Merci beaucoup, Paris!

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

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

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

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?

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

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!

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...