tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15579475729842692912024-03-12T19:23:33.475-07:00Yo Mama en EspanaİQue suerte! A year in SpainHeather Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11505047181063479727noreply@blogger.comBlogger85125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1557947572984269291.post-14097009965127933332010-08-03T23:25:00.000-07:002010-08-03T23:30:31.511-07:00La ultima corrida1 de agosto. Novillada con picadores.<br /><br />Seis novillos de Javier Molina.<br />Luis Martín Núñez: Saludos, Saludos con un aviso<br />Juan Carlos Rey: Silencio con un aviso,Vuelta al ruedo<br />Damian Castaño: Saludos, Silencio<br />Con Alex. Silla a la barrera.Heather Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11505047181063479727noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1557947572984269291.post-10712561378622944092010-06-16T09:28:00.001-07:002010-06-16T09:47:08.591-07:00Otta no funciona hoy<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPpKqrWZC4nAmPfQ2EGV1Sd0TmHI1Dfn5nbk4gJ3RkH2uyfmbFB1hgLrxA9Dn6QEW5mByvPaZ36h0aZubj63YM1Wfif7JQk38ASX88LQ7GnoYMSceKoHZBqQINwE_xRUIBAkaBV-4wtmg/s1600/Otto-no-funciona-hoy.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 293px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPpKqrWZC4nAmPfQ2EGV1Sd0TmHI1Dfn5nbk4gJ3RkH2uyfmbFB1hgLrxA9Dn6QEW5mByvPaZ36h0aZubj63YM1Wfif7JQk38ASX88LQ7GnoYMSceKoHZBqQINwE_xRUIBAkaBV-4wtmg/s320/Otto-no-funciona-hoy.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483409471518885714" /></a><br /><a href="http://www.fifa.com/worldcup/matches/round=249722/match=300111112/index.html">Spain's crushing defeat</a> in today's World Cup game is probably <a href="http://yomamaenespana.blogspot.com/2010/06/amuleto-vudu-otto.html">Otto's </a>fault. He was guaranteed to provide a victorious resolution to any game, and more than any other, any Spanish World Cup game. We decided to pull Otto out in the second half when Spain was desperately trying to recover from Switzerland's 1-0 lead.<br /><br />Otto wasn't working today. Probably not many other Spaniards were either.Heather Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11505047181063479727noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1557947572984269291.post-67289516638200736042010-06-14T10:02:00.000-07:002010-06-14T10:21:00.112-07:00Corrida12 de junio de 2010. <br />Corrida de toros.<br />Manolo Sánchez: Pitos, Silencio.<br />"El Juli": Saludos, Silencio.<br />Alejandro Talavante: Vuelta al ruedo con un aviso (pollo), Silencio.<br />Seis toros de El Ventorrillo.<br />Lluvia.<br />Con Alex.Heather Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11505047181063479727noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1557947572984269291.post-89007736975929859592010-06-09T01:33:00.000-07:002010-06-09T01:53:29.258-07:00Orgiva, España<OBJECT id=BLOG_video-79b3973576d0083 class=BLOG_video_class width=320 height=266 contentId="79b3973576d0083"></OBJECT>Heather Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11505047181063479727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1557947572984269291.post-66753194827319650272010-06-07T22:00:00.000-07:002010-06-09T04:43:27.825-07:00Amuleto Vudú: Otto<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoQNUpyQ-vTF-GslER12QmN1tTBvApILFAoRDiT71Zr4VvmtEUfHq1TwnLmsiPTacyu-IYPhjyh03_03eYOjq_D9_foTwVY8TuejH_7XWPmW3E-rcYDaKWLTu3aEgjhuA7Bw488j5y-F0/s1600/otto-fotbolista.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 272px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoQNUpyQ-vTF-GslER12QmN1tTBvApILFAoRDiT71Zr4VvmtEUfHq1TwnLmsiPTacyu-IYPhjyh03_03eYOjq_D9_foTwVY8TuejH_7XWPmW3E-rcYDaKWLTu3aEgjhuA7Bw488j5y-F0/s320/otto-fotbolista.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480736819674790546" /></a><br />How to insure that Spain wins the Euro Cup, or World Cup, or whatever international soccer tournament you want: Otto, the secret weapon. During the 2008 Euro Cup, Spain met Otto, a voodoo doll looking like a soccer player who is already barely able to limp off the field. We only found Otto this week, but we’re ready to put him to use for the World Cup. Since he comes with 24 different national flags, we’re able to help either Spain or the US defeat all challengers.<br /><br />Alex translates Otto’s packaging:<br /><br /><strong>Guarantee the victory of your favorite team</strong><br />In your hands lay Otto, a magical figure, an authentic amulet known for changing the destiny of soccer matches. With Otto, getting goals is as easy as scoring goals when there isn't a goalie.<br /><br />With the help of this prodigious talisman the triumph of your favorite soccer team is a piece of cake; the success rate is monstrous. Finish with unfair judgments from the umpire like fouls and penalty kicks, and leave behind the suffering that comes in the last couple minutes of a game. This year, with Otto, your team will win.<br /><br /><strong>How to use Otto</strong><br />All that you have to do is hold Otto in your left hand and place the flag of the opposing team on his shirt. Close your eyes and concentrate and hope and wish with all your strength that your team will score a goal. <br /><br />Next, pick up a pin and hold it firmly with your index finger and insert the pin into whichever part of Otto that you would like to see reflected in your opponent. Finish by inserting the remaining 3 needles, but measure your euphoria, so that later it hits you even harder.<br /><br />Immediately afterward you should see the effects. The game should rapidly change face and your team will kick some butt.<br /><br />Be careful with the voodoo doll, it is not a toy, but rather an important tool.<br />Recommended age: older than sixteen, but even this with adult supervision.Heather Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11505047181063479727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1557947572984269291.post-81181673118915218742010-05-31T22:00:00.000-07:002010-06-14T10:23:51.886-07:00Corrida<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy-uE2uvlHmh0mMyFTTfOrPvx4gkcBSrA60pS6un0XFxisdIXYQmsUd7MSlav4qO3YVklwBGekaVQI5KoHLwGXzFqYrYRSMUbCpXbjkTkEWQAQsb0gqV2q-rSqW8yznvZhdR7ODkqxLHo/s1600/Toros-Light.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 216px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy-uE2uvlHmh0mMyFTTfOrPvx4gkcBSrA60pS6un0XFxisdIXYQmsUd7MSlav4qO3YVklwBGekaVQI5KoHLwGXzFqYrYRSMUbCpXbjkTkEWQAQsb0gqV2q-rSqW8yznvZhdR7ODkqxLHo/s320/Toros-Light.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480341379631907010" /></a><br /><blockquote>"Que asco de granadería" "Hoy Toros Light"</blockquote><br />Anodino comienzo del Aniversario<br />31 de mayo de 2010.<br />Corrida de toros.<br />Diego Urdiales: Silencio, Silencio con un aviso<br />Rubén Pinar: Silencio, Silencio<br />Miguel Tendero: Pitos con un aviso, Silencio<br />Seis toros de Valdefresno.<br />Con Brad, Lori, Ian, Allie, Brynna, y Alex.Heather Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11505047181063479727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1557947572984269291.post-70856109090392049472010-05-28T14:34:00.000-07:002010-05-28T09:44:07.328-07:00Ángel Caído<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmZCl5OCzwJSa8TSgtKIlYMbgGgXg56N2oMmToJzPAEfkasuxrSwje1Ik2GJhtn1T3GfzD9Gj4PhIVQceouMM3sB8EF1cc5FNG1HxBPDtfCVkv-8UOoArFW7K1K3dQ46ewAZB33FeATGY/s1600/angel-full.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmZCl5OCzwJSa8TSgtKIlYMbgGgXg56N2oMmToJzPAEfkasuxrSwje1Ik2GJhtn1T3GfzD9Gj4PhIVQceouMM3sB8EF1cc5FNG1HxBPDtfCVkv-8UOoArFW7K1K3dQ46ewAZB33FeATGY/s320/angel-full.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476289747433793826" /></a><br />There is a statue in the Retiro Park of the <em>Ángel Caído</em>, the Fallen Angel. We made of special trip to find it on a sunny weekend morning. And it has me thinking. Not about Lucifer, or redemption, or the hopelessness thereof for fallen angels or people guilty of deadly sins. It has me thinking about art and how we respond to it.<br /><br />This beautiful sculpture stands on top of a tall pillar, making it very difficult to really experience. I’d read about how spectacular the <em>Ángel Caído </em>was, but I was a little disappointed. I was much more engaged by the gargoyle-like fountains around its base. If there was a story told, I heard it through these scary creatures at eye level. I walked around and around examining the details: who was eating what and why?<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7zIFUDMCz3pzeaLn1-7w4Ish4iOH82ShCCf82S6DMeBuC4xWS1YR_Sht-kqXlzAIMPNoue6sSSlYffilNhU7zPy8jpuocsDKh5ap1NID1CYq9ARm8G-ZOLAVEpKisBrb1iClwSdSveGI/s1600/angel-base.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 156px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7zIFUDMCz3pzeaLn1-7w4Ish4iOH82ShCCf82S6DMeBuC4xWS1YR_Sht-kqXlzAIMPNoue6sSSlYffilNhU7zPy8jpuocsDKh5ap1NID1CYq9ARm8G-ZOLAVEpKisBrb1iClwSdSveGI/s320/angel-base.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476289769628665378" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik8-pDO9bNXEYAadgf1-Fwo0b3GsICMZRgjVVm5eEabggoVHs6nCg_miYro3p1Qj6Cu-b5URxsklw8No5N4T_ECqd7g9Vqa2m9Ej5i_29lNvKQVZdgI2MsEZbT63N55GTH-MP4CHgkBM8/s1600/angel-garg-1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik8-pDO9bNXEYAadgf1-Fwo0b3GsICMZRgjVVm5eEabggoVHs6nCg_miYro3p1Qj6Cu-b5URxsklw8No5N4T_ECqd7g9Vqa2m9Ej5i_29lNvKQVZdgI2MsEZbT63N55GTH-MP4CHgkBM8/s320/angel-garg-1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476289761594528738" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsXdoxkNDefOl65DunHicrepuSdXfavnFaZd5ETYwjqFt5m3DZFywkDJfkoEHXBoXW7TsOyS-mYBlN1OrixqqytWDTRq3LhwYL6h2ap9HHI8s2Ye970dNP24JdC02TpED7QpHIaNt9xXA/s1600/angel-garg-2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsXdoxkNDefOl65DunHicrepuSdXfavnFaZd5ETYwjqFt5m3DZFywkDJfkoEHXBoXW7TsOyS-mYBlN1OrixqqytWDTRq3LhwYL6h2ap9HHI8s2Ye970dNP24JdC02TpED7QpHIaNt9xXA/s320/angel-garg-2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476289750814362002" /></a><br />Art surrounds us, both religious and secular. Images of Mary and Jesus and the saints. Kings and queens. Conquerors. Explorers. Events both real and mythological. Art is important so we don’t forget our stories, our history. <br /><br />I'm wondering about how we respond to art. And the fact that <em>how </em>it is displayed impacts our experience of it greatly. Lucifer at the top of the pillar does not move me. Later I saw a replica of the same statue, its pedestal raised it only inches, meaning that <em>this </em>Lucifer was at eye level. I circled him, enchanted by the figure’s beauty, the anguish on his face, the serpent pulling him to the pits of hell. <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUHN5WV_IPBBQoe1t58fHo9kkZ4ymKOU-37HWAYu_k89glHV_N8HynwBpz0hwhNKEw31EkDYkEfomxkJ2t3DaUTOkNfM3urbqBxL-6n2p7iOP956_k4Low4dYBGDRMPcDlmv-Za7SWYPA/s1600/angel-only.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUHN5WV_IPBBQoe1t58fHo9kkZ4ymKOU-37HWAYu_k89glHV_N8HynwBpz0hwhNKEw31EkDYkEfomxkJ2t3DaUTOkNfM3urbqBxL-6n2p7iOP956_k4Low4dYBGDRMPcDlmv-Za7SWYPA/s320/angel-only.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476290635635897682" /></a>In Catholic Spain, when you visit a church, you are more likely than not to see people kneeling, praying, crying, at an image of Mary. Is it the art that moves them, or simply that it is Mary? Or that the person moved to tears is in a holy place that has set the stage? <br /><br />In the Prado, I get to thinking about all those altarpiece paintings of Mary with bared breast. I can’t help but think that they were a distraction to the altar boys. There is one painting in particular that baffles me. Murillo’s <a href="http://www.museodelprado.es/en/the-collection/online-gallery/on-line-gallery/obra/the-virgin-appears-to-saint-bernard/">The Virgin Appears to St. Bernard</a>. In it, Mary squirts milk from her bare, engorged breast straight at St. Bernard’s lips. Maybe I’m just a non-religious cynic, but I’m having a hard time believing that all the altar boys and celibate monks were thinking about St. Bernard’s holiness when they saw this painting hanging over the altar when their attention wandered during mass. But who knows, maybe when it's up behind the altar, it's different.<br /><br />But in the Prado, I'm somewhat irritated about seeing Mary’s breasts everywhere. I’m not offended by her breasts, or images of her nursing her baby. I’m irritated that the church flaunts Mary’s holy breasts everywhere, while, apparently every other female breast throughout history has been sinful. What would St. Bernard have said to a young nursing mother with equally bared chest in the town square? And thus my mind wanders. <br /><br />In the museum, it's too much. Too many images in one place, <em>out of place</em>. It's too easy to take them out of context and end up in a feminist rant. They weren't really meant to be seen this way. They were meant to be displayed in a holy place, where people go to worship. It's too easy to end up back at the base of the pillar laughing at the coarse creatures, entirely missing the story going on above.Heather Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11505047181063479727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1557947572984269291.post-6878260204985688822010-05-25T03:16:00.001-07:002010-05-25T03:54:20.602-07:00Laguna de los Párjaros<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjwl4sU8xsjwLB6zTVof3QqK7KXVUSfpMHS1BKxIShR_2Uvm2If9s6Dux6bqmKngyIyqYnC4YFHK-l2ycf6mQNhNS0QxFpMQB-vtFBHDGZAYk7SuKeVuP4En4h-Ky_ZURy3lART5rTX-g/s1600/5+trail-sign.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjwl4sU8xsjwLB6zTVof3QqK7KXVUSfpMHS1BKxIShR_2Uvm2If9s6Dux6bqmKngyIyqYnC4YFHK-l2ycf6mQNhNS0QxFpMQB-vtFBHDGZAYk7SuKeVuP4En4h-Ky_ZURy3lART5rTX-g/s320/5+trail-sign.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475153646426248674" /></a><br />On Sunday, we went to the Sierra. The Sierra de Guadarrama. With all the differentness of living in Madrid, I'm struck by how much I feel at home when we are in the Sierra, even if they are not <em>our</em> Sierra. We have longed for the mountains this year. I feel a little sad that we didn't make an effort to spend more time in the hills earlier. But at the end of the day, being in the mountains here is very much like being in the mountains anywhere. Maybe it was okay to stay out of that comfort zone for the year. We'll have plenty of mountain time back in our home range.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmRNamdQQECu2hDSGQYdBRtn9_MOWpSUpfdA2vGEpsrINJosom0TVbH7HhE7MFISEHAL24nxtGsG8hkOoVrA5zkSj04rYWcVQupccOXtL6juu5zTeret6Ue_6YOyZnH1w7f9j5zufL7XA/s1600/1+cercedilla-station.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmRNamdQQECu2hDSGQYdBRtn9_MOWpSUpfdA2vGEpsrINJosom0TVbH7HhE7MFISEHAL24nxtGsG8hkOoVrA5zkSj04rYWcVQupccOXtL6juu5zTeret6Ue_6YOyZnH1w7f9j5zufL7XA/s320/1+cercedilla-station.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475152727035302562" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVDFrFyDIncxTMuf1Qo0W9fX1ILl4hzHLV5asRMe_PV9MqlHcPpAftWIts8YlRGQUt3a9alGsEqqjw4L9Tj1TbXc5wluACqebNEVF_wyu4MV0FvP4znwEQY3yUzM6Rb_00OOENSCC_F9Q/s1600/2+Mnt-train.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVDFrFyDIncxTMuf1Qo0W9fX1ILl4hzHLV5asRMe_PV9MqlHcPpAftWIts8YlRGQUt3a9alGsEqqjw4L9Tj1TbXc5wluACqebNEVF_wyu4MV0FvP4znwEQY3yUzM6Rb_00OOENSCC_F9Q/s320/2+Mnt-train.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475152718448183394" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlExK0EkxdiIKocCe2tHeMLn9CKQbao1cQ1NF5THLn1X1e_d91CdZpCOE70FfSAeRxCWfAMQ_zBBC9VxG8aneP7dmYEydRF1MJpCNadz25Udn2VvPFBo_mC7ZWZOkZAbR_6h9GuWpNDEg/s1600/3+on-the-train.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlExK0EkxdiIKocCe2tHeMLn9CKQbao1cQ1NF5THLn1X1e_d91CdZpCOE70FfSAeRxCWfAMQ_zBBC9VxG8aneP7dmYEydRF1MJpCNadz25Udn2VvPFBo_mC7ZWZOkZAbR_6h9GuWpNDEg/s320/3+on-the-train.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475152719364605154" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHkvKkq9P4FA-GmEA_t7Smvivt_MVH8hFZECROEBwzLlo47qmhrxlbzTLqkQUbIJiCtdPfx6_yC75lOCsMTIeslPSWNOIWZ0Vwd1B46IYy3lcpsBJXyARlHAOmRtTzOhRNoqovW72KEF0/s1600/4+Water-stop.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHkvKkq9P4FA-GmEA_t7Smvivt_MVH8hFZECROEBwzLlo47qmhrxlbzTLqkQUbIJiCtdPfx6_yC75lOCsMTIeslPSWNOIWZ0Vwd1B46IYy3lcpsBJXyARlHAOmRtTzOhRNoqovW72KEF0/s320/4+Water-stop.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475152712363700034" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-PnCSQXUKkAsQVEB5vHhgNM6SS8Bgrts5kVQJfSLfmIDeKs0EOJBMuXcF3wTfA34EfYjCGgKZl7pnos6F2hLAQvS9taG-zCC1gzotXV0GVgv1dARvWa0ZPWRFQyAaax1XvkJMzB2pF_M/s1600/6+looking-for-critters.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-PnCSQXUKkAsQVEB5vHhgNM6SS8Bgrts5kVQJfSLfmIDeKs0EOJBMuXcF3wTfA34EfYjCGgKZl7pnos6F2hLAQvS9taG-zCC1gzotXV0GVgv1dARvWa0ZPWRFQyAaax1XvkJMzB2pF_M/s320/6+looking-for-critters.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475153643097933890" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr6VUWjOlAqR-QLZcegxbdeBjSZ9xdtD9DZLBQ-UY2dneri2TnbgTkKuaGS3RykQ7V-PykWClA4qfkrjbE5eOvUWMkXYfXvK5lBFodxWUtqpSdg2x0MqAKC3L3okdHh9dos_4ep0mefho/s1600/7+frog.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr6VUWjOlAqR-QLZcegxbdeBjSZ9xdtD9DZLBQ-UY2dneri2TnbgTkKuaGS3RykQ7V-PykWClA4qfkrjbE5eOvUWMkXYfXvK5lBFodxWUtqpSdg2x0MqAKC3L3okdHh9dos_4ep0mefho/s320/7+frog.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475153638915546082" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7JYo07FMl4jpiYihOE00kcBMZ3v64dZA2clIuJPg5QuBUeEqwT3csaIjtP8CRDRx55jgX8T0LyfEOM0IzONEeagkrUr-e1dyO5LH7yZzDeRw6SQSSF2ENtOxFuoea_3w25ua4DvQscqQ/s1600/8+lizardo.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7JYo07FMl4jpiYihOE00kcBMZ3v64dZA2clIuJPg5QuBUeEqwT3csaIjtP8CRDRx55jgX8T0LyfEOM0IzONEeagkrUr-e1dyO5LH7yZzDeRw6SQSSF2ENtOxFuoea_3w25ua4DvQscqQ/s320/8+lizardo.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475153638325296786" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7XvsoObS7INHg9ZDW1dqu92O6m5lJ6E2BII48u0Ptsv8OAwjQzkhTDs1HtF-AMz_vTw7q50AzNs13qod3YXZuwJTL6FsMaz0jeN_UaiZku_-6OakbL4B_dtAPQ5sJOVOIQJ6EHlHS2AM/s1600/9+flowers-closeup.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7XvsoObS7INHg9ZDW1dqu92O6m5lJ6E2BII48u0Ptsv8OAwjQzkhTDs1HtF-AMz_vTw7q50AzNs13qod3YXZuwJTL6FsMaz0jeN_UaiZku_-6OakbL4B_dtAPQ5sJOVOIQJ6EHlHS2AM/s320/9+flowers-closeup.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475153628407025682" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUXPJ_8IippoaotXQI_jKemkznlxFdRHfGBdv39qTk7zAmBEr-FXkKVH2G9FtI5-HXe3RpOTEc5z6jB1AtnAj-T81_isFmzzpGSCX_FTcWi8X_Y3OJqRGX_l-y53DhQFMI37xoaje_I2c/s1600/10+flowers.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUXPJ_8IippoaotXQI_jKemkznlxFdRHfGBdv39qTk7zAmBEr-FXkKVH2G9FtI5-HXe3RpOTEc5z6jB1AtnAj-T81_isFmzzpGSCX_FTcWi8X_Y3OJqRGX_l-y53DhQFMI37xoaje_I2c/s320/10+flowers.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475152280146172274" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbnC4rA0hVVCqjKG_I8pBAGAXW_tCUNhlo0U-twh7T9nex9gvzA89AjPcbun-7INzgHJCMOBQFhAfi1p8bkF4njQAvMfqZlM-SMKs3ug6OUM-YOBJ45r7lLehb7AJ6g6yJCKK_iLHsxbg/s1600/11+cairn.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbnC4rA0hVVCqjKG_I8pBAGAXW_tCUNhlo0U-twh7T9nex9gvzA89AjPcbun-7INzgHJCMOBQFhAfi1p8bkF4njQAvMfqZlM-SMKs3ug6OUM-YOBJ45r7lLehb7AJ6g6yJCKK_iLHsxbg/s320/11+cairn.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475152274525111138" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgmizKEcvEroIFq0mRDR1D-0hzWqGS_Ms8DLMPWccQuCEgz6YGzGXxpvL3JosEl4wWxJ02pTkCXp4AHqdTJxVXElVGLiXfpZqK0-6xfxshK8DxItOcNyjrYYys2EZvnSsmClCSvVCrLRo/s1600/12+god-in-the-clouds.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgmizKEcvEroIFq0mRDR1D-0hzWqGS_Ms8DLMPWccQuCEgz6YGzGXxpvL3JosEl4wWxJ02pTkCXp4AHqdTJxVXElVGLiXfpZqK0-6xfxshK8DxItOcNyjrYYys2EZvnSsmClCSvVCrLRo/s320/12+god-in-the-clouds.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475152269489985138" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEP4qbWcrqTLxuCyQzsH0su8pQ0jdgvLPab9OqvWL7R8piYcOGEfoZRWniZ_3hmc1tTzP2fwhuYKrxkmf-qnXh8fHFS3WBCaEDFv7RRoNeYiMAGpx8qByGhrLeBr8NFdo0R2xPgfmW7Gg/s1600/13+lunch-at-luguna.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEP4qbWcrqTLxuCyQzsH0su8pQ0jdgvLPab9OqvWL7R8piYcOGEfoZRWniZ_3hmc1tTzP2fwhuYKrxkmf-qnXh8fHFS3WBCaEDFv7RRoNeYiMAGpx8qByGhrLeBr8NFdo0R2xPgfmW7Gg/s320/13+lunch-at-luguna.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475152267135691010" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvVkCU3_ayIckkoErawE70OJrsh41BIfzwrVth2D8VWjAMFuECeiDiYChKKtd7_V2yHVzTKcRC2khSl7VGG1g6KQveMsFp5nW4PwPtp3yWISypV14hDe2gPYg6fRVLNsTLOhxfEOpCOlU/s1600/14+laguna-sign.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvVkCU3_ayIckkoErawE70OJrsh41BIfzwrVth2D8VWjAMFuECeiDiYChKKtd7_V2yHVzTKcRC2khSl7VGG1g6KQveMsFp5nW4PwPtp3yWISypV14hDe2gPYg6fRVLNsTLOhxfEOpCOlU/s320/14+laguna-sign.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475152265103404450" /></a>Heather Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11505047181063479727noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1557947572984269291.post-7229427892992824712010-05-25T01:31:00.000-07:002010-05-25T01:34:40.218-07:00Corrida24 de mayo de 2010. Novillada con picadores.<br />Arturo Saldívar: Silencio, Palmas<br />Luis Miguel Casares: Silencio, Silencio<br />Cristian Escribano: Palmas con un aviso,Silencio<br />Seis novillos de Guadaira.<br />Con Alex.Heather Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11505047181063479727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1557947572984269291.post-20687790421187943882010-05-21T04:10:00.000-07:002010-05-21T05:12:48.356-07:00Grilled<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-PWaGkYooYEFw08v0NrCDqUiwE8rBSYHV_bRG_Py3lCx5f7-eR_mRiKzOxgV7ihluhUFOyc_txOJExfmEPcI76k5NocO2kyVlxpmmw1R1qO2km4lvs61ZM2TizMUPaEwFePHbdr_JGJU/s1600/grill-fish.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-PWaGkYooYEFw08v0NrCDqUiwE8rBSYHV_bRG_Py3lCx5f7-eR_mRiKzOxgV7ihluhUFOyc_txOJExfmEPcI76k5NocO2kyVlxpmmw1R1qO2km4lvs61ZM2TizMUPaEwFePHbdr_JGJU/s320/grill-fish.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473682420757554914" /></a><br />Fresh whole fish on the grill. It was too much to resist. We were at a friend’s house last weekend, enjoying grilled fish and veggies, and the countryside, the fresh air. I was in heaven. And feeling a bit homesick for the grill. I love our grill. It’s Jack’s grill, a 50th birthday present. But to tell the truth, he doesn’t use it as much as I do, though he reaps its rewards. I'm daydream about cooking back home…but back to grilling in Spain.<br /><br />After the barbeque at Migel and Sonya’s house, I was aching for a grill. We have a lovely tiled terrace on the top floor of our building -- perfect to house a new grill. I remembered by aunt saying that grills had been banned from their apartment building in DC because they were a fire hazard. So I checked with Benito, the porter, who knows a lot about the rules. To my surprise, he didn’t think it was a problem.<br /><br />So, I procured a portable grill and some coals, and headed to the market. I bought fresh fish, zucchini and pineapple to cook over the fire. They were tasty. Everyone enjoyed them. And the mom was happy.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgezcavDs_b2lJttW3vTPzW6-6t2tGp8Dxzv623zKDPhuNvyam-4b_J2GdqSQH6XKBoTgp3QQc7JykHqYVydGJ9TGNHmP9lTGumdjNqMbLGpkyRxLyC_9UAbc3gDxEtb_C7H-LKJGu6MyA/s1600/grill-anna.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgezcavDs_b2lJttW3vTPzW6-6t2tGp8Dxzv623zKDPhuNvyam-4b_J2GdqSQH6XKBoTgp3QQc7JykHqYVydGJ9TGNHmP9lTGumdjNqMbLGpkyRxLyC_9UAbc3gDxEtb_C7H-LKJGu6MyA/s320/grill-anna.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473682416599193954" /></a><br />The next day I bought BBQ sauce and chicken. <br /><br />It was a little tricky starting the fire without adequate supplies. So much so that it started chipping away at the little thrill I was getting out of having a grill on the teraza. And I kept thinking about my aunt’s comment. And the fact that there is no fire escape in the building. Can you believe it? Apartment buildings here do not have fire escapes. If you can’t make it down the interior stairwell you are done in. I was having a hard time cooking my chicken with my pathetic little fire. And the joy was dwindling by the minute.<br /><br />The next day Jack was telling his officemate about the new grill. “Are you crazy?! You can’t light a grill in an apartment building! Of course they aren’t allowed!” <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjTYlP2vAQQAFmjDhoEBha6DpcIK4VBNPCRibBvK557jcEAVRwUEsWIVLsZZ0pcfTkhWqDIAd_MKz81pHz8SjR6whkk663-UyZ7D5upremB7luLz-rE5r0J2x75lp7FRiIJJ3we0_l2Ns/s1600/grill-at-home.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjTYlP2vAQQAFmjDhoEBha6DpcIK4VBNPCRibBvK557jcEAVRwUEsWIVLsZZ0pcfTkhWqDIAd_MKz81pHz8SjR6whkk663-UyZ7D5upremB7luLz-rE5r0J2x75lp7FRiIJJ3we0_l2Ns/s320/grill-at-home.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473682412171162082" /></a><br />I’m back to fantasizing about the beautiful, big grill on the deck at home. We’re close enough to our return date that I’m allowing myself these little indulgences.Heather Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11505047181063479727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1557947572984269291.post-7779154626794584692010-05-18T10:09:00.000-07:002010-05-18T11:04:51.417-07:00Backtracking<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh48-zR86dUzFkUhYghvgc51XjA8jHUiGf_yUSGvYhdF7L395C1Wi8QHC7CL2H64xhJg-lYtljO7GzJF-ieYv_NIMcqq9rSpkTlsy1oWrYg-sr7lL2EvOjhyY8XjjMM_UQL8IkUsqGcg8I/s1600/may-flower.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh48-zR86dUzFkUhYghvgc51XjA8jHUiGf_yUSGvYhdF7L395C1Wi8QHC7CL2H64xhJg-lYtljO7GzJF-ieYv_NIMcqq9rSpkTlsy1oWrYg-sr7lL2EvOjhyY8XjjMM_UQL8IkUsqGcg8I/s320/may-flower.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472661524682078706" /></a><br />Spring has sprung. The warmth and sunshine have brought optimism. And I'm backtracking, catching up on notes to myself, as it were. <br /><br />It was a long, hard winter. And I couldn't find the gumption to write notes about what we were up to, when it seemed that all we were up to was holding everyone together.<br /><br />The sun is out, the light at the end of the tunnel is in sight for those who needed it the most during the cold, scary winter.<br /><br />I'm back dating entries so the stories fall into the right places. And I'm having a delightful time processing the memories now while they are still fresh. Now that it feels safe to be happy and laugh again.Heather Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11505047181063479727noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1557947572984269291.post-47388091407495575302010-05-18T03:29:00.001-07:002010-05-18T11:07:22.795-07:00Daily torture<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkRDml6QW1J3FKjV90QZ_lHobppwKxCCxgmkLnWwpTQ3YBSOpo67NsZsgFZzpULSzM1kak3fRqVhmNiDsy-11zNnaPV0JsueJNKoON16ckB3RKrkOzYTG_1mlAZLd3gNcciIEYsH5GxF8/s1600/Daily-torture.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkRDml6QW1J3FKjV90QZ_lHobppwKxCCxgmkLnWwpTQ3YBSOpo67NsZsgFZzpULSzM1kak3fRqVhmNiDsy-11zNnaPV0JsueJNKoON16ckB3RKrkOzYTG_1mlAZLd3gNcciIEYsH5GxF8/s320/Daily-torture.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472555989388993346" /></a><br /><blockquote>The sign says "Your euros = our daily torture by music"</blockquote><br />Plaza Santa Ana is famous for being one of Hemmingway's favorite place to hang out in Madrid. Tourist flock there to enjoy the sunny terazas. And therefore, so flock the street musicians and various other entrepreneurs trying to make a buck, or rather, a Euro, off the tourists. But the neighbors have had enough. That same old accordion song from dawn until dusk is setting them off. One woman went on TV to plead to the authorities to make them stop. Her baby can't sleep. They can't hear their own TV or radio. So, please, they beg, take your damn music someplace else.Heather Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11505047181063479727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1557947572984269291.post-11307750762784270982010-05-17T22:00:00.000-07:002010-05-25T01:35:38.362-07:00Corrida<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivfV4zYmp9KT3tRW50e1XLGTh_dvLx_Yj2PHnOB8ZlJjS5KIOUdYGlSH-PTd3ZNYMlXAKXOb_7MqF2UeFcetGs83V_HUPjYshTKP_qZdLoCYnr25_UGuyzuA3JE-6GwMa6bcZLLJyfD24/s1600/Corrida-17-mayo.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 275px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivfV4zYmp9KT3tRW50e1XLGTh_dvLx_Yj2PHnOB8ZlJjS5KIOUdYGlSH-PTd3ZNYMlXAKXOb_7MqF2UeFcetGs83V_HUPjYshTKP_qZdLoCYnr25_UGuyzuA3JE-6GwMa6bcZLLJyfD24/s320/Corrida-17-mayo.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472517041778995410" /></a><br />17 de mayo de 2010. Novillada con picadores<br />Paco Chaves: Pios con tres avisos, Bronca<br />Miguel Hidalgo: Silencio, Pitos tras tres avisos<br />Antonio Rosales: Silencio, Saludos<br />Seis novillos de José Joaquín Moreno Silva<br />Con Alex.Heather Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11505047181063479727noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1557947572984269291.post-5640393411285973182010-05-15T01:10:00.000-07:002010-05-18T10:25:12.110-07:00Happy Birthday Gran Via<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieGB25lt6HRHeHJP1dC7o2OlMbfDLo9di4XjrBpL9nzu4LqRbcv1D60w0BXjRQe8URuwJrSrVqB_qifXqcqSBpXrLvzcE6RiUPeEC201NnTYHTgFbf5nd7oYtDBqLxPX-9n8-ACjrUF2w/s1600/Gran+Via+1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieGB25lt6HRHeHJP1dC7o2OlMbfDLo9di4XjrBpL9nzu4LqRbcv1D60w0BXjRQe8URuwJrSrVqB_qifXqcqSBpXrLvzcE6RiUPeEC201NnTYHTgFbf5nd7oYtDBqLxPX-9n8-ACjrUF2w/s320/Gran+Via+1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472522901799184786" /></a><br />Gran Via is Madrid’s Broadway. It runs through the heart of old Madrid. On a normal Friday night, people are packed shoulder to shoulder on the sidewalks once the sun goes down. But this week was special. Gran Via turned 100 years old. So, it was time for a party. The city wrapped the big birthday bash into May 15th San Isidro celebrations, the festival day for the city’s patron saint. And what a party it was.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBThN9ZtdWcw-NmfWoYkfLY3nn5_6sfksKTA5Cl26NEZBz0OLkr7MtOxWGJ0wes8BytBAJyjZhxwRz7e8cAWEYnpBVM8wA4HMI1TE-xeWpPnzlF6B3RU_jol_VlvGFq3-w5dQkPEH6rso/s1600/Gran-Via-13.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBThN9ZtdWcw-NmfWoYkfLY3nn5_6sfksKTA5Cl26NEZBz0OLkr7MtOxWGJ0wes8BytBAJyjZhxwRz7e8cAWEYnpBVM8wA4HMI1TE-xeWpPnzlF6B3RU_jol_VlvGFq3-w5dQkPEH6rso/s320/Gran-Via-13.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472522904481201986" /></a><br />The street was carpeted from end to end for the evening of the big party, which was supposed to start at 6:00 pm. The bright blue carpet was cordoned off from all traffic or pedestrians. At about 5:00 pm it started to become too difficult to resist and Madrileños started sneaking out into the Gran Via vast blue sea for a quick photo op. Then around the edges, people started dipping their feet in, and leaving them there. By 5:30, a serious leak had occurred in one section of the street, where people were openly wading in and enjoying the waters. Eventually, all pretense of waiting for the official opening was lost, and the crowd delighted in taking Gran Via in completely. <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdvAt0VXvLtzEEahjBierU7ulLanBIcKmVHdy5d50XgVB3iHXpdzc0z407fi0a2SYox4gnwNX09cqUTd1JXvCzkLarwTPWtLm_oJZQ5rSwApcxtyKeN7YLJZ8KPzkXKpITQV7csh2WrCA/s1600/Gran-Via-12.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdvAt0VXvLtzEEahjBierU7ulLanBIcKmVHdy5d50XgVB3iHXpdzc0z407fi0a2SYox4gnwNX09cqUTd1JXvCzkLarwTPWtLm_oJZQ5rSwApcxtyKeN7YLJZ8KPzkXKpITQV7csh2WrCA/s320/Gran-Via-12.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472522911303306034" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj1lge8B_iSbzEoXOXDtVd_LfTNJoE86OW9Q_TTn0iyR_lSalApAtxm5bgzAml9E0yavMcU9-xRBYGbam55-1-CwJI1CqGrLVyT0z3kYAXlmBa_jFh4rv_tm2I7hZtM5SH7_eMN7UTuL8/s1600/gran+via+7.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj1lge8B_iSbzEoXOXDtVd_LfTNJoE86OW9Q_TTn0iyR_lSalApAtxm5bgzAml9E0yavMcU9-xRBYGbam55-1-CwJI1CqGrLVyT0z3kYAXlmBa_jFh4rv_tm2I7hZtM5SH7_eMN7UTuL8/s320/gran+via+7.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472525343690316642" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlfnIjomCzGgsSwYHX7x7-hoEpg5ieHThl2mSPSANlc8nt01wM9Vfaj8bdjtv5yNVFmD6Vd6zseLHgwtnNXVkfC7Ci1uZ5l_ZKEPbMkjndKtMefj1ri4x5pW9gLDVFReXsyMK-r96X3tA/s1600/Gran+Via+11.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 224px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlfnIjomCzGgsSwYHX7x7-hoEpg5ieHThl2mSPSANlc8nt01wM9Vfaj8bdjtv5yNVFmD6Vd6zseLHgwtnNXVkfC7Ci1uZ5l_ZKEPbMkjndKtMefj1ri4x5pW9gLDVFReXsyMK-r96X3tA/s320/Gran+Via+11.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472522915676530594" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixb9iKapQEnk7VnzWbl1HeJ9q_NPCJ-zP9JHFCN3oeOZELtQKyDztpfduyVHoH9aRbZThmiQBh8ATkuWSDgCzfD4VB3xJd3uGW2MhP9CYcrxQdCw8ld8NnWXGPZIXEMyfkYdTvV76bYK8/s1600/Gran+Via+10.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 262px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixb9iKapQEnk7VnzWbl1HeJ9q_NPCJ-zP9JHFCN3oeOZELtQKyDztpfduyVHoH9aRbZThmiQBh8ATkuWSDgCzfD4VB3xJd3uGW2MhP9CYcrxQdCw8ld8NnWXGPZIXEMyfkYdTvV76bYK8/s320/Gran+Via+10.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472522920117331938" /></a><br /><br />The best part was watching everyone posing to capture their moment on the carpet. Until at last, the crowd was so dense that you simply had to be pulled along by the current, from one music stage to next.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGBkXzpn0Z_wmGVHdZBD6rDQowh6b5SZYN7vkNVOlmmDinDM_-2jlxV2TLnzEX7IXbsBOTwKBLMJU1ueCsTh0clwunfUsaLj9GK4oScmk95wQ_oAQ_rcXCifoq39saNW0SEHqAJ_AhwWw/s1600/gran+via+6.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGBkXzpn0Z_wmGVHdZBD6rDQowh6b5SZYN7vkNVOlmmDinDM_-2jlxV2TLnzEX7IXbsBOTwKBLMJU1ueCsTh0clwunfUsaLj9GK4oScmk95wQ_oAQ_rcXCifoq39saNW0SEHqAJ_AhwWw/s320/gran+via+6.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472526463637541538" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdmjclC74lU0QA-baVXsm_p-t9m-Gg8pI5ICXwTzUDLO4DThH1G3Q3RHkJLYg3QCquE-nfLPLUnN7aYdTBi-yomhyphenhyphenOGvGqLsWFfxy1DdvMPqYivf67UBDPLsbOnki6geoqzJlIVwg7Fag/s1600/gran+via+8.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdmjclC74lU0QA-baVXsm_p-t9m-Gg8pI5ICXwTzUDLO4DThH1G3Q3RHkJLYg3QCquE-nfLPLUnN7aYdTBi-yomhyphenhyphenOGvGqLsWFfxy1DdvMPqYivf67UBDPLsbOnki6geoqzJlIVwg7Fag/s320/gran+via+8.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472526469778752690" /></a>Heather Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11505047181063479727noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1557947572984269291.post-58021238377183290872010-05-14T21:00:00.000-07:002010-05-15T03:26:53.982-07:00Rite of passage<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7w2Ps4hktSWieM73lKQon1yncngmV39xqm7lFlaLmeMLW-D-xpaQIy6l4myOoxso-BO130CQXjhbngHxi8eHFVcfrNi3iOEoguBy3mMdGvkahQR_WUt8i4E8TUOmPxdJeipUXSGbPWJQ/s1600/Anna-pierced.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7w2Ps4hktSWieM73lKQon1yncngmV39xqm7lFlaLmeMLW-D-xpaQIy6l4myOoxso-BO130CQXjhbngHxi8eHFVcfrNi3iOEoguBy3mMdGvkahQR_WUt8i4E8TUOmPxdJeipUXSGbPWJQ/s320/Anna-pierced.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471440000115005442" /></a><br />Big day for Anna. With friend Ida in tow, she traversed the fear of the ear piercing gun and arrived adorned on the other side.Heather Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11505047181063479727noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1557947572984269291.post-21686281942436979582010-05-12T22:00:00.000-07:002010-05-28T09:14:51.314-07:00Corrida de Rejones<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha7G0QtX3IOkReL_fcja2OGE47yJyqrTpuqouV7hsj0HtjBfvxGQd-Vgt-VnU7dF5ujAR8nySfwF7Hbcy1cIzhNXa5weppDnYuPMnEs9poGjvjO8pxMNAlCAqaV7Scbi8zzTKqZei9a-w/s1600/rejonadores.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 210px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha7G0QtX3IOkReL_fcja2OGE47yJyqrTpuqouV7hsj0HtjBfvxGQd-Vgt-VnU7dF5ujAR8nySfwF7Hbcy1cIzhNXa5weppDnYuPMnEs9poGjvjO8pxMNAlCAqaV7Scbi8zzTKqZei9a-w/s320/rejonadores.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471119506415929442" /></a><br />If you are upset about bullfighting, stop here. It seems impossible to tell about going to see the bulls and not end up in a confrontation with some people. In fact, this is how our evening began. Alex and I were rushing to catch the Metro to Las Ventas - Madrid's bullfighting arena. On the way, we ran into my Spanish teacher. After a quick conversation, I explained that we were pressed for time and had to run. “We’re going to Las Ventas!” Alex told her. She pushed me away and yelled, “I hate you people!” Wow. Okay. Last time we make that mistake. We did embrace before saying goodbye, but her sentiment was clear. We pressed on nevertheless. <br /><br />We were going to see a <EM>corrida de rejones</EM>. Instead of matadors working on foot, the <em>toreros </em>are mounted on horses. We made it to our seats just in time for the <em>paseillo </em>– the parade of all the participants into the ring. <br /><br />The two Spanish <EM>rejoneadores </EM>were dressed much more subduedly than their matador counterparts, in dark jackets rather than the brightly colored, sparkling <em>trajes de luz </em> (suits of light). However, the Portuguese of the trio was in his country’s traditional attire for the event – looking like a prince from the 18th century. His horse was equally adorned. Lovely. This chap, Rui Fernandes, had a long flowing mane of his own, and inspired shouts of “<EM>Guapo</EM>!”(Hottie!) from a woman near us each time he approached our side of the arena. <br /><br />The <em>paseillo </em>ended by unnerving everyone when Guapo’s horse reared and threw him. <em>What did this foretell of the evening?</em> we worried. As the newspaper reported the next morning, the crowd didn’t know if it should gasp or laugh. <br /><br />The first two bulls were lethargic and a great disappointment to all. Alex, who has learned much colorful language from his <em>compañeros </em>at school, giggled and squirmed and translated for me the curses being hurled at the lame <em>toros</em>. Though we had been concerned about Guapo, he proved quite capable, and though he got a dud of a bull to fight, we enjoyed watching his horsemanship nonetheless. The second rejoneador, Andy Cortagena, as equally unlucky. <br /><br />But with the third bull, the energy increased and Leonardo Hernández had a worthy antagonist. He displayed awe inspiring equestrian skills and for the first time I had a flash of comprehension of what dressage was really all about. I never understood before why one would dance with a horse, but watching the horse and rider interact with the bull gave the art of dressage new meaning to me. <br /><br />For his fine performance he was awarded one of the bull's ears. While taking his victory lap around the ring, he was honored with many tokens of appreciation thrown at his feet, including a live chicken. <br /><br />From here on out, the evening became more and more electrifying. The Portuguese entered the ring for his second bull. His number one fan in our section continued shouting “<em>Guapo! Guapo!”</em>at each opportunity. Soon a man to our right heralded the call to the princely rejonador. Then more and more men and women were yelling "<em>Guapo</em>", until we were all in. His performance was brilliant, and he also was awarded an ear. <br /><br />The quality of the bulls and the enthusiasm of the crowd inspired even greater performance by Andy Cartagena with his second bull. He performed an intimate dance with the horse and the bull, as if the universe were just the three of them. With his horse he made gestures both grand and subtle. Gestures as grand as humbling himself and his horse on their knees to honor the bull, as well as gestures as subtle as a feint to left to prompt the bull to charge, then redirecting the mass of the man and the horse at once to the right to outwit the bull. <br /><br />A blood chilling moment came when one of the <em>auxiliadores </em>(the rejonedor’s assistants on foot) was working passes with the bull while Cartagena was out of the ring changing horses. The crowd yelled at the man on the ground that he was a fool, that he was too close. At once his body was riding the bull’s horns and flying through the air. The bull charged again before the other auxiliadores could coax him away with their capes. Three times the bull made contact with the man, and for the last the man clung to the horns with his bare hands. At last the bull released him to chase other swinging capes. A veritable miracle occurred when the charged man jumped to his feet unscathed, and continued his roll as auxiliador for the remainder of the corrida. The beauty of the dance was rewarded with an ear from the official, and another chicken from the crowd, in addition to the various other objects that were thrown to the victor as he paraded around the ring. <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4ZSQXka6Hlp_mtaBXHGXylJW1emwqAFCmE1q6SvEEQOTfw8s0zAgrsKw_2FejdMi7om5rOpwrT-841nSHsStk2gxcTZDufE50le6LcG1x0VZS_Nw1Pm0QTubgVrOK4V18Kn2wI3PCpcA/s1600/Rojone---chicken.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 292px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4ZSQXka6Hlp_mtaBXHGXylJW1emwqAFCmE1q6SvEEQOTfw8s0zAgrsKw_2FejdMi7om5rOpwrT-841nSHsStk2gxcTZDufE50le6LcG1x0VZS_Nw1Pm0QTubgVrOK4V18Kn2wI3PCpcA/s320/Rojone---chicken.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472561753609018338" /></a><br />The <em>coup de grace </em>was Hernández’s second performance of the evening, for which he earned two ears and was carried out of the arena on his mens’ shoulders. Again, man and horse and bull seemed locked in their own world for those brief moments in the ring. Ultimately, the magnificence of the horses reign in my mind. <br /><br />The evening was spectacular. Five ears, two chickens, one man thrown from his horse, another man thrown repeated by a bull. A guapo prince, and three dozen noble horses, as well as a <em>puerta grande</em>. <br /><br />And likewise a spectacle. It is impossible to not think of the Colleseum and gladiators. I have chosen not to examine too closely the uncomfortable feelings I have about the bullfights. I have suspended my natural inclination to analyze. Quite frankly, I’d decided not to tell others about the experience of going to the bullfights. But the experience of this night was one not to forget. So, I write about it now for myself and for Alex, as part of our record of our year. <br /><br /><a href="http://asp.las-ventas.com/noticias/video.asp?fecha=20100512&tipo=festejo">Video hightlights of 12 May 2010 Las Ventas web site</a><br /><br />Leonardo Hernández con tres orejas por la Puerta Grande<br />12 de mayo de 2010. Corrida de rejoneo<br />Rui Fernandes: Saludos, Oreja<br />Andy Cartagena: Silencio, Oreja<br />Leonardo Hernández: Oreja, Dos orejas - Puerta grande<br />Seis toros de Luis Terrón<br />Con Alex.Heather Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11505047181063479727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1557947572984269291.post-54272111248227176802010-04-25T22:00:00.000-07:002010-05-25T01:36:45.190-07:00Corrida<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOZ2rwVe-xvAiHCmaRQptkom0AmioOHf8jCbwGGN5PbVMg-llvMt1S5c8rJgdW4GB15ZHTplClcVCd9VbwM56W2hyphenhyphen3D5516J9Qw5JJ0_OisfDCL8u97zU4I6ZnuVsi2A60469MbGz1xdA/s1600/IMG_0324.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 178px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOZ2rwVe-xvAiHCmaRQptkom0AmioOHf8jCbwGGN5PbVMg-llvMt1S5c8rJgdW4GB15ZHTplClcVCd9VbwM56W2hyphenhyphen3D5516J9Qw5JJ0_OisfDCL8u97zU4I6ZnuVsi2A60469MbGz1xdA/s320/IMG_0324.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472542555759816674" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgECffxIp_EoiiW5f4odwbhhAgOiIcKO_iHw_rBbK_uNgRxWkuY2xfvDRL4sAOd0u7HiAVzJjSWd-IR5hB6HF4ksR0MoRiApVdJrIXsIa_ok_V8Ne0e6-PpH7cxVEZhQw1b3NKRLnc7oig/s1600/IMG_0357.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 270px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgECffxIp_EoiiW5f4odwbhhAgOiIcKO_iHw_rBbK_uNgRxWkuY2xfvDRL4sAOd0u7HiAVzJjSWd-IR5hB6HF4ksR0MoRiApVdJrIXsIa_ok_V8Ne0e6-PpH7cxVEZhQw1b3NKRLnc7oig/s320/IMG_0357.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472542550514687218" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAdvNNDxzxTBB_A2EYBgEV8W7V9NtTGpkPMxsp7GYISajfH0y4GrscONEj-PYK_3cfT2VjXI_HBXPRClqvYDc9SWjZsVTguxRA0RETxMJYtkyDjT6I6jn1GoEZk2pirR2oL1K4x-7bG30/s1600/IMG_0412.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 218px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAdvNNDxzxTBB_A2EYBgEV8W7V9NtTGpkPMxsp7GYISajfH0y4GrscONEj-PYK_3cfT2VjXI_HBXPRClqvYDc9SWjZsVTguxRA0RETxMJYtkyDjT6I6jn1GoEZk2pirR2oL1K4x-7bG30/s320/IMG_0412.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472542545617724402" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnV42ud0F0WQZQO3WFuxl-13tnfW0ZxmVq8GLZOBtGDTD6BMCFjX0EP-tKYfAYSnFazpgJJCjteQzY8AL9JE6sy4VCkcKRcp_0n70694wZDHhBUooblDIPPSYZBkcWSsk_oc_xhtMXe3k/s1600/IMG_0420.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnV42ud0F0WQZQO3WFuxl-13tnfW0ZxmVq8GLZOBtGDTD6BMCFjX0EP-tKYfAYSnFazpgJJCjteQzY8AL9JE6sy4VCkcKRcp_0n70694wZDHhBUooblDIPPSYZBkcWSsk_oc_xhtMXe3k/s320/IMG_0420.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472542540307226226" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzoaDzpJ5B25Pi2tajDErVeTY6LxqnwjPn8y33ypKExwKeOXRpvYM3P6cwAjaPtFXGSNp7d8BzCLR-KQ9Clk4Rb5efr3D69IP_hIVIXcoTx2gRcc8u9APIQB_-BRRuaQ5EVKp8RLqBClk/s1600/IMG_0422.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 164px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzoaDzpJ5B25Pi2tajDErVeTY6LxqnwjPn8y33ypKExwKeOXRpvYM3P6cwAjaPtFXGSNp7d8BzCLR-KQ9Clk4Rb5efr3D69IP_hIVIXcoTx2gRcc8u9APIQB_-BRRuaQ5EVKp8RLqBClk/s320/IMG_0422.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472542541762157762" /></a><br />25 de abril de 2010. Corrida de toros.<br />José Calvo: Silencio con un aviso, Saludos con un aviso<br />Fernando Cruz: Silencio con un aviso, Silencio con dos aviso<br />Álvaro Ortega(confirmó la alternativa): Palmas, Silencio con un aviso<br />Seis toros de Partido de Resina<br />Con mis padres.<br />Toro jumped the barrera.Heather Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11505047181063479727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1557947572984269291.post-31333199224773794362010-04-17T22:00:00.000-07:002010-05-18T03:21:30.702-07:00Anna's 11th Birthday celebration<ahref="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgabT6x1QXgmEO_GUDIlv8WDAlLamshwMpiu12n1oDz-NWiIaExIFP4UVcHkWm6E1HXqQhF2wHARS__7zHu87DCl6DuBVL1nLjT1llkTgSXGwGEjHS95IrubEhyphenhyphenff2Cy5blqSvltXww0Es/s1600/IMG_2292.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgabT6x1QXgmEO_GUDIlv8WDAlLamshwMpiu12n1oDz-NWiIaExIFP4UVcHkWm6E1HXqQhF2wHARS__7zHu87DCl6DuBVL1nLjT1llkTgSXGwGEjHS95IrubEhyphenhyphenff2Cy5blqSvltXww0Es/s320/IMG_2292.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472551395373842146" /> <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1m2Lq0ce09Aod5-fURt9wDeN5YGm2sHlRH5nkSScqcOSLnkak8V_PnZ2pUC7l8Z-6S6BScSD_DKAoZTCKYenKRh0Jzs50NUnbMJRoeNFF0_YxAlwRKj23ugtKM6KLJ_pL3rnlg76yrks/s1600/IMG_2305.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1m2Lq0ce09Aod5-fURt9wDeN5YGm2sHlRH5nkSScqcOSLnkak8V_PnZ2pUC7l8Z-6S6BScSD_DKAoZTCKYenKRh0Jzs50NUnbMJRoeNFF0_YxAlwRKj23ugtKM6KLJ_pL3rnlg76yrks/s320/IMG_2305.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472551396592250274" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYiOe_PA8W8OFE46D2kbqsEQKVDWtre7KuLBWyTISvlQ8qOxReFnhiYAjl3xfjT-GHpaR3B4dldPizkKinbLwA8y6Kcmm0G2lop4OhWFEP-aiJBCWnQh91LPzSL7bEx3a-LhLovkaY-x0/s1600/IMG_2335.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYiOe_PA8W8OFE46D2kbqsEQKVDWtre7KuLBWyTISvlQ8qOxReFnhiYAjl3xfjT-GHpaR3B4dldPizkKinbLwA8y6Kcmm0G2lop4OhWFEP-aiJBCWnQh91LPzSL7bEx3a-LhLovkaY-x0/s320/IMG_2335.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472551403905670802" /></a><br />Anna celebrated her 11th birthday with Ida, Alba, Domenique and Elana. First they were off to Madrid's best gelato, Giuseppe Ricci's, then onto <em>Alicia en el Pais de las Maravillas</em> (Alice in Wonderland). Then we walked home through Madrid's Saturday afternoon antics. In Plaza Mayor, giant bubbles. Near Placio Real. And everywhere there were puppies to play with.<br /><br />In Plaza Oriente, we ran into the Catalan Circle of Madrid, building human towers, until the rain arrived in earnest and chased everyone away.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLUcyE5X86t7UFz3kO3RcKrpEmPgTG9N2zfxYDJpFqsr3HwlI2xarbxeikfB5BgV2MGu6uAoyaNxUKP4kkg_nTHnzqNOXauVctZyYuahbEuBokHV5J2xaHP4fCSbVO71NxUuJWnh7-Nlc/s1600/IMG_2314.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 186px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLUcyE5X86t7UFz3kO3RcKrpEmPgTG9N2zfxYDJpFqsr3HwlI2xarbxeikfB5BgV2MGu6uAoyaNxUKP4kkg_nTHnzqNOXauVctZyYuahbEuBokHV5J2xaHP4fCSbVO71NxUuJWnh7-Nlc/s320/IMG_2314.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472550778243402802" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNlfWCpgKFH-fjyXKucesAQCSmAJAU1PJfoZ-wDUOWMRZmeMI5hUzbnTCyJCYU3WsYIbGzrVL8EUYAsXKd7vwFPeBTAHj123M45R3cD55m_uu7pySv5OTY-3Lxw_-CO1_XBJXWpu9Osug/s1600/IMG_2315.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 226px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNlfWCpgKFH-fjyXKucesAQCSmAJAU1PJfoZ-wDUOWMRZmeMI5hUzbnTCyJCYU3WsYIbGzrVL8EUYAsXKd7vwFPeBTAHj123M45R3cD55m_uu7pySv5OTY-3Lxw_-CO1_XBJXWpu9Osug/s320/IMG_2315.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472550775240190306" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin1_Slac7U0TWWJE67qaaTO-0EldvV-i7UgulRTER7GGkdagJr1aWoy0HR6l6MAQ7qAflE39H9mERz10jNsqnWyog8AuPZpfz2OnhOwro5Nr2znRoQ1gB1rIUo3ae-p6omP8pE3H2pSHc/s1600/IMG_2319.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 304px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin1_Slac7U0TWWJE67qaaTO-0EldvV-i7UgulRTER7GGkdagJr1aWoy0HR6l6MAQ7qAflE39H9mERz10jNsqnWyog8AuPZpfz2OnhOwro5Nr2znRoQ1gB1rIUo3ae-p6omP8pE3H2pSHc/s320/IMG_2319.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472550772670240258" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK5fpxWa72EqzwO41ZVxZAAtQARcw_6F4w-ep9UI75qKfDLwUZhmLf3h7JUh-lPOdUr3AAkcDHMivKzcqvF63gnQ3dkr88b-mPf2Ffhn23r5UEaaf9ObL0DIbUdcXoZAGf9m20K61Hto0/s1600/IMG_2321.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 316px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK5fpxWa72EqzwO41ZVxZAAtQARcw_6F4w-ep9UI75qKfDLwUZhmLf3h7JUh-lPOdUr3AAkcDHMivKzcqvF63gnQ3dkr88b-mPf2Ffhn23r5UEaaf9ObL0DIbUdcXoZAGf9m20K61Hto0/s320/IMG_2321.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472550767195347714" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguxozAkHbPdGT-1jK1vO5PkVW4l_AKe6kefH1ETq7GImSYVvSP1Izg-gw0p8BlYqn9ofgazEMlBUhfm1pofVASCXnSbGG0RDbxR3T7Bl19wxhY-kMI1bcZRabNq-FkNocU8rHU9455aVg/s1600/IMG_2330.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 270px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguxozAkHbPdGT-1jK1vO5PkVW4l_AKe6kefH1ETq7GImSYVvSP1Izg-gw0p8BlYqn9ofgazEMlBUhfm1pofVASCXnSbGG0RDbxR3T7Bl19wxhY-kMI1bcZRabNq-FkNocU8rHU9455aVg/s320/IMG_2330.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472550761929885874" /></a><br />Happy Birthday, Anna!Heather Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11505047181063479727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1557947572984269291.post-66591910839679421792010-04-08T02:03:00.000-07:002010-04-14T00:59:16.362-07:00Choca!Alex’s favorite form of displacement behavior of late is walking up to you, sticking his hand up in the air, and shouting “High five!” Recently he’s even doing this Spanish style which is the same except he now shouts “Choca!” Sometimes this drives me crazy, but I try to be good natured about it. The kid has had a lousy year so the least I can do is indulge his choca habit.<br /><br />This morning I went for a run by myself for the first time. Usually I require the moral support of either Jack or Alex to get me going. But today I made it out there solo and even ran longer than I have before (I won’t embarrass myself by telling you how short of a run that actually is). It was a great run. No pain, no inner conflict about if I should keep going. I actually felt good. Almost as good as I do on a bike ride. And on the cool down walk home I must have had a satisfied smile on my face. As I was heading uphill toward Plaza de España a middle aged man was walking down the same sidewalk. And as he approached a huge smile appeared on his face, he stuck out his hand, and greeted me with “Choca!” Lucky me, I knew what he was saying (thanks Alex!). I gave him a high-five and floated the rest of the way home. <br /><br />You simply don’t see many people exercising in Madrid. Sure you see the odd runner or biker, but not a lot. When I had my choca encounter it was as if that man knew I was thinking to myself, “wow, I feel really good, I need to make sure I do this more often.”<br /><br />Make someone’s day, give a choca.Heather Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11505047181063479727noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1557947572984269291.post-56734310657439390182010-04-04T22:00:00.000-07:002010-05-25T01:37:14.229-07:00Corrida<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxU6WDxfDWGy5VR4BN68Q9Qa-kckpWT2UKhxQDtatyd_2EQHzeHPMiVsJ2jdv4favcddYgEB7WY9142DuYEH2d0ayEpcRJvI3Iq1Fpe5pXEMIBiFs0NdpmPsoRqSL3POx2hJ0a6iElwa8/s1600/Daniel-luque-4-4.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxU6WDxfDWGy5VR4BN68Q9Qa-kckpWT2UKhxQDtatyd_2EQHzeHPMiVsJ2jdv4favcddYgEB7WY9142DuYEH2d0ayEpcRJvI3Iq1Fpe5pXEMIBiFs0NdpmPsoRqSL3POx2hJ0a6iElwa8/s320/Daniel-luque-4-4.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472544213110989986" /></a><br />4 de abril de 2010. Corrida de toros<br />Daniel Luque: Silencio, Silencio, Silencio, Silencio con un aviso, Pitos, Silencio<br />Tres toros de Núñez del Cuvillo y tres toros de Juan Pedro Domecq<br />Con Tom, Sharon, Shannon, Christopher, Jack, y Alex.Heather Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11505047181063479727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1557947572984269291.post-86744518061427894882010-03-09T10:37:00.000-08:002010-03-09T10:45:33.953-08:00Guest blogger Alex on El EscorialLast Friday Mom and I went to El Escorial. El Escorial is where King I'mImportantForSomeReason (and descents) lived in the 17th century. At the time, the building was the biggest in the world. It has over 10 miles of corridors, a massive basilica (special church, see more farther down) and lots of big towers and rooms and other cool stuff. It was also the first building in Hispanic Baroque building style, also known as Herreran (after the builder, or really, the guy who took over after he died). El Escorial took 21 years to build. Being its size, it gets really cold. So cold that I got a candle in the basilica and warmed my hands up over it.<br /><br />There's no point in boring with all the normal stuff: the servants lived here, the king here, this is the dungeon. Really, after being to several castles (see previous posts on the Rhine valley, Germany), it's all the same. I don't mean to say that it isn't interesting, just that it's like a Christmas joke, and only funny the first few times around.<br /><br />So, to the point, there were 3 main things that I found worthwhile. If you want to know more about castles, ask your resident 12/13 year old boy. I'm sure he knows way more about them than you really want to hear.<br /><br />The first thing is a strip on dark stone laid in the floor. It is laid out at exactly the angle the sun comes up. There is a tiny slit in the wall above the window near it. One day every month at high noon the window got closed, and the slit opened. The stone has the markings of the zodiac on it. Each month, when the light that came through the slit, and hit exactly the right zodiac mark, they would know it was high noon. It was with this information that the old and not very accurate clocks were set.<br /><br />The second thing is a semi-fancy, modern crypt in which the 12 most recent kings and queens are buried. There are two caskets with no names on them, waiting for the current kings parents. One thing that both my Mom (proper noun) and I liked was that all of them were treated in exactly the same way: a pretty nice casket with a metal plate on the side with there name. Apparently there is also a room somewhere else in which the bodies are put while they decay. (huh?). It was pretty cool.<br /><br />The third thing is a massive basilica. I don't really know what makes a basilica different than a normal church, but both that I have been to, the other was in Zaragoza, were really big. And something about them being especially important religiously too. I really liked this basilica because of how it wasn't the uber-ornate, sensory overload, agghIwanttopullmyeyesout old church. I know that not all churchs are like this, actually only a few, but, when you are a tourist, you kind of forget that. Anyway, I liked the church because of its relative simplicity and size. Looking up at the top dome of this thing was like insane. Just seeing the sheer amount of cold, grey stone looking down at your as you stared up into what looked like the capital building's dome (I hope you get a chance to do that something to do that too. I had the luck of living in DC for a year and half when my dad got a temporary job offer there with NSF, when I was 5-6 years old. I don't remember that much, but I still remember enough.) Massive amounts of stone are cool. Probably more so when your wondering if they're all about to coming fall down on you. Not much more was interesting about the basilica to me, although I'm sure there were priceless paintings, masterpiece wood carvings, etc. ( You can be sure about these things because the king used to live there. I mean, what do you think rich people do with they're money, stuff beds with it?)<br /><br />Not much more was cool, but I did manage to break my audio guide (dropped it).Heather Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11505047181063479727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1557947572984269291.post-41775902040140183562010-03-05T11:10:00.000-08:002010-03-05T11:19:37.591-08:00It’s just lifeEventually you figure out that whatever you are in the middle of, really, it’s just life. The living in some other city, trying to learn something new, the kids’ new phase (it is just a phase, right?). All of it is just life. We still have to eat every day, go to school or work, and clean the toilets. Who cares if the city is Madrid, the new thing this year is speaking Spanish, and the new phase is adolescence. While I get wrapped up in our details, others face deaths, illnesses, births, earthquakes, foreclosures, new loves, old loves, troubled children and the dismantling of institutions. And that’s just this week’s news from home.<br /><br />I feel honored to be able to talk to a new Madrileño friend, Esperaza, about her concerns. She has a lovely book shop that she is struggling to keep open. She lies awake at night worrying about having to talk to the bank. She is going to church to ask God for help because she doesn’t know where else to turn. It’s a notable point in our stay that I can hear the stories of people I care about here and be reminded of how small my own challenges are. <br /><br />In the beginning of our year here, every hour of every day was an adventure. Every day was filled with goals and obstacles. Everything was novel. It was overwhelming and exciting.<br /><br />Today Alex and I went on an outing, and I realized that it was fairly interesting, but not quite an adventure. We bought bus tickets, we arrived at the palace, we toured it, we had lunch and return home, all without a stressful or embarrassing moment. It was a pleasant excursion. A nice day in our fairly mundane life – regardless of where we are. <br /><br />It’s like returning home, this realization. Sigh. It's just life. But a beautiful life at that.Heather Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11505047181063479727noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1557947572984269291.post-76483273912343740072010-02-23T18:00:00.000-08:002010-02-23T09:43:00.334-08:00El Entierro de la Sardina<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHBzPdadmdP3qMogcQVZqvXafRUje2g4VwBhozUnuf6XTtFYpP2CNIUqzC90pL3KLiNpPK45nGDW3WK3gJunXHW29R4p45KxHDIp_Hl9DX50VIzTPivrErsCdybY1dc0G2DP_iVWMh9rA/s1600-h/Entierro+de+la+Sardina+-+banner.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHBzPdadmdP3qMogcQVZqvXafRUje2g4VwBhozUnuf6XTtFYpP2CNIUqzC90pL3KLiNpPK45nGDW3WK3gJunXHW29R4p45KxHDIp_Hl9DX50VIzTPivrErsCdybY1dc0G2DP_iVWMh9rA/s320/Entierro+de+la+Sardina+-+banner.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441479881235869266" /></a><br />Not understanding what's going on is part of being a foreigner. We're accustomed to this sensation, if not entirely comfortable with it. But some experiences are more extreme than others. <EM>El Entierro de la Sardina</EM> (The Burial of the Sardine) is one of these. On Ash Wednesday, as Carnival is winding down, there is one last absurd celebration. It's a Spanish tradition recorded in a <A href="http://eeweems.com/goya/sardine.html">Goya painting </A>circa 1812 and enjoyed throughout Spain. <br /><br />In Madrid, the mourners gather and parade down the street for hours carrying a miniature coffin complete with a well dressed sardine. The band plays. The pall bearers dance in circles bouncing the deceased up and down at the ends of ropes. The women cry beneath their veils. Family and friends dressed for grieving throw confetti and candy. <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCvv5SPcWqANpTQlOuH_gSFVZwFf_6KyHiJQmx1a3QPDKGSWAW7Kig0ZvICJrI-Xw8r0j9jV6Ea5bReuBehRog78vzgEr7Ljsr_u25gG_XTyBdncT9Oe-DoA2AGIXU4l3Zq6Czv7HIyhQ/s1600-h/Entierro+de+la+Sardina+-+band.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCvv5SPcWqANpTQlOuH_gSFVZwFf_6KyHiJQmx1a3QPDKGSWAW7Kig0ZvICJrI-Xw8r0j9jV6Ea5bReuBehRog78vzgEr7Ljsr_u25gG_XTyBdncT9Oe-DoA2AGIXU4l3Zq6Czv7HIyhQ/s320/Entierro+de+la+Sardina+-+band.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441479878645978066" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVtFz9s2SwKjkjFpjwuzIs8TnJ1ERN4N6l2HPr3FUP3TfGLlQ3-bIabDsVoze4FPD2WZPkjqZfdm9WbJnFNde-6_67i-85mOly4MWTCan_o89Q3uWPtC1mdXZPvbRyNKfnmnf0NOtdtfE/s1600-h/Entierro+de+la+Sardina+-+coffin+2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 251px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVtFz9s2SwKjkjFpjwuzIs8TnJ1ERN4N6l2HPr3FUP3TfGLlQ3-bIabDsVoze4FPD2WZPkjqZfdm9WbJnFNde-6_67i-85mOly4MWTCan_o89Q3uWPtC1mdXZPvbRyNKfnmnf0NOtdtfE/s320/Entierro+de+la+Sardina+-+coffin+2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441479874904256002" /></a><br />After an hour and a half Alex and I decided to throw in the towel. There were miles to go before the final burial, and it was getting repetitive for us. But not for the mourners who enjoyed each bar along the funeral parade. No one seems to remember what this party was really about when it began a few hundred years ago. But it's not important. It's another chance to have an absurdly good time with friends.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYwDkBO3u9_d8hxjbJ99nqTt7n1UUPhzSuI2f3SuJSZliJwD0cG1zybHB4xpkdvZAp5RoVNeAEXdttDtyTkv4sWO9lzOpfio6PxFWNpTORTyr6sC03zXNo3qFndeM0SLVLiflKcRKcP_Y/s1600-h/Entierro+de+la+Sardina+-+vetran+pins.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 262px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYwDkBO3u9_d8hxjbJ99nqTt7n1UUPhzSuI2f3SuJSZliJwD0cG1zybHB4xpkdvZAp5RoVNeAEXdttDtyTkv4sWO9lzOpfio6PxFWNpTORTyr6sC03zXNo3qFndeM0SLVLiflKcRKcP_Y/s320/Entierro+de+la+Sardina+-+vetran+pins.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441479869514312834" /></a><blockquote>Veterans display annual pins</blockquote><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbPRcQkpVofD07p6HGRvZz3m23avDayfwv0zmRE_wYXBzfkhMEQedDbYYNRjYWZEKBttcFN0oPj78KS9t09VU3xkAL6QmPSCgNABa3vsvgrpSm1CzHRgpecXNippKpZOs4lbBFyYb1NLM/s1600-h/Entierro+de+la+Sardina+-+a+few+words.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 291px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbPRcQkpVofD07p6HGRvZz3m23avDayfwv0zmRE_wYXBzfkhMEQedDbYYNRjYWZEKBttcFN0oPj78KS9t09VU3xkAL6QmPSCgNABa3vsvgrpSm1CzHRgpecXNippKpZOs4lbBFyYb1NLM/s320/Entierro+de+la+Sardina+-+a+few+words.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441480412353027506" /></a><blockquote>A few words about the deceased</blockquote><br /><OBJECT id=BLOG_video-1d9112ccd65672d3 class=BLOG_video_class width=320 height=266 contentId="1d9112ccd65672d3"></OBJECT> <blockquote>The endless noise and frivolity</blockquote>Heather Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11505047181063479727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1557947572984269291.post-41006620259386446692010-02-03T12:28:00.000-08:002010-02-03T15:47:19.167-08:00TelecambioRemember back in November when I decided to <a href="http://yomamaenespana.blogspot.com/2009/11/tienes-mas-preguntas.html">practice my verb tense conjugations </a>on the telemarketer from Jazztel - the main opposition phone/internet service provider in Spain? At the time, I was trying to get them to stop calling. <br /><br />They have recently started calling again. And I've been working on a new idea: keep them on the line for as long as possible.<br /><br />I thought that I would approach the telemarketer as an intercambio opportunity: the telemarketer would get to practice his sales pitch, and I would get to practice my Spanish. Most people in language class are eager to set up intercambios. I find it difficult to get over the awkwardness. But this anonymity would be my perfect cover. No need to feel embarrassed since I wouldn't know who I was talking to. And no need to feel guilty about subjecting someone to such a boring conversation since I didn't initiate the call. Jazztel has been wasting our time for months. Turnabout is fair play, right? I just needed to wait for the phone to ring again. <br /><br />So tonight we had a little dinner entertainment. Jazztel called and asked for <em>Juan Patreek </em> and gave me my first telecambio.<br /><br />I explained that Juan was unable to come to the phone because he was eating dinner, but I had a number of questions. Okay, I didn't understand a lot of what she said. But it was fun. I kept asking questions, doing my best to keep the conversation going, using new grammar. Unlike a conversation with someone in person, this time I just kept correcting myself until I finally got each sentence right. The woman must have been absolutely desperate for a commission to stay on the line. <br /><br />It was great. <br /><br />Until she said something that sounded suspiciously like she was sending a contract that I could cancel within the next 15 days if I changed my mind. That's when I realized I could be in trouble, and I started to panic a little. Finally she asked if someone else in the house spoke better Spanish. Little did she know that Alex was waiting in the wings chomping at the bit to take over.<br /><br />He began (in quick Spanish with a decent accent that made us proud), "My mother is just talking to you to practice her Spanish. We do not want your internet service." And on he went for another several minutes while the rest of us listened and laughed. He did make sure that we weren't roped into a contract. Thank goodness. <br /><br />It worked out so well that I have a new idea. Tomorrow I'm going to get the newspaper and seek out new telecambio opportunities to sign up for. It's a gold mine for language students.Heather Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11505047181063479727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1557947572984269291.post-35662234197236336362010-01-30T10:30:00.000-08:002010-02-02T04:48:25.014-08:00How to get your way through cleverness<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN0komnCXysHX0my3i6UGGB5ZobLZCmAgHAEDCKYtG22HFAbypzWaY9jE6_j8Xx97iapFRx_tYiWbVWGMVj5g9q5CKsSqQ0QZkwhVQ3b157NrOy7IlkUlN2bmrboeUqAL_56YqWXfMUFo/s1600-h/No-Way.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 263px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN0komnCXysHX0my3i6UGGB5ZobLZCmAgHAEDCKYtG22HFAbypzWaY9jE6_j8Xx97iapFRx_tYiWbVWGMVj5g9q5CKsSqQ0QZkwhVQ3b157NrOy7IlkUlN2bmrboeUqAL_56YqWXfMUFo/s320/No-Way.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432247649680684114" /></a><br />It was a pretty bad dinner. But I didn't want to admit it, and I didn't want to waste the food. <br /><br /><em>Anna! Finish your dinner! Right now!</em><br /><br />Jack grabbed a Post It, wrote <em>NOW</em>, and stuck it to the table in front of her.<br /><br />Anna grabbed the pen and added an -AY to the end of Jack's command.<br /><br />We didn't even try to suppress the laughter. Resigned to her victory, we picked up the plates and ended dinner.Heather Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11505047181063479727noreply@blogger.com1