new discovery

Dark chocolate KitKats. Edible heaven.

On a less fat side note, we're now 2 for 2 this week re: gym attendance. I deserved an effing KitKat :D

she just can’t be bothered

While delicious and free, two weeks of big American breakfasts, all the peanut butter products under the sun and the best gosh darn donut place in the world have done their damage. She's noticing the, ahem, “snug” fit of her clothing and she feels about two candy bars away from donning a muumuu and losing all definition between her chin and my neck. She dreads that moment when gravity does its thing and turns what was once a right angle into its hypotenuse, thus connecting her chin directly to her collarbones. And yet... she has failed to get back to the pre-work gym routine that she had gotten pretty good at and was shockingly even quite fond of. Instead, the sweet bliss of sleep, safe and snug in the refuge of her down comforter, has prevailed thus far.

"Meh… maybe this week" she shrugs, as she glances guiltily at the awaiting gym bag at her feet.

Whenever I’m assigned at work to do a travel guide, I end up contracting a severe case of the infectious travel bug. It’s like an itch you can’t scratch, and you spend all your time at work thinking about when and how you could jet off to all the destinations that run through your mind. And then you dream of being a rich retired person or at the very least a jet-setting lottery winner who can just pick up and spend a year just traveling. I would be in my g-l-o-r-y.

Over the past six months I’ve been moved up a few notches in the company hierarchy... which means I don't work much anymore on the more interesting and creative promotional websites (city guides, etc.) Instead I get to work on the company’s commercial websites (course descriptions, text for informational brochures, company descriptions, etc.) and haven’t written a single travel guide since then. Now, however, I’m 25 pages into a guide about Pamplona (our company just bought a school there and needs to promote it) and, along with brushing the dust off of my adjective bank and revving up my creative wit, I am struck with "the bug"... and oh is it ever back with a vengeance.

So I present my “to be visited at some point in life” wish list:

Outside of Spain:
Ireland, Ireland, Ireland
Prague
Lisbon
Berlin; Germany in general
Finland (mainly to see the aurora borealis)

In Spain:
Cuenca
Bilbao & Basque Country in general
Cantabrian coastline
Pamplona
Pyrenees
León

In the US:
Chicago
Austin
Niagara Falls
Grand Canyon
Seattle
Denver

Maybe in 2008 I’ll even check a couple of them off!

Winged demons

I don’t care how stupid people think I am for it. I am absolutely, positively, 150% terrified of birds. Well, not all birds. Canaries, cardinals, robins and their fellow birds of the hopping kind are all okay in my book, and who doesn’t let out a little sigh of delighted wonder upon seeing a hummingbird flitting around on a sunny afternoon.

Pigeons, however, are a much different story. There’s nothing cute, melodic or even mildly pleasant about them. They’re ugly and gray. And dirty. Unpredictable. Sly and greedy. And usually missing toes. Also falling under the “not ok” list are owls, hawks and other birds of prey whose TALONS could easily fit around my head and whisk me away to their nest, where their equally vicious babies would probably use me as their new chew toy. If I’m going to be whisked away to a remote destination, I’d much rather it be for vacation, play or romance than to be the
special du jour, thank you very much.

Maybe it’s because urban pigeons don’t fear humans and will dive right at your face without breaking a sweat. Maybe it’s because they sit side by side along an entire ledge of a building… staring at passers-by like beaked Mona Lisas. Maybe it’s because I saw “The Birds” when I was clearly much too young – age 14 - for that startling degree of horror. Maybe it’s even because in a former life I was a small woodland creature that met its end upon being picked off by a circling owl. I don't know- could be anything, really.

What I DO know, however, is that as I walk the city streets of Madrid, those beady little pigeon eyes stare at me.

(Picture description: As we ate breakfast at an outdoor eatery in Granada, the lovely patrons at the neighboring table started throwing food down for the birds and in the blink of an eye no less than 30 pigeons were flapping their wings in my hair and playing bumper cars with my feet as they scavenged for the morsels. I look deceivingly look happy in the photo, but I was actually laughing nervously as I wiped tears and huddled in my seat. The picture was taken when I actually almost started to cry. My friends are obviously sympathetic to my dilemma.)

thoughts of a judgemental globe-trotter

(Written 12/24/07, found and posted today)

Thoughts from Madrid: In an age when airlines are supposedly trying to deter the induction of new members to the internationally-recognized Mile High Club, why would airport stores in departure areas sell approximately 8 different varieties (brands, sizes, tastes, etc.) of condoms? Isn’t that kind of asking – nay, demanding – that people let their hormones run rampant between dinner and the in-flight movie?

Thoughts from Paree: For being the supposed fashion capital of the world, a surprisingly high percentage of travelers passing through Paris (well, the airport) seem to open their closets to decide what to wear and somehow - perhaps having been struck by temporary blindness - reach the conclusion that Crocs are the way to go. Unfortunate.