profound thoughts on my way to work:

1) If you reside in an apartment in the middle of a city - let's say, for all intents and purposes, Madrid - and you're in the market for a puppy, why in the name of jeebus would you get a Saint Bernard? I mean, I love the movie Beethoven and all, but a) once full-grown the poor thing doesn't FIT in an apartment, and b) you can't just bring out a little plastic baggie to pick up its bid'ness in the street... you need to rope off the area and go at it with a snow shovel and a heavy duty (get it? duty? doody?) garbage bag.

2) The mid-summer temperature at 9-930am in in Madrid is PERFECT. Seriously. Betsey weather times infinity. Plus one.

3) It has got to suck big fat balls to be pregnant in the summer... and I don't mean "we just found out and we're so excited for this most glorious gift" pregnant. I'm talkin' "ready to pop, waddling down the street with a fully developed human being in you" pregnant. Did I mentioned summer in Madrid hovers around a refreshing 95 degrees? I mean, I practically overheat as it is when I have to deal with an additional bag with my sneakers and gym clothes in it, let alone having to haul Junior around non-stop.

SO ready for warm weather...

This weekend it's going to be practically 70º in Madrid- woot!!! Bars and cafés had better get their outdoor tables set up!

Ch-ch-check it out: Madrid's 10-day

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.)

i'm bored

The other day, I was involved in - and by "involved" I obviously mean in the passive, "just listening while I eat" kind of way - a conversation in which I'm pretty sure the general consensus was that the workplace in the United States is more laid-back than in Spain. Something along the lines of how, in the US, it seems that employees have more dress down days or don't have to go as fancy-shmancy to work to begin with. IIIIIIII disagreed (in my head), but decided to mull the idea over in the event that my mind was severely biased or otherwise warped. Nope, still disagree.

So then yesterday I came across an article in the NY Times talking about the American obsession with work, this time regarding taking vacation (or rather lack thereof). Two lil tidbits:

Simplified a bit, it runs as follows: a nation of remarkably productive, often well-paid workers who are becoming increasingly reluctant to pause from their labors and refresh their souls — a nation whose cash-drenched corporate employers typically don’t pay for much time off (less than two weeks annually, on average), a nation whose globe-gripping federal government is the only one in the whole industrialized world not to legally require generous periods of paid kick-back-and-hang time — is a nation that’s socially screwed up, particularly in comparison with European countries like France, which orders its citizens outside to play for the entire month of August and a few other weeks spread through the year.

The most widely cited diagnoses of our allegedly harmful undervacationing can be found by searching the Internet, the same Internet that even the dwindling number of full-vacation-takers are purportedly using to elevate their stress levels by logging on from beach resorts and national parks — where, according to concerned observers, they would be better off restricting themselves to restorative, out-of-cellphone-range pursuits like brisk morning swims and sunset nature walks. That fewer of us are doing so, it’s said, is a symptom of either anxious overcompetiveness; upward-mobility addiction ; the breakdown of the family...

The article then lists the following stats:

Legally required paid annual leave around the world, by days:
France: 30
Sweden: 25
Spain: 22
Australia: 20
Germany: 20
UK: 20
Canada: 10
Japan: 10
USA: 0... ZERO... ZILCH... NADA!

I'm sorry, but I can't see how any industrialized country that can legally bind you to your cubicle every single day, all year-round and expect 150% productivity can ever be called "relaxed." In fact, one of the reasons I'm drawn to Spain in the first place is the overwhelmingly relaxed atmosphere, at least by comparison. People enjoying life, meals that last for hours, people-watching from the hundreds sidewalk cafés, Sunday strolls, staying out all night (despite my geriatric ways of late) because you can and, yes, more vacation days to let you kick back and remember that there is more to life than alarm clocks, clients, reports and pesky coworkers.

So sure, Madrid is undeniably a big, bustling city, and granted I don't have, nor am I interested in, some hot-shot corporate job... but to me the vibe is a billion times more laid-back than anything I've known. Hell, it's more laid-back than the Student Center at Holy Cross. Does New York City, Washington D.C. or even Topeka, Kansas empty out overnight for an entire month during the summer? Negative. American cities are non-stop, 24 hours a day, 365 days a year. Right now in Spain, however, as Spaniards are off traveling, sleeping, hanging out with family and frolicking at the beach for a month, the capital city of Spain is so quiet that at night as I'm reading with the window open I can hear the chiming of the crosswalk light from a block away.

Madrid!

The New York Times knows what's up...

Damn straight, biatches!