Sassy Catalina

My Favorite Day in Paris - Montmartre!

2007-07-16T03:52:00.000-07:00

So this is me, happily eating my jambon and fromage crêpe as I climb the stairs up the hills of Montmartre. This was, by far, my most favorite day in Paris. Last time I was in Paris, I never had a chance to get up this far north, so I made it a priority this trip. And oh the things I learned...

For example, do you know who this unfortunate man is? It´s Saint Dennis, who apparently was taken up to Montmartre and beheaded by the Romans. Yeah, not fun. But that´s where the name comes from...montmartre...mount of martyrs.

Also, Montmartre is part of the 18 arrondissement because it was its own village for quite a long time before begrudgingly being absorbed into the modern-day metropolitan area of Paris. That´s why Montmartre has its own look and feel and bohemian charm.

And Montmartre is not all about sex, by the way. Nor is it all about the Moulin Rouge. And no, I did not see Nicole Kidman doing the can-can. I had heard a lot of unsavory things about the area, and felt suspicious because all the very cheap, online hotels were the ones claiming to be in the heart of the 18th arrondissement, five minutes from the Moulin Rouge and ten minutes from Sacre-Coeur...

Well, there is sex-row in the area, but it´s along the Avenue de Clichy (which sounds shady, doesn´t it?)

And the Avenue de Clichy is right on the border between the 9th and 18th districts. So if you go deeper south into the 9th or up the hill of the 18th, you really end up right back into charming Paris. But, not without a quick trip into the SuperMarche Erotique... of course.

This is one of the only two suriving original Art Nouveau metro stations in Paris--right in the heart of Montmartre.

This is the apartment building where Vincent Van Gogh stayed during his two years in Paris. Did you know that Vincent started painting when he was 27 and committed suicide when he was 37. And during those ten years, six of them were spent painting in the Flemmish style (in other words, NOT the brilliant colorful style he is known for today). So that´s only 4 years in which he created over some 800 paintings. And his work radically changed during his stay in Montmartre. And, okay, it probably had more to do with all the absinthe he was drinking...rather than Paris itself...but still...

Really, I loved this day because the whole area was just so surprisingly beautiful.

Plus, there was a really great street musician performing in front of the Sacre-Coeur.

Esmeralda and the Gargoyles

2007-07-13T08:47:00.001-07:00

So I showed up at the Notre Dame to climb the bell tower. According to Dan, we did it the last time around, but I didn´t remember. I went later in the evening, around eight to avoid the crowds, and well...failed miserably.

Huge long line to climb the bell tower. Drats! I had just come from the Eiffel Tower, where the waiting time was guaranteed about 2+ hours (which I was actually relieved about b/c I did remember doing that before and didn´t really feel like doing it again...)

So when I arrived at Notre Dame, the pressure was on to climb something high in Paris...

Well, I circled back about an hour later and got lucky because I ascended the tower just before dusk...

And can I just say that my favorite thing about climbing the bell tower of Notre Dame is not the views? It´s the Gargoyles.

If I ever have a house in the suburbs, it is going to be decorated with gargoyles (to scare away about all the bad suburbian vibes).

This is me, touching the bell... because they let you do that sort of thing in Paris...

Love the one above. He´s eating one of his own!

And to make my night even more perfect and Parisian, when I descended the tower, there was a public performance in the main square. Some French gypsy pyrotechnicians were putting on the most amazing display of crazy medieval torch swirling that I had ever seen...

At one point, the main bad-ass French gypsy pyrotech threw up his flames ninja chain into the air and it soared like a comet right over the square and into the other end of the crowd--and almost landed on top of all the people! Until bad-ass ran and caught it just in time--like it was totally planned. God, I love bad-ass French gypsy pyrotechs.

Art History Lesson!

2007-07-11T06:55:00.000-07:00

The first stop, of course, is the requisite Musee d´Orsay. When I told Dan that I was going there, he said, "Wait, is that the boring museum?" (Because we´ve both been there before)... to which, I took offense, and said that it would NOT be boring. To which he replied: B-O-RING!

Well, let us commence on our non-boring tour of all the interesting art pieces at the Musee d´Orsay... And by the way, Paris museums and palaces are cool because they actually let you take photos of the art!

First up: my favorite painting in the whole museum. I don´t know who she is (actually, I do: Madame de Lyones painted by Amaury-Duval and exhibited at the 1862 salon). But what I mean is: I don´t know the story behind the portrait, but I love it because she looks slightly sinister. And not sinister in an obvious way, but in a sly, subversive, feminine way with her black oil hair and black oil dress. This picture doesn´t show her eyes very well, but they're smokey violet--very Elizabeth Taylor--very "don´t cross me or I will make you pay and you´ll never even know it" kind of way. If you double click, you may be able to see her gaze and her curt little smile and her insinuating gesture with her hand.

I love her.

This is a marble sculpture by Auguste Clésinger, called "Femme piquée par un serpent." Can you guess what that means and why she looks like she´s suffering?

What about now?

She´s suffering and writhing because she´s been bitten by the tiniest of snakes, wrapped discreetly around her wrist. I love this sculpture because it´s such a metaphor for how the seemingly tiniest of things can cause us the most pain.

Manet´s Olympia. Perhaps the most famous of all the paintings in the museum. Manet was a predecessor of the impressionist movement, and not really an impressionist himself. He knew Monet and Renoir and Pissarro, but Manet was older and absoluetly intent on gaining notoriety amongst the hoity-toities of the time. And unlike the impressionists (who weren´t ever accepted into the Salon, so they started their own salons), Manet desperately tried again and again to get his work exhibited in the Salon.

This painting, however, ruined his chances for good because it was so scandalous. A courtesan painted in the style of a Greek goddess. How dare he, that naughty Manet!

Renoir: Here´s something I learned while in Paris that I never knew about. This painting cuts off the figures on both sides of the frame in order to give the illusion that the party continues on forever. However, that was also scandalous and daring and shocking at the time (wow, the hoity-toities really didn´t get out much). How dare he, that naughty Renoir!

Monet...ah, his lily pads. I was supposed to visit his studio and gardens in Giverney. It was the one thing that I really was looking forward to...but in the end, I waited until Sunday to do it, and missed the train to go out there. Let´s move on and try not to think about how sad that makes me!

Monet...love him. Never made a dime for a long, long, long time. Always was broke. Always was borrowing money. And yet, never deviated from his experimentations with his art. Love that.

I just happen to know that Monet painted this portrait of his wife on her death bed, who died poor and young, and never benefited from Monet´s success later in his life. And yes, Monet actaully painted his wife on her deathbed. I think that´s very telling in so many ways...

My favorite portrait of Van Gogh (that´s Van Goth, everyone, for the record!) There´s just so much to say about him that I can´t even begin.

I saw a special exhibit (also at the d'Orsay) and it was all about the works of the art dealer Voillard, who handled the sale of so many artists of this period--from Cezanne, Monet, Renoir, Van Gogh to Picasso and others.

Anyway, it was fascinating because Van Gogh´s work would have been lost into obscurity if it hadn´t been for Voillard.

Since Theo Van Gogh--who had been Vincent´s art dealer--died six months after Vincent commited suicide, there was a big void in the professional dealing of his art. Voillard saw it as an opportunity and bought a bunch of paintings from Theo´s wife. He exhibted them five years after Vincent´s death and the show was a complete failure. Nobody liked Van Gogh´s art. Not even Cezanne, who said it was the work of a madman (I knew there was a reason why I hate Cezanne´s crap).

Anyway, Voillard persisted and was the single most influencial force in creating a market for Van Gogh´s work. It just goes to show you that genius is an acquired taste.

An old friend of mine loved this painting because he said it sums up the meaning of life. A good hard day´s work and then you lay to rest with the woman you love.

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On that note, moving on...to the below sculpture. The only bronze sculpture of the monarchy to survive the French Revolution, which is shocking if you think about how many sculptures there were of the monarchy.

This is a sculpture of Louis XIV, the sun king responsible for setting up public court at Versailles. Apparently, he had 300 illegitimate children. And those are just the ones they know about... I heard a tour guide call him "King Nasty." I thought that was funny.

Off to the Louvre. I think is interesting to ponder the fact that IM Pei had the balls to propose such an audacious, distracting, and contrasting structure in such a harmonious historical square, and the Louvre commission actually went along with it.

I mean, really, it´s amazing to think about how much confidence you must have in your own artistic merit to make such a proposal, and it´s amazing to think about the fact that it´s just so accepted now and that he actually got away with it!

Either way, from the inside, it is very celestial in a geometric sort of way.

The Da Vinci Code crowd, huddled around to see the Mona Lisa. Yeah, swept right by that one...

Jewels, jewels, and more jewels. Love them. The emerald necklace on the right was a present to Napoleon´s second younger wife. He dumped Josephine when it was discovered that she was too old to have children. But it´s all good, because Josephine ended up marrying Napoleon´s brother and getting the sapphire necklace, crown, earrings, and broach on the left. Take that Bonaparte.

Is this The Crying Game?

Why no, it´s just Rome´s fascination with Hermaphrodites!

This wasn´t in the Louvre. I just realized though that I´m in love with Parisian bohemian chandeliers and mosiac storefronts...

Merci beaucoup, Paris!

2007-07-10T03:47:00.001-07:00

Well, I´m back from Paris and all I can say is...I HAD THE MOST AMAZING TIME EVER! PARIS IS THE MOST FANTASIC CITY EVER. I WANT TO MOVE THERE... TOMORROW!

I was only suppose to stay four days in Paris (leaving Tuesday and returning Saturday). But instead, I ended up staying a week, mainly due to the fact that my cheap discount carrier flight (akkk-huhmm, cough *VUELING*) from Madrid to Paris got CANCELLED...

(BTW, I knew there was a serious problem when I arrived at the airport and my flight number on the departure monitor said "To Venice," instead of "To Paris" and all the Vueling employees didn´t seem to think that was strange).

Anyway, thirty minutes after we were scheduled to depart, the Vueling bastards cancelled my flight. Ahk! C-A-N-C-E-L-L-E-D. And thus, threatened to ruin my whole freaking Parisian trip!

So, as you can imagine, Sassy Catalina went into full Sassy Traveler action mode and I headed straight to the Iberian counter, and subsequently had to hussle my-ASS-off (not unlike a broke bar girl in a pool hall, mind you) to get a seat on an Iberia flight leaving THAT afternoon--and returning...? well, what the heck, let´s change the whole plan and stay a week, instead of four days!

So I did. And it was so fabulous that I can´t even express the magnitude of fabulosity, other than to say that I CAN´T BELIEVE I´VE BEEN WASTING ALL MY TIME IN MADRID. (whoops, did I just imply that Paris is so much better than Madrid?)

Why yes, I think I did!

Exhibit A: I have become official Euro-Trash.

So this is a picture to show everyone my new Eurotrash haircut, which I got in Madrid before my Parisian trip. Normally, if I got this hair cut in the States, I probably would have cried. But here, it completely makes me look and feel like utter Eurotrash, and I LOVE IT. Plus, before this hair cut, I was already getting asked for directions by Spaniards in Madrid at least once a day, which made me suspect that perhaps I was turning into Eurotrash.

But once I got to Paris, I seriously was getting asked for directions, like, THREE times a day (I swear, it´s true!). I have Exhibit A: Euro-Trash haircut to prove it.

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Okay, so if having my flight cancelled on the way to Paris wasn´t bad enough.... there was a bomb threat at Orly on the day of my return!

And, of course, the suspicious abandoned suitcase just had to be left in the Iberian terminal, right as I was scheduled to leave for Madrid. Well, do you think I upset, distraught, mad-as-hell and-not-going-to-take-it-anymore? Hell no. I was thrilled. A bomb threat at Orly? Seriously blog-worthy.

This is a photo at the beginning of the bomb threat, when the French police tried to expell all the Spaniards from the terminal and away from the "bomb threat area." But because Spaniards are used to being the ones WHO expel, and are not used to being the ones who ARE expelled, the French police had very little luck because all the Spaniards kept crowding forward, wanting to see what was going to happen with the "abandoned-bomb-suitcase-in-question," as if watching the police deactivate a bomb somehow qualified as a spectator´s sport.

Well, not Sassy Catalina.

I sure as hell was NOT sitting around for the main event, so I left the terminal and went outside and across the street and behind the barricades..clarooooooo. Fifteen minutes later, the French police decided it might be a better idea to evacuate the terminal...in case, you know...the suitcase really was a bomb.

Of course, it wasn´t. But still, seriously blog-worthy.

(more fun, french euro'trashy pictures and stories to come...stay tuned)

Off to Paris... Ooh La La

2007-07-02T15:36:00.000-07:00

I just saw the movie Les Miserables, the Liam-Nieson version--only dubbed in Spanish.

The movie was better than the musical, but not by much.

Although I must say... it did get me in the mood for my big Parisian adventure this week.

All that Parisian scenery reminded me of how much I enjoyed Paris the first time I was there...

Unfortunately, the movie also reminded me of how bad an actress Claire Danes really is.

Claire Danes singing On My Own... yaawwwwwwhhh, shudder.

Spaniards + Gays = One CRAZY Fiesta

2007-07-02T14:59:00.000-07:00

Well...I had many more photos to share, but since my neighbor's wi-fi connection BITES, and blogger is not letting me upload anything...this is all you get.

I heard that the parade extended a mile--all the way down Gran Via to Calle de Alcala. Bodies to bodies. Madonna music all day long. The streets were packed and the party started in the Plaza de Espana, literally right outside my doorstep.

To Dan, With Love... Ducks

2007-07-01T05:45:00.000-07:00

This is a post, specifically for Danny, who I know would have loved to watch all the ducks, just hanging out along the flat damn in Aranjuez. (double click to get the full effect).

Dan spent about two hours, trying to get my old Honda Civic to start up, so that he could take it to the car wash, because--in his words--it was filthy. Apparently, so filthy, in fact, that you couldn't see out the windows. (Well, when I left, it was still a dirty, snowy, salty Chicago winter). Anyway, I suppose this is what prompted someone to write "wash me" on the back window. I told Dan not to worry about it, or...if he really felt compelled to do something, then write back, "FUCK OFF"

But instead, Dan--being the wonderful Dan that he is--spent time jumping the battery of my car, pumping the gas for awhile (because I left it on empty and the gas had gone bad) and then drove it to a gas station for a refill and a car wash.

What can I say? Other than: To Dan, with love... ducks.

How many SassyCatalinas does it take to find a Crystal Palace?

2007-07-01T05:04:00.000-07:00

So I went to the Buen Retiro park the other day. It's like Madrid's Central Park, and it's ginormous.

Anyway, I have been there before... In fact, I've visited the Retiro many different times on many different trips to Spain over the past ten years. And I have YET to ever see the famous nineteenth-century Palacio de Cristal.

So this day, I was focused and determined to find it, damnit. I mean, how hard could it possibly be to find a big palace made of glass in the middle of Madrid's most famous park?

Well, turns out... it actually is pretty hard because I always get so distracted.... after all, I can't visit the Retiro and not admire my favorite fountain there, El Angel Caido, which by the way, I am told is the only public statue of Satan in the world. Actually, it's not depicting Satan; it's depicting the fall of the angel, Lucifer--the moment before he becomes Satan....

Otherwise, if it was just a statue of Satan, in the middle of the Retiro, then...Houston, I think we have a problem....

Okay, then because I love flowers, I always end up moseying over to the Rosaleda, which smells like one big French perfume shop this time of year, and yes, it's even more amazing than it looks...

Okay, and by this time, it's already been an hour and I'm thirsty and hungry and I usually never make it to the other side of the park, where I vaguely know that the mysterious palace of glass is vaguely located.

But this day, I was determined and..well, not particularly focused...but determined (which was good enough).

And wouldn't you know it? The must-not-miss attraction in the Buen Retiro Park is ironically very easy to miss?

But finally, I stayed and searched and consulted maps (which is never a good idea; you put SassyCatalina in a big pretty park with a paper map, and fifteen minutes later, you get an origami Spanish fan--because it's really freaking hot here now!).... So by pure luck, voila! I fell upon it. El Palacio de Cristal. Hidden away like a little glass dollhouse, glinting in the sunlight!

And yes, it does really look like a parakeet's bird cage from the inside...

This is me, savoring la victoria!

Cordoba - I'm just not that into you

2007-06-22T03:09:00.000-07:00

So I went to visit Cordoba for two days, because everyone talks about Cordoba like it's the holy grail of all Andalusian cities. And just like Barcelona, I've heard about how great Cordoba is for so long that I finally made the effort to visit it.

Well, I have to say that it was just okay. Yes, the Mezquita is old and big and well-preserved and the perfect specimen of an Islamic Mosque at the height of the Muslims' rule over Spain during the first millenium. But really, Mezquita -- I'm just not that into you.

Same for the Medina and the Alcazar. I guess, after being to Granda twice, I prefer the hillside ambiance and the gypsies and Sacromonte.

Plus, I had an annoying French man hit on me while I was happily eating lunch--sola--outside on the restaurant's terrace with all the other tourists. He walked up to my table and I thought he was the waiter at first until he started announcing in very bad Spanish--and in front of all the other tourists--about how he first saw me when I walked in, and how much pleasure I would give him if I would accompany him for lunch at his table in the smelly smoking interior of the bar.

Yeah, that would be: le not.

I looked at him straight in the eye, and said, "no."

I might have said, "no, gracias." But I don't think so.

So anyway, back to Cordoba...oh, yeah, not so impressed with its tourist sites. But I must admit that its saving grace was all the flowers. And I love flowers....

The InLaws!

2007-06-21T14:58:00.000-07:00

So the second to last day that Dan was in Europe, we took a bus out to the suburbs in order for Dan to meet the inlaws. First stop: Monterrey, where my aunt and uncle hosted a fabulous Saturday paella for the whole clan.

This is Dan, meeting the inlaws. No commentary necessary. But I will say that all my hard work paid off because in the middle of the lunch, Nana said: "Fijate el acento de etse chico es estupendo!" Translation: The fact that I forced Dan to say "gracias" for the past two weeks with the Castilian zeta (or else face the wrath of Sassy Catalina) was totally worth Nana's praise!

These are my three guapisimo cousins!

Oh the ham. The ham...

More InLaw Pics

2007-06-21T14:38:00.000-07:00

After we finished at Nana and Felipe's, we took a bus back to Madrid and then hopped on a train to head out to a different suburb to visit with Paco and his wife, Ana, and their two young daughters.

While the first trip to Monterrey was the traditional Spanish lunch, our second trip out to visit Paco was the more contemporary version of a Spanish reunion.

This is Dan--experiencing a formal family initiation. (Yes, these are the things you do for love.)

This is me, saying between my teeth: uhm...Danny, honey. Do you mind if we wait a few more years before this is us?

Swizterland - Gimmelwald

2007-05-31T04:39:00.000-07:00

This was our first day in Switzerland, and the amazing weather in Barcelona followed us right into the Swiss Alps. We took a gondola up to the town of Gimmelwald and started our day of hiking from that point. This was definitely my most favorite day in Switzerland, despite having to learn how to pee in the trees for the first time in my entire life (I know, I know, I´m such a city girl). Still, it was a blast!

Dan, below, with his mistress. Damn that internet phone.

In the above picture, you can barely see the little town of Murren--at the bottom of the photo. That´s how massive the mountains are and how high we were hiking!

This is me, saying "yo mama," at Dan´s suggestion that we hike the other side of the mountains--the side with the jagged snowy cap peaks. (Actually, he probably wasn´t suggesting that. I was probably just spontaneously having sassy attitude.)

This puny electrical rod gate was the source of much discussion.

I know it doesn´t look that formidable in this photo, but a very gnarly-looking electric fence ran on both sides of it, and there was no other trail in sight. So passing through this puny little electrical rod gate was the only way to keep going on the trail.

Well, as you might imagine, City Girl Sassy Catalina stood back and did what any smart woman would do. I let the man crawl under the electrical rod gate--first.

Swizterland - Vorsicht!

2007-05-31T04:16:00.001-07:00

Okay, so this was the point in our hike when I got a little bit nervous when we came upon this sign: the evil sign with TWO directions to Gimmelwald. One plain Gimmelwald. And the second to Gimmelwald (Vorsicht!).

Well, as you might imagine, I instigated a very long discussion about what the heck (Vorsicht!) meant.

I mean, Vorsicht by itself, fine. I think I could have handled Vorsicht-plain. But Vorsicht- exclaimation point! That freaked me out. So I was not feeling good about the path to the right. Meanwhile, Dan was 100% for Vorsicht!

Minimally, the translation seemed OBVIOUS. Dan didn´t agree. He thought it probably just meant "Careful!", or "Steep!"...or "Nice Views!" (or something benign like that).

I said, "what if it means ´bear´?"

Dan said there were no bears in the Swiss Alps.

"Mountain Lion?"

Try again.

Well, in the end, there was no getting out of Vorsicht!. So I followed Dan and we took the Vorsicht! path, and below is the photo of Dan--at the start of the path--waving gleefully about never being seen or heard from again.

And then we stumble upon our first clue, and it dawned on me.

Of course... it is obvious.

Vorsicht! = "Oh Schit!"

Yeah, this is me, hanging back and taking the pictures while simultaneously encouraging Dan to keep forging ahead.

Ahhhhhhh Vorsicht!

I must admit that it was a pretty amazing view from behind the waterfall.

Below is me, smiling after our success, because Dan--the Vorsicht! master--was right!

Switzerland - Down the Gimmivalt!

2007-05-31T04:10:00.000-07:00

After a long hike, the Vorsicht! master claims his prize: A beer bigger than his own head.

Switzerland - Grindelwald

2007-05-31T03:54:00.000-07:00

Later in our trip, we moved to up into the mountains to stay in Grindelwald in order to do some mountain biking. Below are the views from our room in the mountain hotel.

We we didn´t realize it, (and found out later), that all the trails in Grindelwald go UP--and not just with a little incline. Apparently, like, UP--at a complete vertical.

We were told by a professional biker, (who was also the woman who ran our hotel) that unless we were used to biking in the mountains, we had "NO chance. Absolutely none."

It´s nice to know that Swiss people never sugarcoat the truth.

So, we stayed at the base of the mountain and road around the paved paths and enjoyed the scenery before we were overtaken by the Perfect Storm.

The Perfect Storm.

Switzerland - The Swiss Know How to Travel in Style

2007-05-31T03:31:00.000-07:00

Besides, their crazy super-efficient train system--that really puts any other countries´ rail systems to shame--the Swiss also have a few other clockwork forms of transportation that really show off their propensity for traveling in style.

Case in point: the funicular.

The ferry yachet.

The apline gondolas.

And last, but not least...the paraglider.

Below, is Dan taking it easy during an afternoon glide.

Okay, not really. But there was much discussion about whether we should or shouldn´t try the paraglide.

In the end, time and a lack of sufficient euros won out, but it was amazing to watch these guys soar around and then land on the edge of the mountain.

Barcelona - First Impressions

2007-05-30T08:04:00.000-07:00

Reflections on Barcelona: after hearing about how great Barcelona is my whole life, and after traveling to Spain over a dozen times, and still never having the chance to visit the Promised Land until now...I have to say, that in the end, I still very much prefer Madrid.

Dan, on the other hand, preferred Barcelona (which, I did NOT tell my Spanish family when Dan finally met his future in-laws at the end of our trip. Considering the huge rivalry between the people who live in Madrid vs. the people who live in Barcelona--(which is not unlike the rivalry between the people who live in Minnesota vs. the people who live in Wisconsin ((okay, maybe it´s not exactly the same, but still...)), I figured there was no need to bring it up, or else risk subjecting Dan to some authentic Spanish debasing. At least, not yet...

This is Dan, in front of a Gaudi lamppost (Gaudi´s first commission in Barcelona). If you don´t know who Gaudi is, then see below blog posts for the "Who in the Heck is Antoni Gaudi" tutorial.

This is me, in front of the Mercado, off of Las Ramblas.

These are the narrow, dark streets of the Gothic Quarter. Barcelona, I have to say, has a seedy underworld feel about it that I was NOT anticipating. I got harrassed by a drunk homeless man while Dan was standing right next to me. We popped into the Raval district and discovered prostitution row within the first 2 minutes of exploring the neighborhood. And Dan boasts that he´s pretty sure that he felt someone try to pickpocket him. Like it´s a badge of honor.

Dan says there's an "edge" to the city--which he likes. (This is Dan saying this, the oh-so-edgy boy from Minnesota). I don´t think it´s an edge. I think it´s just the sleazy side of a city that attracts way too many tourists and too way too many slim-shady characters who prey on them.

However, I must say that we did see an awesome hip-hop jazz band the first night we were in the city, and Barcelona definitely has a young, hip, urban, international flare to it.

This is the Port Vell, and the spectacular weather that followed us our entire vacation.

Barcelona - Day at the Beach

2007-05-30T07:51:00.000-07:00

Apparently, there were no beaches in Barcelona, just ports, until the Olympic Commission waved their magic wand and said, "Voilà!" (or, at least, the Catalunyan version of "Voilà") and created them in 1992 for the summer games. Gotta love them Olympic Games.

This is me, trying to seduce Dan away from his mistress--his internet phone--with the help of some chocolate malt balls. It didn´t work. Damn that mistress internet phone.

Barcelona - Gaudi´s Parc Güell

2007-05-30T07:33:00.000-07:00

We had the most amazing weather our entire trip--from everyday in Barcelona, throughout Switzerland (minus one rainy day, which turned out fun nonetheless) and onwards to Munich.

But this day in Gaudi´s Parc Güell was my favorite. This day was our first introduction to Gaudi´s work, and honestly, I really had never heard of the man before.

Before visiting Barcelona, I had no idea that Antoni Gaudi was this great architectural genius--one of those names that inevitably gets tossed around fancy hoity-toity dinner parties, and you´d just have to smile and nod your head, or else risk looking like an uninformed dork if you betrayed you had no idea who Gaudi was.

Gaudi is to Barcelona what Bernini is to The Vatican/Rome and Erasmus is to Rotterdam (as Paco was sure to inform me a few weeks ago when I betrayed that I had no idea who Erasmus was, and I was promptly made to feel like an uninformed dork).

Anyway... if you aren´t familiar with Antoni Gaudi and Barcelona, (and dare betray it), you will be familiar with him by the end of this blog entry, gosh darn it.

Okay, now, onto more important things, like cute pictures of Dan!

These are examples of two Gaudi houses in the Parc Güell. He only finished two before his rich patron, Eusebi Güell, ran out of money. The park used to be part of Güell´s private residence, but later, the city of Barcelona acquired it in the late 1920s. (somebody back then sure had some touristic foresight).

Are we there yet, Papa Smurf?

Barcelona - Gaudi´s Casa Batllo

2007-05-30T07:20:00.000-07:00

This is one of the many private houses that was gutted in the late nineteenth-century, and fully redesigned by Gaudi (probably to the horror of his patron, but oh well!)

This particular house, Casa Batllo, was really impressive, and it really gives you a good idea of how much Gaudi liked to use elements in nature as inspiration for his architectural designs.

This is a ceiling light with the ocean´s wave as the ceiling´s pattern. (I really wanted to lay right on the floor to take this photo, in order to get the full effect, but I refrained...begrudgingly).

This staircase railing was designed in the shape of a whale´s spinal column.

These are chimney stacks, made pretty and aquatic. Just because pretty is good.

This is Dan, dutifully listening to the audioguide and relaying the highlights to me.

Barcelona - Gaudi´s Sagrada Familia

2007-05-30T06:40:00.001-07:00

To finish off our Gaudi tour of Barcelona, Dan and I visited the requisite Sagrada Familia, Gaudi´s famous unfinished masterpiece. They started construction on the church around 1897 (I think?) and didn´t finish it...not even thirty years later, even though Gaudi dedicated the rest of his life to overseeing its construction. Gaudi even went so far as shacking up in the bowels of its underground crypt, so he could work day and night on it.

Gaudi died in the late 1920s, and they only finished construction on a tiny fraction of his original vision for the church. Something like 4 out of the planned 18 towers.

Unfortunately, for Gaudi, he met the ill-fate of being run over by a tram. Dan heard me say over and over the whole trip...how the heck do you get run over by a tram?

Then, while we were in Zurich, which has about a bajillion trams, I was carelessly NOT paying attention while taking photographs of the main train station. Dan crossed ahead, while I hung back to let one tram pass by before stepping out into the street, only to turn at the sound of the "I´m going to run you over if you don´t get the hell out of my way," bell from the second tram, coming the other way.

Yeah, that´s how you get run over by a tram.

Above is an example of some of the intricate work on the facade of the original church. Apparently, Gaudi was a deeply religious man, so working on Sagrada Familia was like a calling for him.

This is Dan atop the original towers--see below.

After we finished climbing the original towers, we went down to the base and decided that we should be good tourists and climb up the newly-constructed, theme-park version of Gaudi´s Sagrada Familia--which is what you see below.

I´m definitely in favor of leaving the church alone, as it was when Gaudi died, instead of "finishing it" for the sake of tourisim. Dan was more on-the-fence. He liked the fruit tops on the new towers.

Oh Dan. You and Augustus Gloop.

The Eagle Has Landed!

2007-05-13T11:42:00.000-07:00

Yay! The Windy City Traveler has arrived to Madrid safe and sound. As usual (and loveable), he was beaming, and smiling, and happy to see me. Yay!

See below for some of our adventures in Madrid before we jet off to Barcelona, Switzerland, and lands yet not chartered. (not really, but it feels the same to me since some of our trip is completely un-planned and without reservations with which rocks my organizational, administrative sensibilities. Yikes!)

La Corrida de Los Toros

2007-05-13T11:37:00.000-07:00

Our first bullfight for all of us! We are all very excited to finally see a real la corrida de los toros at the most famous bullfighting ring in Spain, Las Ventas, during the festival of San Isidro (Madrid´s patron saint, and yet another excuse for Spaniards to party all week and take days off work).

This picture gives you a good idea of how popular bullfighting is in Spain. Almost the entire stadium was full, and although the actual bullfighters weren´t that great, it was a spirited crowd and we did get to see one of the toreros get gored in the leg--right after he plunged his sword into the bull for the kill. Then, he proceeded to freak out when the bull didn´t die immediately, but rather jolted forward and stabbed him in the thigh with his horn. That was the point in the bullfight when the torero catapulted himself over the arena´s wall like a frightened Spanish girlie man. It was fabulous. The crowd went CRAZY. That alone was totally worth the 30 euros per seat.

The torero was more show than substance, totally brash and cocky without much elegance, and he really didn´t take many risks while passing the bull--but instead, he just struted around a lot and waved his red cape like he was in a Broadway show instead of bullfighting in Las Ventas. So in way, it wasn´t surprising that the girlie man got gored, and it pleased me.

Dan particularly liked it when the bulls charged the horses and almost tip them over. We had really great seats. We were actually much closer than this, but my camera makes objects look three times farther than away than how they actually appear.

Anyway, it was fabulous fun and I think Dan got a great intrduction to the true spirit of the bullfight, which is really all about honoring the strength and power of the bull than it is about senseless sport.

Los Madrileños

2007-05-13T11:30:00.000-07:00

Dan and I ate at La Bola, a restaurant famous for their cocido. I remembered going there with Paco years and years ago (thanks Paco!) and found it again by memory. So I hooked Dan and me up with reservations and we stuffed our faces.

This is me, showing off my pretty Spanish fan, which Mom bought me for my birthday. Thanks Mom, you always have such good taste!

This is Dan in front of an authentic Egyptian Temple in the middle of Madrid. We spent the whole day walking around and seeing the sights. Tomorrow, we´re off to Barcelona by train--so long as we wake up by 7AM and don´t miss it!

To Granada, With Love

2007-05-06T15:02:00.000-07:00

This is me with my trusty blue umbrella (that I purchased in Rome, and has been quite the accommodating traveling companion--double click on photo for full effect) at the top of the Alhambra, the Moorish fortress conquered by the Catholic king and queen, Isabel and Ferdinand in the 15th century. Isabel and Ferdinand were the monarchs who united Spain during the Reconquista by kicking out all of the Moors and Jews who had made it a fabulous place to live for more than 8 centuries. (Sorry, Moors and Jews--Spaniards can be such bullies!)

I told Dan that Isabel and Ferninand were the ones who gave Christopher Columbus the money to discover the New World, and he said..." You mean the New World that had already been discovered by the Native Americans?" Clearly, I'm not going to win in my love for Granada's history...but still.

I had a fabulous time and I really enjoyed visiting the Alhambra. I had been there twice before, once in high school and once with my father and sister, but it's much better to see a historical site as an adult--on your own volition-rather than to be dragged there by your parents or teachers.

Yes, Granada is as perfect and wonderful as it looks

2007-05-06T14:58:00.000-07:00

Albaicin, my soon-to-be new home

2007-05-06T14:48:00.000-07:00

This is me on the top of the Albaicin hillside in Granada that overlooks the Alhambra behind me. I have a funny look on my face because I'm wondering which is going to win first: the German tourist figuring out how to push the snapshop button on my camera, or my camera battery running out... The German man won! Yay for Germans!

This is the touristy lookout from Albaicin, but once you get away from this point and start wondering through the cobbled Moorish streets, it's peaceful, serene, and feels completed isolated from the modern world in the valley below. Perfect for my loner, gypsy proclivities.

Above is my new house that I plan to buy and move into ASAP! Geraniums and all!

I love this photo. Just some high school kids kicking it back on the front entrance of the Juan Miquel church. Double click on the photo to get the full effect.

How could you not LOVE waking up every morning and strolling down streets like this for your morning chocolate con churros?

These are the views of the city below from the Albaicin. Sign me up, baby.

Dia de las Cruzes (Translation: PAAAR-TEEEY)

2007-05-06T14:43:00.000-07:00

The 3rd of May is the Dia de las Cruzes, celebrated in Granada and Cordoba. It's really a pagan holiday that's been turned into a bastardized Christian excuse to drink and dance and party in the streets all night.

Toledo (Spain, not Ohio)

2007-04-30T10:46:00.000-07:00

On Saturday, I was invited by Andy, a British physics teacher, to go to Toledo for the day on a whim. Andy is one of these super-smart guys whose mind moves faster than his mouth, and despite my strange fascination with smart, geeky boys who know smart, geeky things like computer programming and quantum physics, I often can't persuade Andy to discuss cool science stuff unless it's in quippy bursts like freeing the radicals or getting Oprah to be the spokewoman for the expanding universe's waistline.

This is the bus that we successfully found, successfully boarded, then successfully got booted out of our seats like ignorant tourists because we didn't know the seats were numbered, forcing us to rifle around for our tickets (ie. slips of crumbled paper by this point) and stumble over angry annoyed old Spanish women in order to get from the back of the bus to the front of the bus where we conveniently had our seats.

In the distance is the "Catedral," which apparently is the second largest cathedral in Spain (no wonder the ticket woman gave us a funny look when we asked what the name of that inglesia was, and she said, "El Catedral" in a way that suggested, "Duh, you ignorant tourists." That perhaps contributed to the reason why we couldn't be bothered to pay the 6 euros to go inside.

I´m dating a superhero!

2007-04-27T09:18:00.000-07:00

Well, as most of you know, I traveled back to the States for Easter to spend a few weeks back in Chicago. But, what most of you don´t know, (because I didn´t know it either) was that when I came back, I was surprised to discover that my boyfriend had suddenly been transformed into a superhero!

Who knew? I left my boyfriend for two months, expecting him to take up a new hobby, maybe meet some new friends while I was away; and when I came back, I found out that he indeed found a new hobby: he had decided to become "Wet Suit Boy," running around, saving his fellow mankind from the threat of cold water.

Actually, this is one of three wet suits that Dan rented in order to find that perfect fit. This is NOT the wet suit that he decided to use for the race, by the way, despite trying it on several times, eating lunch in it, and practising his swim strokes (in the air, not in the pool). But, in the end, it likely will become the wet suit that he wears when he has to save someone from being trapped in their bathroom.

Race Day

2007-04-27T08:47:00.000-07:00

This is Palm Springs, California, where Dan and I traveled for Dan´s triathlon. For all those playing along, Palm Springs, California is not like Palm Springs, Florida. Palm Springs, California is in the middle of the desert -- just in case swimming, biking, and running for 3 hours wasn´t challenging enough.

This is the lake where all the tri-athletes began the race and swam for a quarter of a mile (for the sprint race) or a mile (for the international race). You can see all the racers in the distance below. The lake looks calm enough, but both Dan and his brother, Joe, expressed similiar drowning concerns after the race when they had a chance to recover and reflect on the madness that is the T-R-I-A-T-H-L-O-N.

This is a photo of Dan and his incredibly adorable coach. This is a victory photo, after the race, when the athlete was proven wrong about all his fears, and indeed, he did not drown as was the concern during the entire week leading up to the race (that, and... which of the three rented wet suits he should wear).

This is a photo of all three victorious triathletes: Dan (left), Jack (center), and Joe (Dan´s brother, right). We stayed in Jack´s Aunt´s two bedroom condo, it was plush and made up for the fact that we were trapped in the middle of the desert.

Dan´s brother, Joe, completed the international version of the triathlon, which was double the distance of the sprint version and last three hours instead of an hour and half. Thus, the well-deserved victory towel upon his head.

This is Dan, before the race. We arrived at 7:50AM and Dan and Jack´s start time for the Sprint race was 8AM. Whoops. This is Dan, trying to mount his bike, which he will have to ride all the way around the lake and then suit up before hitting the water for his quarter mile swim. And he needs to get there in under ten minutes.

Dan doesn´t know it, yet, but he left without his helmet or water bottles, and his incredibly aborable coach has to jump in the car and chase after him -- or else he wouldn´t have been able to ride. Below, is Dan´s brother, Joe, giving himself a cheer for having the luck of starting later in the day, instead of starting 10 minutes after we parked.

5:30AM, the morning of the triathlon, and both brothers are contemplating why they ever thought it would be a good idea to participate in such madness.

African Wild Life Invades Palm Springs

2007-04-27T08:25:00.000-07:00

In order to give you an idea of how hot and dry and Sahara-like it really is in Palm Srpings, here are a few pictures from the African wild life preserve -- smack in the middle of the city.

Yes, wild African animals living it up in the land of Bob Hope.

In the distance in this photo, that´s a giraffe and two ostriches, hanging out together. Do giraffes and ostriches hang out together in real life? I´ll let you google that one, but apparently in Palm Springs, they are fast friends.

Also, a fun fact that we learned is that you can always tell the difference between a male and female giraffe via their eating habits. Males always extend their necks and reach for the farthest tree leaves, while females lower their necks and eat the leaves closer to the trunks. Clearly, the females are smarter. Why over-extend yourself when you can make your male counterparts do all the work instead?

This is a photo of some fat, lazy warthogs, dying from the Palm Springs "dry" heat.

This is a photo of an ostrich, checking out Dan. They eventually came closer for us to get a better look. They only have one toe, by the way. One really large toe equipped with one really large gnarly fang claw.

Randon Reflection #1: Bad 80s Rock

2007-03-23T04:42:00.000-07:00

Spain´s radio has an unhealthy obsession with Phil Collins, Brian Adams, and last, but not least... yes, if you can believe it: Roxette. I kid you not.

I literally hear at least one song from each of them on the radio every day.

Roxette? DRESSED FOR SUCCESS and SHE'S GOT THE LOOK...(what in the world can make a brown girl's eyes turn blue, lalalalala-la, nan'nan'nananana'nah) I now know all the words.

Brian Adams. They played EVERYTHING I DO, I DO IT FOR YOU the other day, and I heard it for the first time in, like, fifteen years and thought....ahhh, I secretly like this song. Then, I heard it again. And again, and I no longer felt romantic. I wanted to send Brian Adams an email virus.

I currently hear Phil Collins in my head ALL THE FREAKING time. I can´t get away from the man. He was in the hardware store yesterday. He was in the internet cafe. He was in the bathroom in the Corte Ingles. Okay, so I will admit that I will sing along to SuSu-Sussudio!...as much as the next person. But really, I asked a Spaniard about it, and he said.."Phil Collins? I love Phil Collins."

I don´t think I´ve ever heard anyone EVER admit that they love Phil Collins. And certainly, not the ubiquitous Phil Collins who follows you into the bathroom when really you´d just like a moment without PHIL COLLINS!

Random Reflection #2: Wall of Hams

2007-03-23T04:34:00.000-07:00

Sorry, this photo is turned on its side, but oh well. This is really a story that only my parents and my siblings will completely get...

So I was in the Corte Ingles grocery store, trying to find the eggs in the refrigerated section (not realizing that...along with the milk...Spain puts their eggs on the shelf without refrigeration). So, I was hunting for the eggs near the butter and the tortilla patata (which they refrigerator...but eggs, no) and I smelled something very familiar... something very nostalgic, something that smelled exactly like home in Middletown. And when I turned, there is was. The wall of hanging hams. Ah...the ham.

Random Reflection #3: Socialism

2007-03-23T04:18:00.000-07:00

Socialism is alive and well in Spain.

Buying a freaking train ticket from Renfe is the biggest pain in the ass you can imagine. First of all, if you don´t have a DNI (which is a Spanish national ID number) then you can´t buy the tickets online. (ALERT: if this is wrong, and I have been led astray because the renfe website is so crappy, then please let me know)...

So you actually have to go down to the station to purchase the tickets, which is a total PITA because socialism is alive and well in Spain and everyone and their grandmother is waiting to buy renfe tickets and it takes an hour AT LEAST (and I was there on a Thursday morning by 9:45 AM).

Not only that, but I actually called ahead and reserved my tickets by phone, but because Socialism is alive and well in Spain, it doesn´t matter. You still have to go down to the freaking station and wait in line--with everyone and their grandmother--just to pay and pick up the ticket that you already spent time reserving on the phone. They make everyone take a number and wait. There´s no separate line for those who have already reserved their ticket.

I asked one of my new Spanish friends about this and he looked at me funny, and said: "I don´t see the problem because I think it is a very fair system." Then, the light bulb went off and I realized that Socialism is in full force: clearly, it´s not about what´s most productive or efficient; it´s about what´s FAIR for everyone. Christ.

Well, it should be noted, that I was in the grocery store (where you have to take a number and wait your turn to buy everything...bread, pastries, fruits and vegetables) and I was waiting for my turn, but I noticed that there was this old Asian woman who had been waiting a very long time, and everyone was taking their turn ahead of her, and so when it finally was my turn, I told the guy behind the counter that I thought the Asian woman has been waiting much longer than me, and when he asked her for her ticket, she had #40. Mine number was #81. Clearly, she had been waiting there forever--just waiting for someone to tell her it was her freaking turn!

What? No Churros!

2007-03-23T04:05:00.000-07:00

As most of you already know, my dad came into town from the States because his mother (my grandmother) was very sick and she ultimately passed away last week while we were in Zaragoza. We'll all miss you very much, yaya.

On a lighter note, this is what happens when you put three and 1/2 Spaniards (Paco, Pepe, Dad, and me) in a breakfast café on Sunday morning and they find out that the churros have been already consumed by the entire town of Zaragoza (and it´s only 10AM in the morning). And now, for the 3 1/2 Spaniards to unite to take a photo is nearly impossible because of the overwhelming chaos that ensues by not being able to eat chocolate con churros as expected... and a "croissant a la plancha" just doesn´t cut it.

There we go... see how much working taking photos for this blog really is?

Mi estudio!

2007-03-09T06:46:00.000-08:00

Here are the pictures everyone´s been waiting for...my new home! These are the pictures of the studio I am renting near the Plaza de España, and I love it. And yes, that´s a washing machine-dryer combo. That little thing actually washes clothes, and dries them.

That´s the front entrance... and my bed.

That´s the rest of my bed and lo and behold...what´s that? A second bed for anyone who wants to hop on a plane and come visit!

This is the living room, which yes, is also the dining room and the bedroom, but hey, I still love it!
And of course, the eurobath.

Sassy Catalina´s mandatory messy table...

These are the sheets that I bought at the Corte Ingles, which I am very proud to show off because it was quite an endeavor to buy sheets in a foreign country. First of all, it´s hard to find sheets in the US, between making sure you buy the full matress cover, sheet, and pillow combo, and then making sure you buy the right size, and then making sure you don´t pay full price--because Sassy Catalina is cheap and she will spend hours at Bed Bath and Beyond if it means rummaging through the back of the sale corner for hours on end until she does indeed score those half-price double bed combo sheets (right, Danny?)

So when I went into the Corte Ingles to look for sheets, I immediately knew I was introuble when--not only was everything in Spanish (of course, I knew it would be, and yet the difference between juegos de cama, sabanas, and capas, just wasn´t registering), but also because sizes were listed in centimeters. So sheet sizes looked like this: 90cm/190-200 and 135cm/190 etc. Yeah, exactly.

So, I quickly strolled over to the matress section and starting acting like I was interested in buying a matress, when really, I was just scoping out the labels on the twin matresses, trying to figure out what the heck size they were...

I quickly discerned that I wanted 90cm and that both the twin matresses and the double matresses are 190cm in length...so just like quessing on the SAT(which by the way, got me an embarassing 500 on math), I went with A) 90cm/190-200. And I was right. And I even successfully found discounted combo sheets (which still took me another hour), but at least there was no paying full price by Sassy Catalina! And I am happy to proclaim that I am now a Spanish sheet-shopping master.

This is a new little TV Tito that I bought for 29 euros. The good news is that it´s so light, I was able to carry it in a bag on the metro. The bad news is that it´s black and white and it only gets reception for two channels. The good news is that one of those channels has Grey Anatomy dubbed in Spanish! Yay!

It also has an AM/FM radio. I love my new little mini TV Tito!

More Family Photos!

2007-03-07T02:07:00.000-08:00

Since everyone seems to be enjoying the photos so much, here's a few more of the family. And yes, that´s little Juan, and I have that expression on my face because I´m standing on my tippee toes, and even then, he´s still a massive tree of a man now. It´s hard to believe! And yes, it can only mean one thing: the rest of us are getting old, old, old!

This is Santi with Yolanda, his wife and son, Pablo, who indeed, should be put in commercials ASAP.

Commericals!

Nana said I was naughty for taking this photo of her. But it's my favorite!

Maria can play the piano. Santi can play the piano and sing. Nana can play the piano, sing, play the guitar and play the accordian. It was so fun, but I was feeling like quite the untalented, unmusical American, despite having played the violin for 8 years and remembering nothing-- (that´s what's called "repressed memories"). It really made me wish that I had stuck with guitar class level 1, so I could at least be able to strum a D chord.

Back from Rome!

2007-03-01T11:52:00.000-08:00

The Sassy Travelers have returned.

I was in Rome by myself for almost a week, and then Maria came later to meet up with me for the weekend. It was tiring and fun and cold and wet and beautiful, and in the end, Italian men have proven themselves to be quite the flirting masters of the European continent.

And I am proud to say that I have mastered the language of Italian (not really--but I got a lot of winks for trying really hard) Also, I've decided to learn French and Italian at the same time, because during my stay in Italy, I realized that they're basically one language anyway.

For example, "grazie" sounds like merci, it's only disguised as the spanish word, gracias.

The mandatory sites

2007-03-01T11:50:00.000-08:00

The Spanish steps...
And the Fontana di Trevi

Waiting, waiting, and more waiting...

2007-03-01T11:41:00.000-08:00

On the day that Maria arrived, she really wanted to climb to the top of San Peter's Basilica, so that's what we did. We waited in line for two hours and climbed up to the top of the dome, despite not having had eaten breakfast or lunch. That is why I look like I'm going to die.

Bernini planned the piazza and it is one of my favorite sites. Bernini loved the element of surpise, and it's in all of his works. With the piazza, he planned it so that only little streets meander their way into the piazza, so that the traveler is suddenly surprised to stumble upon the awe-inspiring Barqoe square as well as the massive San Peter's Basilica, hidden in the center of the Vatican.

Then, fast forward 400 years, and Mussolini decided it would be a good idea to bulldoze a direct path right up to the Basilica. Bad Mussolini.

Ruins. No Really. Ruins.

2007-03-01T11:31:00.000-08:00

The best part of the ruins were the views. Especially of me.

Below is actually an interesting photo of the back of the Pantheon, which is not a part of the ruins, but it does give you some idea that the ruins--which, unlike the photos above--are really unimpressive piles of brick on hills, although they used to be covered with frescos, and marble and columns, and be a really beautiful bling bling place for the emperors to hang out in.

You can imagine that there was a fountain here, and a large impressive foyer here, and a wonderful mosaic ceiling here....

Again, the best part of the Forum's ruins and Palatine Hill was the views, and that's what I took pics (above) of...the views of Rome.

Is the Sistine Chapel really worth it?

2007-03-01T11:21:00.000-08:00

Above is the start of the line to see Michaelangelo's Sistine Chapel. Maria and I--the sassy travelers that we are--thought it would be a good idea to go on the only day of the month that it was free.

While we were trying to find the end of the line, Maria kept saying over and over: this is the longest line I have ever seen in my whole life!

And I kept saying: I don't think the Sistine Chapel is worth it. Blasphemy, I know. But cuh'monnnnnn...

The end is way far away (sorry, I can't figure out how to turn this photo the right way). But we did find the end--all the way in the piazza of San Peter.

Foiled by the Romans

2007-03-01T11:01:00.000-08:00

Okay, so how many Sassy Catalinas does it take to screw in a light bulb? Or, at the very least, figure out how to turn on the lights in a Roman hotel?

Well, my family and friends, it takes many. Let me tell you. I was compeleting baffled while staying at a Italian hotel near the Borghese Villa.

It had already been a struggle to find an available room that night, and I found a hotel online, which had received rave reviews because it had been recently renovated, and yet, the room wasn't too expensive. Sign me up, I said!

When I got there, everything looked really good. Nice entrance way. Close to the Borghese. 24 hour front desk attendent. There even was a camera that he watched to buzz you in and out of the hallway that lead to the rooms. (okay, so maybe that was more creepy, than swanky, but hey, whatever). Think new, stylish, and yet, such the bargain.

So when I finally got to my room and entered--it was... really nice. Okay, okay, I thought, to myself. This is really too good to be true. But I really needed to use the bathroom, so there was was no time to contemplate my amazing luck. I rushed in, flicked on the lights, and whamo. Nothing. Nada. Zippo. Darkness.

By this time, it's around five in the evening, and there's not much daylight outside, and well...my room is, like, dark! I tried all the other lights in my room and immediately shouted: Fuck me! Well, of course, it's sooooo cheap. They gave me the Expedia room.

Well...not exactly, since I didn't book through Expedia, but still. When I calmed my sassy temper down a bit, and proceeded to attempt to turn on everything little lever and switch in the room, and yet, still was faced with complete darkness, I thought to myself...okay, Sassy Catalina, you can either A) go back to the front desk attendent and ask him how to turn on the lights because clearly you are missing something, and thus, will be proven to be a lame retarded American or B) I could stop and think and consider what was I missing?

Voila! Indeed, Sassy Catalina's Spanish pride refuses to let her ever be a lame retarded American.

Insert key in slot, and it makes elecricity! Those crafty Romans.

I told Maria about it, and her response was: Claroooo. (which is basically Spanish for "duh")

Apparently, I am the last to know these things.

My favorite day

2007-03-01T10:47:00.000-08:00

My favorite day in Rome was hanging out in the Borghese Villa Park, and visiting the Borghese Musuem and learning all about Bernini's statues, and how he loved to use the element of surprise in his work.

Bella Roma

2007-03-01T10:46:00.000-08:00

Roma!

2007-02-20T12:03:00.000-08:00

Well, I made it to Rome!

For all of you new to the blog, you're probably thinking...What the heck? I thought Sassy Catalina was going to Spain for six months.

True, true. But as you will find out, while you are spending hours and hours reading the details of my European adventure--in reverse--I made a contract for a studio apartment in Madrid, but it doesn't start until the 1st of March. So, instead of spending more money staying in pensiones in Spain, I decided to hop on a plane and come to Rome for a week! It's low season and cheap, so viva la Roma!

Welcome all new readers...[and welcome back Mom and Dad from NYC..thanks, Dad, for leaving, like, forty comments...] It seems that they're are some unfamiliar eyes reading my blog. How nice of you to drop in! I would have dropped you a friendly hello in the comments section, but really, I have no idea how to do that--and yes, I am that lame. In fact, just to illustrate how lame I am, I will confess that I got dressed and got out this morning at the spritely hour of ten AM--intent of going straight to the famous Palantine Hills to be oh-so-sassy-smart and buy my combined ticket for the ruins and the Colosseum, and thus, bypassing the long Colosseum queue. When actually, instead, I ended up in some other park with Roman ruins, searching for an hour for the Palatine box office. That's what happens when Sassy Catalina reads a map upside down.

Well, okay...I'm not going to go through a long narrative account of my experiences thus far...because a] that would be boring and b] I don't have my pictures downloaded so I can't share and c] I've already been here for two days and I just don't type that fast. BTW, I do have internet in my room in the first hotel that I'm staying in, but it's a complete fluke. It's a tiny hotel and very cheap, and I'm starting to believe--considering how cheap the room is--that I traded heat for internet. Hmmmm...heat vs. internet. Heat vs. internet. It is cold in Rome right now, but DSL internet in my room is very, very useful, despite the fact that someone has switched around many of the keys. So, for example, when I press ? I really get - . Another example, when I press : I really get >. It's a good thing that I'm such a bad typist because anyone who knows how to really type by putting their fingers on all the "proper" keys would be completely foiled.

Okay, so now for some random reflects on The Eternal City> I mean :

1. The Roman ruins of the Forum and Palatino Hill are just that. They are ruins. Like a pile of bricks that the tour guide says to you: you can imagine that this was an elegant sweeping room with arching ceilings and marble walls and painted frescos, and I felt like saying, Really...? Because it just looks like a pile of broken bricks to me.

2. The Colosseum is more impressive in the movie Gladiator than in real life. Okay, that's not really true. But, I really expected to be taken into the bowels of all the tunnels and be told fantasical stories of gore and death and punishment, and instead, the tour was only about thirty minutes long and I only got one stroy of gore and death and punishment--and zero tour of its bowels.

However, it should be noted that the tour guide told us an interesting anecdote. Apparently, in the 8th century, Rome was being overun with Christian pilgrims, and the Roman government just didn't know what to do with all of them, so they figured that they would make up a story about how the Colosseum was the main places were 1st century Christians were persecuted and killed during the Gladiator fights. That way, all the pilgrims would flock to one central location--a symbolic and sacred site--that could easily manage the flood of all the pilgrims. Really, it was complete bunk. The 1st century Romans used the Colosseum to kill everyone equally for sport. They crucified the Christians along main roads, so that they could be seen in public. Just an interesting example of government propoganda.

3. Spanish is very similiar to Italian. I know it's obvious, but until you're actually here, worrying about how you won't be able to communicate in a restaurant--or at the very least, not seem like a completely retarded American, who can't even try to speak some Italian--that you really realize how similar Spanish is to Italian. Many words are identical, or nearly identical. Plus, I've gotten very far on three phrases: 1. buonogiorno 2. chiccolato, por favore 3. grazie

And a grazie and a por favore, pronounced with a very dramatic Italian accent--plus, a friendly smile--will take you a long way, especially with the grandfatherly-types manning the yummie sandwich shops at the metro stations.

4. There are a lot of old women begging for change, and they really look like they need it. Little frail hunchbacks with canes and sunken faces. As Maria would say...it is always woman who is the one who is suffering. And I don't know what it is, but whenever I feel really bad, and stop to give them change, I always get "help" a few hours later when I'm really lost or need a good place to eat...

5. It was raining today. There was a little Indian man selling umbrellas at the Palantino Hills, and he was asking for 5 euros, but when the Italian tourists would scoff at the price, he would lower it to 3 euros. I didn't buy an umbrella, simply because I've been avoiding buying an umbrella since Madrid, and I figure why submit now? But there was a teenage couple who was harassing the Indian street vendor, taunting him about how it wasn't even raining. The teenagers had accents, so they weren't American [thank freaking god], but they were speaking in English. I thought to myself, leave the poor guy alone. He's a street vendor, for christsakes, trying to make a living. Later, it did rain, and even though I didn't have an umbrella, I was happy. I hoped that the teenage couple got drenched. [meow...sassy!]

P.S. I'm sorry, Danny. I know, I know... but you know how I get when people are mean for no good reason!

6. There is a big street along the Piazza Venezia that has a stream of traffic rushing through it and no cross walk. I don't know if it's just this one place, or all the main streets in Rome, but what happens is that pedestrians just walk RIGHT into the road and TRUST that the traffic will stop.

I watched the phenomenon very careful, and indeed, the traffic goes from 40 to zero in about 1 second. Everything halts, even for one lone pedestrian. I'm guessing that pedestrians have the right of way, and the traffic must stop. But it would be kinda like making all the traffic on Michigan Avenue suddenly halt, every time somebody steps out into the street. I confess, I was not so brave to go it alone, so I waited for a group of four Brits to cross--they seemed like they knew what they were doing--and tagged along.

7. The water here turns from frigid to 3rd degree burn scalding in 1 second. And that is not an exaggeration. I burnt the palm of my hand today without even trying, and you have to leave the accordian shower door open half-way in order to leap out, or else, in 0.5 seconds, you will burn to death.

Well, I guess I will leave you all with that imagine... Tomorrow, I am visiting the Capitoline Museums to see some famous paintings [my favorite] and moving to a hotel in the Vatican area. And on Friday, Maria flies into Rome to spend the weekend with me...

Ciao!

El Retrato

2007-02-16T01:37:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, despite being exhausted, I dragged myself to Madrid´s Museo Thyssen-Bornemisa, where they are having a special exhibit about El Retrato, the protrait. This was an exhibit solely of modern portraiture, and the avangarde idea that these painters created images of the sitter with the intention of making it art, not a realistic representation--a concept we take for granted now, but apparently, it caused quite a shake-up in the art world at the turn of the century.

Anyway, since I really have only spent my time searching for places to live, or searching for food, or searching for Citibank, or searching for places to stay in Rome, (and no, Danny, I still have not had a chance to meet people yet!), I decided that since I really have seen none of Madrid, and since I am leaving for Rome on Monday, I better get out and about and see something...

So here are a few things that I learned at the El Retrato exhibit.

This is Salvador Dali´s portrait of Picasso. Nice! Dali is one of those dead people who I´d love to bring back to life and have a conversation with

Gustav Klimt can make any woman look beautiful, even when she´s lying on her deathbed

The point of cubism is to make the object of interest and its background seem like they´re on the same plane. It is not to make everything look like little cubes! Who knew?

I still love Van Gogh´s stuff, even though I always must be reminded that the proper way to pronounce his last name is Van Goth

Success and Failure!

2007-02-15T12:26:00.000-08:00

This is my other cousin, Maria, at her office in The Conservatory of Music, where she teaches piano. I´m going to spend this weekend in the suburbs with her family (my aunt Nana and uncle Felipe, Maria´s brother, Santiago (my cousin) and his wife, Yolanda.

SUCCESS:
Last night, Maria drove into the center of the city, so we could hang out at the internet cafes at night and plan our possible trip to Rome. I´m going to leave for Rome next Monday and Maria is going to meet up with me next Friday, for the weekend.

We found cheap tickets for her, and decided on a cheap hotel to stay in. We were very excited and happy that we were planning a spontaneous trip to Roma!

FAILURE:
Meanwhile...while we were buzzing and giddy about our Italy adventura, Maria´s car was being towed by the evil Madrid policia. When we finally came out of the internet cafe around 11:30PM and I walked Maria to her car--yep...you guessed it. It was gone. Christ!

And as you might imagine, finding and retrieving a towed car in Madrid is as big a pain-in-the-ass as it is in a big city in the United States. The irony and good news of the whole fracso was that Maria illegally parked her car, right on the corner of an alleyway of a police station.

Nice, Maria! So her car had probably been towed within minutes of her parking there! And yep, the cops were in the office, waiting for us!

So at least we had an easy time locating which pound her car had been towed to, and during the whole exchange with the police, I was learning all sorts of fun words, like la matricula (license plate number), la denuncia, (parking fine), el propeterio del coche (owner of the car) que mierda (that´s crap!). Actually, I already knew that last one...

Anyway, the cops were very nice to us poor young females, stranded in downtown Madrid--especially considering the fact that they were the ones responsible for towing Maria´s car. And by the way, the cops here in Madrid are all very young strapping good-looking chicos, who all wear these form-fitting black and neon yellow jumpsuits, that say, "come to me, I will rescue you!" Just a little cultural detail...

We did finally get Maria´s car back, at 1AM in the morning! My only regret is that I didn´t have my camera with me, or else I would have taken pictures of the whole "retrieving of Maria´s car!" adventura...

I got an apartment!

2007-02-13T05:32:00.000-08:00

Well, the big news is that I made a contract for an apartment this morning! Yay, for me!

I spend all day Sunday and Monday, searching on the internet, calling around, making appointments, and seeing different apartments, and let me tell you, two days was more than enough.

First of all, the custom here in Madrid is that old single women rent out rooms of their 3-4 bedroom flats to students. So not only are you sharing the apartment with 2 or 3 other foreigners that you don´t know (okay, sure, you have your own room--but not your own bathroom) you are also sharing it with the owner of the flat. So it´s like being in a dorm again and living with your house mother. I must say that after meeting a few house mothers, I found myself thinking...I am a thirty-year-old woman with a professional sassy attitude. Do I really want to live with students and a house mother?

I told Paco this, and he didn´t understand what the problem was. Look, I know it´s the custom and all, and I get the idea that it´s what most foreigners do, but I am not like most foreingers. I am Sassy Catalina, after all.

Well, unfortunately for Sassy Catalina, there was a bigger problem unfolding: when I would call about the few studios that did exist for rent, they either were already rented (even though the internet announcement had only been posted for one single day) or the owner wanted a longer lease than 5 months.

By yesterday afternoon, I was feeling quite frustrated at the prospects of spending every night and morning, searching internet leads and trying to be the first one to jump on it. Plus, the fact that I only needed a place until July was going to be a problem. And, the other problem was that many of the rental options were not near the center of the city. They were located far in the north, where the university district is, and after going up there last night to check it out, I was feeling a bit hopeless. I came to Madrid to live in Madrid, not to live in the residential university campus district.

So yes, Sassy Catalina was getting a bit fiesty and elitist about where she wanted to stay...but I really had no idea how to find better rental options. Then, out of the blue, I got a call for a studio for rent. The girl on the other line asked me if I wanted to meet at the studio in order for her to show it to me. You bet I wanted to!

I quickly rifled through all my notes because I had no idea who she was or where the studio was located or when I had left her the message. By this point, I had my notebook filled with notes about rentals. But she told me over the phone that it was a very small studio, but totally remodeled and completely new, and it was near the plaza de españa, which is perfect because that´s where I´m staying now (the center of Madrid without being in the touristy center). So I said, sign me up!

Actually, she told me the address and I told her I would meet her. (this is all in Spanish, please remember). Then, I set off to find the street of this magical studio. The name of the street was something I didn't recognize. Well, she explained to me on which side of the plaza de españa the street was...but she really only said, "you know where plaza de españa is, well it´s behind it. " Well, really, plaza de españa is a BIG rectangle with streets running along each side and more streets running off each of those streets. And since I never bought a proper Madrid street map before I left the US, I was a little bit fucked.

But off I went in search of the street. I asked some cute guys in a restaurant, because hey, why not (don´t worry, Danny, they were cute, but not that smart!) because they told me that I really wanted this other street (which after going in the wrong dirrection for awhile, my instincts finally told me that I was going the wrong way, looking for the wrong street.)

So then, I went back to the plaza de españa and approached a few cops, who despite trying to be helpful and calling all their cop friends on the radio, they really had no idea. They waved me up towards Princesa street with the vague notion that it was up there somewhere and that I should go ---->that way. After milling about----->that way, I saw a Pepsi truck driver, and thought to myself, this guy has to know what I´m talking about. Alas, he did not, but he was very nice and he had a big map of Madrid, and we looked on the back for the street, and Lo and behold, there it was in the map´s directory. Yay, for Pepsi truck drivers!

I hurried to the street and found out that it was at the top of plaza de españa, and not really the back, depending on your perspective, so I´m really glad that I asked someone who had a map, or else forgettaboutit.

Once I arrived, I realized it was about three minutes from where I´m staying now at my little brothel (inside joke if you´re coming into the blog late), and the location is perfect. Berta, the leasing agent, met me quickly, and show it to me, and indeed, it is tiny! But also very cute and new and perfect...and at this point, I was exhausted and frustrated and sad about my general lack of prospects, so I told Berta that I liked it (b/c I did!) and asked if the owner would be willing to rent it to me for only 5 months. She hesitated b/c like everyone else, she thought that 5 months might be too little. Also, there was another girl, an italian, coming to see it after me, so maybe it would be leased to her. (damn those italians!) Anyway, Berta told me she would call the owner and ask if 5 months was okay, and then, she would call me that night.

I left, thinking that if it was meant to be, then great. If not, then I would just have to keep searching...and I prepared myself mentally to keep searching. I made an appointment for one more place, but again, it was way far in the university district and it took me an hour and half to get myself there and back. And it was an even more complicated endeavor then finding the little studio apartment, let me tell you.

Are you getting the idea of how exhausting this whole process was becoming? And this was only the second day. Thank god for me that Berta called and told me that the owner agreed to lease it to me for 5 months until the end of July! Horray! And as an added bonus, the studio has not only a washing machine, but also a dryer, which is actually quite the rare thing in Spain. Double horray! No hanging my underwear everywhere to dry. Triple horray!

I took a train this morning to Aravaca, which just happens to be the same suburb where Paco lives, so it was helpful to know where I was going. Berta picked me up at the train station and took me to the leasing office where I signed all the documents and made the deposit. I pretty much understood everything in the contract--it was pretty basic--and while reading it in Spanish, I realized that after working in a real estate office for five years, I had seen enough leasing contracts to know what was in them, so translating the concepts from Spanish into English in my head was actually much easier than I thought it would be.

So now, I am the proud renter of a little studio apartment in the center of Madrid! Horray for me! The only problem is that the current renter doesn´t move out until the end of February, so I need to figure out what to do with myself until then, so I´m thinking I´ll just go to Rome next week.

Hey, why not!

Success and Failure

2007-02-11T10:23:00.000-08:00

Sucess:
Well, today I successfully got the metro-bus ticket that they only sell to tourists. It´s a bus and subway combination ticket for unlimited use for seven days and it´s the most economical ticket available, until I´m able to get my monthly pass.

I asked for it in perfect Spanish from the ticket agent and he asked for my passport to verify that I was, indeed--a foreigner--because my Spanish was just that perfect. (Not really. Actually, he needed my passport number to issue it, but still, a girl can dream can´t she?)

Failure:
I started the apartment search today and found many cute little studios in many cute little areas and weren´t too expensive, and when I called about seeing each of them, every single one was already rented, and most of the rental announcements had just been put on the internet yesterday! Yikes. Clearly, finding an apartment to rent is going to be harder than I thought...and finding an apartment to rent for only five months is going to be impossible.

The Modern Spanish Family

2007-02-11T10:04:00.000-08:00

Ana with her youngest daughter, Elena (who currenty has the chicken pox!).
Ester and Elena (my little cousins!)
Elena, just as she´s about to suck on my camera...she really liked sucking on my camera.
Ester y yo.
Little Elena taking a picture of my ass. Nice!
Abraham...I mean, my uncle Paco with his youngest daughter, Elena (the youngest cousin!).
Paco with his grandaughter, Sarah (the middle child of Maria)
La familia
This is the whole Family...Maria (my cousin and the oldest daughter of Paco) and her husband, Manuel, and their three children: Daniel, Sarah, and Oscar. And then Paco and his second wife, Ana, with their two little daughters (also my cousins) Ester and Elena! Did you get all that?

Winter in Madrid - Take 2!

2007-02-11T09:58:00.000-08:00

Gran Via (the big street with Broadway shows and lots of excitement that´s right near my brothel) and Plaza de España (the main square that´s also very close!)

Paco, you doth protest too much!

2007-02-10T02:19:00.000-08:00

This is Paco, protesting about having his picture taken for my blog. I´m going to take the train to the suburbs on Saturday to have lunch with his wife, Ana, and there two little girls (my little cousins!) Paco´s oldest daughter, Maria, might meet us too, and bring her kids, so it might be one big kindergarten camp. Paco promises to feed me well, so I´m looking forward to it, so long as I don´t end up on the wrong train. Before I left for Spain, I heard a story on NPR about a woman in Thailand who got on the wrong bus, and instead, ended up in Laos or some other microscopic Asian country, and couldn´t get back to meet up with her family for 25 years.

Lovely.

Sorolla...what a score

2007-02-10T02:10:00.000-08:00

After I left the Institute and while I waited for Paco to meet me for lunch, I strolled around the neighborhood and stumbled upon my future garden. Actually, it ended up being the former house and garden of Spanish painter Joaquin Sorolla, who is like the Spanish Renoir.

It was a great reprieve amongst the hussle of that morning, so I really enjoyed it. If you´ve never heard of him, you can click on this link: it will give you idea of the types of paintings he created. http://www.allposters.es/gallery.asp?aid=1804214426&c=&search=Joaquin+Sorolla&lang=4&GCID=s15100x015&KEYWORD=%5BJoaquin+Sorolla%5D&Referrer=http%3A%2F%2Fwww%2Egoogle%2Ees%2Fsearch%3Fhl%3Des%26q%3Djoaquin%2Bsorolla%26meta%3D&SAID=1804214426&SAIDTime=2%2F10%2F2007+2%3A18%3A03+AM&maid=1804214426&AffClickThroughID=924603200&TID1=10566

Citibank woes...

2007-02-10T01:59:00.000-08:00

They turned on the heat, in the end, and I was given an extra blanket, so I think I might not freeze to death after all.

Yesterday was a busy day. In the hostal, we have to wake up by 10AM and leave our rooms, so that Salome can come and clean every morning (not really, but at least that´s a funny image--a belly dancer rapping on your door at 10AM to clean your room) .

But we should leave because they are very concerned about cleaning the rooms everyday, so it forces me to wake up and get on the Spanish schedule. It´s very quiet outside at 10AM in the morning. All of the boutiques are still shut up, and the streets are almost empty. I quite enjoy it.

Anyway, yesterday, was a bit stressful because I was worried about securing another hostal for next week. I can already tell that I will need at least until next week to search and secure a permanent place to stay--and it might take longer! I quickly toured around the neighborhood of my current hostel to look at my other options. Alas, they were quite disappointing. I was hoping to pay a bit extra to get a little room plus a kitchenette and washing machine, but the internet photos were not exactly the same as reality. I had high hopes for one place in particular, but in the end, it was much older than I expected, and each room was hidden behind a curtain. When I finally found the closet with the kitchenette, it was just that...a closet, and I thought to myself...am I really going to cook inside closet and behind a curtain? It was kind creepy, and it made me appreciate my little brothel more...

That morning, I also had plans to meet up with Paco that morning, so I had to hussle. The plan was to get myself to the Citibank in the old Anpudias neighborhood (where Dad´s studio used to be). From there, I would get some cashie-cahs and call Paco, so he could give me dirrections to his office. I figured I´d remember everything once I was I got myself to the old neighborhood, but clearly, my memory isn´t perfect. Although to be perfectly honest, I did do okay, once I stopped looking at the map, and just trusted my instincts. That seems to be the theme of this trip so far.

I finally stumbled upon it like a blue corporate beacon of finacial security in broad daylight. Unfortunately, I got there and realized that I had forgotten my ATM PIN at the hostel. I tried a few combinations (which in retrospect, seemed to be correct, which means there may be a problem with the card, but that´s a different drama to deal with on a different day) then remembered Dad´s story of having his card sucked up by the Spanish Citibank ATM machine and causing quite the Monty Python scene that only Dad can cause...and so, I stopped and called Paco.

Of course, Paco reminded me that I can just get money from the Citibank teller. Claro que si! Duh!

Anyway, once I met Paco, he took me to the Institute for English Studies to check out any postings and see if it could be a resource. But considering that the American kids hanging about were about twenty (although they looked more like 12 to me) and were talking about how drunk they were last night in the cafe, it made me reconsider finding a shared apartment with college students.

My little room in my little brothel!

2007-02-10T01:25:00.000-08:00

Well, here we are! My little room in my little brothel!

Winter in Madrid!

2007-02-08T11:07:00.000-08:00

I was hoping to post a picture of me in Madrid, all sunny and warm and lovely. But instead, when I arrived, it was raining and frescito. But still, I made it here and had a great first day! Paco picked me up at the airport, despite the fact that the Iberia terminal is a far, far trek from the main airport. He told me not to take Iberia again, but how can I resist? I avoided the international terminal at O´Hara because Iberia is basically American Airlines (incognito), we left ontime, and our plane zipped across the Atlantic in just under 7 hours. Plus, if you speak Spanish to the flight attendants, they´re nicer to you than to the other passengers. How can you beat that?

(note to Dan: stop procrasinating and buy that dirt cheap Iberia ticket for May)

Anyway, Paco and I took the metro to my little hostel: el Pension Salome. I was hoping to take pictures, but sorry... finding food and water took priority. So here´s the link: http://www.berthold-von-regensburg.de/pension-salome-madrid/index_es.htm

Paco and Dad didn´t want me staying in the center of Madrid (despite the fact that´s where all the hostels are) because they said there are too many immigrants and the area has deteriorated. So I booked four nights in The Pension Salome, ignoring that it´s named after the slattern who belly-danced for King Herod and delighted him so much, that when he offered her whatever she wanted, she requested the head of John the Baptist. So I suppose it wasn´t a shocker when I heard through the Paco-Dad grapevine that the Calle de Pez--the street of my now booked reservation for four nights--is in the middle of the red light district. Well, in the end, although my little hostel is on la Calle de Pez, it is quite nice and does not resemble a brothel.

Anyway, Paco left me to sleep all day until 5PM! Then, I ventured out onto Gran Via, which is like New York´s Broadway street, and found my three basic necessities: bottled water, internet, and chocolate. At the internet cafe, I got waylaid by the goofy Spanish keyboard, and had to ask how to make this symbol: @. It´s Ctrl+Alt+2 for all you playing along. Yeah, I was basically intuil, (which in means "useless," in Spanish, until I figured that one out.)

Later, I got real dinner and circled back for more internet. I only have four nights booked at my little brothel hotel, and so, I have to stay ahead of my trip, and start looking for the next temporary place to stay. I think I could stay in Salome, but the low level of heat is going to be a problem for me! It might be a problem in general here!

Tomorrow, I will meet Paco for lunch and I´m going to use his university office to use his...you guessed it--internet!

Hopefully, I´ll be able to post some pics tomorrow!

Winter in Chicago!

2007-02-06T22:06:00.000-08:00