Life: Idiotropic

See.  If they can get along...

Don't worry.   They are just playing.  And the cat enjoys this.  In fact, half of the time, the cat starts this.

So the dog is genetically wired to want to eat the cat.  Her little brain waves are going "chase, attack, throw around like a chew toy."  But somewhere along the way, she stopped and though, "but the cat is not a horrible conversationalist and if I eat him, then I'll get fur stuck in my teeth and I really hate flossing."  And so, if even to prevent the pain of flossing, the dog decides to think another way.   She goes to have a chat with cat.

Cat's brain wants to arch his back, hiss menacingly, and run from dog.  But, he thinks a bit.  "I do lay around and do a lot of nothing and may be a bit of one on one will keep my muscles rippling more than my flabby belly."

So dog and cat converse and come up with this wrestling play plan that will lead outsiders to believe that they are ferociously fighting,  but to a trained eye, you can see that the claws and fangs don't actually penetrate.  They are Hollywood style superstars of play fighting.

They are the children that chase each other all around the house up on beds and down and make a ton of racket until I stand up and find them and shout as if they were young siblings, "Would you both please stop fighting and settle down!  Enough!!"

So may be there's more than one way to view the world.  ;)

May be it's not as simple as 2+2=4.  Or may be, another view could see things differently.  May be 2+2=24.  In the case of rabbits, this could certainly be the case.

Just days ago I was absolutely confident in my 2nd grade knowledge that there are seven continents.  I learned that years ago.  It is fact.  Just like 2+2.


Then this issue came up at school.  I argued it.  Of course, there are seven continents.  Who would be stupid enough to think otherwise?  Then I looked it up just for fun.  And you know what?  That's just one view.  Much of the world teaches 6.  Some even teach 5.


You can argue that North and South America are on two different tectonic plates and are thus, two.  But many would argue that they are touching and are only 1.  Many believe that Europe and Asia are one because really, it is just one gargantuan landmass separated more by ethnicity than by any geographical means.


So, my paradigm has shifted.  Slightly.  I can see it now and understand better.

And I believe that's important.  My initial reaction and the reaction of others that I know over something as minor as the number of continents was a bit strong.  I immediately decided that we (in the states) were correct and thus, the education that my children are receiving here - in this place that would dare teach that there are 5 or 6 must be horribly bad.  That they were the ignorant ones.

May be no one is "ignorant."  We are all just approaching the same picture with a different view and a different set of rules.  I can still play by my rules, but if I know and understand their rules, then instead of ignorance, we can talk about it.  It now becomes something interesting instead of maddening.


As for the hubrous that is thrust upon the US.  No.  I won't buy that.  The United States gets called a lot of things by folks over here - often, I believe, because like me, they aren't fully informed.   It is difficult enough to get an accurate picture through US news, but to learn about our country through EU news, and the US music and movies, doesn't really say what the United States really is.

Although, I think it's important to try to understand it, we can't accept it either.  To sit down and accept the view of the US that the world would put upon us, we give up our ideals.  To say that we are arrogant aggressors, we are playing into a world view that will do much more harm than good. 
 
No, we don't teach 7 continents to create a division that keeps South America poor and inferior.  No we are not oppressors.   It is quite the opposite.  The US is arguably the most generous country out there - often to our own financial detriment.  Yes we have rich - many have worked for that.  Yes we have greedy - it comes with the territory.  No, we aren't perfect - no country is.


But Americans can be proud.  Or United Statsians.  Or UncleSamians.


I'm just a US Oregonian.

Most people come to Spain to escape the rain.  Here, we had over 2x the average rain for Feb and March is looking about the same.  Cold and wet.  So, cultural outings are postponed yet again and I'm learning to adopt my German mantra of getting out each and every day that it's sunny because chances are it won't be long.

Oh well, it gives me time to catch up.

Here's the latest.

Tiara came home on Monday with a scratchy voice from arguing.  She wouldn't normally raise her voice, but here you almost have to.  Her friends are loud, thus she must be loud to be heard. 

The argument?  The number of continents. 

Ok, so how many continents are there?  Tiara posed this question to me when she got home hoarse and flustered.  So, I started to list them. 
      "North America, South America -" 

      "Stop, you've just proved my point."

Well, Tiara's friends (who happen to be some of the top students in their year) said that there are only 6 continents and that North and South America are one continent, not two.  They argued all through lunch.  After lunch, they asked one of the British teachers who said that they are two separate continents.  Tiara's friends didn't believe that, so they went to see their Sociales teacher - a Spanish woman, who agreed with them that yes, in fact, there is one continent of America, not two.

This is one of the top schools in Spain.  These are some of the top students in their year.  6 continents.  Huh.

And they think that Columbus named his discovery "America,"  (Amerigo Vespucci is rolling in his grave) which led to the complaint about the hubristic Americans who use that title as their own.

"People from the US are wrong to call themselves American because in fact, everyone from the continent of America is an American." Huh.  When I say I'm an "Americana", they don't ask which country I mean.  And when I'm asked where I'm from (which happens a lot) and I answer, "de Los Estados Unidos," they respond with "Eres Americana."  You said it, not me.  I don't want to be arrogant.

Columbians don't call themselves Americans.  Nor do Mexicans.  Nor anyone else.  You ask a European where they are from and they say, "I'm a German," or "I'm Italian," etc.  We call ourselves Americans and the world knows us as Americans not because we're claiming the continent as our own, but because our country is called "The United States of America" and frankly every one is way too lazy to figure out how to turn that into an adjective.

Prime example here... back in the days of the USSR, we called them Russians.  Probably because most people didn't know what the USS meant, but still.  They were the Russians.  All of them.  And no one griped about the title then.  Or may be they did and then rotted in prison because of it... but that's another story.

Fine.  I'm an United Statsian.  Feel better?  Ugh.

To date, though I haven't really kept you up well on the pain of adjusting to school here, I can tell you that my girls have all come to a point of equilibrium.  Though all yearn for Germany and none will declare any sort of love for this school, they all are content enough, for the most part.

I have begun to hear complaints from all four; however, that they must write and spell in British at school.  Luci even complained that she has to refer to me as "mum,"  and don't get her started on the way they spell color!  Tiara studies spelling for her science tests so that she can properly spell "oesophogus."  Because if she spells like an American, it will be counted wrong.

And we are all learning new translations.

Popsicle = Lolly  (In Germany, lolly = lollypop or sucker)
Candy Cane = Rock  (Why?)
Caramel Apple = Toffee Apple
Candies (small wrapped ones) = Chews
Chips = Crisps
Jelly Beans = Jellies
Cotton Candy = Candy Floss

Homework:  "My brother John has _____ eyes."  (The student should insert an adjective in the blank.)

Arianna:  "Mom, I don't get it.  I don't have a brother!"

I explain.  She gets it. 

The adjective she chooses?  Punky.  If she had a brother... AND his name was John... he's have punky eyes.  ;)

GRIPE 1:

I've been complaining for months that our water was barely warm.  My landlord dropped off the water
heater information packet (in Spanish, of course) and told me that may be it's just too cold outside to heat up the water as much as I like.  Months of barely hot and often lukewarm.

Last week I washed my hair 3 times with ice cold water and Arianna did that once.

Yesterday there was no hot water for my shower, none for dishes, none for anything anywhere in the house.


Manuel and Begonia came over.  We looked under the hot water heater and gently pulled on the little black door.  I took out a D battery.

"Do you have this kind of battery?" 
"I think so."

I go into the kitchen, rifle around in the "junk" drawer, and pull out a new Energizer D battery.  I go back to the garage and put it in then closed that little black door.

"Let's try it," suggests Manuel.
"Ok."  I went into the kitchen, turned the water on hot, put my hand under the icy stream and waited.

"It hasn't changed at all," I told Manuel as he puts his hand into the icy water.
"Are you sure?"  He says smiling.  So I put my hand back into the water and it's hot!  Actually hot!  The hottest it's been in months!

Because of one battery.  Who knew that a hot water tank would run off one single battery?

GRIPE 2: 

Today.  Just now.  I checked my local bank online.  The number looked really low.  So I looked at the "detalles."  Today, Iberdrola took 822 Euros from my account for electricity.  2 months of electricity, but even in half, this is Euros!  That's a lot of electricity.  I suppose it's because of the cold winter and the lack of insulation and the windows that let the cold in through cracks and even under doors.  It's 2 months of trying to stay warm.  Ouch. 

See, here, in Spain, just like in Germany, you give your bank information to businesses and they take out the money you owe - often before you even get the statements in the mail.  It's a horrible system.  Yeah, I'd still have to pay the 822 Euro bill, but at least I wouldn't have a heart attack just by checking my account balance. 

This morning Valencia was awakened by over 3000 people carrying fireworks.  For a split second, I'd contemplated this, but then thought wiser.  It was the despertá, the awakening.  A procession walked through the streets tossing loud firecrackers on the ground.  The bands followed later with the playing the traditional pasadobles and then the mascletá began.  At 8 near the Serranos towers that I've walked by many times, the Fallera Mallor declared the Fallas officially begun and more fireworks ensued.  Of course, I missed it all.  And that's ok.  There will be next year and I did get my dose of culture today a bit more locally.

I drove into Puzol and parked.  Groups of people walked towards the church with strollers, cages and critters on leashes.  People assembled near their homes, fussed over their dogs making sure they looked nice, and tied red bandanas around their necks.  Today in Puzol is the fiesta de Sant Antoni - the saint of the animals, today was the day they would be blessed.

One long block was blocked off in front of the church and dirt was laid on the street right in front of the statue of Sant Antoni.  Onlookers assembled on either side of the street to watch.  Others held their animals on the north end waiting.  The priest in his long white robes got onto the stage with his silver conical cup and a scoop of sorts that he'd use to fling water at all who passed by.   A small group gathered in front of the priest each holding a pigeon with brightly painted feathers.  At the signal, they were released and the procession began.  First one or two approached the boxes in the center where men handed out "goodie bags" or corn and bagels to the animals.  Then larger groups went through until all the "house pets" were done.  Turtles big and small, hamsters and guinea pigs, dogs, cats, rabbits, and birds in and out of cages - they all went through.

Then they got out larger treat bags and moved to the side for the horses.  In ones, twos, and twenties, the horses went by.  Some pulled carts.  Some had riders.  Others were led.  They all paused in front of the priest and awaited their bag of treats.  Many performed tricks.  Those pulling carts would do a nice little circle.  Some of the riders would rear up or walk in a special way.  One horse bowed.  The tiny horses were the funniest - so small and funny looking, but packed with attitude.  Some of them pulled tiny carts that looked almost like wheelchairs with old men who probably would use one and they'd speed off like they were in the Kentucky Derby.  The largest horses foamed at the mouth flinging thick white spit at anyone close enough to catch it.  Riders wore blue jeans, riding pants, fine British style attire, and traditional Spanish attire.  It was a bit of everything.  And one boy - probably Tiara's age - came speeding in on two horses - standing - on two horses, one foot on each.  No saddles.  Just a slippered foot on the back of a horse.  He sped in, turned his horses in a circle (while standing), jumped off, then swung himself up on them again while they were still moving and rode off the way he came.  A few minutes later, he returned standing still on the same two horses while holding the reigns of two more in the lead.  Dressed in a long black Moorish style tunic, he looked like someone out of a movie.

I've heard that the bulls usually come at the end.  An old woman told me that there would be a mass for everyone (animals too?) at the end as well.  I didn't stay.  The bakery closes at 2.  At 1:45, it was time for me to go.

Fun though.  May be next year I'll bring Deuce and Logan.  I've heard some years there will be lizards, snakes, and snails as well.  If it's a pet, you can have it blessed!  :)

PHOTOS:  http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=194634&id=674507268&l=ce622ae2d8

You'd think it was Christmas as often as the busy little mouse is scurrying in and out of our house.  Luci lost two teeth just a couple weeks ago and now two more in two days.  She says she has a phone in her mouth because of the funny C shape that the spaces make.

Two nights ago, the Tooth Mouse brought her a little Valencian doll with the traditional Fallas hair and dress.  It was quite impressive since Luci had just been to the children's fallas parade, so she recognized the hair and dress styles instantly.  Last night the mouse brought a small figure of a fallera menor (young girl in falla attire) with only two teeth riding a bicycle with a very scared puppy sitting in the basket.  This is a very small replica of a real Falla that will be in Valencia in just a few weeks.  Can't wait to see her face when she sees her figure enlarged by 7 stories.

Arianna and Elise are insanely jealous.  Miss A especially is moping around because her teeth aren't loose and she doesn't think it's fair that she lost her teeth in Germany.  The tooth mouse is much cooler.  She really, really, really wants to lose a tooth in Spain.  I have to watch her now.  If she starts chewing on rocks, I'll know why. 

just another day...

with a friend who thinks a lot like me (which is more than a little frightening) and really fun to talk to.  

I think we're coming to the end of the "considerate" stage.  You know that stage?  You know when you first meet someone and you like them and you start up a friendship, but you are extremely considerate of them and what they might want because you don't know them really well enough yet.  That stage of, "well, what would you like?  Oh, really, anything is fine with me."  It's a stage that lasts longer with international friends no matter how good their English ability is - not sure why - may be because of cultural differences, but it's there.  And it's frustrating and really quite boring because neither of you are really being entirely 100% who you are really and you guard your words just enough and hold back humor just a bit, and don't act impulsively ever.  There's a stunning dress in the shop window and the real you is screaming to dart across the street in front of traffic to go to it and touch the sleaves and go and try it on and twirl in circles imagining how you'd accessorize, but the "considerate-stage" you calmly looks over, points, and casually mentions, "hey, that looks like a cute little shop over there.  Would you like to go look?"   Then you wait for an answer and if it's "yes," then you wait for the crosswalk to turn green and then you cross calmly as if it's just a box of oranges in the window and not the most amazing perfect dress you've ever seen.

Anyway,  today was a day via train to Valencia with a wonderful Hungarian friend and absolutely no itinerary nor plan.  We just walked.  Stopped once at Starbucks for coffee - "considerate me" was about to pass by though I really hoped to stop and Eva who really likes Starbucks suggested it and I was oh so happy.  Then we walked, and walked, and walked.  Discovered a shoe repair shop, a dress shop, a strange "rock" museum with figures from the Corpus Christi parade, and a shop with miniature Fallas - the perfect "tooth mouse" gift.  Had lunch at a really nice pinchos bar that I'd been to before, but she hadn't, then walked down a shopping street that she'd known of, but I didn't.  Stopped in an antique store and got "trapped" talking to the propriator who knows someone from Oregon and joked that he'd been to the original "Aragon" and raved about how much he loves Hungary.  Stopped at the market for a strawberries and jam.  Stopped at the Ayutamiento for flowers (because there are virtually no florists in Spain).  Came home again via train.

And sun the entire time.

Photos:  Graffiti is everywhere here and some of it is even nice.  And, bakeries love putting big chunky things on top of bread dough before baking.  This one has red peppers and a fish tail.  Some have whole eggs, other fish, blood sausages, and other odd things.  Like an inside-out sandwich?

Flavor means at least two of my girls won't eat it.  And the pasta noodles are delicious, but they have flavor, so, even my noodle girl looked at it oddly.  "What's the green stuff?  Ewww."

However, I like flavor and so if my girls are stuck with cereal for dinner on occasion because I decide to cook something that I like, well then, so be it.  They will live and my tastebuds will dance a lively jig.  Someone has to look out for the tastebuds.

The Recipe - from my favorite cooking mag all all time - Cuisine at  Home.  Issue 54.  December 2005.

Saltimbocca Chicken Breasts 
with Sage Sauce and Creamy Arugula Pasta

1.  Season 2 boneless, skinless chicken breast halves (6-8oz each) with ground black pepper.  In each, cut a slit in the center of the breast, insert a 1 oz stick of provelone cheese, then place the stuffed chicken on 2 overlapping slices of prociutto and wrap tightly.

2.  Preheat the oven to 400 and bring a pot of salted water to a boil for cooking the pasta.
3.  Saute the chicken in 1 t. olive oil and 1 t. butter in a non-stick skillet over medium-high heat.  Cook, turning to brown on all sides, 6-8 min total.  Place the chicken on a rack set on a baking sheet and transfer to the oven for about 5 minutes to finish.  Remove and let chicken rest 5 minutes before serving.
5.  Drain the pasta, add it to the bowl with the cream mixture and toss to coat the pasta and wilt the greens.
6.   Saute 1 T. minced shallots in butter over medium-high heat using the same pan that  you cooked the chicken in.  Cook until the shallots are soft - 1 min.
7.  Deglaze the shallot pan with 1/4 cup dry white wine; simmer over high heat until nearly evaporated.  Add 1/3 cup chicken broth and the juice of 1/2 a lemon.  Simmer until reduced by half, 3 min.
8.  Finish the sauce with 2 T. softened butter and 1t. minced fresh sage leaves. 

Some times I almost feel like a local.   Moments when quirky cultural things just pass me by and I yawn and think, ya ya, it's just "normal."  Really, there are days when nothing surprises me.

And then, a moment will come along and smack me in the face and say, "YOU ARE AN AMERICAN, START THINKING LIKE ONE, PLEASE," and then I do and then I'm shocked.

Part of it is my fault, really.  The shock, that is.  I mean, as Americans, we tend to over-glorify Europe.  We think that if it's European that it's "tres chic", and "ooh-la-la", and "all that".  That it's older, thus better at just about everything.  Well, not to burst your bubble, but nope.  Not true.  Europeans have greasy, flavorless junk food and really tacky made-in-china junk, bad fashion,  inappropriate humor, and lots of graffiti.

Today was one of those days.  Overpaid for chairs to sit along the parade route in a cloud of smoke.  It's a children's parade.  My American mind believes that there should be minimal to no smoking at children's events.  So here I go thinking like an American as I try to block my girls from the smoke while choking on the cloud wafting from the group of wrinkled adults next to me.  Please wind, please change.  Cough, cough, sputter.

The parade starts.  Beautiful regal horses, a nicely dressed band, and three beautiful floats filled fill falleras menores - the young princesses of this festival dressed in thousand euro dresses, fine jewelry with dangling pearl cluster earrings, large hand pounded gold combs in their hair and three large tightly braided buns pinned to their heads.  They all stop just short of us to get out of their beautiful whimsical floats and watch the parade from the private stands in front of the Ayutamiento (City Hall).  This was beautiful, colorful, interesting...  And then the rest of the parade went by.

I suppose I can blame the Dutch.  Don't get me wrong, I love the Dutch, but boy, those folks know how to put on a parade. And their children's parade is probably the best I've ever seen.  So when a man walked by in a Greek style robe with a badly painted sign proclaiming "tradegy of something-or-other," followed by some extremely simple floats and a few very bad costumes, I was, well disappointed.  After all, this is Europe?  And all of Europe is "tres magnifique!"

Yes, there were some cute costumes, but those were the minority.  Most of the parade consisted of very low-budget "thrown together" looking floats with cooresponding "not-very-impressive" costumes.  Some kids didn't even look like they were wearing costumes and no, holding a sign, isn't the same as wearing a costume.

There was no candy.  Just a lot of advertising leaflets passed around.  A children's parade without candy?  Boo.

And the humor.  Well.  It seems to me (and this is just my little ol' American brain talkin') that if you are calling it a "children's parade," then it is a parade FOR the children and thus should be something that is fun and entertaining FOR the children.  To me, a children's parade is not a parade OF children.  But, I'm not in the states, am I?  So this children's parade is a satirical parade made up OF children.  Each group comes up with a theme, then dresses up kids of all ages (babies to teens) to walk along the route dressed up according to that theme.  One theme was aging.  Began with babies, then showed the aging process.  One scene showed a girl by a sink with tampons and pads stuck all over the place.  Another one showed a girl dressed half like a fallera and half in sweats with a coca cola in her hand.  Another scene showed one kid with a rock, another smoking, and another drinking from a "botellon," an unmarked bottle of alcohol that is a past-time with youth here.  Hmmm.  Most of the signs were in Valenciano, but those that I could make out just didn't quite make sense.  Certainly not in terms of anything fun for children.   Again, let's get some cute smiley animals or cartoon characters in here.

Finally, we had a scene of Wizard of Oz and another of Alice in Wonderland.  The flight theme was nice.  Willy Wonka is always fun.  Sadly, those weren't enough to counter the wierdness that was our first impression. 

Thankfully, the parade ended on a happy note.  Just shortly after the giant blood sausage rolled by, the mascleta began.  The rain had already started then stopped and we'd already made our way to the front gate of the train station - a safe distance for young ears.  And the boom began.  Sort of like those low-rider cars with the windows open and the boom-boom music so loud that you can hear it in your house and your windows shake.  But here it's that times a thousand and you can feel the rhythm of the masleta in the soles of your feet and inside.  It goes through you and your heart feels as if it's beating to the same rhythm and then the fireworks begin.  Wow.  I've never seen nor heard anything like this.  It's powerful, beautiful, and absolutely exhilarating!  Like flying out-of-control down a ski slope, there's an adrenaline rush just standing there from a block away.  This could be addictive.  The girls loved it.

The mascleta is a special Valencian oddity - the firework of sound.  A display for the ears formed around rhythms, like tribal drummers gone mad.  Beginning March 1st, there will be one every day at 2pm at this same place.  No lights, just sound and smoke.  Perhaps this is why people talk so loud here?


MORE PHOTOS:  http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=192342&id=674507268&l=009778e801


FALLAS:  http://www.cyberspain.com/life/fallas.htm
 
FALLAS:  http://www.holavalencia.net/2009/07/14/what-is-fallas/

FALLAS:  http://www.fallasfromvalencia.com/

 

There is this narrow little road between Puzol's main street and the highway access.  This little road is known as Cami, one of oh, a kazillion "cami" roads in Spain.  It doesn't have a name because it doesn't need one.  It's just a badly paved farm road of sorts that is half in Puzol and half in Puig and so no one really wants to take responsibility for it and if you really want to complain, well, don't because there's a perfectly good road with a proper name just a kilometer down the road that is taken car of.

People like to complain about this Cami though.  After all, the potholes are many and deep as if Hannibal's elephants had been through recently.  I think one is big enough for an elephant bath.  It's certainly big enough to swallow a Smart car.

A few weeks ago, I was pleasantly surprised to see someone filling the holes.  One man sat parked in a small rusty truck with a wood-slat fence around the flatbed.  The other man slowly filled the potholes with his shovel-fulls of dirt from that truck, then stomped them down with his feet.  It looked quite amateur.  Amusing too.  But who cares... for a day or two, at least until the next rain, the holes would be sparing elephants and cars alike.

But Valencia weather "is not normal" according to the locals.  The rain in Spain... well, it keeps acomin'.  And the dirt turned mud turned mud puddle and went ahead and washed away.

One thing that hasn't gone anywhere is the road block on that same stretch of road made from a few big rocks and... oranges.  Yes, here where oranges are as plentiful as potholes, they make excellent barriers.

I think they need to reconsider the mud and fill these potholes with oranges.  They may just do the trick.  And if not, at least a patch of bright orange will act as a nice warning light to any car who dares pass by.

Really, I think this will work.  Unless of course, someone is offering up a proper cement truck.  But what am I thinking?  This is Spain!  Yeah, let's gather some oranges, folks, and have us a pot hole fillin' party on the cami road.

My phone has been ringing a lot lately. 

Ringring ringring.

       "Hello?"
       "Buenas ___, blah blah blah blah blah"

This is where I tell them they have the wrong number, keep talking in English until they hang up, or say, "I'm sorry, I don't speak Spanish.  Good bye."

Yes, I do feel somewhat guilty about this.  Somewhat.  Because I do speak Spanish decently and have been able to communicate successfully on the phone several times when it's been important.  But, after the 20ish calls from the new gym that opened in town that I worked really hard to get through as their speaking sped up to auctioneer speeds, I am really just sort of done with telemarketing calls in Spanish. 

       "Por favor, no hablo espanol bien.  Despacio, por favor."
      
And they s t a r t    o u t   s l o w l y   a n d   t h e n   it  speeds up and pretty soon they are speaking faster and faster and faster... and it's so fast that I think I have hummingbirds in my ear.

        "Como?  Repitalo, por favor?" 

I'm sorry... after 15 minutes of this, I am tired.  This isn't a good time.  Could you please call back another day?  And they do.  Really, 20ish calls.  I did this.  And I tried.  And I eventually got it and got myself an appointment to go check out the new gym that I couldn't find and decided just to not go because I just don't have that kind of time.

I'm only going to live here another 18+ months or so and there is really very little reason for me to stress my little brain cells trying to have any sort of coherant conversation over the phone with their Road Runner paced Spanish with thick Valencian undertones.  Nope.  That's my justification.  Guilt begone.


So why do I still feel that pang?  Ugh.  Fine.   May be I should start answering in German.  ;)

How many businesses in the states have cell phone numbers?  I've been gone a while, so may be it's changed, but it is commonplace here for a business to have at least one mobile number listed on the business card.  The girls school have at least 6 mobile numbers to call.

And why?  Well, there is a very good reason for this and that is this crazy tariff system where calls are more expensive if made to a different type of number.

So, from my home phone, calls in Spain to land-line numbers are free.  If I call a mobile number from my cell phone, it costs me.  The opposite is also true, so I am constantly switching from phone to phone.  A land line, I call from my kitchen phone.  A mobile number, I use my cell.  And upstairs I have Skype for all international calls because it's pretty much known that Spain has the craziest most expensive phone services (land and mobile numbers) in all of Europe.

Some businesses ONLY have mobile numbers.  It's a different world.

This week of cold and wet, Motivation and I are playing a ruthless game of hide and seek.  Who'd have thought that my friend would be so good at hiding?  I looked in several mugs of coffee and black tea.   Guess those usual hiding spots are too easy.  I'm hoping to find him in some loud music.  If not, I fear that he might be hiding with the sun and at the moment, sun is neither within my sight nor within my grasp. 

Victory!!! 

And Valentine's, of course, but the theme of today was both.

For more than 30 months the courts have been involved with the America's Cup.  No matter what side you're on, all agree that the court is not the place to win - the water is. 

So, after a long time of ups and downs and suits and countersuits and "what ifs" and "where will it bes", a date was finally set in Valencia, the boats were shipped and helicoptered in, and the crowd gathered.

Last Monday, the 20 story wing went up on the Oracle.  I could see it from my balcony with the garrison sized American flag waving beside it.  School children were bussed in for the start of the historic race.  Clowns stood in front of the large screen entertaining them with balloons and tricks.  Fans, passersby, and the mildly curious came to the Veles a Vents building at the America's Cup Port in Valencia and waited. 

And waited.  Unfortunately, with sailing, there is this little thing you kind of need.  Wind.  And unfortunately for sailing, no one has quite figured out how to control it although I think if they can make a 20 story tall sail, they can probably make a giant fan and just use that.

So on Monday there was no wind, then too much wind and back and forth and after 6 long hours of finger crossing the race was canceled and rescheduled for Wednesday.  On Wednesday they let the kids stay in school.  Wise choice for it was another long day of waiting and weather watching and wondering if and when we'd see the boats on the water.  Too much wind and 2 meter waves?  The Oracle boat wanted to race.  Alinghi didn't in those conditions.  The committee boat sat on the start line and accessed the weather.  No start until 1300.  Then no start at all.  Race rescheduled for Friday.

Friday morning the port is empty.  All the media, operation, and hospitality boats are at the course.  The committee boat has set up.  They watch the wind and wait.  More than three hours of waiting and the race starts at 1435.

Sadly, the race itself was held 40 miles from shore too far to be seen unless you were on a boat near the coarse.  Now that would be incredible.  I was happy enough watching it from my computer which seems to be a trend these days.  My first sailing race, this was absolutely incredible.  Oracle's trimaran is just captivating.  Like the Eiffel tower, this is one of the those man-made structures and you can't take your eyes off of.  Especially on the water.  To see it lift off the water and fly seems more movie magic than real life, and yet it's absolutely real.  What makes it even more real is that the CEO of BMW/Oracle lives in my neighborhood, so I see his wife at my bus stop every day and chat. 

Friday the US team won with an over 3 kilometer and 15 minute lead over the Swiss team.

So Valentine's Day is also the day for race 2.  Kirk and I hoped to make it a family activity, but the girls opted to stay home and so we called it our Valentine's date and headed to the port, found parking amazingly close, and milled about.

The port is absolutely stunning.  The blue of the sky and sea sandwiching rows of yachts worth more than most will earn in a lifetime.  Over-the-top decadence.  Teams past have buildings along the port as well as the teams now.  It's all very clean and nicely done.  The Veles a Vents building at the end leads to grassy walkways along the water and a couple nice restaurants.

People lined up for free posters.  We did too.  They were handing out thick posterboard fans with the swiss flag printed on them.  Everyone had those.  We had to ask for the US one.  Oddly, the Europeans (and may be it's a EU solidarity thing), favor the Swiss team even though it was the US team that pushed to have the event in Valencia.  The Swiss team wanted it in a Middle Eastern country - I think the Emirates. 

In front of the big viewing screen, people mingled and waited.  Living room styled white plastic chairs and loveseats intermingled with bean bag cushions in different colors and sizes.  Some people brought dogs - mostly purse sized.  Some brought wine.  And people sat, relaxed as if they were in a giant living room, and waited.   A man did tricks with a ball at the front near the stage, and there were quite a few kids with their parents waiting.  It was cold though.  I'm sure my girls would have been bored.

There were 4 small food booths - carnival style.  The Swiss one sold very smelly cheese fondue.  The American sold hamburgers, hot dogs, and french fries (the most popular item).   One sold paella and the other Spanish one sold tapas.  We didn't eat.  Just watched the repeating videos on the screen while I refreshed twitter on my iPhone repeatedly to get updates.  A beautiful day to be out, a beautiful port full of really interesting people from all over, it was nice just to relax and people watch.  Just before 4 we decided to go feeling bad about leaving the girls on Valentine's Day.  I was convinced that with little wind, the late hour, and after moving the triangle shaped course now a third time that it would be postponed until Tuesday.

When we reached the car, I checked twitter again.  Harold Bennett set a start time of 1615.  Ugh.  The drive home is along the coast, so we could see the boats on the horizon.  Hard to miss a wing that big.

So we stopped at the Puzol beach - the little beach in our town and from there, we watched the start of the race, saw the Oracle speed off and Alingi's slow start.   Then they were out of sight.

I cooked dinner downstairs and watched the race upstairs on the computer running back and forth like a lunatic, sliding across the tile floor.  And the US team won!!!  Press conferences, fireworks we could see from our balcony, rumors that the next match could be in San Francisco!  Now that would be amazing!

And sailing has two new fans.  Tiara and I are hooked.

MORE PHOTOS:  http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=190250&id=674507268&l=420a44642f

Cold weather and a sick kid.  No amount of sun, nor the allure of a free concert in the magical setting of the CAC could pull me away from home.  At least not physically.  So, tonight, instead of bonding with Tiara in a mass of youthful humanity swaying to the rhythm of the Arctic Monkeys, I sat in the warmth of my office, read the Facebook feed of concert related comments, and "attended" the concert LIVE on my Mac.  Volume a little higher than usual, it was real enough.  Me being me, I sat and took pictures - just like I would at the "real" concert, except tonight, with my iPhone aimed at my computer screen.  Yes, I'm a dork.  The encore was amazing - the whole thing was amazing.  Next year, Tiara and I won't miss it.

The bonding?  Not tonight.  She watched Becoming Jane downstairs on her laptop.  Odd roll reversal, huh?