riding the mechanical horse...

Just a quick story that made me laugh...

You all know I have never ridden a motorcycle but I have dreamed of getting up the guts to own ride one. Something about the open road, wind in my scalp and bugs in my teeth makes my skin shiver with excitement. Still I have not gotten up the nerve to oppose the wishes of my wife and mother. I am such a good boy.

The next best thing to a roaring Harley or Japanese made crotch rocket is a moped. Now I know you might have images of some noisy, slow moving rusted step up from a mountain bike. Actually you can't call it a step up since the moped looks like it might fall apart if you hit a speed bump too fast. And here in Tossa you will find a wide range of moped, called "motos". Some range from the new, sleek and powerful to the old and falling apart if not held together with a fresh coat of paint each year. Still, motos are somewhat preferred mode of rapid transportation within Tossa. Our population swells and contracts each day like an accordion as buses bring in more vacationers from as far as Sweden. Also the weekender from Barcelona will come and spend some much needed stress less time away from the big city and come to stress us out by overtaking all of the parking spaces. If not for emergencies or the occasional excursion, we won't move our car after Thursday so we can actually have a parking space within eye's view of our apartment windows.

The motos is such an integral part of daily life and transportation here. With the prices of gas far exceeding that of America (despite you guys catching up rather quickly), the moto is easier on the wallets than a full sized car. Sure if you need to carry more than two full grown people, walking or by car is the only option. There is public transportation but the only subway in Tossa is for the moles. And if I need to go to Barcelona alone, I go by train, which the nearest station is in Blanes (pronounced Bla - nes), two towns down the coast.

The road connecting Tossa to the nearest town, Lloret (pronounced Your-et not Lor-et) is a long and winding road frequented by daring motorcyclist on the weekend darting between cars and daring one another to cause an accident. Another reason to leave your car parked on the weekends as they have taken over the windy roads. By moto, since they do not have the extreme and fluid power of motorcycles, it´s a bit trying to get up and down the hills of this winding road. It's especially hilarious to see someone trying to attempt this feat in the winter time, braving the cold and harsh winds sweeping thru the hills and valleys while bundled in a bubble goose jacket and icicles gangling from their ears and chin. Still things have to be done, and motos are just a staple of life here.

The age range of moto riders can be as young as, and don't quote me, 12 years old or such to 113 years old. Every child here seems to have a moto, as it seems to be a rite of passage for the teenagers. They go to school and joy ride in them. A blind man knows it is lunch time and the end of the school day in the only high school here when the roars of bee like motors rev and disperse throughout the town. If you read an earlier blog, I described how these machines can avoid even the ugliest of one lane traffic jams with ease by cruising either down the roadside or daringly down the other lane of traffic and darting quickly into a space when oncoming traffic prevents them from advancing further. Most of my soccer players and those younger come to practice on their motos, some 2 at a time. Having a helmet, even if you don't have a moto is needed in case you ride with a good friend or your girlfriend/boyfriend. I do not have a helmet as yet due to the enormous size of my head. They may need NASA to make me one. Why would a helmet be easy to find in Spain if I can't even find normal articles of clothing like shoes and socks to fit me properly?

My first time riding as a passenger was when Jose offered me a ride to my car when we left the grand opening of Sebastian's bar (another player of mine) one night. Sebastian's bar, La Gamba...or The Shrimp...is situated just on the outskirts of the old part of town, accessible by car but no parking is available. Still having a motos allows you to be close enough to park so that you can trip and fall onto the bar's doorstep. I, on the other hand, had to park my car at the bus station, a good 15 minute brisk walk away. Jose passed me that night when I was leaving and offered me a ride. I figured now was good as any time to get the feeling of the cool air wind whipping thru my body as ever. I was feeling a bit awkward mounting behind another man but I am secure in my manhood so who cares. Plus it was near midnight in the winter; no one would be walking the town and pointing fingers wondering what we were doing.

As we sped past the local police station, I without a helmet, Jose assured me it was no biggie as we were going a few meters past the station to the bus terminal. Just then we hit a speed bump the size of a pimple on an adolescent's forehead and I was lifted off my seat. Since I am a big guy, I thought I would kill the shocks on the back of his bike when I finally did land back in the saddle. All I could compare this to was maybe riding a Bronco and it bucking me nearly clean off. When I landed, sometime later, I was still alive and Jose was in full control. We stopped at the bus terminal and I cautiously exited the bike. Not because I was feeling like Pinky Tuscadero on back of the Fonz’s English Triumph TR6 Trophy in episodes of Happy Days, but because I was not sure if my heart was pounding too hard and my legs were shaking too much to stand on my own.

I was so thrilled that I ran home to tell a sleeping Carme about my adventure. She brushed me off with a "that's nice, honey. Now go to bed...” the next morning I awoke, I was craving for more. I expressed to Carme that I was still excited and wanted more; she thought to herself that we should go to her parent’s house. I had forgotten that they had two motos in the garage. They were stored there in the winter mostly and unearthed during the blitzkrieg of invading tourists for ease and mobility in this small town. She took me to her parents to see if I wanted to learn how to ride the newer of the two motos and, salivating profusely, I just muttered a "yeah".

When we made it to her parents, I began my first and only lesson in the mean streets of Tossa. The only thing slowing me down was trying to squeeze my head into the larger of the two helmets owned by her parents. I laughed internally when I saw the fallen gray hairs of her father still embedded in the lining of the helmet, wondering if mine would gray quickly when I took off on the bike solo. Finally I tucked in my ears comfortably but knew I could not wear this helmet too long as my head was feeling a slight pressure and my brain would soon leak thru my nostrils. After riding passenger with Carme, just to relive those windy and exhilarating moments, I decided to go it alone. The hum of the small motor churned and I could feel the vibrations in my seat and legs, but could not heat it due to the skin tight fit of the helmet on my head. I hit the throttle and lifted my feet from the ground as the moto took off and I was securely settled in the saddle. I wanted to yelp out a "YEE HAW" but, as when you are wearing earphones and trying to speak, you tend to speak a little louder than you should and all of Tossa would have heard it. I took a roundabout and came out fine. I was scared I would not be aware of how to balance the bike but, sorry for this, it's like riding a bike. I took a few laps down the street and back, trying my best to avoid pedestrians and abiding by the laws of traffic, while praying for no increase in traffic all of a sudden.

When I finally came to a stop, parked the bike and took off my helmet with a resounding and echoing pop like that of a suction cup, I smiled and staggered my wobbly legs to the nearest seat and just smiled for the rest of the day.

Another year and counting...

So yesterday was my birthday. My first birthday in Spain. The day started well. nothing spectacular. Carme and Alex woke me from my sound and deep slumber and dreams of Pink, Christine and Maya singing "Lady Marmalade" to me. I know how to give my own self a birthday dream. Watching the video non stop for a week helps, too.

Alex began the day with a lovely hand made card. there is something to be said about his spelling in English. I have to work with him on that. but phonetically, he was spot on. Carme greeted me with her usual morning breath kisses afterwards. I was hoping the day would be better as we went along.

I walked Alex to daycare and survived the usual, yet unusual, line up of "Dad why does..." and "Dad, how come..." questions. Most times I like to come up with a really outlandish answer to see how much influence I still have over him. At age 36, I wanted to know if he had figured out how full of stuffing I really am.

I made my way back up the hill to have coffee with my darling and was greeted by my mother in law also. She asked what I had received for my birthday already and, knowing that money is tight and not expecting anything too extravagant, I just replied that my family is more than enough of a gift. Wow, she understood me as my response was met with "awwwww".

I then headed off to my tiny little shop, enjoying the morning breeze and casually greeting familiar faces with the usual "hello's". I had hoped for a good day full of customers as I whistled and pasted a smile on my face. To my surprise, I got more customers today than I had any other day. The cash register hummed pretty much on and off all day. It was a good feeling.

At 1pm, Alex joined me in my shop, off from his day care to go home to have lunch with me. he greeted me with hugs and kisses and wished me happy Birthday, yet again. The best present in the world. Carme was in the middle of a firestorm at work and called to tell me she was not going to make it home for lunch. I was sad but I knew she had some upcoming things in the works so I made no fuss and assured her all was fine.

At home, Alex spent most of his lunchtime laying in my arms as we enjoyed cartoons together. I recently got him a collection of Foghorn Leghorn movies. Now he can see why I tattooed that rooster on my shoulder.

Near 3pm, Alex and I headed back to town so I could drop him off for his afternoon session at daycare and I braved the midday heat to make it back to my shop for the 2nd half of my day. As I went to open my shop doors i noticed a large ribbon attached to a new aluminum mountain bike sitting in my shop. I was near tears thinking how I had longed for a new bike (there is no where to park here in the summer since so many tourists have entered our little town, the price and availability of gas is becoming ridiculous, and I need the exercise). I immediately called Carme and she let me know that it was a gift from my in laws. It was heart warming.

Afterwards it was time for my shop to close. Alex did not have his bike with him so I opted to walk home with him and prepare for our dinner celebration at 9pm. Alex and i both dressed in our summer's finest clothes and made our way to the restaurant. We were greeted by my entire Spanish family along with family friends, Jesús and Evita, his wife. Jesús presented me with a pair of swimming trunks from Lacoste, but of course, they were a wee bit tight. Not that I tried them on right there, but later I did. Johnnie and Natalie gave me a futbol jersey of the Spanish National team which was poised to (and eventually won) the European championship on the coming up Sunday against Germany (hooray!!!).

So we sat down to have a meal, the 10 of us. And the owner, another family friend, Mercedes, greeted us with the usual and warm conversation. she is always gentle and nice with the kids despite Noelia commanding the entire attention of the whole restaurant. we were seated in the middle of the restaurant. i love this restaurant because half of the tables are seated under the sky. it was quite warm and humid, not like Hampton, but enough to keep my forehead moist. Still I was enjoying the occasional breeze.

Mercedes let us know that we had a new waiter from Argentina. It was his first day and she wanted to see how well he did with our table. I thought it to be odd that his first night he was getting a table of 10 but who am I to complain. After waiting for this waiter to come take our drink orders. just then I heard Mercedes scolding him for being too lax and I knew we were in for it tonight. finally he came over. we were sitting 5 a side of a long rectangular table. It was me, Carme, then Alex, Jesús then my father in law. on the other side was Natalia (directly cross from me at the end of the table), Johnnie to her left, then Noelia, my mother in law and then Evita. The waiter came to my end of the table and might I say, with his first words, i knew I was in for a long night.

For starters, he was chatting way too much. I am just getting used to understanding simple conversations but his Argentinian Spanish was killing me. Second, he reminded me of someone who might have did drag shows to supplement his income, since he was a horrible waiter. He kept complaining how hot it was as he passed out the menus. He kept my menu to fan himself and hoped that it was OK with me. I laughed inside and just read off of Carme´s menu.

Later he came back to finally take our drink order. He took about 30 minutes just getting the order correct and I was thirsty. But still I help my patience and smiled nicely. The whole time he hovered above us, he kept touching my shoulder. Now I am secure in my manhood and happily married, so I was not too homophobic to knock him for a loop. He spent as much time touching everyone within reach also so i did not take it to heart. Johnnie was especially uncomfortable with this friendliness and offering to fan him.

Now the kicker to all of this was the restaurant owner, Mercedes. She seemed flustered and unsure of her new waiter. Hovering within earshot and correcting him along the way. I do not know Mercedes very well but from what I can tell she is very friendly, loves her restaurant, and especially takes good care of her customers. She nipped at the waiters heels and he seemed to give respectable lip back while complaining how hot it was. She just threw her hands up. My father in law was especially not pleased and let Mercedes know about the people she has hired.

When he brought out our appetizers, because my in laws have to warm up their stomachs before the main course and help stretch the time out a bit. It just isn't a family dinner without Noelia grabbing attention anyway she can, Natalia sitting at the end of the table smoking away, my mother in law speaking to any and everyone walking in or out of the restaurant, Carme still translating the menu for me and Alex being so hungry he cries until we get hims a whole cheese pizza (mind you they are the size of an average dinner plate ...without oregano and no burnt cheese) only to eat enough to constitute a mouthful. Another 6 € down the drain.

Still the whole time, the waiter, let´s call him Alfredo or something, kept complaining how how it was. He thought if I looked cool, then I would feel cooler. so he produced a pair of shades that looked like they came from Elvis Presley himself (70's Elvis that is). He insisted he should slip these on me. Carme egged him on. I was so caught up in Spanish flying around my head that I am not sure who suggested it but somehow there is a photo of me in the shades with Alfredo trying to hold my head. Something is fishy here. So I put on he shades, so what. Every time I go to take them off, he seems to be focused on me and putting them back on me. Still hovering, touching my shoulder and fanning me. By this time I was nervous to go to the restroom by myself.

At the insistence of Alfredo, I returned to my table to receive our main courses. Also I was receiving knowing eye contact from other patrons. their eyes would say things like "you have a lot of patience" or "better you than me". I was laughing inside because I think some single ladies were wondering if I were gay and my friend (Carme) was setting me up because surely she was not protecting her husband...more like she was instigating the whole episode. My birthday is going so well now.


Finally, the food was being delivered. Still, avoiding any time of eye contact with Alfredo and hoping he would not want to be my birthday gift later on. When I looked over my shoulder to see my plate coming in. I noticed just beyond my eye focus, something odd. The waiter had taken off his pants!!!

Still claiming how hot it was, he innocently pranced around in red and black boxer briefs as he served everyone's meal. The entire wait staff looked horrified and the other patrons are now in a roaring, simultaneous laughter. All eyes fell on me to see how much I could take. I was a throw away from exploding. Here I sit, remembering a conversation I had with Mercedes just 5 minutes before, explaining to her that she should give him a chance, 's only his first day...well I finally got let off the hook.

Mercedes came to the table with a big smile as Alfredo announced to everyone that it was my birthday and this was a huge practical joke. For weeks, Carme had been working with Mercedes, the actor, and her mother in law, to plan this somewhat elaborate hoax. Carme knows I have the patience of an ox so she knew I would not lose my cool. The entire restaurant laughed even louder and clapped. My normal waitress came over and gave me the customary kiss on each cheek and Mercedes began singing happy Birthday in Catalan. Just then they brought out a lovely lemon cream pie with candles saying "36" all lit. It was quite a draining experience.

my new summer time love...

That´s right, i have fallen in love. No disrespect to my wife, whom I adore dearly, but this is an attraction I cannot deny any longer. This new love of mine is full of sass, spunk and just as easy as Sunday mornings. I see her everyday, mostly after dinner but on the weekends, I have her all day long. Carme is not the least bit jealous because she and I look forward to having her together. Oh, and her name is Sandy.

Before your mind wanders and goes all in the gutter, I am talking about a summer drink that totally is refreshing and satisfying. If Spain is offering me anything worthwhile, this drink is the top of the list. A Sandy is a mixture of beer and lemon soda in a wine glass but i take her in a tall glass. the more the merrier. She has a cousin called Clara which is beer and Sprite or Tonic water but i am not brave enough to cheat on Sandy just yet.
One might cringe at the mixture, but on these warm summer days and hazy evening, it is more than enough to quench your thirst. It´s delicious, refreshing and smooth. The lemon and sugar mixes nicely with beer, which I abhor to no end. I am not a fan of beer in the least bit. I rarely drink it and when I do it's jut to fit in the crowd. I am more of a tequila or rum drinker and that is a rare occasion.

Carme and I giggle as we both have pains for this drink after dinner as we sit on our balcony watching the world go by. It´s my job to make them and her job to drink them with me. we even go so far as to make the lemon soda nice and icy so it´s half Slurpee and half cold liquid. I am in the process of finding a Slurpee machine so we can have them on tap when we want.

Try it for yourself. But don´t expect to get a buzz. Might take 6 or 7 to do so.

San Juan....a day to be careful

Ok I think I have had enough of Spanish Holidays. By far this is the most nerve wrecking holidays of them all. I should have headed the warning signs, but nothing prepares you for this day.

Tossa is quite the small pueblo...I can`t seem to say that enough. Until you come here you cannot imagine just how small it is. I have nothing to compare it to in America. It is literally impossible to have a town this small and still put it on a map without giggling. Tossa is so small that I could sneeze on one side of town and someone would catch my cold on the other, if not for the constant, gentle and inviting sea breeze that sweeps over us. With that being said, let me tell you about this holiday.

Well actually I have no idea what this holiday is for. Most businesses were open, as were I to avoid going to the beach with the family and my niece. Mostly the businesses were open because this is a tourist town. No high rise business offices here, no home offices of any major banks either.

Also, just about every day there is some saint´s day to celebrate. The more popular names get the most attention. every one here is name Maria so that is a huge shopping time. It´s usually treated much like a birthday but as you get older it seems you tone down the partying and extravagant gift giving. well when I asked Eric what was so important about this day, he just replied that half of the country is called Juan, namely the King. I sighed and pressed on. Carme could not answer the question ether so I am sorry, you have to look it up for yourself.

But the best and worst part of this day and leading up to it is the fireworks. I am not talking about driving in the warm southern night to Chesterfield County fairgrounds to brave mosquitoes to catch a 30 minute show of "ooohs" and "ahhs" while you kid has fallen asleep and begging for you to take him home. I am talking more like firecrackers. And everyone but me had them. Kids as young at 8 and 9 walk around with pockets full of these loud poppers and bangers. Older kids have knapsacks full of cherry bombs and beetle bombs. even the adults are launching explosive flares that burst 40 feet in the air. And this does not happen all in one day, it`s spread over a week. Many days I sit in my little store, mindfully working away on yet another website where the customer wants every animated gifs and unreadable fonts they can think of, which goes against the very fabric of effective website design. and just as I go to sip on my perfectly cooled iced cafe con leche...BANG!!!! POP!!!! SCREEEEEEEAAAAMMMM! Good thing coffee doesn't stain.

As soon as school is let out for lunch break, the popping ans whizzing starts. Carme warned me to beware of prankster throwing poppers in my store and running to startle me but I think they are afraid I would catch them in a 40 yard dash. After 40 yards I am done for a good week, but again...TOSSA IS SMALL and I would find them. There is only one school for God´s sake.

I took the startling bangs all week and got pretty used to them but when the sun started to set, the activity of pocket lighters and mischievous prankster increased. We went to have a meal at her mother´s house which I can only guess is tradition. We had plates of cheese, shaved Serrano ham and another of my favorite things to eat, wide loathed and seemingly thin sliced crusty bread rubbed with the juice of a raw tomato (simply call pan con tomat or pa amb tomata, in Catalan). Sorry if I get off on a rant here but take some bread (not the sliced bread like Sunbeam or Wonder Bread...go to a bakery or Ukrpos) and toast it if you would like. then cut a tomato (red not some half green one you got on your way to work from the Dinwiddie County gas station) and squeeze and rub on the bread so the seeds and juice are spread across the bread. Depending on the type of tomato, size of the bread, and if Jupiter is aligned with Mars, you may need the whole tomato or another half. The bread should not be soggy but the taste of the tomato will be all you need. Next dabble a little olive oil over the bread, again mind the saturation of these two tastes. And to finish it off, sprinkle a little salt to give it that extra kick. Simple but full of good tastes and quick to make or to eat with a nice dinner meal.

Back on point, so we are having dinner at her mom´s on the back terrace, with a perfect view of the town´s mostly clear sky as twilight was setting right about the western horizon. I would have enjoyed this time with my entire Catalan family if not for the random and loud explosions going on all around me. I had trouble tasting my food as I was imagining that this is what Beirut must have been like in the 80´s. and while I was yelling "INCOMING" and diving under the table. I swear it literally shook the dinner table. Out of the corner of my eyes were flashes of light and explosions louder than my thoughts. Occasionally a rocket was launched and exploded in the now dark skies. But nothing as organized at the Caroline County Fair site. Needless to say I was getting a bit shell shocked at the noises and flash bangs increased in frequency. This is why Tossa, being a small town, is such a big deal. I heard every firecracker that was purchased and lit that week and that night!

After dinner, since we had walked to her mothers, we took turns hiding in bushes and low crawling in the grass to cautiously make our way home. What normally is a 5 minute stroll was now a 2 hour duck and weave for our lives. Alex got a kick out of playing G.I. Joe but Carme was not too please when she hit a bush of thorn and brier.

We thought we are home safe. Notice I said...thought! The fireworks lasted well into the night and early morning. I sat in my widows with a flack jacket and Kevlar helmet waiting for the Nazis to come rolling thru town or the Spanish Nationalist Army or something. Finally when I could not keep my eyes open any longer I drifted off to sweet dreamland. I am not sure how long I was asleep before a thunderous explosion went off outside. I do not not how close it was but it woke me enough to realize I was drooling on my teddy bear I sleep with. I felt the shock of the sound waves in my feet but I am not sure if it was the explosion or me jumping from being startled. I was sleeping like a baby and refused to wake up. If the explosion blew up my house and took off my legs as I initially thought, then I would deal with it in the morning. Snore.