my Olympics wrap up...

This is the first time I have spent in another country, seeing the Olympics thru another media's eyes. As Americans, we are characterized as having an untouchable national pride. Sure we have out internal conflicts, as long as there are two humans on Earth, there will be conflict. But when our nation competes against other nations, we become rabid animals and pool together as one nation. This is one reason why I can't understand how we cannot appreciate soccer. the sport itself is much like war. The fans lay their hopes and dream of bragging rights in the hands of a coach and 11 players to right the wrongs of yesteryear. we as americans can relate to this. How? Well are we still talking about the Winter Olympics where we beat Russia in the semifinals? Do you think the Russians are still crying over one lost? Still the game holds much importance as this was , albeit then end, cold war era. Instead of bombs and missiles, we went to war over ice and pucks. Brutal as hockey may be, better choice of conflict than global thermonuclear war.

So the Olympics as the poster child for global conflict in a sanctioned manner. No need for the Geneva Convention or NATA peace keepers when we have the Olympics ruling committee to monitor the rules and regulations set for years before. Like war, the soldiers to compete train for life times, to be placed in a position to win glory for their countries. All the while, the hosting city is transforming into the city they should have been, but are now motivated to make those changes to polish their image for every tourist, media personnel, and visiting world leader in hopes to show their brilliance. China, long hounded by their politics, human rights record and place on the world stage, showed up and delivered a spectacular opening and closing games. But jut like any Olympics, the games were blemished by the random acts of individuals who are not on the same page and use the games as a way to be heard. i am sure more stories will surface but hopefully we can see the positive in the games as a whole. That would be the biggest defeat for the naysayers.

Still i would like to point out some of my finer memories from this years Olympics. I would like to share my American point of view while under Spanish media influence. for those of you not convinced that the media has some influence on how you think...take it from me. It's brainwash.

1.The Spanish Basketball team. talk about the biggest whiners in the world. i am not sure if you guys are getting this, but they have been crying ever since the final buzzer. I will give it to them, they played some kick ass basketball against the Americans in the gold medal game. I was nervous as I woke up in time to catch the second half of the game. I, being a long time fan of basketball, have a sense for the game and it's strategy. Which makes my enjoying the game that much more difficult to sit back and enjoy. Still I thought the officiating was less than par. Fouls not called on loose balls, illegal and moving picks were ignored and some offensive fouls called in error. But in the end the Americans prevailed. But to my surprise, the Spanish media was carrying a story about how critical the Spanish players were against the referees. they felt they could have won the game if the refs were calling traveling violations like they thought they should have. Carme was wondering out loud what was the rule on traveling. Still she was jut thinking out loud because she has the attention span of a gerbil when it comes to me explain anything about sport, computers or world politics. The problem ultimately was that the American's got way too lax and let the Spaniard think they were good enough to beat the Americas, thus they had to look for an excuse as to why they lost by a handful of points rather than the 30 pts. they lost by in group play! Babies!!! take the silver and call it a day. Remember 2nd place is the 1st place loser!!!

2.Australian women's basketball team. Ok I have something to admit and it ain't going to be pretty. I am not a fan of female sports. I can't get into gymnast because they look like little 12 year old girls (China used that to try to slip a possible 12 year old into the competition and she won the gold! I know, head my own advice and stop whining right?). synchronized swimming just freaks me out with all the waterproof mascara they use and their hair all pulled back. Long distance running can get into but it can be a bore to see a woman doing the same thing over and over again, left then right. their clothing is not see thru so when they dump bottles of water over their heads, there are no wet t-shirt moments. Sigh. I do get a kick out of the sprinters. Thick legs and rear ends run amock. but the race is over in 9 seconds and then what? I need something a bit long lasting to capture my male mind and the need to look at women despite being happily married.

o i flashed over to check out the women's side of the basketball tournament. I happened to run across the Australian women's basketball team game and i was floored! Ok if you scroll a bit you will see what i mean. normally, the women's side of thing took their queues from the men side of fashin. thank goodness women's professional basketball was not wearing the tight and high shorts of the 70's and waited for at least the late 80's to pick up on the longer and baggier shorts. Still the only redeeming factor is the occasional pretty face. the uniform being unflattering and often hiding of assets of the shapely female figure, just made me think i was looking at men with mullets and pony tails. their rough exterior seemed in direct proportion with their basketball skills. the better the player, the less likely you will find them in high heels and a skirt. But how fair is it for me to have my cake and eat it , too.


Then came the Aussies! Their uniform being a reminder of more like a wet suit than some oversized pajamas. Oh sweet heaven...when are the next international competitions?!?

3.Michael Phelps. Someone check his DNA for fish genes! someone check his blood not for doping but fish oil!!! Still, 8 events, 8 gold medals, 7 world records....something to reach for in 4 years Mikey!

4.Usain Bolt. It is uncanny how this man has the same name as what we use to describe units of measurement for lightning. i swear i thought he was going to break stride and run backwards the last half of the race when he let up and still broke the world record.

11 months later...what do I miss

I was asked before I left the states, what I thought I would miss from America. I firmly answered the smell of cut grass. Spending many years of my life enjoying the summers of North Carolina, the smell of cut summer grass is one of those things that when I smell it, I am taken back to a time of innocence and life exploration. I count this as one of my luckiest joys in life as it is miserable for others suffering from allergies and sneezing attacks. In Tossa, there maybe be 100 blades of grass at one time in one clump so I do not get the lingering grass when it is cut. The city ground crew tasked with keeping the many plots of grass well trimmed think I am stalking them as I seem to sit and stare while they toil in the Mediterranean sun. I think back on cutting the grass at my own house(when Carme allowed me to for I think she enjoyed the smell herself but she would never admit it). the work in the summer heat seem to intensify when you are pushing that mower up a hill and down. Sweet mercy, it was worth every moment of my life.

Still I thought I would compile a list of some of the things I am missing from the good ole US of A and share them with each and everyone one of my 3 regular readers.

1.Fireflies. I don't know if it is living in Spain or living near the beach but there is not one stinking firefly in this country that i have seen. I was so looking forward to speaking a little catalan with the local lightning bugs but there s not one here. sigh.

2.Coldstone. Oh how ingenious to take slabs of heavenly flavored ice dreams and mix them with all the candy one could possibly fit into a 20oz cup as long as you obeyed the rules of physics. Maybe that's why i am wondering if i am diabetic...hmmmm,

3.Ukrops. well not just Ukrops. Right now any crappy grocery store will do. You see here, they do not bag your groceries, you are on your own. Crush your bread before you get home, your bad. Also you have to pay to use a shopping cart. I think I mentioned that before but it's a harsh fact of life that makes life a little uncomfortable here. it's like those carts you rent for a dollar in large malls. And you can do all this for 50 cents or a Euro. I find this hilarious when I buy more food that I can comfortably carry back to the apartment and push the cart all the way home. i look like kind of ridiculous but hey, it's too far to carry and risk cutting off the circulation in my fingertips and too close to drive. As I am pushing this independent 4 wheel drive monster and fight to keep it on course, I think, they think this cart is only worth 50 cents. i should steal a bunch of them and resell them to some black market for like 2 Euros.

I am sure to add more to the list later but this is just for now.

what if God was one of us

I have never paid much attention to this song. Joan Osborne’s version or Prince's weird remake. That's right; I said Prince did something weird! But it has never been running thru my head and I will tell you why.

There is this gentleman who lives here in Tossa. Let's paint a picture for you since I thought it would be rude to flash photograph him. But first, can anyone tell me the natural state of hair if you never touched it with your fruit infused shampoos or a large toothed comb? Well it goes into dreadlocks. I am not talking about the Bob Marley well thought out and planned one. I am talking, and depending on your disposition, the creature from the movie Predator type "dreds".

Well this gentleman, the day I first laid wondering eyes upon, was wearing no shirt, interesting running shorts, sporting a head full of these dreadlocks (the aformentioned type above), I think also sneakers, headphones and a gold cross around his neck and he was jogging past me thru the center of town. Something was quite odd about him. Could it have been his running shorts? Let's see if I describe them. ummmm...well....you know the kind of full panties that women now wear? They look kind of boyish and they cover like 90% of the ass. Well his running shorts were like that...tight and hugging his pubic area. I think they were psychedelic colored, I am not sure. Maybe I was awestruck in his lack of dress as well as his choice of dress. I did notice the gold cross around his neck, which unlike the size of a Flava Flave's clocks around his neck, was quite petite in size but he was only a few feet away from me so it caught my eye. He had stopped his run to cross a street, still jogging in place, silently negotiating with the upcoming driver who was about to run him over. Hmmmm...A sign of intelligence if his appearance did not precede that notion. Quite odd in stature and first glance, but still looking somewhat fit, I noticed he turned a few of the locals heads. He is a tall and lean white male with brownish red matted hair. Not looking malnourished and obviously having enough energy to go for a run, still his overall appearance struck me as out of place. Could it have been the grizzly Adams beard, which was neither trimmed or cut like he was well manicured, which added to his homeless look from the neck up. Still how many homeless people do you see jogging around Byrd park? Either it was his first major appearance in this mid afternoon late summer day or was a rare appearance by a local celebrity. But he definitely stood out like a nun in a whore house.

Still I do not think I have done justice to describing this guy. Outside of his matted hair and overgrown beard, he did not look homeless. Now I would use the word homeless not to insult him, but more of a visual we Americans have when generalizing the unfortunate group of people we run across in our daily, big city lives. A generalization of a group of diverse people we know to be possible alcoholics, drug addicts, mentally off balanced, emotionally disturbed or just plain out unlucky in life people who live in the alleys, streets, public parks and under bridges. I do not want to assume he is homeless in the least bit but paint a visual of this character that words can’t seem to do justice over.

At my first sight of him, I had no indication that he was an "un-neat" person other than the over grown beard and matted hair. Still I have never watched the full transformation of someone trying to transform their hair into dread locks. Well maybe one but that was over the course of one semester watching Steve Fountain in French class twisting his own hair between his thumb and forefinger ever 2.3 seconds which I assumed was out of boredom more than cosmetic preparations. Back to the gentleman at hand, I would say he looked more “wild” and natural than homeless. Still, being a small community, this gentleman surely stuck out like a sore thumb and caught my attention.

As quickly as he came, he jogged off into the semi crowded street, clapping his hands and raising his arms in what looked like him being really into his workout and music in his headphones. I was left dumbfounded. Left with my jaw wide open and internally wondering, WHAT WAS THAT! I did not dare ask the locals if they had seen what I saw but I noticed on the locals faces, that this was a rare and interesting treat. Something to look forward to, eh?

Time passes...and by the luck of the north wind, there were several sighting in my 11 months here. Most without incident. They progressed in excitement for me as I slowly began making friends and having more conversations about our mystery friend seen strolling thru town. I could only piece together a jagged story, which I was aware was mostly rumor and guessing, that one day this guy showed up in Tossa with a Vespa but the cops took it away (for some unknown reason. Maybe they told me but I did not understand the Spanish when they told me), that they think he lived in the woods or something since no one knew where he lives (and I say again...Tossa is small!! So you kind of by chance find out where people live) and that he is probably rich since he has no job, nowhere in those little shorts to carry an ATM card and well, there are no other supporting facts.

Each sighting seems to grow stranger and stranger and fueling my curiosity in just who is this character is. No one seems threatened by him. Children do not follow him and mock him causing him to bite his tongue and storm off in frustration. I do not see people treating him differently, only stares and silent whispers. And when a tourist went missing (and I know this sounds extreme and something out of a movie but...) and her body was found 5 days later, I was relieved to see that there was no witch hunt for this stranger for "questioning". I hope one understands that last line. Still my first social contact with this person was an odd event.

Carme and I had the night off from parenting and decided to have a drink before dinner. We were seated at Comics Café when, like a ninja, this strange fellow walked up. He was walking along the sidewalk which, if you can imagine, contains a number of tables with seats under an awning projecting from the bar. When people walk down the broad sidewalk on this main street, they pass the island of tables street side and cafe side. Eric, the owner, has to be careful when crossing human traffic cafe side when he is serving a tray full of drinks. Well we were sitting near the stream of human traffic nearest the cafe's front door and that bottle neck can cause you to slow down just a bit when walking thru to recognize your long lost mother is sitting in the island of tables next to where you are walking thru. Well this gentleman was funneled thru this traffic. Shirt in hand, wraparound sunshade perched atop his sun kissed forehead, fanny pack around his waist(possibly containing that elusive ATM card to access his presumed millions) and extra tight shorts...for comfort and support I supposes. Carme did not see him but I gave a silent type of "we have been married for almost 10 years" signal to warn her that something interesting was nearby for her to casually glance around to. I did not warn her in time enough for me to turn my eyes from the target and her to casually turn her eyes toward the target (so it did not seem like we were talking about him) before he was upon us. He was 2 feet from us, close enough to a person that they begin the process of acknowledge your existence in casual passing. And in one split second, our existence, Carme and mine, came clear to him in one breath, he locked on us and stopped dead in his tracks. All I could do was draw back as I was surprised at the cat like agility this man possessed from stopping on a dime from almost and Olympic style walking marathon pace! This is what he did:
1.he put his finger in front of his mouth as to silently say shush your mouth or don’t speak, then closed his eyes and shook his head from side to side, silently saying "no".
2.tapped the arm of Carme's chair nearest to him (Carme almost jumped out of her underwear at his bold and swift transition from one mime event to another) and waved his finger signifying another no-no.
3.took his cross of Jesus between his thumb and forefinger that was hanging from his neck and with the hand that was free and gave a thumbs up sign.

And again, as quickly as he came, he left, breaking out in full stride again and getting lost in the crowded sidewalk.

Carme and I sat dumbfounded for a second. Then we stared at each other as to say "what the f---". Then, with mouths open, looked around to see if anyone was staring at us in amazement as we seemed to be one of the first of the locals to have made contact with this stranger. But no one was paying much attention to us at the time. Then our eyes met each other again as to silently say "did we just dream this?” Then we broke out in laughter. Carme and I have never lacked in conversation, but we put all important business on hold to decipher this stranger's message to us. Is he a man of divine wisdom? A nut? You decide. Our first contact with this odd fellow yielded more questions and more myths to pass on to our grandchildren.

I have seen him walking down streets on other occasions, walking with a purpose and speed. Like he was going to a meeting or something. But there are no meetings here in Tossa. And he always is less than pristine. This adds to the myth of his living in the woods. Not that is making fun of this guy but he does not have a vast amount of wardrobe to show off and usually his clothes are well worn and untidy. There is always some combination of the aforementioned shorts, a button down shirt, a few t-shirts and some shorts. Of course, with his uncut and tangled looking hair and Robinson Caruso growth of a beard, well it does not add to the mythology of this character. I have seen him, sitting in peace at the cafe next to my shop, in the afternoon sun, with a pad of paper and some water colors and a small Styrofoam cup. Now let me just add that I have just realized I have not seen one Styrofoam cup in the country which seems to be very big ongoing "green" (see future blog ongoing green in Spain"). I casually passed this gentleman sitting and smiling and laughing under his breath after each stroke. Seemingly he was amused with each way his painting transformed with each new color. A sign of artistic brilliance or madness?

Who was this odd character and where was he from? What is his story? I was destined to find out. One especially hot day, after coming back from lunch break, I found this strange character sitting in the outside seating at the next door cafe, Cafe Ramblas. I knew Yoli and Mari Jose always close thier cafe for siesta and do not open until 4ish. It was not 3:30.

I had a good view from the street corner and I slowly coasted with my bike toward my shop, studying this character as he sat, with his button down wide open, looking left and right, like he was waiting for the bus or something. I figured this was a great time to try to talk to him. Maybe he is confused or just resting. Still this was market day, well earlier that morning. The market runs from early morning to 1pm and then the street cleaners come in to clean up all the trash left by the vendors around 3pm. The market is like a traveling flea market with clothes, trinkets, local candies...you name it. And they clear the street of tourist and locals parking there so the vendors can pull in their trucks. So imagine the street being completely clear and not open for traffic until the street cleaners were done. So at best, I had the local trash men in some close proximity in case this guy goes for my jugular!

So, as I usually do, I mentally practice my Spanish in what I am going to say to him with only 10 steps to go. As I am going thru and conjugated every possibility in my unusually large head, I realize maybe he is here waiting for me. Maybe to rob my silly ass and here I am...the fly walking right into the spider's web. So I spoke in Spanish and it goes a little something like this:


***in Spanish***
me: Hey, how are you. What’s up?
Him: (a bit confused and stuttering) ummm...hi
me: are you ok, needing anything?
Him: ummmm...no...I was just...well...ummm resting
me: so you are waiting for Yoli to open up?
Him: uuummmm ...well I was ...I am not that good with Spanish, I only....ummmm....know a little bit.
Me: so what is the language you prefer to speak?

And I wait for eternity thinking how ridiculous was that question. I only speak English and a little Spanish. He might come back with some remote Thailand rural language or dialect. I could be lucky and he might say pig latin but I doubt that. But things get interesting really quickly as he leaves me hanging. I am not sure if he is ignoring me or distracted by something else but he is visibly in more than one place at a time. Now my concerns for him go from worry about him being dangerous to me and possibly he might be suffering from dehydration or worse case scenario, some form of mental illness. I am not sure how to say it but my first impressions have been that he was a gentle soul but maybe a little odd and eccentric. Just then, he lifted his head and looked at me with one eye closed like he was going to try something out on me when he opened him mouth and said to me with the clearest and most elegant British accent..."English".

I AM FLOORED!!!! He is from freaking Wales and is as intelligent as you or I. Now let me explain why I am so floored. Admit it or not, in America, with most of our impressions of other cultures and people are shaped thru TV and movies, when I hear a British accent I think of James Bond or John Cleese and Monty Python. I think either refined or elegant to silly and drunk. I think of someone being really smart and Oxford educated or someone really drunk and slurring. I know the visions ranged but all of a sudden, this man with his tattered outside seemed like the most brilliant man in the world. I was relieved that I could actually communicate with him and get to know him. Like divine fate was at hand.

So he told me a little bit about himself. His name is Daniel and he is from Wales and had been here for about a year. He confided in me that he did spend some time in psychiatric holding (assuming against his wishes by his tone when he spoke of it) but figured if he focused and read the word of God and lived out of his element for at least a year, it could heal and re-center him. He did not use the words heal and re-center...I have this annoying habit of finishing Carme's sentences when she cannot think of the word in English and to show her that I am actually listening to her. But with his occasional breaks in speech and losing focus when looking around, I kind of helped myself to finishing his thoughts.

So I named this blog after that really popular tune because i had a thought. Just hear me out if you will. What if God was one of us? What if God walked the Earth again? Would He be in one form or many? If in many forms, would He be part of the flow of normality or stand out to test His creations and their reactions? Who are we to judge this man? How would we treat Him if we knew He was wearing tight shorts, headphones and staying in shape?

All in all I feel pretty good about introducing myself to Daniel. I think he could use a friend. My plan is to see if I can find him again and learn more about him. See where he came from and where is he going before he moves on to another location, if he hasn't already. Here's to you Daniel, brave soul indeed.

signs of getting old and not taking care of myself...

ok it's time for the blood results! I was all prepared to go to the doctor alone, and it seemed one by one, Alex wanted to go and help me translate, then Carme got out of work to meet me there also. I know I have to speak the language but I am not sure if my doctor can even speak Spanish. every time I have seen her, it's been in the most rapid Catalan I have ever heard (yet never understood).

Side note: as I have said a million times, Tossa is very small. so we end up doing two or three jobs to keep the small town running. My job is local computer tech and soccer coach. And that goes for my doctor, Imma. She is not only a doctor, but she is the town mayor. I am not sure how long her term is and how she is elected, but she is a very sweet and gentle person, despite not understanding her words. But I noticed her name, and not to make fun of this woman who I admire, but for my American friends, I just love this name...

Immaculada Colom Canal.

Ok so I go in with my whole family for Imma to go over the test results of my blood work. as I already knew, with my cholesterol, I have too much of the bad and not enough of the good type. Signs of liver issues. But the part that really got me off kilter was the blood sugar test. Seems my body does not know what to do with my incredible sweetness. Oh sweet pancreas, don't fail me now. Imma asked if anyone in my family had diabetes, and I sat and thought on it. I actually did not know. I know my mother does not and my brother, but as for my biological father, I could care less. But it saddened me that I realize how little this man has given to me while possibly giving me way too much! I did remember that when I was younger and he and I WERE speaking, his father had died after complications but in the last few years of his life, if I remember correctly, he had his legs amputated due to complications with diabetes.

So I answered Imma, with an uncertain "no" and she just took it with a grain of salt. Well the good thing is that I don't have hepatitis or some other blood borne disease. I think that might be a bit difficult to explain to Carme! Still I was a little rocked by the diabetes. I mean yeah it could have been worse, but still I was a little worried. So Imma has scheduled me next week for another test involving me drinking this highly potent sugary mix and waiting around for 2 hours to take more blood. I will be bringing lots of comic books to say the least.

So I got home that night, still under a bit of the weather, dealing with the fact that I am getting older and still eating like a teenager. I spent the afternoon thinking about this impending diet Imma wants me to be on. No more pizza. Just vegetables and bean spouts...ugh! I called my mom to let her know what was going on and found out that out of my mother’s 11 siblings, all but 3 have diabetes. I was blown away. Also, she laid more family news on me as one of my younger aunts, I think she is 50, had been dealing with a failing kidney the past two weeks, and just had a heart attack while in the hospital. Things are not looking good for my aunt Alice. Still it puts my possible diagnosis in perspective. No matter how bad you have it, someone has life a little bit rougher. It would be selfish of me to sulk or turn inward. And instead, anything thrown at me can be handled because I have a little man who is depending on me. This is not curable but it is manageable. Who knows, maybe carrot sticks will not be too bad in the end.
I love you aunt Ree.

STRESSED OUT!!!

So something strange has happened to me in my time here in Spain. It started a month ago but I was not too worried about it. Still Carme was concerned, as she is with me, she loves to fuss over me and I love it. Still it alarmed her enough to want me to see a doctor.

A few weeks ago she noticed a patch of hair missing from my head. Located just behind my right ear, a place where I usually don't inspect, there was a noticeable patch of hair missing, bigger then a silver dollar, smaller than a pancake! Normally I keep my head shaved as bald as I can with electric clippers. A far cry from my high school days where I sported a high top fade like Kid from Kid 'n Play. So this patch of hair never seemed to recover from whatever is making it die off. It did not itch or turn red. But I had waited long enough and decided to go see what the doctor had to say. The doctor seemed confident enough when she saw it, to initially diagnose it as a classic occurrence of stress. Still she set me up for a blood test to make sure. What she is actually looking for in my blood, I am not sure. But she said she had seen it more often than one might think. I mean, what could I possibly be stressed out so much about that could make me lose my hair? Not only am I trying to maintain my normal life in an abnormal place, I am trying to speak another language after never truly mastering my mother language (evident in my spelling and proofing of my past blogs), trying to start a business and feed my family with minimal help from my in laws, trying to raise a son, maintain a marriage, get in shape, coach a team, etc. all normal things in life (denote the sarcasm).

Still next Wednesday I have another appointment to get the results of my blood test. I am sure I am quite healthy but one never knows...