06, 2002 # The Generation of '75. First of all, there went that bubble. Then that happy-go-lucky, playboy image went to pot. And, well, there's that re-election campaign. Not to metion our impressive cynicism. And all this damn hate. Too self-serving and whiny to claim that those of us born in 1975 are in the middle, un- or underemployed, untrusting, and running out of money? To top it all off, they (damn they) are even saying that we're it. club de la lucha Posted on December 05, 2002 # Followed another furious day spent rattling the boredom of unemployment with another rough-and-tumble evening at Jyuu Jitsu. It's been healthy going back; the frustration that's growing, frustration at stagnation, needs an outlet. thanksgiving Posted on December 05, 2002 # At last. A true Thanksgiving dinner. A dozen friends, a few bottles of wine, olives, cheese and crackers, a 5kg turkey--with extra stuffing!, green beans and sauteed tomatoes, chocolate cake, and a bottle of Jack. Two very American movies in the background, after 365degree.tv's video (see side link to Ahriel), and a great, great evening in Barcelona. discomfort Posted on December 03, 2002 # A glimpse of what I'm in for. (i.e. 'don't leave, lest ye come back') Coming home (albeit in baby steps) from one of the many foreign countries they've got out there, I am repeatedly surprised by just how powerful American expectations are. Tonight's segment focused on women and their full entitlement to equality, and, horrible though it may sound, this topic has grown somewhat unfamiliar. As I duck the flying produce and venomous glares, I insist--with hands open in protest--that I fully support gender equality (see wholehearted link at left!), lest I be relegated to potato duty when the revolution comes. I'm just not so used to seeing it, let alone working alongside it, in practice. A break? Please? A woman 6 years my senior used to bring me tea, and another would pass around gifts I brought from outside the office--through no bidding of my own! (I think...) This evening, we discussed the finer points of what a working mother means--to a woman--and I'm still surprised--no, disconcerted--at how much I'd never had to conceptualize that reality. I grew up in a mom-at-home home, and to me, the experience bears repeating. It went well...despite me ending up societally detached and shiftless. (Temporarily, I promise.) It was tough to imagine the different realities of the father in this situation, particularly with the agreed ideal state of a lack of (well, minimal reliance on) day care and third-party child-rearing. I'm game for the equal-rights talk, but its steps might be heavier than I'd anticipated. Than I remember? Imagine equal pay.... (meant to be self-deprecating, ok? I got overpai...oh, forget it.) Now, now, don't worry. I ain't got nothing planned. Lest anyone read too much into this. I haven't changed too much, y'all. Just impressed at how boss...er, strong these Americans can be. ;) vortex Posted on December 03, 2002 # How is it that I spend so much time not finding a job? um. hello? Posted on December 01, 2002 # It's been a while, but oh my fucking g.. shit. hello?? "doesn't matter how we got here????" and "rat babies?" memigo, oh memigo--what are you recommending I read? Quality rating: downgraded. the price of television Posted on November 29, 2002 # It's something else, this western media world. Still, the price of the BBC, CNN, VH1, and the other menta (cable) channels seems to be the lack of a functional telephone. As we have now been assigned a "temporary" phone number, email's really the only reliable way to contact.licious for the next couple of weeks. Lethal Weapon 4? In Spanish? Come on, you'd give your next 3 cell phones for a crack at that, wouldn't you? shalom Posted on November 29, 2002 # There's an old joke: Someone asks a rabbi, "What's the essence of all Jewish holidays?" He thinks for a minute and says, "They tried to kill us, we won, let's eat." Happy Hannukah,. misguided Posted on November 29, 2002 # Heart's in the right place, but a poorly presented idea. "Avoid buying your round"? "Have your friends bring..."?? Isn't this the same principle as the credit card? Borrow from your friends, not on credit? "downloadable from..." No, not a cheap advertising ploy. Pleease. This one is at least a little less of a disaster. Emily--Covent Garden tomorrow? tg Posted on November 29, 2002 # Happy Thanksgiving, and my apologies for not calling anyone. Didn't realize until around midnight that with the changeover to menta (the new Spanish cable conglomerate) that we are now unable to receive messages. Nearly threw off the whole night out. Razzmatazz is a good-looking club, with good-looking people. The DJs had their moments, but overall I was unfulfilled. Didn't see either of the acts I went to see; didn't learn of anyone I'd care to hear again. Thanksgiving itself was more of a near-success, though. We got a 5kg turkey from the Corte Ingles (large, international supermarket/department store), got it all plucked and stuffed and seasoned and ready to bake, and walked it through evening rush hour down Aribau to the Galician Den on the corner of Paris. One of my favorite intersections in the city, by the way. Their oven (the reason for this bird-toting schlep) only had settings for high and low. No temperature gauge. The bird is now in our freezer, swathed in saran wrap, after the wise decision to wait until another day to give thanks--a day when we've got a proper oven. Here's hoping the stuffing makes it. In the end, we did manage a candle-lit dinner for two with grilled turkey breast, stuffing, green beans, and a beer. Close enough for Barcelona, really. And hey, Sesame Street's even on cable the day after. What more could I really ask for? political Posted on November 24, 2002 # Licious is normally not a political venue, nor a pro- nor anti-American rant, but I would like to know who out there is proposing solutions to the present adversarial relationship between the U.S. and the world, particularly the Mulsim world, that holds both strength and hope for a united future. Links or mail, please. Address below, right. scavengers Posted on November 23, 2002 # Penitence. Shame. Ostracism. These are but few of the painful repercussions that lay open to me for neglecting to report on the 5th annual Scavengers. Yes indeed, friends, fans and fetid foes, the legacy continues. What I started in 1997 as an alternative to miserable Japanese beer and forced-overtime karaoke grew to become the Kanto standard, to my considerable surprise. With the introduction of a cash prize, the number of participants (from 6 prefectures!) doubled in the second year from 22 to a nearly uncontrollable 52 in Yokohama. I even found people in Shizuoka stealing my clues to organize an event of their own--and calling me for answers on the day of their event! (The nerve of some people.) This year, with Graf at the helm, together with Miki & Matt, and the best web presence to date, the list included, among others: > Who designed the Golden Turd? > ƒpƒ`ƒ“ƒR‚Ì‹Ê‚R‚‚à‚ç‚Á‚Ä‚­‚é > What's the sound of 2002 + 3654? And photos: > A picture of you in hand-cuffs being arrested by the police. We neither condone nor discourage illicit behaviour. Nor will we provide legal fees in the event that you are forced to pay them. > From ancient times the moon has been the symbol of many different things. Moon the camera for points, 1 point per cheek. (max 6 points) > The Silly String Challenge. Jump another group, get silly string on them and take a picture. Up to 3 times for 2 points each. Additionally if you get another group while they are in the process of completeing a clue you can STEAL their points. Keep a sharp eye out. Trust no-one. And keep your silly string handy. The number of cheeks you end up with on film for a mere 200 bucks is incredible. Joe Francis, you are nobody's fool. Congrats to the organizers. Preliminary investigation into the first Barcelona installment began yesterday. Keep it up, and we'll make licious a Japanese urban legend. català 11 Posted on November 21, 2002 # Català, onzè dia: There may be no level 2 class. There are only 11 people in our class intending to continue, and the government demands 20 to continue subsidizing it. We won't know until Monday, and even then, only those who pass the oral exam will be allowed to move on. Wish us luck. Oh, and the professor (who's fantastic) is named Jordi. I think. worst case scenario Posted on November 21, 2002 # Next stop, the coast of Long Island. against His will Posted on November 20, 2002 # "God never meant for this material to separate." She sums it up well. The construction below is nothing casual, nothing cosmetic, nay, nothing earthly. Onika and I wake up now, put in earplugs, and move to the couch. We watched a movie this afternoon with the little yellow and orange airline foam things still in and the volume on max. This is Spain. Yes, they take their siesta, which is more than I can regularly attest to regarding the construction workers outside, but they work from Monday through Saturday. With power saws, hammers, drills... Upshot? Anyone who doubts the Catalonian work ethic can swap apartments for a month. català 10 Posted on November 20, 2002 # Català, desè dia: Rumors that Japanese is grammatically similar to the random Basque language, Euskadi. Today's a palindrome in Europe. (hi dad) There are so many words for "thin" in Castellano that our teacher didn't recognize the one the Argentinean was using to ask a question. Hmm. Maybe in English we just don't have enough... Final test on Monday, and the teacher has no idea what's happening the following day with those of us who want to continue. We'll probably (hopefully?) hear on Monday. apparently gauche Posted on November 20, 2002 # Thanks go to the 'pal for the last photo, who demands, rightfully I admit, credit for taking it. cada día Posted on November 19, 2002 # What every day looks like. return to jyuu jitsu Posted on November 19, 2002 # Back to the dojo after more than a week away, and found there's a belt test on Tuesday. Should be interesting....to watch. Add up my various belts, and I've got a black one by now, right? Hard not to laugh at the indecision that goes into this, er, eclectic(?) study of whooping on somebody. Today's moves were of a level that I could focus on doing well (i.e. butt-simple), and I may have stumbled into an intimation of progress. Still enjoy ending with the groundwork best, in any case. It's much more natural to flip someone bodily than with some small appendage, as though with a hairy marionette. català 9 Posted on November 19, 2002 # Català, novè dia: Dropped Renzo as a neighbor, went fish and picked Wilson. Poetic justice. A likable enough guy; also the sole reason for which the professor reminded us that following the upcoming oral exam, we have the option of repeating the course. Then again, being a Colombian named Wilson is a curse in and of itself. Anyway, before we got on to studying how to bitch about work and then how to set the table (cultural mosaic, anyone?), I became proud owner of the knowledge of the verb "To Smurf" in Català: Barrufar. I still don't know the professor's name. català 8 Posted on November 18, 2002 # Català, vuitè dia: Got to shake Renzo. Not only does he repeat every word he can't pronounce out loud; he even repeats words at a different rhythm to the rest of the class. It's just ridiculous. See if I translate Hotel California for him. Falling asleep. Literally. David left for New York at 6am, and I couldn't fall asleep until the first-floor symphony began at eight. The construction workers are so damn loud I can't use the phone, let alone nap. Back to class. Every 10 minutes my eyes close and I'm out for a few seconds, sometimes more. Once we start playing Battleship (I'm not making this up), I'm halfway out the door. Somehow, I stay, and don't actually embarrass myself by, say, falling out of the chair or letting my head drop against the concrete wall. I do get a few laughs at the break over my second café cortado, though. Back late from the cafCatalà, seté dia, I'm now Renzo's partner. Damn. At least the caffeine has rendered me all-powerful, and I'm rattling off ridiculous answer after mangled Catalan joke, and practicing something resembling a language. Now I'm home with Abre Los Ojos, the original Vanilla Sky, and we'll see if I can't sit still long enough to watch. digital tv Posted on November 18, 2002 # Dear God, I've ordered fiber-optic cable modem service with digital tv. Apparently all the cable companies have banded together to combat Telefonica's monopoly, and have a price on telephone/300 cable modem/digital tv that is, very simply, zero up front, less money per month, and no-conditions cancelable within 3 months. We'll see, though. We shall certainly see. I feel another scam disaster on the horizon, to be perfectly frank. Still, imagine if this went right... 5 weekends till xmas Posted on November 17, 2002 # And the streets are ready. Big, gaudy, and typically over-the-top Christmas lights are all over town. Have yet to see the crapper, though. Most eagerly anticipated pre-Xmas event in my book--apparently to the chagrin of some. Of all I've come across, Anna Maria Pla is my favorite aficionado (aficionada?) so far. Onika and I will head to Stuttgart for Christmas before the holiday deluge into Barcelona beginning the 27th. So far only four people have secured resevations at the exclusive Greta Garbo (besides us) for the New Year. One might anticipate overbooking during holiday peak season, but we've gone upscale: No more than one person on the floor at a time. the other bay? Posted on November 17, 2002 # San Francisco currently has the vote. Departure from the Greta Garbo Home: February 6th. god at work Posted on November 17, 2002 # Whoa. That is thunder. Didn't ....ah. No, that's just...it's Sunday. It can't be construction. Whatever. Whatever kept these people quiet through the summer is definitely over. Onika may very well be right; now that it's the fall, people might really be working more than before. Really. This I would love to see. dali Posted on November 15, 2002 # Onika and David went to the Dali museum today. Thought the museum apparently touted the man as "the chosen one," their impression was that it was crap. "Don't go, and if you decide to go, I will try to stop you," was the capsule summary. remodelling Posted on November 14, 2002 # The neighbors must have gone through the same with the renovation of our flat one year ago. The unit beneath us is being completely redone, top to bottom. They start directly underneath the bedroom, every morning between 8 and 9, and are now working three feet to my left, one to two feet down. Talked to the...what do you call him? An interior foreman?...yesterday, and it seems they'll be finished around "oof." català 7 Posted on November 13, 2002 # Català, setè dia: Only five of us, teacher included, were wearing exactly the same clothes as last night. I doubt the veracity of a lot of yesterday's "I shower at X o'clock" statements. Today we covered 40 new verbs and a whole battery of 'males palaures.' block busters Posted on November 13, 2002 # Punk-ass mother.... Rrrr. Great campaign at Blockbuster, from 11.4 through 12.4 (that ought to be 4.11 to 4.12, but whatever), where for 10 euro you get 10 videos: 6 new releases and 4 older titles. One euro per movie! Great news until I went in today for a video and found they sent every last V.O. cassette (Versión Original--i.e. those not dubbed into Spanish) to Madrid. Yesterday. Every single one. Well-planned campaign, ¿no? català 6 Posted on November 13, 2002 # Català, sixtè dia: The five meals. Take breakfast once before work, and once, as mentioned, an hour after you get there. Then lunch (followed by siesta). Then supper around 6 or 7 perhaps, followed by dinner around 9 or 10. They do some things right here. No doubt about that. the long and short Posted on November 13, 2002 # In the end, this is now officially and conclusively a vacation. Enormous weight: lifted. (Now if I can only find a job to pay the bills...) conclusive evidence Posted on November 13, 2002 # It is official. A visit to the legal advisory for immigration issues has kindly, and at long last, made plain the guidelines for work in Spain. First, and most significantly, "regimen general" no longer exists, except for residents of Peru and Chile. This means that any business requesting visa permission from the Spanish government for new hires (unless from Peru, Chile or the EU) will necessarily be denied. So much for monster.es. Starting a business in Spain, on the other hand, only requires the following 9 steps: 1. Submit business plan/proposal, in official format, to 3 government agencies. Jump through appropriate hoops as directed to obtain approval. 2. Go back and find recent changes to the law (applicable biweekly). Recommended sources include television news broadcasts and radio announcements. (I'm not, as it is said, making this up.) 3. More jumping. Hopping in place on one foot unacceptable, except for Basque nationalists. 4. Pay an undisclosed amount of money, to be determined later at an undisclosed location(s). On the spot and in cash, we may presume? 5. Hire some Spaniards. 6. Go down the street, talk to the Pakistani in the basement, cross-reference the archives of Català linguistic metaphors for pet-show antics, and acquire further permission from Father Jordi. In the case of additional hoops, the expression "how high" may be used in either Català or Castellano. Use of "Español" is punishable either by stoning or through forced consumption of overcooked tapas and bad wine. Until November 3rd, 2002. 7. Wait. 8. Jump. 9. Reconsider. 10. Repeat. This will guarantee applicants the following: This will not guarantee successful application for a visa to remain in Spain, which must be undertaken, in any case, at the Spanish embassy in the applicant's registered home country. On Thursday. ps Jump. what, you missed that? Posted on November 12, 2002 # Missed the trip to Basque country? Skip down to the drive to basque country entry for the beginning of the trip. Again, pictures will follow shortly. last legs Posted on November 12, 2002 # Soon after leaving Olite, we came suddenly on another road block, and this time, my luck intervened. For those unaware, I am a customs officer's wet dream. No bizarre facial hair, no interesting racial characteristics to speak of, no pearcings, nor even rebel-suggestive clothes; I simply somehow scream "criminal intent" at the top of my physical-appearance lungs. Producing driver's license and all three passports added further to the confusion. "Usted viaja mucho, eh, señor Jeffrey?" muses the armed official, looking back and forth at the Japanese visa flapping out of page 14 and the other assorted customs stamps. Vietnam, the Gambia... "Cuanto tiempo lleva Ud. en España?" he asks me, and instant mental arithmetic leads me to an oblique answer of "some months, as a tourist." It has now been one week more than the 3 months allotted, though there is no entry visa nor stamp to suggest this. Still, maybe it's time for a new passport. I answer a few more questions, and he proceeds to search the car. (Mind you, this is nothing like customs at Narita, when, out of consideration for the long line of passengers behind me, I offered to repack the bag after thorough inspection. Not quite Midnight Express, but bear in mind, I'm not a f*@#ing Basque separatist, and am spending all my hard-earned money in this god....pardon.) In the end, my dirty laundry and English language books, along with a contraband-free dopkit, convince our friendly neighborhood officer that we are free to go. Two hours later, I'm pulled for passing without a signal by two motorcycle cops, who charge us a discout fine of 42 euros, paid on the spot. Apparently this is how it's officially done in Spain, and except for 45 minutes spent watching the Aragonese trucking industry pass us at 12 km/hour, we got off easier than the rental company. They got slapped with twice the fine I received for failing to provide us with any vehicle documentation whatsoever--an ugly couple of moments before he informed me that it wasn't our problem that we lacked even the basic registration form. In the end, my recommendation: carry cash. And signal when an officer waves you off the road. ... Two hours of the Name Game later--three all tolled--we made it back to Avinguda Diagonal and home sweet Barcelona around 9:30, just as my class ended, but in plenty of time for kafta and falafel on the Plaza del Sol. the long way home Posted on November 12, 2002 # Opting to leave San Sebastián early on Monday, we took the direct route home, using national roads that run parallel to the pay highways down through Pamplona, Zaragoza, Lleida, and back to Barcelona. The Basque countryside continued to be absurdly gorgeous, ranging from pine-covered, misty hilltops by the sea to rolling hills of red and gold further inland. Navarra offered much of the same, plus a language apparantly of their own to make the original traffic signs more interesting. A quick tour through Pamplona failed to deliver the lunch we were hoping for, but did give us an excellent opportunity to see quality Navarran graffiti. This is not actually stated tongue-in-cheek; a newly developed gallery on city art will be online soon. Keep an eye out. What Pamplona did present us with, besides free, open-air artwork, was a Telefonica truck colliding with a passenger car to our right; our first Guardia Civil roadblock (at which we were not stopped, thank you); and a lot of driving back and forth trying to get out of what turned out to be a surprisingly large city. No bulls, though. Leaving Pamplona, we stopped for bocadillos and a half-dozen photos in Olite, a rural Spanish tourist trap of a town if I've ever imagined one. From here, it was to be a quick three hours home, on time for Catalá lesson number six. the home of the pilgrim Posted on November 12, 2002 # San Sebastián, the beginning of either of the two pilgrimage routes to Santiago de Compostela, and former holiday spot for Queen María Cristina, has officially been overrun. It should actually appear in the handbooks. I imagine it something to the tune of "San Sebastián, architecturally a picturesque, though mildly artificial, ocean town, is perfect for those who love leaving the comforts of home, without parting with one's countrymen. From British teens in dance-hall jeans begging on cobblestone streets to jam-packed bars serving flat beer and old tapas, this town offers pilgrim and London bar trash alike the opportunity to return to that which is most dear." The trees were intriguing, though, and the orange juice at the hostel was fresh squeezed. bay of biscay Posted on November 12, 2002 # Oh-my-Lawd beautiful. We made the 45-minute drive from Mundaka (just outside Guernika) to San Sebastián in a little over 6 hours. Along the way, we detoured through twisting mountain road after winding seaside pass, and saw everything from wild blackberries to the monument to the Basque captain who took over for Magellan when he died in the Phillipines. In Guernika, the first of Hitler's aerial bombing site to target civilians, we saw the famous tree (stump) where the Junta of the Basque Country has historically convened. Naturally, in front of the younger version of the tree, we ran across a visiting Maori group, singing traditional songs and encouraging us to return to Bilbao to see their exhibition. photos Posted on November 12, 2002 # ...photo highlights will appear linked within these entries, and in the main gallery, within 24 hours... bilbao Posted on November 12, 2002 # Wow. It's true; there's nothing much else in Bilbao, but it's worth going just for the museum. Geary's architecture alone is spectacular enough to draw crowds, and the exhibits both inside and out are extraordinary as well. "Mother," the massive bronze spider holding marble eggs in her sac, is apparently one of three done originally for the Tate in London, and, while dwarfed by the sheer size of the museum, was likely the most photogenic aspect of the entire experience. Kandinsky (geometrically & biologically exquisite), Rubens (blah), Manuolo Valdés (incredible!! physical forms in wood), Joseph Beuys (oh.), Gerhard Richter (excellent--with explanation), Franz Marc (at times, brilliant), Paul Klee (interesting), Sigmar Polke (barf), Matisse (two screens and a beautiful painting, but that's all), and an American artist who did a vertical digital ticker-tape display of words, English on one side, Basque on the other, that has to be seen. The dog outside was a bit shabby, the gift museum was absolute shite, and the steps were oddly measured and uncomfortable to walk. The sweeping scale and frozen-motion curves of the museum gave the impression of titanium ribbons of gold and silver, while the four-story dresses of glass and steel in the interior clothed the exhibits in further feminine grandeur. zaragoza Posted on November 12, 2002 # Beautiful Basilica, gigantic and replete with miracle and miniature diamond crown. Tapas: crap. Deep fried egg? Blech. Local beer drinkable, but only by Spanish standards. Main plaza: open, inviting, well (though perhaps not tastefully) adorned with modern sculpture. Zaragoza was also the first place that had what appeared to be hybrid vegetation. Ever see grapes on a palm tree? drive to basque country Posted on November 11, 2002 # David, Onika & I took the weekend to see the Basque country. Ranita, our forest green, 4-door Opel Yarvis, survived the marathon of stick-shift driving, from Catalunya, through Aragón (think central Texas), Zaragoza (of apparently undeserved tapas fame--particularly the deep-fried egg), Rioja (spectacular colors on the vines), and Navarra (similar to West Virginia, in the best possible sense, perhaps similar to some of the German countryside). QVS (Quantified Vacation Statistics): Days/Nights: 4/3 Kilometres traveled: 1437 Gas: 0.81/litre Cities: 13 [Zaragoza, Haro, Bilbao, Bermeo, Mundaka, Forua, Guernika, Laida, Lekeitio, San Sebastián, Pamplona, Olite, Barcelona] Famous trees: 1 Museums: 1 Civil Guard encounters: 2 Civil Guard fines: 42 euros Hours in prison: 0 Hours engaged in the Name Game: 3 Bottles of Rioja: 9 català 5 Posted on November 07, 2002 # Català, cinquè dia: I got the text! You should see me go. Had all the answers today--just in time for him to pick on all the slow kids and ignore me. At least one of my partners was quick, and we got the number-noun agreement problem down cold. Left early for an overdue return to Jyuu Jitsu. Encountered yet more assorted ways of pretending I'm fast enough to grab a punch on the fly, flip it around, and catapult its body to the floor. Hell, I can't even remember whether I step in or out half the time, and which hand of my own to use on nearly every occasion. It's much easier when we're just let loose on one other. Returned home (after forgetting my towel and drying off with a San Diego University t-shirt), to a kiss hello, and asked Onika if she knew what I can't do. She couldn't guess. (Good sign.) Answer: Jyuu Jitsu. (Clearly.) It's great to have a routine of things I enjoy and want to be doing. It's been a long weekend, now that the seemingly permanent vacation is apparently winding down. I knew 2002 would be a spectacular year, especially after 01 was such a pile of poo. Only now it's on me (us?) to transition into 03 smoothly, before resorting to a mad dash to security, sanity and, in all likelihood, the states. trans Posted on November 07, 2002 # Transitions are bloody exhausting. català 4 Posted on November 06, 2002 # Català, quatre dia. Time to get a text. He's actually going fast enough that I'll have to study at home. In less encouraging news, Jyuu Jitsu, and every other martial art taught at the dojo, are only available weekday evenings. Tuesdays and Thursdays I'll have to start cutting out of Català halfway through. Learned how to say water waste disposal system in class tonight. Things are definitely going to start happening any day now. Watch out for the cans. català 3 Posted on November 06, 2002 # Català, tercer dia. Missing Jyuu Jitsu class, it's still worth going. Even without a text. The class is mixed enough to keep the level basic, but there is plenty of experience, pushing us toward a faster progression and good independent practice. Paul, the upscale German economist, leans over 20 minutes in and asks if I am, as he thought he heard, American. Turns out that I am the only North American he's ever met studying Català, in four years in Barcelona. We count, play bingo, learn how to introduce one another, and mill about speaking. During the break, I find another conversation slides toward architecture. There's rarely a room without an architect, though the market for them doesn't sound entirely reliable. Then again, neither does any market around here. The individual stories of these classmates are varied, but there are already common themes. The Argentinean is a laborer, I suspect, supporting his wife and child. To get licensed as a psychologist in this city, he'll have to take an exam in Catalan. Despite being licensed back home. The German architect had 5 jobs last year. Each employer would let him go after the project finished, apparently in part to avoid keeping him long enough to grant him full-time employee protection under the law. I didn't even know what to say when people asked my job. All I came up with on the spot was that I "represent companies," and felt pretentious the moment I had it translated. Being out of work, I can become anything in just one hot breath. Thing is, that's about how long it lasts. català 2 Posted on November 05, 2002 # Català, segon dia. Scattered covering of basic possessives, greetings, numbers. Class is comprised mostly of Latin Americans, the remainder are all European, mostly Spanish. I think it's a total of 12 countries, 20 students. The teacher starts all but on time; a third of the students appear within 15 minutes. I still have no text. It's cheaper downtown, where I'll go Thursday for a free look at the Modern Art Museum. Many of these people know a good bit of the language already, but many have a lot of trouble with pronunciation, rhythym, etc. viaje de chihiro Posted on November 05, 2002 # Saw Chihiro no Kamikakushi again, and yes, the Spanish subtitles do help. Almost better than native language ones, as there's less tendency to cheat. Finally understood better the pre-climactic train ride, for the charged emptiness and reflective time amidst so much painstaking detail and suggestion. Enjoy that scene as much as any. reaction Posted on November 04, 2002 # This may shift to Japan.licious in a few days or so. In response to inquiry, the bus hijacking in Japan--now, what, a few years back?--had a lot to do with school. Apparently, the young man who boarded a bus, and in the process of hijacking it actually killed a woman, had been afraid to go to school for quite some time. (Over half a year, as I recall.) Some kids in Japan are simply those sacrificed to the cracks in the system, as they are anywhere. It often struck me that it was the way in which they were abandoned or despised or just held out as different that got under my skin. One high school student, who I'd see from time to time after graduation, was treated for episodes that were likely schizophrenic by being placed in a white, padded cell until he "calmed down." Scars across his forearms were never fading, and his caged periods could last for two weeks. Obviously no one wanted their daughter dating him. He was a forlorn, angst-driven guitarist when I used to see him most. In retrospect, his sublimation and general emotional redirection was laudable. There was another episode in Fujisawa when I was living in Zengyo of a young guy panicking and rushing people with a lead pipe near the station. This must have been in 99 or 2000. Gaku, bartender at Mattari at the time, and sometime freestyler downstairs in Queens, was the one to take in on the arm, snapping his ulna, and subdue the man. No real hard feelings; more a sense of...head inclined to 30 degrees...pause...brief lingering eye contact...indeterminate emotional weight. Imagine your hair gets cut by a group of guys who call you fat-ass all over school. They touch you and laugh at you and, worse if you're a girl, they completely and totally ignore you all the time no matter what. You live in hell, or fail to exist. You go home, ashamed to tell Mom. God forbid you have an episode; they lock you up. You develop a scratching disorder that goes to a blade. You ride a train so crowded people take your photo. And sell it in a book. Girls won't date you. Some kid on the news kills a teacher. In a way, you muse in a self-indulgent tantrum, he's got more in common with you than anyone at home, or even on TV. Seen as a crime, a media sensation, a good reason why we're right and they're sick, or, blandly, as a product of psychological dissonance, it happens. Most of the time, an overarching quality of meekness saves the community from the problems of a minority. A selective memory contains the effect of those who erupt. I'd like to suggest that had he found someone to trust and talk to freely would have stabilized his actions and stopped his slide, but I can't honestly say. In a "straightjacket society," I don't even know if the feeling of freedom of significant therapeutic value. Lee, if you have an opinion, we're all ears. empleo-mático Posted on November 04, 2002 # Highlights from today's classifieds taken directly from La Vanguardia, 3 Noviembre 2002 TAROTISTAS para line 906... CARPINTERIA METALICA necesita montadores con experiencia... PEONES... COCHE de prestigiosa marca busca hombres y mujeres atractivos que disfruten... SE PRECISA PERSONA SOLA Amante de la soledad, para vivir en casa muy aislada... ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- A friend, Marta, found herself this weekend in back-breaking cleaning working, lamenting to the point of tears the state her life is in. Her roommate Aña, a legal student from Galicia, appears glad to have a job paying 5 euro per hour. Both of them have EU passports. I, on the other hand, actually make phone calls you'll never catch me admitting to... breaking news Posted on November 03, 2002 # Exciting new links now rotating, below right... New photos to come... carded Posted on November 03, 2002 # I have a CatSalut card! I got a flu shot (recommended for obvious reasons) with it, and in just 8 months, the real card will arrive in the mail! I'm somebody! Things are really going to start happening to me now. weary Posted on November 03, 2002 # It's been a long weekend. Living without working on anything concrete is wearing; all instant gratification--related to purpose--is washed away. How singular a work of architecture must be to have complete and standing. This post will disappear shortly; and these types of posts may flit in and out. Just fair warning, and just for the time being. crap Posted on November 03, 2002 # Shit on by a bird while heading to tour the Palau Güell. Spectacular former residence of the Güell family, complete with gray marble everything, spy holes in the ceiling of the guest room, calf skin nooks for sitting, a vaulted cupola above the ballroom, stained glass signed by patron and architect alike, original carved furniture, and a roof full of playful Gaudi tile mosaics. Will definitely make it back for a second look. Touring the Mansana de la Discordia was also immensely more enlightening, and interesting than expected. Seems Domenech i Muntaner was the grandfather of the Modernisme movement in several ways, not the least of which by serving as one of Gaudi's teachers. The expressions of grandeur and materialistic pride in his contribution to the Corner/Apple of Discord are truly something. Still, Gaudi's success in suspending the top 3 floors of Casa Battlò in midair for three days, to allow for the demolishing and reconstruction of the ground floor (to preserve the integrity of the structure of the upper floors) is still impossible to picture happening. Even Puig i Cadafalch's Casa Amatller, with its artistic animals, holds its own, but honestly does get overshadowed on both sides. can't help myself Posted on November 02, 2002 # I ain't getting paid, even for work done. How much @$$ does that suck? Now I just cain't help but start scheming. ‚Ç�[‚à ‚Ç�[‚à Posted on October 26, 2002 # Domo-kun live. As if there was ever anything you wanted more. Via Yuuko and her very new page. Switch your View menu-Encoding selection to Japanese Auto Select, and click on the three domo heads to check out just how expensive "Domo Goods" can be. jyuu jitsu Posted on October 25, 2002 # Joined a Jiu (Jyuu) Jitsu dojo Thursday which has all the makings of exactly what I'm currently looking for. It's put the pressure on, once again, to find a way to stay here. There has to be a way. I headed down a little late, as usual, and had my paperwork in order and gi on by one minute to seven. Just in the nick of time...to find a whole three other people ready. By 7:15, there were 11 warming up. Ahhh.... These is my people. Jiu Jitsu lessons are only on Tues and Thurs, but I can jump in on the Judo, Taekwondo and Hapkido lessons on the other days. I can only take belt tests in the one style, which is fine by me for now. There's a bag and a back room and some weights that are also available for free use. The first day showed promise. We worked on waza for an upcoming brown belt test--higher level than I could fake my way through believably--but they presented a good preview of the style. The defensive maneuvers focused on exactly what I want to do, in terms of wrist locks and groundwork finishes, and the wrestling at the end of practice was so familiar I got nostalgic. Looking forward to learning how to finish, and use the leverage we worked on in high school for control. el dragón rojo Posted on October 25, 2002 # On the way home from El Dragón Rojo (excellent), we ran across the Smart car's big brother. The Smart car is clearly the sneaker of cars, hermano mayor, the SUVito (ess-you-vito), is the hightop. On a good day, maybe even the hiking boot. (Sorry, no photo.) onika Posted on October 24, 2002 # Onika's Spanish is amazing! I don't know how I missed so much of the process, but while I was looking the other way, she's come from good-listener-slash-nervous-speaker to a fully competent conversationalist. Our convesations today with Esther, who's just come back to Barcelona from Nueva York, left me simply astounded. lo siento. eso es tu boda. Posted on October 23, 2002 # I'm sorry. This is your wedding. A woman in a white dress, standing on a purple Price Is Right platform, and on channel 33 at 11pm, asking her man to marry her. The microphone is visible in her cleavage. Now they're showing the five of them preparing for the show, picking out rings and waving them in front of the camera. When the men are asked, apparently with no warning as to what was on the cards, they get taken to Room B for a few moments of tranquilo. They are told by the host, with no visible hint of irony even, to take a deep breath, and make the most important decision of their lives. Still, as it's either this or Marta Sanchez and three hombres, shirtless under their white suits, I'm in a quandry. ... Back to tu boda. Edgar is on deck, being told just how meaningful and important Mariela...whose turn it is now....and, oh God, she's just babbbling convincingly, but nothing can make up for the way she appears. Oafish and on network TV, breathing too fast, and now awaiting his answer... ...I can't believe we're not taping this... Oh, how boring. They all said yes, and were married all but instantaneously. The first guy did sweep her into a deep, passionate kiss, though. barcelona through the eyes of tokyo Posted on October 22, 2002 # Check out the element for his (nihon)jin-esque reaction to life in the big B, and for a ton of photos as well. JLH? come on. Posted on October 22, 2002 # "JLH Market Research and Expansion International" has just written its first contract proposal. Anyone out there got a better bloody name for it? And if any of y'all are still looking to do the think tank, we've now got an entity, however unregistered. Flog away. lies Posted on October 22, 2002 # Weather.com lies. Or their definition of 'partly cloudy' refers to the two clouds I caught sneaking off into the mountains this morning. la verdad se puede ver Posted on October 22, 2002 # It's true! 10:15am, as I'm waiting for anything resembling information on the Catalán class I've arrived to take, the staff saunter out the front door, telling the receptionist that they're off for coffee. For coffee! I don't believe this is takeout, either. (source: letter to Paul, 22 octubre 2002) Perspective: Arrival at work: 10. Well, actual arrival time is anywhere from 9 to 11. Coffee, apparently, at 10:15. Siesta: from noon or 1 until 3 or 4. Final departure: 6? 7? Who knows. Total hours present: 5 to 6 Total hours spent working: presently under observation the shoepal way of life Posted on October 21, 2002 # Way of life as an art form. Criteria: 1. incorporeal, digital existence 2. one skill of use to friends 3. the balls to live simply anywhere in the world normal. normal? Posted on October 21, 2002 # Back to what could be considered normal. Onika's sleeping off a head cold on the couch, I've been talking to Japan to determine what direction and for how much longer I'll be representing publishers out here. Hopefully, the proposal I'm now drafting...er, am taking a break from drafting...will be accepted, and I'll have a small consultancy to run through the end of the year. I enjoy the higher-level assignments of establishing contacts and distribution channels for the time being, but don't plan on staying in publishing, particularly not this in sector of publishing, for much longer. And, as such, this blog ends here. pictures Posted on October 19, 2002 # Photos of Montserrat, among others, á la pal. Still, the real pot of gold on the mountain was the brickhouse defense we threw up against the feral goats. Deflecting a three-way charge from above, we came out on top--with dos litros in hand, humiliating the defeated. Emily continues to proclaim, "I _milked_ you--beeeatch" at her many urban víctimas back here in the big "B"-asy. oh, no! Posted on October 18, 2002 # It can't be. It just can't be. Though in Barcelona, at least, it has all the makings of.... Link: the next macarena como Posted on October 18, 2002 # The answer to the question 'como' is profound: a phenomenal meal, a pleasant interior, and simply luscious service. Can't imagine it's not the best Argentinean place in town. Onika was moved to the point of asserting that the chef must have trained in the U.S., and Patrick was left virtually in tears on his last night before heading back to home sweet Harajuku and his precious "jin". Now that the third of five guests staying at the Greta Garbo Home has left us, it's almost empty in here. Kerry and I visited Actar and their bookstore, RAS, and bought the Home a copy of BCN, an excellent directive for deepening exploration into the bones of the city. Now it's evening, and following a cheap falafel dinner and a movie (NTSC is here!), it's time to collapse. fluffhead Posted on October 06, 2002 # The playful atmosphere of the city extends even to the mannequins at the Corte Inglés. libertad Posted on October 05, 2002 # "Walking through the wilds freed me from worry and fear, but this is not real freedom. You need money to be free." Ma Jian, "Red Dust" night out Posted on October 05, 2002 # Finally anted up and went out. Christine's last night in town, and though we're all spent from the week's trip-traipsing pace, we dropped by Muebles Navarro for a bottle of red deep in El Raval. Reputedly one of the most dangerous downtown areas, it houses among its crumbling cement, vibrant graffiti and vile, piss-foul alleyways, a patchwork of avant-garde nightlife locales. The 'ambient' in "el café que pone muebles Navarro," decorated--obviously--with leftovers from the Navarro Furniture Company, is chill, not as loungy as the name suggests. And the Rioja, albeit the most expensive wine on the list, passed even Onika's discriminating muster. Dinner conversation was easy, though often interrupted by our server, who came off arrhythmic and oddly affected. Foreigners. Now, not that I've started to fade Catalunyan, but shop around and compare. Watching our two paths converge in writing forces my hand. You'll get me more open this way. Anyway, back to this account. Two of us mistakenly leave through an emergency exit, (no sirens, don't worry) and we meet out on the Rambla del Raval, home to a high concentration of absinthe bars and giant, neon signs of urban decay. I had chosen Cafe Ambar for its spot on the corner, outdoor seating and uncommonly friendly waitstaff, and gave the green goblin a run for his fame. The biggest problem with this wormwood-poison cocktail is that it's 50% alcohol, and you get drunk. The second obstacle is the powerful taste of anis; I seem to be one of a handful of people who adores the flavor of black licorice. The drink goes down, for a surprisingly low price. Save the spoonful-of-sugar ambiance and the legacy of turn-of-the-century art history, it wasn't dissimilar to drinking Sambuca or Ouzo. (Such delicious liquors.) We enjoyed the time, and the sugar sent the pal into a spin or two. Notably, some of our diluting skills left a lot to be desired. Whatever you do, don't mix the sugar sloppily. We found ourselves soon thereafter at the entrance to an unmarked and illegal house club in the Barri Gotic. After a simple wait and a few amusing bit part players, the music sadly wasn't worth the cramped atmosphere and uninteresting crowd. The styleless lurkers and the step-step-wiggler movers were, sadly, on par with the techno crowd in Tokyo. I'm still amazed that these people, who continually assert themselves to be Spanish, just can't dance. A good cabbie got us home, what felt like still early, at 5:30. For a night out in El Raval and the Barri Gotic, it was worth a look, and I'm glad we live uptown. The local bars up here better merit the euro spent. The atmosphere is ten times the cleaner. As for the clientele... the good crowds remain to be found. piratas Posted on October 03, 2002 # The postman buzzes up, dragging me out of bed. He brings up a package from the U.S., and presents a bill demanding 27.15 in customs fees to receive it. The package is valued at US$35, and postage is already paid. Still, small-town me probably would have anted up if he'd asked for something less, say 3.65 or 2.90. But looking at the two-page printout from Cousin Juan's PC that he was touting as a customs document gave me pause, and I sent him away to think about what he'd done. He came back in less than ten minutes saying that there'd been a mistake, and I need not pay anything. The local postal branch did receive a call from a concerned patron. For those wondering how Spaniards manage to subsist on perilously low wages and magic-beanstalk unemployment, I offer this occurrence as Exhibit B. The Hertz experience that finally ended two days ago I should have offered sooner as Exhibit A. Returning the minivan (following the Greta Garbo Home European field trip), I paid the guy in the garage 40 euro to fill the tank up so I wouldn't be charged for returning it empty. You can say what you want (and I'm quite certain you're right at that), but it was a good deal. Inevitably, perhaps, I was doubly charged. Roaring back into the garage with blood in my eye after finding this out, I discovered he'd already been fired. I did get my money back (here's to reponsible corporate policy), but Carlos is now out wandering the streets, pocket heavy, in search of his next scam. Open water piracy, the inquisition, gypsies, and the well-deserved reputation of La Rambla--Spain's legacy of petty theft is by no means at an end. At the end of the day, I lose a bit of respect for the national identity when confronted with this daily reality. graña, famosa Posted on October 02, 2002 # After an abnormally mediocre lebanese dinner, Christine "PR Agent of the Gods" Shaw and I strode down Diagonal to Bar Paris for a drink with Beta Graña, the Next Best Thing. I would include her extraordinary illustrations on this page but for the ease with which they would assuredly be pirated. Take my word that when she hits Soho, even you'll be in line. Her drawings of women spoke to the girls on Saturday so boldly and with such bodacious personality, that Christine is making a bid at getting one in the hands of Patricia Field, stylist for "Sex and the City." You should have seen Bea through this conversation. Oh, and bear in mind that she just met me for the first last month, at 5am and post-Paloma, when I jumped into the cab she and Marta had hailed. None of us had seen each other before, nor even picked up on the inevitable coincidence, until Marta asked if I were Argentinean. I answered truthfully, and she responded that she was Australian. All in Spanish. It took several sentences for us to figure out what was going on and switch over. Back to Bea. She's confronted with full-force New York glam via Christine's flattery, sincerity, support, and rapid-fire interrogation. She vacillates between anxiety over relinquishing her life's blood to this stranger from across the ocean, and irrepressible exuberance at the thought of her designs crossing 7th and 56th on Sarah Jessica Parker's trend-setting booty. In the end, we closed with three T-shirts on request for Friday, and Bea locked out. Jeff-on-scaffolding, followed by Christine buzzing 12 sleeping neighbors, and lastly a roommate turning up just as Bea decides to crash at ours rather than have me break in, and the night is over. All in all, the most successful business meeting I've had in months. not search, inactive Posted on October 02, 2002 # Let si* be the expected (unobserved) difference between the utility of searching for a job and the utility of not searching at all (given all the variables in the information set of the individual). Then for an individual we have : si*= b0(Xi) + ei, The individual will therefore search for a job if the probability of si,* conditional on Xi, is positive. This can be written as: Prob (Y=1) = Prob (si* >0) = Prob (b0(Xi) + ei >0) = F(b0(Xi)) where F is the cumulative distribution function of -ei and Y is the observed dichotomous variable with values 1 (search, unemployed) and 0 (not search, inactive). Lest you ever again wonder why. monday Posted on October 02, 2002 # It's been a shite sight south of satisfactory, even as a Monday. Just blew out the power supply on the cherished 100-disc CD player, the one I hand-bloody-carried all the way from Shibuya. monday morning Posted on September 30, 2002 As I pass by, he grits his teeth, his lips draw back in a forced half-smile of chagrin and useless anger, and he kickstarts the old, brick-red Vespa for the fifth time. It sputters and fails, and I look down and continue on to the bank. Clearing out my account, but for 31 euros to make me feel better, I still don't have enough to pay the rent. no baños en domingo Posted on September 29, 2002 On the seventh day, the Lord rested. And held it until Monday. ahriel Posted on September 29, 2002 the last post of the pan-Euro drive is now available. One more week of doubling up at the Greta Garbo Home for Wayward Boys and Girls, and I'll be back on trip, flying up for my first up-close-and-industrial look at Frankfurt. security Posted on September 28, 2002 The security guard for the decadent house/mansion across the street? Has a limp. finger to the wrist Posted on September 27, 2002 The shoop has it close with his barçanalysis, and has reminded me to look around. I've shorted y'all on descriptions of balona, and what it all gets down to at the end of an evening. The hours are what we do expect from cultures Hispanic: late, and all night. Work moves at its own pace, stronger here than in, say, Andalucia, but still just as easy as pie. Easy as churros or a bocadillo in the park. There's a catch, and it's undefined as yet. I'm hesitant to define, and would prefer to leave unjudged that which I've come here to join in and experience. Still, I haven't been entirely forthcoming at the same time, so we'll call these Impressions, and play that we're not leaping. First, there's an alien feel to the city, one of immigrants and business visitors and Spaniards as the invading horde. Who lives here? In New York, in Tokyo, lots of the young people living in the city are those who can afford it, and they don't just bring home the bacon. They fry it fat left, right and downtown. There look to be more young people here without. A gap between rich and poor, exacerbated by the southern economic curse? The worker bees and the moneyed blue-bloods may just be kept out of site, well, out of my reach. They may be working their stingers off (God knows what they're doing with them; have I related the facts on the cat-woman yet?), but I don't see them in traffic or anywhere but occasionally swaggering and boasting on a mobile. A lot of blue collar men, throngs of starving artists, and of demonstrations. Wandering around the Sagrada Familia today, we saw banners in ardent protest all over the balconies of two neighboring apartment buildings. McDonald's and Sbarro have just moved into the ground floor, and the pungent smell and noise continue until at least 11pm( midnight in McDonald's) every night of the week. There are times when a passionately reactionary populace can be effective. Look where they got their message--and it was only written in Catalan. That...that's just not enough, though. But it is enough for today. Next up, the Epiphanies. Don't hold your breath. why the author failed kindergarten Posted on September 27, 2002 A sweet young German girl boards the bus, helps the old man with cane, giving him the bus number in faltering Spanish. She moves across the aisle so Kerry and I can sit together. We talk. She's from Frankfurt, where I just might be in two weeks, and she's now staying down the street from our apartment. She helps a promoter part-time, and is going home tomorrow. Her English is surprising for only being 20. I ask her for a website name for club events, then her email so I can get in touch if I go. 30 minutes later I'm home and I cut, then ..oops... copy over it on the Palm. Finger painting, sure. Had I finger-painted her address, or written it with one of those meat thermometer excuses for a pencil on gigo-gargantua-wide-ruled paper, I'd still have her address. My cutting and pasting skills, apparently, are why they all ragged on me for failing kindergarten. ponder Posted on September 26, 2002 Today I just feel caught between a vacation and a life. pork Posted on September 27, 2002 Kerry has hostile feelings towards pork. really. -k (ed note: This sabotage will not stand. Prepare to be boarded.) loud. they're just loud. Posted on September 25, 2002 Even the cover of the local English language guide to the city is titled "Barcelona: Volume Too High? the day of the saint Posted on September 25, 2002 Every city has a festival for its patron saint--Barcelona's is the Merce. Seems every architectural wonder and historical auditorium opened its doors across the city, and socially conscious organizations filled the Passeig de Gracia. We even managed to find a wine-tasting event at Port Vell, with Catalunyan wines that finally appealed to our resident snob...er, expert. Seriously, the wine was good, and the evening passed quickly. Very impressed at the festivals in this city. As I've said, and am becoming increasingly convinced, quality of life here ain't bad at all. If you're still in doubt, remember it's the rainy season, and check the weather report. merce 2002 Posted on September 23, 2002 Tonight was the last night of the festival of the week: the Merce 2002. Everything from "wailing man with man with spanish guitar" to a Chinese band playing excellent Spanish rhythm. Hell, around 12 the band in Plaça Sant Jaume even broke out the widely played Spanish rendition of Achy Breaky Heart, replete with an on-stage Hustle. on the road again Posted on September 15, 2002 Have downsized the Iveco Daily 35s11 to an Opel Zafira, and will take off as bright and early as I can humanly manage tomorrow for the thousand mile (?) trip to Stuttgart. Keep up with the world as it's traveled at: trip.licious.com

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