Because I’ve been in Spain for almost 3 months I figure I have a pretty decent idea of how it works here. Thus I thought I would make a list of some generalities that one can expect when in Spain.

1. Everyone smokes. At this point in time Spain does not have any laws against smoking in restaurants or right outside of buildings, thus it is difficult to get away from it.
2. Everyone walks. A 20 minute walk is average, if not a normal expectation. Maribel, my host mom, walks 45 minutes every morning to her work.
3. Credit and debit cards are rarely used. In fact, the only placed I’ve used my debit card is at an ATM machine. Everyone withdraws cash and uses that. Most places do not take cards.
4. Siesta time is serious business. One may think that the 2 pm to 5 pm siesta time is just a myth but they really do take it seriously here in Spain. Most businesses are closed from 2 to 5, if not a little longer. Granted, people don’t usually sleep but they do stay at home or take a stroll in the park. The same goes for Sundays, everything is closed.

So those are some of the basics. I would like to note that when I say “everyone” obviously not everyone will be included in that, there will always be an exception.

]]> http://douglawrence.wordpress.com/2009/11/25/first-thanksgiving-was-actually-catholic/ Thu, 26 Nov 2009 02:51:34 +0000 Doug Lawrence http://douglawrence.wordpress.com/2009/11/25/first-thanksgiving-was-actually-catholic/

Happy Thanksgiving!

Submitted By Doria2

Fall arrived this week in Madrid. It’s been a long time coming, and a gradual and pleasant transition.

This is the first week I noticed leaves on the ground, and only the second night in which I’ve felt chilly even in my coat while walking outside. Before coming to Spain, I asked the Universe to keep the weather nice here for a while, since I wasn’t able to experience as much summer this year thanks to horrible Boston weather. Now, balance has been restored.

The reason I haven’t been posting is because I’ve been really busy. I finally have some private classes I can teach to get extra money, and the first quarter of my Master’s classes are coming to a close, which means lots of homework.

Here is an update as to what has been going on in my life/mind:

1. My new apartment is still really great, and getting better each day. Well it’s a two steps forward, one step back kind of deal in which every time something gets fixed, something else breaks. But the kitchen is fully functional, and everything else is coming along. My new apartment helps me make the best use of my time (because…I may have mentioned…I’m busy) and have a routine. I try to have lights out by 11:00pm so I get 9 hours of sleep a night, which is possible since I live so close to work and start at 9:30 each day. Eventually, I hope to start going home and going running during my lunch breaks during the week, but that has yet to happen because so far I’ve found a myriad of excuses. But having a working kitchen has helped me to focus on eating better (which makes me feel better.) So I try to eat more vegetables (Lauren is my inspiration), and I switched to a high fiber cereal in the morning. When I tell people that, they always ask if I’m having trouble pooping. I’m not, thanks for asking, but I like the fact that fiber keeps me full and gives me more energy. I’m drinking lots of water.

2. My job at the school is going well. I think I’m improving at planning lessons and having realistic expectations for each age level. I did have one morning this week where I was trying to control a room of screaming five-year-olds and I was very close to crying. That was a bad day. I have those sometimes. But I also cried later that day when I read the end of a really good book. So, you know, I don’t get to cry at the Today Show each morning like I used to, so I have to cry sometime, right? I also have gotten busier due to the private classes I took up (did I mention I was busy yet?). I had to actually drop one of them because it made me get home way too late. I still probably have taken on too many, but I feel relieved to know that the money situation is under control. Now, I can maybe spend some money on myself .

3. Social life is good. I’m not really interested in dating anyone right now, so I’ve just been going out to have a good time and be with friends (complete opposite of the last time I was in Spain.) I have made some really great friends through my program (remember when I was scared to death that I wouldn’t like any of them because they’d all be young and immature?) Well, they are young…and come to think of it immature…(jk) but they’re lots of fun! We went out for Halloween, and if it wasn’t past my bedtime, I would upload some photos for you. It’s so nice to be friends with people you like as well as admire, you know? I find those are the people that always end up meaning the most to me.

4. School has been stressing me out some. But as Annie said when she was drunk one night, nothing really matters in Spain. That’s not entirely true, I mean, I am here to get my Master’s so school is important. But yesterday, when there were almost tears at work and I felt a mental breakdown coming on, I first thought that even though I’m busy, Barack Obama is busier. Also, I thought about the fact that I’m not here in Spain to be miserable and stressed! I’m here to have fun and have experiences. So I need to stop making myself feel guilty and irresponsible when I go out. For example, last Thursday I went out even though it was late, I was tired, I should have gotten rest for Halloween weekend, and on the way there I forgot my phone and had to come back home to get it and then got on the Metro going the wrong way. But I did finally make it there and it was fun. And yeah, I got drunk Thursday, Friday, and Saturday last week. And I have to turn in a 10-page paper and do a presentation tomorrow. But it all will work out and I need to chill.

Other things: (Remember when my blog was also philosophical? Let’s pretend that’s now.)
Not ever watching any TV gives my brain time to think a lot. And I often think about who I am and how I can improve myself (corny? sorry.) A friend here said that there are things he doesn’t like about himself, but that he’s not sure if he should accept them as a part of who he is, or try to change them. In my case, I’m constantly trying to change the things I don´t like about myself. The two big things I’m working on currently are:
1. Being kind. Especially to the people who run into me on the Metro or in the street, or who seem to annoy me for whatever reason. I try to remember that some of them might be having a bad day like I have sometimes, and they deserve to be treated with kindness and understanding. However, I do think it’s important to stand up for myself and look after my own needs, so I’m constantly trying to find a balance.
2. Being generous. I’ve come a long way since college with this. But so many people in Madrid have amazed me with their generosity. I feel so grateful to have them in my life and want to be more like them.

Other news:
I began missing Boston for the first time this week…it took me a while, huh?

I miss going to late night soccer games (not to mention the team, and actually playing). I miss when people would come on over the loud speaker at work and sound like they could not hate life more, I miss dinners at Lauren’s, running after work in Marblehead, the drug dealers in Chelsea…ok, not really.

At the same time, I sometimes feel so lucky for the life I have now in Spain that I can’t even contain it. Yes, mental breakdowns and all, it’s nice to be busy. It’s nice to be young in Madrid and have friends to enjoy it with. It’s nice to feel like I’m accomplishing something. There’s so much to take in here that I just want to absorb as much as I possibly can.

Those of you who know me might know that Halloween is my mother’s favorite holiday; those of you that know my mother would certainly know how much that makes sense.  Last year, as Spain’s Halloween is in its infancy and the majority of the decorations and costumes to be found here are generic and shameful, my mom sent me some fun stuff that I could bring to my class of third-graders.  Among those things were two masks, merely plastic with elastic strings attached but creatively painted and definitely creepy.  One was a Medusa with brightly colored hair-snakes and a menacing countenance, and one was an eerie, yellow monkey-ish thing.  Both fit my face perfectly, which was disconcerting.

I saved these masks and the other stuff she sent me to bring to school this year, along with new Halloween stuff she sent me last week.  On Thursday night, the 30th, I carved a small pumpkin and roasted the seeds all by myself for the first time (my pumpkin’s face came out looking mildly retarded, but that was more due to the one crappy knife I had to work with, difficult to maneuver).  On Friday morning I packed up the carved pumpkin and the seeds, some monster finger puppets, some rubbery body parts, and other assorted goodies, then remembered the masks and threw them into a pretty, reusable bag that is highly functional and very handy, as it folds up and snaps together to stuff into your regular bag, but it doesn’t have a zipper or snaps.

I hopped onto my regular train for my hour-long commute to my school, with my Halloween bag on the floor under my seat and between my feet.  My main concern was that we didn’t have too bumpy of a ride, lest my bag go flying and my homely pumpkin shatter, leaving the children on the train scarred from the Halloween Train Carnage.  Although probably only American children would be affected by that — it turned out that most of my kids had never even seen a pumpkin in real life.  Anyway, about halfway through the ride I thought I heard something hit the floor either under my seat or near me, but it sounded kind of like a ball, and I didn’t see anything rolling around, and I glanced down at my bag on the floor and didn’t see anything hanging precariously out of my bag.  We arrived at my stop, I grabbed my stuff, pushed my way through the stinky people with the bad morning breath and went up the escalator.  Nearing the top, I glanced into my bag and noticed that my masks were gone.  I felt momentarily helpless and devastated, and looked back at the train as it disappeared and I knew I couldn’t go back.

I felt like crying for a second.  But then I thought about what would inevitably happen at some point later that day.  I started chuckling to myself imagining some Spaniard (meaning someone still relatively unaccustomed to Halloween festivities) finding two strange, terrifying Medusa and monkey masks under their seat on the train.  I decided that that was well worth me losing the masks.

I am officially no longer homeless! Hooray!

I moved in to my new piso (apartment) on Sunday. It’s so wonderful! I mean, sure, the shower has no shower curtain. The kitchen has no sink, stove, or counter tops. But, really, who cares?

It will be done eventually. Honestly, the only thing I’ve wanted since I got here a month and a half ago (it seems like forever ago…but I guess it hasn’t been) is to put my clothes in a CLOSET. That doesn’t sound like too much to ask, does it? I will gladly eat cold, uncooked food and take baths so as to avoid spraying water all over the entire bathroom (it’s not a big sacrifice…there are jets in the tub! All my life I’ve wanted a jetted bathtub…what a strange time to get one) just let my clothes be out of the godforsaken suitcase!

My roommate speaks to me in Spanish, I walk to work, and when (if) the kitchen’s done, I’ll be able to study and eat lunch here during my 2 and a half hour lunch break. Life is good. Here are some photos:

You know how photos don’t really capture things? Well, it’s hard to get an angle to show you how truly awesome the room is. But anyway, this is my bed, my window (looking into a courtyard), and you can see my little desk and all my bookshelves on the right.

The flash is a little intense in this photo, but here you see the view from my bed of my wall of desk/bookshelves.

That’s the foot of my bed looking at my built-in closet.

And that, my friends, is the place where my clothes go so that they don’t have to be packed in suitcases anymore.

My bed is so cozy! It is really comfortable (brand new) and has a down comforter AND a quilt! I sleep so well in it! Also, since I live so close to work, I don’t really have to wake up until around 8:00am. I think it would feel later if it wasn’t still PITCH BLACK here at that time, but still. I’m so used to going to bed early (seriously, like you wouldn’t believe me if I told you…unless you’ve lived with me, or worked directly across from me and had to hear me talk about it incessantly) that I don’t know what to do with myself these days. I mean, I can stay up until 11 and still get 9 hours of sleep every night? Unreal. (Do I sound like a giant nerd? Just wondering.)

FAQs:

1. Julie, how long until your apartment is finished, do you think?
Great question, thanks for asking. I personally think the apartment will NEVER be finished. Perhaps I’m getting the wrong idea of Spaniards. I know that many are hardworking and reliable, but from my experience at the school I teach at, from this apartment, and some other things, no one is really in a hurry here, and no one really cares how well you do something. This can be good, like when you have to turn in a bunch of official documents and nothing happens if you’re late. Or, if you are doing a master’s here and don’t have time to do your homework.

However, when you are in a hurry for whatever reason, and something IS important, I don’t like being told to “tranquila” (calm down) nor do I like for people to take their sweet time doing it. I believe my roommate Ana feels the same way. The people who are working on the apartment do so when they please, and more often than not ruin something as soon as they fix something else.

I’m not sure why it’s like that here. Something new I’ve learned since coming to Spain this time is about government workers. People who work for the government get their jobs by taking a test. The people who apply for the job and have the best scores on the test, get the jobs. Then, they basically have tenure, that is to say, they can almost never be fired, even if they don’t do their jobs. I’m not sure if this attitude translates to those that work outside the government as well…but it is an interesting thought.

As of now, I am happily waiting patiently for the apartment to be finished. That may change in about 2 weeks.

2. Julie, how’s work?
Work probably requires its own post (with pictures…not sure if it would be weird for me to snap photos at work.) But things there are going really well. I really like the teachers I work with, and I’m starting to feel like I belong there.

What do I do? you ask. Well, I teach “English conversation” to children in a Catholic charter school. They range from three years old to third grade, and I also have one class of sixth graders. In most of the classes, I take half of the class to another room for a half an hour where the time passes really slowly and I try to keep them entertained, yet help them learn something. So far, we’ve got “My name is…” down pretty well. We play games and stuff.

Sometimes it’s good, sometimes it’s horrible. The kids can be awful. And I’m not supposed to ever speak to them in Spanish, so we have a huge language barrier going on. There have been so many times when I’ve had a game in mind, but trying to get 5 year olds to do what I want them to, after speaking to them in a foreign language (no matter how many times I act it out) just doesn’t work. One day, I did speak Spanish to a first grade class to help them understand that I was asking “How old are you?” (they kept saying “I’m fine thank you, and you?” or “My name is…”) And at the end of class, they walked through the hallways chanting in unison “She spoke in Spanish! She spoke in Spanish!” Ugh.

The three year olds are so confused, they don’t know what’s going on. They could care less which language I speak to them in, and they get really quiet when I speak in English (stark contrast from the other children.) There is one class of three-year-olds that I’m quite fond of. I spent a lot of time with them in my first few weeks when I wasn’t officially teaching. I drop in on them when I have free time and hang out. I like them a lot.

Also, all the teachers (including me) wear long, white professor jackets all day. So sophisticated, and convenient because they have tons of pockets to store things like pens, keys, and confiscated toys.

3. Julie, are you going to stay in Spain forever?
No. I like Spain, obviously, but it’s not as magical to me as it was before. I think because I’m so used to it now, and nothing compares to the excitement of living here as an illegal immigrant. There is a lot to love here, but going back and forth so much has made me appreciate many things about the United States. I heard that three-quarters of the students from the program last year are still here this year because they love Spain. A lot of the people in my program are making plans to stay, or to continue their travels abroad for next year in different countries. As for me, I’ll be excited to stay in one place for a while. That place will be Colorado, I believe. I think there’s no escaping the fact that I’ll always end up back in Colorado, no matter what I do. And, I’m excited because I think, after all this time, I’m getting an idea of what I want to be when I “grow up”. Very exciting for someone like me who has a lot of interests, but can’t commit to any of them.

For right now, however, I’m really happy to be exactly where I am doing exactly what I’m doing. I hope to enjoy it as much as possible, take advantage of it as much as possible, and get as much out of it as I can.

Any further questions (about anything, I know a lot) can be left in the form of comments. Thank you.

Despite the fact that school and work keeps us all extremely busy, six of my program-mates and I decided to take advantage of our first long weekend in Spain by renting a car and driving up north to a province called Asturias. We’d heard it was beautiful and had both beaches and mountains. So, we escaped our city lives for the weekend and hit the road.

We left Friday evening after work. Our goal was to leave around 7 and arrive in Gijon (pronounced Gcheeejchon…like you are clearing your throat to say it) by about midnight. In reality, we left at about 8 and hit a bunch of traffic. It seems everyone else wanted to leave Madrid for the weekend as well.

Naturally, as we were driving, some of us had to pee. We saw a sign on the side of the highway with a big “P” on it, and a drawing of what looked like someone sitting at a table. We figured it was some sort of rest stop. It was actually a place to park on the side of the road and pee in some trees. That was weird, but whatever.

We drove on. A few hours in, we all got pretty hungry so we stopped at a gas station. It was your typical gas station with bathrooms, snacks, giant hunks of stinky cheese, and a full service bar. The bar was, in typical Spain fashion, packed. We ordered hot sandwiches and by the time we had ordered, been served, eaten, and caught the waiters’ attention long enough to pay, it had been about an hour. We pressed on.

A few more hours passed, and at about 3:30am, we arrived in Gccchhhiijcchooon. We found our hostel, did some parallel parking (with assistance from some drunk locals) and then of course, hit the bars. We hunted for the “ideal bar” (not too loud, but still open…really hard to find after 1:00am). We found this bar, called “Utopia”.

These are five of the six people who I went with. From left to right: Alyssa, Asa, Marcus, Stacy, and Annie.

And there’s Jeff, the sixth, with Alyssa and Asa.

We had one drink and then went back to our hostel to pass out. The next day, we packed up our stuff and went out to explore Gijon.

We came to Gijon because it was on the coast. We wanted to spend some time by the water. But, what really captured our attention in Gijon (besides saying the name over and over) was a market we stumbled upon in the main plaza.

The market represented all of the main Spanish food groups:

1. Giant hunks of stinky cheese.

2. Bread

3. Chorizo.

We obviously had no choice but to purchase all of the above. Along with some pastries, natural yogurt, flavored liqueurs, and jam. Good thing our car was nice and roomy (it wasn’t) and that none of these foods had strong smells (cheese and chorizo…yum.)

After spending 29384209 hours and 2039480329 Euros at this market, we headed into the hills of Gijon to check out some views.

Not bad, right? We kept on driving towards our next destination, which was a national park called “Picos de Europa”. It seemed as though we were leaving civilization behind us. On the way, we felt hungry, so we stopped, literally, in a one horse town.

I love small little Spanish towns like this. It’s so hard to believe that there still are places like these in the world. So remote, so small. I wonder what it would be like to live in such a town. How different would life be? While we were there, we went to the one bar in town, but all he had to offer were prepackaged foods. Although we were in the mood for a warm meal, we took the opportunity to drink some alcoholic apple cider (famous in this area) and bought some cookies and chocolate for the road (I mean….why not?)

We did eventually stop for something to eat (clearly we were low on food). Then nightfall came. That wouldn’t have been too big of a deal except 1. We didn’t know where we were going, really. 2. The place we were staying next was on a mountaintop in the absolute middle of nowhere, and didn’t even have an address. 3. We weren’t sure if they would hold our spots for us at the “refugio” (step down from a hostel) that late.

We drove deep into the “Picos de Europa” high up a mountain in pitch blackness with limited amounts of guard rails and big drop-offs. It was pretty scary. However, when we did finally find the refugio, the guy there was even scarier. First, he acted like we had gotten there too late to secure a spot. Then he said he didn’t have room for all 7 of us. Then he got angry that we didn’t have sleeping bags.

In the end, he did let us stay and even lent us some blankets to use. The only catch was that we had to fit six people on two bunk beds pushed together (we like to snuggle, so it was no big deal). We unpacked all of our bread, cheese, chorizo, chocolate, cookies, jam, yogurt, and tons and tons of alcohol we had picked up to partay. However, he said we had a half hour to eat and get in bed before he shut the electricity off. We had flashlights, right? No? Sweet.

We downed some alcohol, got ready for bed, and snuggled together. Everything was cool, except in the middle of the night when it was pitch black and the gin and tonic I drank before bed needed to exit my bladder immediately. I had nothing to use as a light…and the toilet was out of the bedroom, down some stairs, and in the pitch black (and freezing) bathroom. I luckily was able to feel my way out of the bedroom (I slept closest to the door) find the locker where my purse was, and locate my camera. I turned the camera on and it made just enough light for me to find the toilet and my way back to bed. Emergency over.

Bright and early in the morning, we were excited to actually see the mountains we were in and the lake we were close to. We had gotten a rough idea of the landscape the night before in the dark, but we wanted to take in all the sights now that the sun was up.

Unfortunately, it was a little foggy.

But, at least there were horses and chickens to visit with.

Is it sad that I seriously considered how wonderful it might be to live way up in the mountains and have a farm? Annie (yellow jacket) thinks I would only enjoy it for about 5 days before I went crazy. I’m not so sure. I really felt at peace up there.

We decided to explore our surroundings, despite the fog (and on and off rain).

This was “Lago Enol”, the lake near our refugio.

This was an (abandoned?) cabin near the lake. It was about this time that the fog began to lift.

It’s hard to capture in photos, but it’s quite possible that this was the most beautiful place I’ve ever been. I felt a strong sense of peace. I knew that by coming on this trip, I had to sacrifice some of the very little money I get each month, and some of the very little time I have to work on homework. But sitting by this lake, as the fog lifted, I knew it was all worth it. I also started thinking about all the Spaniards we had told that we were coming to Asturias. It was like they had all taken classes on Spanish tourism! They were so excited for us, and told us how beautiful it was, and how good the food would be, and how much fun we would have.

Well, maybe they weren’t Spanish tour guides. Maybe they were just right.

Because of the rain, the trails were a little muddy. So we tucked our pants into our socks to limit the mud splatter. What? We looked good.

Sheep grazing!

It was a really great trip. It is true that everywhere we went we were the typical “loud and crazy Americans”, but only because we were having a really good time.

We made some great memories, survived some terrible roads, and saw some parts of Spain I didn’t know existed. It was an amazing trip.

In the future, look for me on my farm in the middle of nowhere.

There is often an uptick in visits to this blog when canonizations or beatifications take place.  That’s been the case today, but interestingly, the majority of searchers found their way here not by searching for Damien of Molokai or Jeanne Jugan, but another of today’s new saints, Rafael Arnaiz Baron.  Welcome one and all.

Here’s an interesting note: The bishops of Spain have proposed making St. Rafael as a patron of the 2011 World Youth Day, which will take place in Madrid. They wrote, “We trust that Brother Raphael Arnaiz will accompany us as one of the ‘co-patrons’ of the meeting, so that all the young people of the world might become aware of God’s work in this young man of the 20th century.”

Below you’ll find a minute-long CNS video on St. Rafael (it’s also available in Spanish here) and then several helpful English resources on St. Rafael.

Bio on a Trappist website

Bio from the website of a Benedictine priest

A CNS article on last year’s approval of a miracle attributed to his intercession.

If you’re looking for something more substantial, God Alone: A Spiritual Biography of Blessed Rafael Arnaiz Baron looks like a worthwhile book.

In Madrid, there are several bars that offer “intercambio nights”. Intercambio refers to a language exchange (normally Spanish and English) and is supposed to be mutually beneficial for a pair of people who are both trying to learn each other’s language. What actually occurs at intercambios is Spanish men hitting on American women.

In the almost two weeks I’ve been in Madrid, I have accidentally been to every intercambio night in the city.

I don’t even like intercambios! Some like to go because they feel like they don’t speak enough Spanish and want to practice and possibly meet Spanish friends. I already have Spanish friends, and spend so much time each day trying to think, listen, and speak in Spanish that my brain often tells me it is time to take a long nap.

I ended up at all these intercambios on accident. I followed a friend or two, and we ended up there. At every. Single. One.

Here’s what happens at intercambio (so you never need to go in case you are curious): You are standing in a group of friends, trying to decide who–if anyone–to talk to. Suddenly, the ugliest, most awkward guy in the bar (city) squeezes into your group and begins talking to you. Intercambio has given him an excuse! He is not invading your conversation, he is simply talking to you for educational purposes.

The conversation goes exactly like this (every time):
Awkward guy: “Hello. Are you speaking in English or in Spanish.”
Me: “Whatever.”
AG: “Wheere are you frooom?”
Me: “The United States. Colorado.”
AG: “Ah. You know the Grand Canyon?”
Me: “Actually, it’s in Arizona.” (All Spaniards think the Grand Canyon is in Colorado because in Spanish it’s called “El Canyon de Colorado”. Someone should start some sort of educational campaign.)
AG: “What are you doing in Spain?”
Me: “Studying.”
AG: “How long have you been here?”
Me: “A week.” (I could go into how many times I’ve lived in Spain but at this point I like them to compliment my Spanish, if that is the language that awkward guy has chosen to speak in.)

On and on the conversation goes with this mundane questioning. Then, some of his awkward “friends” will join and we will go through seriously the EXACT line of questioning over and over.

Last night, I got stuck talking to 1. The most awkward guy in the room. 2. The oldest guy in the room. 3. The most hitting on me guy in the room. All at once. I gazed over at my friend Annie who was surrounded by young, good-looking, and apparently socially capable guys. I said I needed to get another drink and popped over to enjoy some of her intercambio.

I started talking to one of Annie’s new friends. Can’t remember his name. At any rate, I discovered that he comes to Madrid once a month for guitar lessons, but he actually lives in Valencia. He told me his dream was to someday go to Berkley School of Music. I told him it was cool that he had goals, because I don’t.

He bought me a drink. Then, I was in the middle of asking him if he liked The Fray (you know, the band, because we were talking about music.) I was leaning in and pronouncing the name very slowly and loudly, and suddenly he kissed me! I was completely shocked slash offended that he thought I had given off any vibe whatsoever that I was interested in more than speaking badly in both our languages. I guess I should not accept drinks from now on, and also try to not be so witty and charming.

I left the bar immediately and am scarred for life from intercambios. Although, the one I went to tonight wasn’t so bad.

Ferdinand Magellan was born in 1480 at Saborosa in the Province of Traz os Montes in Portugal. He was well-tutored at home. Because of his family heritage, he became a page to Queen Leonor at the royal court in Portugal. His first voyage was at the age of 25 in 1505 where he was sent to India to make Francisco de Almeida as the Portuguese viceroy. The voyage resulted in the Battle of Diu with the Indians as they did not respect Almeida in 1509. He then took a leave without permission. This resulted him out of favor with Almeida. He was also accused of illegally trading with the Moors (Arabs).With these accusations and taking a leave without permission, he was not employed since May 15, 1514. He then renounced his Portuguese nationality so that he could serve the Spanish crown. He convinced King Charles I of Spain to support his voyage to the Spice Islands. His request was soon accepted. He was provided with five ships for the expedition and about 250 men. On September 20, 1519 he left Spain for his voyage. In 1521, he was killed by the Philippines natives. Finally, on September 6, his crew reached Spain with only eighteen survivors.

In reaction to Rizal’s Homage

Rizal’s speech on June 25, 1884 tells a lot not just about Luna and Hidalgo, but also about Rizal himself, the Philippines, and Spain. Rizal was 23 years old then and I was amazed when I knew that in that young age of him, he’s already full of inspiring, peaceful, farsighted ideas.

I knew Rizal’s a patriot, but I thought he’s like the typical patriot who’s ready to argue that his own country is the best. I was wrong. He never argued that the Philippines was the elite country. Instead, Rizal believed in equality between people in this planet.

One of my favorite statements from that speech is this: “They (Luna and Hidalgo) were born in the Philippines, but they could have been born in Spain, because creative genius does not manifest itself solely within the borders of a specific country; it sprouts everywhere; it is like light and air; it belongs to everyone; it is cosmopolitan like space, life and God.”

That was perfectly explained. There’s no argument there. No doubt, creative genius doesn’t depend where you were born in.

Many Filipinos hated Spain for colonizing us. But come to think of it. Philippines and some of the Filipinos improved by the help of Spaniards, admit it or not. Some of the Filipinos had the chance to learn in the universities built by the Spaniards. It might have been a hellish experience in Spanish time, but there were still some Filipinos who had the luck to taste the little kindness offered by Spain. As what Rizal said, “She (Philippines) produced the precious stones, Europe polished them.”

Call me slow, but I didn’t get who Rizal’s talking about when he said there were myopic men and pygmies who opposed Spain. The revolutionists are the only ones I know who were against the colonizers.

Whoever those myopic men were, I understand why Rizal didn’t like them. It’s because he’s a farsighted person. Rizal might have really been a futurist for he had foreseen that America and Japan would soon colonize the Philippines. However, his prophecies about the relationship between Philippines and Spain didn’t happen. The equality and unity were not tasted by Filipinos. Spaniards were still the masters and Filipinos were the slaves. The speech that Rizal delivered was just a futile attempt to create brotherhood between the two countries.

I feel sorry for Rizal. His dreams for this country didn’t happen, and there’s no mystery why. Although all people are merely equal, there are ones who enjoy being dominant, powerful, corrupt•Besonia,Jenn

By Columnist Harry Trunckles

At the dawn of the science of psychology there were fewer mental illnesses. Current figures show 25% of Americans are mentally ill. It’s easy enough for “modern science” to claim that this figure is due to better diagnosis and detection methods. I for one call bullshit.

The harsh truth is that we had it right in nine-teen ought-one. Now here it is two zero ought nine and I say we move forward, backward.

Women’s health should be of paramount concern. Nowadays you hear women diagnosed with “depression,” “anxiety,”"insomnia,” and many other disorders. The Founding Shrinks had streamlined the process: the most a woman would suffer from was a case of hysteria. These brave supermen of medicine knew that many symptoms pointed to the same malady. And, once again, they surpass “modern science” by actually having a cure! An inventive psychologist created a device that through simple vibrations applied to a woman’s genitals could cure her of hysteria.

Why didn't I think of that?

This also cured other disorders such as “nagging” and “being a crampy bitch.” This man, (we’ll call him Dr. Burly McTestes) knew the fundamental truth: Women need to get laid. Before my detractors go on to cry “chauvinist” or “crackpot” I ask that you think long and hard for a moment. Can you recall an unhappy person who was having sex? Really really good sex? I thought not.

My dear readers, I must stress that this is about medicine, not a rallying cry for sexual deviancy. The founding shrinks knew a problem when they saw it. And what they saw was million of minds losing the battle against masturbation. They sadly lost this battle, as our increased ratio of blind teenage boys would indicate. The Founding Shrinks put up a valiant fight though. To the bitter end they sold protective devices to prevent the violation of vacuum cleaners as well as quite painful spike-laden underpants. The sorry excuse for a society we have now decries such techniques as barbaric. But I assure you, it was necessary. The intense pain was needed in order to loosen the grip masturbation had on our young men. And thus, their grips. I doubt we can stem the spread of this self-abuse as it has spread too far. I would wager even you are reading this with one hand free to blind you and further your descent into madness. Only when the police riddle you with bullets to prevent you from eating the president’s severed head, will you finally realize what you’ve done to yourself.

I'm wearing one right now.

Perhaps we should delve even farther back! The great phrenologists knew that when there is smoke, there is fire. And fire must be put out. (the smoke being criminal behavior, the fire being skull bumps and the water being the use of a bludgeon on offending ‘criminal’ bumps)

An obvious sex-offender.

Its fashionable among modern psychologists to look to the ways of the past and either shudder or laugh. “Heroine? By prescription? How delightfully absurd!” you might say, your gold rimmed monocle clattering to the floor with a mighty guffaw. Collect yourself fool! The truth does not exist for a larf!

Look at any rehab clinic. These people (likely chronic masturbators and hysterics) constantly gravitate to drugs such as heroine. I feel that this is because there is an innate draw to this medicine. However, without proper medical observation, heroine does have risks. It can act as a “gateway drug” leading patients to harder, more illicit substances such as marijuana. The seemingly innocuous weed has the capacity to turn a masturbator into a violent, raging, half-blind lunatic. (not to mention being the drug of choice for the scheming Mexican races – I’m not a racist)

Friends, do not mistake me, I know that not all the methods of treatment from the past were perfect. Far from it! For example, the treatment of homosexuals used to involve trying to lure the deviant back to a moral and just lust. We now know better. We must instead desensitize these miscreants, giving them so much cock-slapping (and vulva-grinding respectively) that they can hardly look at the same sex again.

The great mind of B.F. Skinner is often criticized for making little Albert scared of white furry creatures as part of an unethical experiment. In this I will agree with the mainstream. If you want to truly defeat the vast armies of animal beasts and the foul denizens of the wild you must make children brave in the face of god’s most evil creations. Train in the instinct to kill animals on sight. If we fail in this, they will eat us out of house and home!

These days, it is not PC to talk about the differing pscyhological make-up of various races. I’ll be the first to admit that many have been hurt by this practice. I’m not a racist or anything, but can we at least admit that the villainous Spaniard and all who resemble him can be exterminated for the good of mankind? By the way, I’m not a racist.

Secretary Hillary Clinton and US President B. Obama

President Obama has a high popularity at the international level.  During the administration of President George Bush (Jr.) the United States reached their lowest level of international popularity.One of the achievements of President Obama is that in a few months the antiamericanism has declined.
The United States are not longer playing the role of “the bad guy” in the movie. It  is difficult to criticize President Obama, in  first  place because it has little time in government, and secondly because their sympathy, pragmatism -realpolitik- and its socialdemocrat political positioning mantains him elusive from political erosion..

That’s why recently, with the silent complicity  of the White House, the traditional opponents of United States have decided to leave Obama in peace and have focused on attacks against the Secretary of the Department of State, Mrs. Hillary Rodham Clinton.

Among other critics against Clinton,  the North Koreans have despised her as a “funny lady but not very intelligent”, the “retired” Fidel Castro on Friday proposed a Nobel prize for the U.S. secretary of state, Hillary Clinton for his “brilliant idea” to use the president of Costa Rica, Oscar Arias, as a mediator in the crisis for Honduras “to consolidate the coup”, and from the nicaraguan border President Manuel Zelaya said that Clinton was ignorant of honduran politics.

The critics of the U.S., are concentrating their darts on Hillary Clinton and I think the White House will do little to prevent it. With  the  exercise  of power, all governments loose face, and Mrs Clinton is going  to carry that umpleasant weigth on her shoulders.

On the other hand Obama continues his honeymoon with the international public.

Two days after the attacks of September 11, the daily Le Monde published an editorial entitled “We Are All Americans”.

Over the next seven years,such a headline would have caused an avalanche of letters to the editor.

Now, the charismatic Barack Obama has the opportunity to exploit their immense popularity to salvage the image of USA.

Initial surveys show a rapid decline of anti-Americanism.

Obama advisers have enthusiastically proclaimed that “the anti-US is no longer fashionable,” and a survey of the Pew Research Center released yesterday, gives the reason. Although Muslim countries are still skeptical, the world’s most respondents expressed positive views on the U.S., with notable improvements in Europe. While in 2008 only looked with favor on the U.S. 42% of French, 33% of Spaniards and 31% of Germans, in 2009 these figures had risen to 75%, 58% and 64% respectively.

Analysts, however, are cautious about the possibility that Obama represents the beginning of a new golden age for Americanism.

The analysts said that Bush junior was not alone to blame for the bad reputation of the country. Although the rejection of the U.S. reached record low levels with Bush, before his arrival to the White House the polls already showed a decline in the national image abroad. At the international perception of the U.S. come into play other factors, more or less unfounded prejudices -all fed by distance and ignorance- and the desire to preserve cultural identity or suspicion for the US enormous power.

One reason for United States improving its image, is the rise of other powers. New “bad guys”.

In the first half of the twenty-first century , history will witness the end of the undisputed hegemony of the U.S., a fact that however much it hurts to the neoconservatives, it may be the perfect opportunity to regain the lost appeal of the US.

In the new scenario, the U.S. image appears in bettershape than powers with so little respect for democracy and human rights as China or Russia.

At the same time, the US reduces its presence in international life, not as a consequence of the decline of the U.S., but due to the rise of another “, as has been called by Fareed Zakaria, editor of the weekly U.S. Newsweek and author of  The world after USA. “Look around,” Zakaria writes in his book, “the world’s tallest building rises in Taipei, and soon will be in Dubai. The worlds largest banks are chinese, the biggest refinery is being built in India, the largest aircraft is European, the largest investment fund is based in Abu Dhabi and the largest film industry is no longer Hollywood but Bollywood. “

However, the recent global celebrations of the 40 years anniversary of the arrival of humans to the Moon, demonstrate that the U.S. still have an insurmountable technology.

Zakaria points out tha tthe world is experiencing a sort of a postamerican era.

This change is an opportunity to rethink the kind of leadership the world expects from the USA. The script of the US being  a arrogante “lone ranger” , who so faithfully embodied George W. Bush, is nolonger  viable.. Unlike its predecessor, Obama is aware of the order cycle. “The world has changed and we must change with it,” he said in his inauguration speech. Its strategy is called smart power.

The smart power (also called soft power, soft power) is the term that have become fashionable for President Obama and his secretary of State, Hillary Clinton. The term  was coined by Harvard professor Joseph Nye and refers to a leadership based on the attractiveness of the security. There are three ways of exercising power, according to Nye, “The first is to threaten each other with sticks, the second in pay with carrots, a third in attracting or inviting them to want what you have. If you succeed, you will not need neither carrots nor sticks. “

And the first hit by the most benevolent U.S., has been Hugo Chávez in Venezuela, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad in Iran, the terrorist Bin Laden and all of rampant anti US critics, which used the rejectal of US within their audience to sustain its popularity.

In 2006, the U.S. image had touched ground when images of abuse were revealed to the prisoners in the Abu-Ghraib prison.

The U.S. presence in Iraq came to be regarded as a most serious threat to world peace that the presidency of Ahmadinejad in Iran and the conflict between Israel and Palestine.

It was the worst moment for the relationship between the U.S. and world public opinion. A disenchantment that had begun in the second half of the twentieth century with the war in Vietnam and the sponsorship of the U.S. to Latin American dictatorships. Until then had dominated the image of USA as the country that liberated Europe from Nazism,the  confrontation with  the communism, and a successful democratic model and a land of promise and equal opportunity for those who emigrated.

However, in this idyllic period, emerged prejudices that have dominated the love-hate relationship between the U.S. and the rest of the world. “Since independence in the eighteenth century, Europe looked to the U.S. with an air of cultural superiority,” says Nancy Snow, who worked for the State Department in the nineties, dedicated to promoting the image of the country, “the stereotype of U.S. crude and ignorant as is seen in the literature of the era and, although with less force, still survives today. “

In the last three decades a new element that converges deteriorates further the U.S. reputation, according to Andrew Kohut, president of the Pew Center. “Globalization has been perceived as an Americanization” says Kohut. Surveys attest that relationship to consumers. Respondents confessed his fascination for films, TV series and musician, but when asked if they are happy with the ideas and customs of the U.S. spread in his country, the majority answered no. Only 16% of Spaniards, 18% of French people or 10% of Argentines are excited with the American Way of Life.

In any case, things  changed  with the  election of Obama.

His election  was a mere reaffirmation of the fundamental American values. “The idea that a black, with a muslim middle name would become president of the country by itself  restored much of the trust in the United States,” says Nye.

Obama, no doubt, with its multi-ethnic origin and his masterful management  of the teleprompter, is the main piece in the strategy of the U.S. image.

His problem, however, is that it has created so many expectations that his communication team is afraid to disappoint. Especially 1200 million Muslims who mostly blames the U.S. for the suffering of the Palestinians. The change in style should be accompanied by concrete actions.

“After the speech he gave in Cairo the Muslim world is waiting the US to exert real pressure on the Israelis, “says Norman Birnbaum, professor emeritus at Georgetown University.”

But politics is only one aspect of American marketing machine. United States is a country that invests more resources than any other  country in the improvement  of its image abroad.  A legion of 1,050 officials throughout the world to serve the Secretary of State for Public Diplomacy and a budget of 500 million dollars to spend on cultural programs, academic scholarships and programs for visitors, some with decades of seniority. Through these exchanges, the U.S. has secured the allegiance of politicians, journalists and academics from around the world. Former Argentine President Raúl Alfonsín, the head of European diplomacy, Javier Solana, and former Prime Minister of Pakistan, Benazir Bhutto, are among the world leaders who spent their youth in the university classrooms in the USA.

These are the tools -plus media- with which the United States seek to regain the hearts of the world. Often said that United States is the land of opportunity, now is the time for Obama to show it, and he  is currently doing a good job.

According to the map I got, Florida’s Gold Coast ranges from Ft. Lauderdale to Key Largo.  Now, again, the delineation (is that too much of an academic term to putting in blogs like this?) is a bit fuzzy, like those mornings in inland Florida where the cow pastures lie.  This coast holds some fantastic natural beauty and some beauty that twinkles.  It is debatable where the name originated whether it be from the Spaniards gold coins or from the real estate boom that is still churning like a well oiled Chevy.

I read, as most true Floridians, the book A Land Remembered, by Patrick D. Smith.  This book depicts Florida’s true cracker heritage with its swamp cabbage, scrawny cows being drove across Florida’s plains by scrawny cowboys, and even dates back to remember the Civil War days and how it impacted this land only touched by the Spaniards and Indians.  Near the end of the novel, there is more and more mention of the Gold Coast, even though it isn’t given this moniker. The characters give the real estate boom a less the gracious opinion.  Its well worth the read, noting how progress has shaped Florida’s Gold Coast.

There are other sites in this area like the Miami Dolphins training in Davie, and the sands of the upper Keys, like Key Largo.  For you twinklers out there, the ubiquitous (there I go again using those 50 cent words) mentioned South Beach is always open and has more plastic walking around than in…Well, let’s put it this way, when I googled “plastic Florida” the first sites were about plastic surgery in Miami.  So there ya go.

Northern Lights, even though they aren’t Florida types (we’ll let ‘em slide since they are sailing–a pipe dream of mine), show us a water view of the Gold Coast.  Living Our Dream does Florida my style by camping where they travel.  My advice for those heading to the Gold Coast is to conjure up all the Spanish possible from the eighth grade and stay on the main roads.  I’m not saying…I’m just saying.

Following in the footsteps of our Fearless Leader, I must apologize for yesterday’s post, as it addressed my fellow citizens while overlooking our friends around the globe.  To make up for this egregious oversight, here are some video picks for everybody.

For Nurse Myra, Phil, Archie & others in and from the land of Oz.

For Herr Eagle. [Vielen Dank für die Ausschreibung. Der Aufstand bewegt sich mit uns Ihre Pläne.]

For Chiqui and others. [Had a difficult time finding a funny video from Spain, as the Utoobage is undergoing some revamping. Video found here.]

The last one is for Rain & Metro and the rest of my friends from Canuckistan.

If  I’ve overlooked any of your homelands, let me know in the comments and I’ll make up for it in a future post.  (Please respond in English, otherwise it looks like spam.)  In other words:

Pokud jsem přehlížet jakékoliv vaše vlasti, dejte mi vědět do komentářů a uvidíme se až na to v budoucnu post. ( Odpovězte prosím v angličtině, jinak to vypadá jako spam.)

Als ik het heb over een van uw vaderland, laat het me weten in de reacties en ik zal je make-up voor het in een toekomstige functie.  (Gelieve te reageren in het Engels, anders is het er uit ziet spam.)

してください英語で、そうでなければ、スパムのように対応しています。もし私はあなたの故郷の見過ごしてきた、私のコメントで知っているが、私は将来のポストを作ってあげることができます。

Если я игнорировать любые Ваши хоумленды, дайте мне знать в комментариях, и я, естественно, составляют для него в будущем пост. (Просьба ответить на Английский, иначе это выглядит как спам.)

Wenn ich übersehen habe jede Ihrer Heimat, lassen Sie mich wissen, in den Kommentaren und ich machen es in einem zukünftigen Post. (Bitte antworten Sie in Englisch, sonst sieht es aus wie Spam.)

Blame any and all mistranslations above on Google Translate.

Your Pal, Bunk

Much debate over the history with tales of ambassadors, spanish brothers and Dick Turpin...it's most likely that none of them are true

Glorious weather yesterday, so what better to do than head up to the Heath and swim in the dirty, cold pond?  Lucky for me we passed a lovely boozer on the way home.  The Spaniards’ Inn is situated on a hill between Hampstead and Highgate and posesses one of the biggest beer gardens I’ve ever seen.  Obviously the sun was the main attraction but the brief time I spent inside the pub left a good impression.  Three guest ales seemed to have “just finished”, with the pump clips showing their backsides, but luckily Sierra Nevada Pale Ale is available on draught.  Perfect for a summer’s eve…if you find yourself out that way you shouls definitely drop in.

In the post, Albanians Are Neither White Nor Europeans? Lafayette Sennacherib takes issue with some of my anti-Nordicist POV, suggesting that ancient Greece was populated from the North, specifically the Baltics:

…there may turn out to be some truth in the notion that the Myceneans came from the North (though I think it unlikely that many went back).

I mentioned here before that I’d recently come across this book by Felice Vinci: The Baltic Origins of Homer’s Epic Tales.

Homer, as you are no doubt aware, is credited  (it’s not known if he was one or many authors) with the creation of the earliest European literature with his epic tales ‘the Iliad’ about the Trojan war, and ‘the Odyssey’ about the journeys of Odysseus as he tries to find his way home, with a boatload of men, after the war.

Last I heard, the best guess is that it was composed about 1200BC and written down about 7oo BC. Trouble is, there’s a lot of description in Homer, but none of it fits the Mediterranean.

You’ve guessed what’s coming: Felice has matched all the descriptions and journey times and directions to the Baltic. Apparently there was a verifiable drastic climate change before which the Baltic was a lot more user friendly.

I think ( I haven’t read the book yet), from reviews I’ve read, that he places some of Odysseus’ travels quite far afield up the North Sea coast of Norway, and even to the Shetlands and Orkneys and possibly Scotland and Britain.

If you’ve ever seen the ancient underground towns in Shetland or Orkney (the back of beyond these days; in fact even the Romans called them Ultima Thule – the ends of the Earth), which seem to have had efficient plumbing maybe as early as 1500 BC, you can’t help but wonder how such refinements came to be in this most unlikely of places – Felice’s theory would locate them in a lively interlinked maritime world centering on the Baltic.

Of course, this isn’t proven, but I get the impression that some serious people are taking this seriously enough to fund more research.

Felice speculates that deteriorating climatic conditions caused many of these Baltic peoples to migrate south, and that they took their myths and poems with them, and that the reason that some of the names of towns correspond to known and existing Greek sites is that they named places in their new home after places in their old home, as Europeans have so obviously done in the USA, Australia and so on.

Well, I agree that the theory is interesting, but in the long run, none of it really makes sense from a Nordicist POV. Germanic tribes went all over Europe, so the very idea of Med and Nordic doesn’t make a lot of sense. And Meds went all over up into the north too. The two groups totally mixed in with each other. Nordics are part Med and Meds are part Nordic.

Bottom line is that modern Greeks are the same folks as ancient Greeks, no matter where they came from. Modern Italians are the same as the ancient Romans, no matter where the Romans came from.

Nordicists take issue with this, and say that Rome and Greece were created by some glorious Nordic types, and then after the Fall, some kind of mud people* or nigger people* from the South (I guess that means Arabs, North Africans, Ethiopians, Lebanese) came into Greece and Italy and muddied up these beautiful White German folks, creating the present day swarthy Med.

Nordicists are serious assholes!

The ones here in the US really, really, really, really hate Southern Europeans. They think they are inferior greaseball part-Mud*, part-nigger* people. Most US Nordicists say that Meds are not even White.

Anti-Southern European prejudice and discrimination, especially discrimination against Italians and Catholics, is pretty much history in White America, but at one time, this was a prominent trend. Italians have moved into the White Ruling Class, and the Catholic JFK was elected and ruled Camelot 50 years ago. Even the KKK lets Catholics in now, and says let’s let bygones be bygones.

The fact that probably 80% of White nationalists are Nordicists just shows once again how out of it these people really. Hell, these racist baboons are behind the times even in terms of intra-White prejudices. How do you spell “loser”?

If you read the original Nazi racialist authors, they do not say this at all. Say what you will about them, but they pursued this stuff as a science.

They agreed that Meds were a great White people, and that the modern Meds are descendants of the great cultures of Greece and Rome. They listed many attributes of the Meds and said that in many ways, Meds were superior to Nordics.

However, Nordics were also superior to Meds in many ways. When it all tallied up, the Nordics came out on top, but only slightly. To say that the Nazis felt that Meds were inferior is completely mistaken. Meds were a great White people, but Nordics were also great, and Nordics were somewhat greater the Meds. Of course they had to put themselves on top, all Supremacists do.

One thing the Nazi racialist scientists did say was that Meds were very creative, perhaps the most inventive and creative Whites that ever existed, or maybe the most inventive and creative humans that ever existed. They said that Meds were superior in terms of the arts, which is somewhat related.

I concur.

Modern day Nordicists (neo-Nazis in general) who despise and disparage Meds as non-Whites, in all honesty, would have been thrown out of the Nazi Party in Germany! That’s how out of it they are.

This is sort of a peculiarly American and Australian thing – the Nordicist contempt for Meds. I’m not sure if you see it that much in Europe, though people are always going to be rivals.

It does exist in Italy though, where the Padanianists pour scorn on the “part-nigger”* Southerners. The Padanianists also take pride in being “Celtic.”

However, non-racial frustration with the South extends as far south as Abruzze (east of Rome) in Italy. Even in Abruzze, they think that they work hard and they don’t get all their tax money back. Instead it goes to the unproductive South, who take more in revenues than they contribute in taxes.

Further, in Abruzze, there is frustration that any tax money sent South in the form of revenues is wasted, as it just goes to the Camorra (Mafia) anyway. The notion of the South, and that means Naples south (Naples is thoroughly Camorra-overrun) as being the Land of the Camorra is not misplaced.

The Camorra for all intents and purposes practically run the show down there. Police try to fight them, but they are overwhelmed. Most of the politicians are paid off, and those who are not might get shot. Judges and investigative journalists are routinely threatened and gunned down.

There was also something like this North-South rivalry in the former Yugoslavia, with the notion being that Slovenia and Croatia were the economic engines of the place, and everything south just took in more revenues than they paid out in taxes.

In the north of Spain, there is some pride once again in being “Celtic”, but I am not aware that Northern Spaniards hate Southern Spaniards all that much, or at all.

Some of the north, especially around Leon and Asturias, is in bad shape economically, and I’m sure they take more in revenues than they pay in taxes, so the North-South thing doesn’t really work.

In Western Asturias in particular, the region is depopulating, and most towns are losing population. Even wolves are coming back to the hills and foraging in garbage dumps outside of towns. In 20 years, many villages in Western Asturias may be effectively abandoned.

The economic and industrial engines of Spain are in the Basque Country and Catalonia (industry in the Basque area, corporate offices in Catalonia). This is one of the main reasons why Spain is dead-set against having these regions secede.

*Used sardonically.

#129 and I eventually tore ourselves away from Barcelona, spent a night in Valencia, then travelled on down to Murcia. We decided to go there because when I was eighteen #20 and I worked in a factory in Germany with a bunch of Irish, Polish and Spanish students, and the Spanish ones seemed to primarily come from Murcia, which didn’t seem to be a place that visitors to Spain went to all that often. I hadn’t lasted long in the factory. I’d written a couple letters to the Murcia boys but inevitably we didn’t stay in touch. It would’ve been one hell of a coincidence to run into any of them when we showed up in Murcia, but I was inspired to check out the place regardless.

What actually happened when we showed up in Murcia was I discovered I had a lot of trouble understanding the local accent, plus figuring out how to get from the bus station to the centre of town was a needlessly arduous process. Once we finally got to the hotel, the receptionist talked to me as if I was an imbecile, rather than somebody who was just having difficulty with his accent. Then we found they’d given us twin beds rather than a double. We dumped our baggage on the floor and flopped onto the beds. “Fuck Murcia,” we proclaimed.

Oddly enough, a few glasses of wine and suddenly I could understand everybody just fine. We cultivated a joint crush on the bartender at the place where we wound up. Her friend gave me a Powerpuff doll and swapped phone numbers with me, even though we never contacted each other. We got the bartender to marry us. It was 25 September 2004. Our original plan had been to make it to Gibraltar by this date, and get married there. We’d decided it would be hilarious because neither of us believed in marriage. We’d get married in Gibraltar and then the next year we’d have a ceremony in Toronto where we’d renew our vows. The marriage plan quietly got shelved when we considered that we’d have to fork over money, even a small amount, to make it happen. So we got the bartender to perform a quick ceremony instead.

The bar closed, but we didn’t want to finish up yet. In an alleyway, we asked some boys if there was somewhere we could get some food at this time of night. They showed us to a convenience store, then suggested we might as well get some alcohol too while we were at it. We wound up drinking with them in a park. Botelleo, they called it, rather than the default Spanish botellón. It was a good night. #129 was bonding with one of them and they were singing A Las Barricadas together. #140 was another of the boys; he had a passion for britpop which I couldn’t really get behind, but he was a nice boy. We were saying goodbye in the street at 7am and he was just going to give me a kiss on each cheek, but I lunged instead.

We’re still in touch occasionally. He says that he found me kind of a mixture between a “fantastic and very strange person”.

Considered as the first international treaty, Spaniard Miguel Lopez de Legazpi entered into a pact called Sandugo with Bohol chieftain Datu Sikatuna ensuring friendly relations with the Filipinos on March of 1565. Sandugo or blood compact is a Visayan term which fuses the words isang and dugo meaning one blood.

One ironic thing about the blood compact is its aftermath. Performing Sandugo was relatively significant to the Bohol natives as it symbolized brotherhood and peace. Howbeit, Lopez de Legazpi took possession of the island in the name of King Phillip II few days after the compact. It was the commencement of the 256-year rule of the Spaniards; reason why Spanish influence is very much obvious in Filipino’s culture

(for PinoyTattoos.com)

Head coach – López Caro

Most caps – Santi Denia (27 caps)

Captain - Raúl García

AFTER an immaculate eight games during the group stages of qualification it seemed as if Spain would breeze into the competition without any difficulties. Though they required extra time to edge out a stern Switzerland side in the play-off stage after the tie had finished 3-3 on aggregate.

Influential - Spain captain Raúl García.

In the group stage López Caro’s side won all eight games, scoring 21 in the process whilst conceding just two goals.

With striker José Manuel Jurado, who has spent this season on-loan at Mallorca from Atletico Madrid, and Barcelona youngster Bojan Krkíc starring upfront, goals were always easy to come by. Jurado finished the groups highest goalscorer with four, one more than his strike partner Bojan.

They thumped Georgia 4-0 and Kazakhstan 5-0 on their way to a perfect eight game run.

The only problems they did run in to was in the return game against Kazakhstan when they required a late own goal to seal the three points.

Going into the playoff stage with the only team to have a perfect record, they were expected to coast past a Switzerland side, that had already eliminated the reigning champions Holland.

Manager López Caro has worked with David Beckham at Real Madrid.

Things didn’t go to plan in the first leg, despite taking a lead through Barcelona’s Sergi Busquets, the Swiss side fought back to win the game 2-1. And when Switzerland took the lead in the second leg Spain were faced with a daunting task. Though a goal from Newcastle’s Xisco and an injury time winner from Sisi, which levelled the scored on aggregate, sent the game to extra time.

Switzerland’s hearts were duely broken when Raul Garcia of Atletico Madrid popped up in the second period of extra time to send the Spaniards to Sweden.

One thing that is for sure is that the Spanish side have the talent and ability to go all the way this summer. Added to Bojan, Jurado and Raul Garcia the likes of Sevilla’s lively winger Diego Capel and Real Madrid’s Javi Garcia they are certainly one of the sides to keep an eye on.

Though whether they have the mental toughness to go all the way we will just have to wait and see.

Qualification results

Georgia 0 - Spain 1

Spain 4 – Georgia 0

Poland 0 – Spain 2

Spain 3 – Poland 0

Spain 5 – Kazakhstan 0

Russia 1 – Spain 2

Kazakhstan 1 – Spain 2

Spain 2 - Russia 0

Switzerland 2 - Spain 1 (qualification play-off)

Spain 3 – Switzerland 1 (qualification play-off, after extra time)

I am American. I am also Puertorican because I was born there. I am a New Yorker, because I was raised there. I am Portuguese because my great-grandfather Aguiar was came from Portugal. I am Spanish because the rest of my great-grandparents were Spaniards.

Other than the Native American Indians, everybody else here in America—or their ancestors—came from somewhere else. However, since I started the research on my second novel, I have discovered that nationalities are not that cut-and-dried. Part of my second book takes place in the Iberian Peninsula (what is now Spain and Portugal) in the second century A.D. which the Romans called “Hispania” and I’ve learned what true “melting pots” are.

New York has always been known as America’s melting pot. I lived for some time in Miami and you could say that about South Florida also. Forget that! All of America is one big melting pot!

My eye-opening research came when I was studying the native Iberians. I needed to know who my characters were, what they believed, their customs, culture and who their ancestors were. What I learned surprised me.

For instance, I always thought that Celtic equaled Irish and Irish equaled Celtic. How wrong I was. The Celts came from northern Europe and spread all over Europe and Asia Minor. They looked more like Vikings—tall and fair. Did you know that the Galatians of biblical fame were a Celtic tribe that came over the Balkans? I didn’t. For me they were all Middle Asian or Greek.

When the Celts invaded the Iberian Peninsula, they mixed with the Iberians who had migrated from northern Africa. They were short and dark. They became the Celtiberains. That explains the difference in complexion between many Spaniards. (I always thought it was the Moorish invaders in later centuries that brought the darker skin tones).

But the Celtiberians didn’t have the peninsula to themselves for long. Soon the Phoenicians came seeking new resources for trade. Later the Carthaginians and the Greeks arrived. All three settled and founded various cities on the coastline. Then along came the Romans. By the early second century, Rome had control of the whole peninsula. The Romans drove the Celts out of most of mainland Europe (except for a small area in northwestern France) and let them stay in the northern British Isles. That’s where we get the Celtic/Irish analogies.

Therefore, I’m back to me again. I have dark hair, dark eyes and light skin that tans nicely. Do I have Celtic blood in me? Maybe. I somehow think that I must have Roman blood in me. As a child, when I would tell folks that I was Puerto Rican, they would say, “You don’t look Puerto Rican.”

My reply was, “What does a Puerto Rican look like?”

They then said I looked Italian. That was fine with me—I’ll be Italian. Several of my best friends growing up were Italian. Consequently, I spent more time hanging out with Italians then Hispanics. I love Italian food—more so than Latin food. I had the opportunity to work with Italians on a cruise ship years ago and tour Italy. I even learned the language with relative ease being fluent in Spanish. However, in Italy, I started to mix the two of them. I created my own language of “Spantalian.” Somehow, I managed to be understood. I would relocate to Italy in a heartbeat. (Maybe after I sell a few books, I’ll get myself a nice villa overlooking the Amalfi Coast. Hey, I can dream, can’t I?)

The novel also takes place in Alexandria, Egypt. That was another melting pot in the second century. Talk about a cosmopolitan city. It was a Greek city in Egypt ruled by the Romans—three very different cultures. It boasted the greatest library of ancient times with copies of scholarly writings from all over the known world. Unfortunately, it burned down in the 600’s. The city was wealthy because of its strategic location at the center of trade routes between Europe, Asia Minor, Africa, India and the Far East. Beside the Greeks and Romans, there were people from all those areas living in Alexandria. Of course, they intermarried.

So who are our ancestors? A few years ago, I started doing my family tree. I recommend that everyone try to go back several generations to better understand who they are. Culture is handed down from generation to generation and one’s environment plays a part in it. Invaders and immigrants all bring in their own culture and customs and blend it with the culture and customs that are already there.

As a result, if I’m “people watching” at the mall or when I hear a foreign last name, instead of judging the book by its cover, ­­I now consider that if we go back far enough, we all may have the same ancestors. We are all our own little melting pots.

So what am I? That’s easy—I am American.

God Bless,
Giselle
E-mail: deovolente_love1@gmail.com
www.giselleaguiar.com