Feral Boy: Vertrecht to Ethpana

2010-01-22T11:04:00.000-08:00

...soon.

So we are short-timers in Madrid. In March we are going back to Arizona, I can ride my bike to work, and I can grow a garden. This shot is form Alicyn's straw bale house, my garden from 2003 (??). The year before the elk devastated it due to a drought, they were desperate. I had never wanted to kill an ungulate so badly before. I built a slighty better fence out of a bunch of garbage that was laying around. I barely used freshwater, it was about 85% irrigated with greywater. I had so much salad I at it every day, gave it to friends, and still harvested a five galon bucket each week. Ted and I pooled our greens and sold them at the farmer's market. i would turn around and use the money for the stuff I didn't grow, like melons. The best thing about this garden is that when the autumn frosts set in, I went to dig up my first potato plant. I dug up a tiger salamnder who was spooning my spuds. It's rare to see these guys in the arid west, they are really elusive. There is no standing surface water anywhere nearby that house, so I have no idea where it came from.

In other news:
My personal lard index has dropped. I'm around 196 pounds now, very near my "ideal weight" and no longer Chubby McTubahan. I treated myself to some beer this weekend.

Bock Damm it all to hell!

All out France assault

2010-01-06T05:59:00.000-08:00

didn't mean to spend so much time/space on air france, i got sucked into a wormhole. I have not forgotten that I was after all on vacation in France...

This place [Fontevorud Abbey] was the tomb, and still contains the headstone, of Richard the lionhearted. King of England, never spoke English. He might be a major reason why the middle east is such a seething bed of turmoil today several hundred years later. But pretty cool, right?

I've managed to see a lot of stuff in my stay in Europe. You tend to get a little jaded. For us Estadounidense, the mere presence of something older than about thirty years is remarkable. But it wears off after a while. You don't stop liking the beauty and history, it just becomes old news like your favorite movie you've seen 30 times. With that in mind, the Chateaux of the Loire valley were unlike anything I had seen yet. The Chateaus are castles, grand houses, hunting lodges, etc. of nobility. Many were elaborated from medieval fortifications, but in the Renaissance became rather fancy and dolled up. Chenounceau is a grand building that actually spans a river like a bridge. Chambord was the king of them all , and featured a central double-helix staircase which led to the roof, purportedly designed by DaVinci. The center of the staircase also houses the eye of Sauron, and has the property of permanently altering the structure of DNA. Louis the 14th once holed up here. His bedroom features a bust with his glorious luxuriant curly hair-boat, an old baseball glove, and a few playboy centerfolds and a Pink Floyd poster tacked to the wall. He hunted foxes in frilly ballet shoes. At night they added the projected christmas lights, handed out acid, and put on "Dark side of the Moon".

"Ni!"

So far, my favorite architecture in Europe has been the French gothic style that was copied all over Europe. I just like the crowdedness of saints and monsters, the massiveness of the naves, the impenetrable medieval symbology and the ridicuolus Saint stories that people used to believe and are depicted in the stained glass. And I like the way that age will turn a glorious white church into Castle Grayskull. The cathedral at Chartres is known for its outlandish amounts of stained glass, and it didn't dissapoint. Even more amazing was that any usage of the word Chartres (pronounced like "shart"), made 5 adults crack up multiple times a day for about 10 days.

We traveled north to the Normandy coast and its cliffs. They were made especially famous when some impressionists decided to paint some blurry pictures there. Nearby is the site where William the Conquerer set off to invade and conquer England. Before that he was Bill the Sheepshagger. Also nearby is the site of the D-day invasion. I reenacted the battle when I slipped in some mud and slid down the hill to a blasted out bunker. This heroism in the face of the enemy was rewarded with "You are like a five year old" from my adoring girlfriend. This brings me to why do French people purportedly dislike United Statesians, when 10,000 of us died in a few days on these beaches just for the chance of liberating occupied France? The answer is they don't, I dont think so anyway. I think it's a myth or cultural misundertanding. In my experience the French are a nice, quiet, polite people. I like them even if their kings used to wear frilly ballet shoes. Our two countries have a 200 year history of being the best of friends [we financed each other's revolutions, they gave us our favorite green lady statue, we were allies in the first world war, they loved Josephine Baker when we were too racist to do so, we rescued them from the nazis] why should there be any animosity? Why the freedom fries treatment, can't we just be friends like in the old days.

We learned on the trip that hindsight is fifty-fifty. In hindsight, going to a monastery to party for New Years seems kind of silly, but it worked out well. I have decided that Mont St. Michel is the finest synthesis of manmade and natural surroundings I have ever seen. It looks made up- like something from the cheesy cover of a fantasy novel with unicorns and dragons and shit. Granted I have not been to Petra, but I'm just going to say its for sure top five in the world. Its a tiny island capped by the extremely steep monastery with a city wall and tiny town. It is situated in a tidal flat and twice daily changeds form land-locked to island. We spent the day touring the city, then we were going to hit up the bars that night and bring in the new year on the ramparts. Theres was only one bar and its beers cost 7.50! We had the foresight to bring along a whopping 6 beers for 5 people. Luckily in addition to their own wine, the French like Belgian beer, and that shit is powerful. I have to admit the pink sky there is a little disconcerting, but we just went with it.

Frodo leads the battle charge only to chartres his pants

our lady of what the fuck is growing on your face

Oh yeah, then there was Paris. I'll confess, it was not a lifelong dream of mine to go there....I was more interested in seeing the beautiful mountains, farms and countryside like you see in the Tour de France. When we arrived at the apartment we were renting, I saw a little corner market and thought Paris looks just like I thought, like in the movies. It turns out by chance this was the market from Amelie, so it was in the movies. A few blocks away we visited the bar where Amelie worked just to keep up the theme. Theres just too much stuff in Paris to tediuosly describe it all, but for me it was just cool to be in the birthplace of art noveau [the metro entrances and the interior of the Sacre Coeur church are both examples of this], not to mention the city where Dali met Bunuel.

Our last day rocked. First we got into a screaming match in the train station about the ticket vedning machines or something, while trying to find the train to the airport. Then, at the airport, Becky lost her passport while peeing apparently. Miraculously, we found it, but then we were going to be late because it was taking so long to get through security. While in line a family of about 8 Spanish people tried to jump the line. Their reason was they were going to miss their plane (also our plane) because they were last in line and travelign with children. Seriously, only Spanish people would even think of trying that. When we finally did get through the scanner, we were in such a hurry we lost my only warm hat, becky's water bottle, and her belt. After all that crap the plane was delayed. For better or worse, we made it back to madrid.

Chartres.

One way ticket to fuckville! Vacation in France

2010-01-06T05:26:00.000-08:00

We rendezvoued (spelling??? what is wrong with french people and their vowel assault!?) up with chris & bre, and their friend T, and Miles Quadshanks on x-mas day in Barcelona. We saw the living shit out of France, but first I gotta tell you how ridiculous and insulting Delta-Air France is. T got bumped form her flight by Delta because the plane needed a tire change. No joke. First they told her she couldn't resume her trip until like the 28th or so. But Chris, using something called the "internet", managed to find a flight via London, that the Delta douchebags could not find unassisted. Thus T was only a few hours late, but the big worry was we figgered her bags could be on another flight. Sure enough she arrived without bags, and the airline offered her nothing, not even a stubby toothbrush. They said it would be in the following afternoon, which messed with our plans, b/c Barcelona was just the cheap flight meeting point, and we were booked to stay some 8 hours drive away in the Loire Valley of France. We did not want to hang around Barcelona waiting for a bag. So Chris called at 7:oo am the next day to tell the people that it would be best if the bag were redirected to Bordeaux, or maybe Nantes, instead of Barcelona and we could grab it on the way to or while in the Loire valley. So we trusted them. Turns out the bag arrived in Barcelona anyway, even though they had 9 hours to make the calls to redirect it. Further, it turns out that the bag came to Barcelona via Paris, which would have been the idela place to reroute it to another French city....if only the Barcelona people had done anyhting at all. So Chris made sure that they intended to send the bag to France, only to find that the next day the bag was STILL in Barcelona. So the tactic was shifted, and we stopped calling Spanish employees of Air France, and started calling the French who were at least nicer but only a little more competent. Later that day a French guy told Chris the bag was landed on a plane at Bordeaux, and was suppossedly en route to Nantes from where it would be delivered by car the following day. We went about the following day checking out Chateaus in the valley, then found that the bag never got to Nantes, and was nto delivered. At about 6:00 pm we were informed that the bag had just been checked in in Bordeaux, which is where we were told it was about 24 hours earlier. At this point Chris demanded that they drive it to us that night. They wouldn't do it, claiming they had no driver. So Chris and T had to get up at 4:00, and drive to Bordeaux, wehre the baggage office opened at 7:00. Naturally the office actually opened at 7:30, just for a final insulting flourish, but due to luck lone they caught someone's attention who let them in to take the bag. Isn't that enough to make you punch a nun? Ok, enough complaining check out my pictures.

Around-the-world cyclist II

2009-12-10T12:32:00.000-08:00

So the guy I mentioned in a previous post (Julian Sayarer) seems to have broken the world record for cycling around the world, though its not yet official. He blew through Spain in 3 days, came through Madrid even. You'd think this would be news like the Tiger Woods thing that I just can't get my head around (now wait, was he in a car wreck or cheating on his wife? how are thee things related? why was he expected to tell the press abotu his extra girlfriends? were they driving his car? all at the same time? really, what is the deal with the car wreck, I cannot find one intelligible article about this supposed scandal...), but it ain't. Great cycling acheivements are rarely news. I actually entertained the thought of trying to guess where his route would pass so i could watch him ride through my city. Didn't though, wouldn't have guessed the right route anyway. So it seems he averaged 109 miles per days which puts a hurtin' on James Bowthorpe's record of 103 miles per day just a few months ago. This is despite numerous parts failures. I checked his twitter posts every day, and I read through his entire blog and became quite a fan. I liked the down-to-earth vernacular posts (e.g. wheel fucked...again), and the honesty of his pretty decent writing even when he got caught in seemingly random rants about police (i don't like them either), chinese people (the ones in my hood are ok by me), and Mark Beaumont (the guy who Bowthorpe beat, before Sayayer beat Bowthorpe). I even let a little anti-Americanism slide in his writings (I ain't the world's biggest patriot, but it's tiring to her smug euros bash your country when you know their countries behaved NO BETTER, MAYBE WORSE, when they had alot of power[I mean Spain, England, France, Holland, Germany, Italy, and more]). I let it slide because he said he could have ridden down the Oregon Coast for the rest of his life. I've done that ride, and I agree totally.

Then a wierd thing happened. He finished in glorious style and all he writes about is how much he hates Mark Beaumont, the guy who got the record before Bowthorpe. I mean he rips the guy. The word "cunt" was used, even. Granted, from what I've read about Beaumont even on his own web page, Mark Beaumont is kind of a self-promoting prom queen, but he also set the record, raised a little money for charity, and regardless of any self-aggrandizing motives he contributed to documentaries about his ride that will inspire people to ride bicycles. He apparently made some money off of his endeavor. What is the big deal, this is not a life poorly spent. Maybe he's just smart, getting paid to do bike tours.

The problem with Julian Sayarer, my recent short-lived former hero, is that he defines himself by what he's against rather than what he is about. I understood that the title of his website "this is not for charity" meant, instead "i'm doing this because I think bicycling is awesome and there is no need for additional motivation to do a ride like this". But this is a case in point, it sounds as if he's saying "I think charity sucks", even though he's not really. And unless he writes something better about how awesome, difficult, easy, lame, exhausting, uplifting, boring it was to ride around the freaking globe on a bike and encounter different cultures and scenery, unexpected aid and threats, hammers and nails rain, exploding tires, and freely given best-burritos-of-your-life, we'll never know how he defines himself, we'll only know he's not Mark Beaumont.

James Bowthorpe, the guy who did ride for charity, defined himslef by what he was for and has raised 100,000 pounds for Parkinson's research. I think I'd rather have him keep the record really. He didn't mention one word about the guy he beat, except that he set a high standard and was tough to beat. That's the kind of record holder you want.

Beaumont's page
http://www.pedallingaround.com/start/

Bowthorpe's page
http://www.globecycle.org/

Various

2009-12-06T04:34:00.000-08:00

Random recent pic. La Pedrera, Sierra Guadarrama. pretty nice.

1. I couldn't figure out how to watch football last year. The pay services primarily work in the US, and it seemed impossible to find links to games online. Some Irish bars show American football. The problem is my game is always the late game, so I would have to get on the metro, ride into the city center to be there for kickoff at 10:00pm, blow 25 euros on pints and then one of two things would happen. Option 1: Its tied in the fourth and the bar closes because it a slow sunday night. Option 2: The bar takes pity on you an stays open, but the metro line you need to get home stops running at 1:30, leaving you stranded.

But I have watched the last five games (all wins by the way) in my own home, start to finish. If you live in Europe and suffer my plight of last year you need to download 2 programs: stream torrent an sopcast. Then go to myP2P.eu and find a link to your game. These ain't the best broadcasts, often the image sucks, or you get kicked off (like me last night), or it takes 20 minutes to get it to work. But its something, and for that I am thankful. I watched a game which was commentated by two Danish guys apparently sitting in a bedroom. Sometimes its an English feed with a couple completely unknown NFL players commenting, with some middle aged British guy. Its cool just for the surrealism.

2. Spanish douche style: Spain has their own special douche fashion. It's pseudo hip-hop (late 80's), part frat boy, part Miami vice and ALL douche in spiky hair gel flavors. They rock the popped collars, pink shirts, and faux hawks. Some of the older ones grow pencil line beards. The hairstyles can only be described as Vanilla Ice, with lines etched in or white sidewalls. There is almost always: 1) a shaved part, 2) a spiky part, 3) short shellac spiky bangs glued to one half of the forehead part. There is also multiple face piercings, always with white or black beads instead of naked metal. This might be accessorized with a kefiyah, aka a paisley "jihad" scarf like back last year when Rachel Ray became a jihadist in a dunkin donuts commercial, maybe even in douche pink or turquoise...though i have noticed that that is fading. Its so '08. They are fond of tight Don Johnson color tees, and this is commonly worn under an all white ensemble featuring a fur lined hooded jacket. They have these incredible pants over here, which manages to simultaneously mimic skinny jeans and gangsta sag. The trick is that the waist actually fits, and the legs are tight, but the crotch of the pants is almost own to the knees. Its like when a toddler has shit in his diaper.

3) We made plans to travel in France and Andorra between x-mas and New Years. New Years in this town:
beat that, chump.

4) Strange anthropological observations: In the metro or trains stations sometimes its so busy that the escalators get real crowded. Like most places, people are lazy and would rather wait in a line to ride an escalator than take the stairs right next to it. I don't blame anybody, some metro stations are better than the stair master. That's not the wierd part, this is: the escalators break often, and when they do everbody crowds onto the stairs and avoids the escalator. I see a broken escalator as a perfectly servicable staircase, some people could climb the stairs and others the escalator so there wouldn't be 10,000 people all on top of each other. But they avoid the non-running escaltor like its dangerous or illegal or something.

5) Lard Alert: I knew I needed to drop a few pounds but I was shocked when I found out I was over 210 pounds!! My eating habits have always been somehwere in between cookie monster and Bacchanalian orgy. But I stayed reasonable thin by exercising alot. Gradually, my spartan exercise routine got replaced by a spartan train ride to and from work and a spartan work-eat dinner-have a beer or two-sleep lifestyle. The month long trip to the states didn't help much, since me and my old friend Thai-food-that-doesn't-suck had to become reaquainted. Thats not even mentioning Mexican food and plenty of it. Most Americans have no idea just how incredible unlimited chips and salsa is, they just take it for granted. Well I'm telling you A-holes, its awesome and you won't know that 'til you go somewhere it doesn't exist and it will hurt your soul. It will make the baby Pancho Villa cry. But awesome aside...all of these things had resulted in my highest weight ever.

So my plan is simple but effective....1) Skip the beer. I am allowed to drink beer if i go to a party or if we're out for the night. But I don't need three hundred extra calories just because a beer sounds delicious after work. Tough but necessary. 2) Exercise pretty much every day. the weather and my broken derailleur is not favoring alot of cycling right now, but we go to the gym twice a week, and i started running again. I've worked back up to 6 mile runs, and I don't even mind it in fact its fun. So we've been back a month and I'm at 200 pounds now. I need to drop at least another 5. Lard sneaks up on you.

6) I haven't had alot of beaurocratic nightmares lately, plus i try not to dwell on annoying shit (it ain't good for me), but this one is so frickin' funny...Becky finally got her national ID card this morning after entering the country last February. Since it took so long it will only be valid for two months, and its already time to renew.

Julian Sayarer

2009-11-17T12:35:00.000-08:00

...just read about this guy on a blog. He is closing in on the world record for circumnavigating the globe on a bicicyle at an incredible pace of 111 miles per day. He's been riding for 149 days and is now in the states before returning to France to finish.

http://www.thisisnotforcharity.com/index.html

Hot pocket

2009-11-12T11:26:00.000-08:00

Do you remember the jingle from the television commercials for hot pockets? I don't mean all of the lyrics...but it was a call and response thingie, where the response is a three note "Hot pocket!". I've adapted it for everyday use. If you get perfect liftoff on your next farmer blow, you can sing "Snot rocket!". Did you just buy a motorcycle? "Crotch rocket!" If you just discovered there's another wall outlet behind the dresser..."Light socket!" Did you just run interference on that douchey guy that's trying to get with that girl you like in sixth period "Cock block it!". It need not be applied only for things ending in "...ocket" either. it will work for many 3 syllable combinations, especially when its two words, the first being monosyllabic. "Sock monkey!" There you go, my gift to you, a multipurpoe jingle to enhance your day, every day.

speaking of vega$

2009-11-07T12:07:00.000-08:00

this rocket from my past courtesy of greg. i still have a copy but its nearly completely faded. binion's horseshoe, that monument to the old & real vegas, used to have a glass case with a million dollars in cash in it. for years you could go get your picture with a million bucks, for free.

Could have just gone to Vega$, ok maybe not

2009-10-28T11:20:00.000-07:00

I guess its time i got around to writing about our trip to Italy. Three independent parties had suggested that we could skip Venice- we've seen it in the movies after all, and theres one in vega$ anyway. Our Australian friend David told us it smells like the diaper wiff we always get in our local train station (false, Aluche rocks the stench by far). Other folks told us its expensive as hell (true) and absolutely full of douchey tourists like us (true). But heres the thing, theres no other place like it, except of course the one in vega$. Amsterdam also has some canals but the charcater of the city is totally different. Also Venice is not that crowded outside of the top five tourist destinations. The secret is that Venice, in its impossible to navigate entirety, is the destination, not some cathedral or museum (one caveat here: the Palazzo Ducalle does have five Bosch paintings...just something to think about). i enjoyed every second of wandering the streets and bridges, Becky had dreams about being lost there, which was true most of the time. You will pay with your own organs for a gondola ride (had to do it)and see so many other kidney-less tourists doing the same, that it feels like you're on a water ride at the Epcot center. Despite the kidney loss and the hordes it was pretty fun, our gondola guy was funny and weaseled into several pictures. On the other hand you can bring an old soda bottle to a wine shop and have it filled with wine for a couple bucks. it's kind of like my old fantasy of 7-11 selling big gulps of beer. So you can destroy the other kidney fairly cheaply. Go to Venice if you can, its cool, bring organs. Oh yeah whenever you order a coffee or a beer, it costs more to have it at a table. So remain standing unless you want a 5 euro coffee.

Next we went to Florence, Pistoia, Pisa, and the Tuscany region for a few days. In the cathedral (the Duomo), there is an enormous cupola with a painting on the inner surface. I'm pretty sure it was modeled after the cover of a Dio record, or maybe it was Grim Reaper. Seriously, there's demons eating people alive, the nine rings of hell, the judgement day and all of that. I guess this is supposed to frighten you into christianity. Later we ran into the fake David by Michelangelo. Why the fake David? Well, the real one was moved inside of a different museum to protect it from vandals. But who gives a shit, I already saw that thing in Caesar's Palace. Renaissance art doesn't do much for me. It just seems to be about inexplicable gratuitous nudity, rippling muscles, oversized hands and feet and undersized penises. I understand that it was a big change from relatively flat medieval art lacking perspective,it emphasized the human form, and occasionally portrayed something other than Jesus but you know I think I like medieval art - granted theres only so many Jesus's I can bear to look at. Anyways- David- he looks like Jay Cutler, the most overrated cocky dickbag of a quarterback ever. I hate Jay Cutler, and Denver Broncos are so much harder to hate now that he's gone. The Boticellis were worth seeing though, and no Jesus, just good ole paganism. I was so sick when we went to Pisa, we just turned around and left after we finally got there. Tuscany really was beautiful, its medieval towns are surrounded by open countryside in contrast to alot of places. Food was decent but it won't make you do a backflip like everyone tells you. I'll take enchiladas or chilis rellenos anyday.

Finally we went to Rome. At first it was just mediocre, we were tired and kind of in the "I've seen so much stuff I'm failing to appreciate Rome" rut. Things were pretty, including nice views from some famous steps, some famous fountains and plazas (more renaissance, woohoo), but it wasn't stunning. Not until we blundered into the Pantheon. That is a legit 2000 year old Roman temple still standing, with columns like redwoods. Its the sort of thing that our country likes to copy in all of its official buildings, but this is the real thing. The next day we visited the Colliseum, and the adjacent archaeological park. The park consists of the Palatine Hill and the Forum. We had a book which said most visitors leave the forum underwhelmed. Of course my previous knowledge of the forum was gained at Caesar's Palace- its a place with Gucci and Louie Vuitton stores, animatronic statues, and a fake sky that changes. Turns out the real forum is awesome, I don't know what kind of dolt could leave there underwhelmed. It's a junkyard of columns and foundations, arches, and temple fronts. Every rock fragment in sight was a piece of an ancient building. I've never seem anything remotely similar. Everywhere you go in this part of the city there is some excavated something several feet below the modern street level. It may be a gladiator training facility, a reconstructed tile floor, or a colony of nasty feral cats. After all this the Vatican was so unimpressive, except the pope mummies were pretty intriguing. The impression you get is: WHAT DISGUSTING WEALTH!!! When they pass around that plate for cash, you can rest assured they ain't feeding those freeloading poor people with the cash. They spend it all in dipping popes in molten gold and encrusting them with rubies. We blew off the Sistine chapel entirely because we suck at being tourists.

..by the way i'm getting lazier about pictures, these are all Becky's pics.

Dear jerk sauce:

2009-09-12T05:18:00.000-07:00

OK, I just got back form a geek conference in England, now we are off to Italy tommorrow. The tourist trifecta: Venice, Rome, Florence

We will be in the States from 30 Sept until the 26 Oct. That first week of Oct we will be in Michigan. Then we'll fly to phoenix and stopover briefly in Flagstaff. Then its 2 weeks of field work in Northern Arizona and Utah, with a pass through Moab. We will again pass through Flag to return the car rental, then continue on to Vegas for the final few days of our stay in the good ole US of A.

So contact me by email, and we'll catch up. Vegas friends can also reach me at my folks house in the twenty somethings of oct.

Friends in Europe and the States who were considering a visit: november is still pretty open. let us know whatever you decide.

Galician food review: did we eat like kings or peasants

2009-08-23T05:27:00.000-07:00

Months before going to the North, a basque guy told us we would eat like kings. I told him we are vegetarians, so we will probably eat like peasants. Because of the apparently excellent seafood (oxymoron in my opinion, how can you even approach it with that stench?), Galicia especially really has the rep for good food. There are actually pulperias, which means octopuserias. The north ended up somewhere in between king and peasant for us silly stubborn vegetarians, as we still relied heavily on pizza (only good for about four days in a row…), but there were significant improvements in some areas.

1) Pan Gallego: FINALLY, we went to a place where people eat brown bread, and they hand it out like it’s air. You don’t buy a whole loaf, because they are baked into rounds of like a half meter in diameter. Graded on a worldwide basis, this bread gets a B. It’s not exactly German barley bread, or brown Irish soda bread, but it’s a solid effort. I have heard lots of Europeans disparage American bread, because they think we only eat airy wonder bread. But every grocery store in the states has good reasonably fresh brown bread sometimes with walnut, sunflower seeds or any of many other interesting ingredients. American bread is excellent if you buy the right kind, which is not hard to find (as I said…..every grocery store). In contrast, all I can say is that in general Spanish bread is basically something you keep around in case you run out of toilet paper. Most Spanish bread is bland white bread, which is kept uncovered all day so that if you don’t buy it in the morning you can etch glass with it. If you succeed in biting through it you find that it is full of powdery sawdust. For the first time in my life I do not routinely buy bread when I go to the store. Not so with pan Gallego, graded on a curve for Spain this bread gets an A.

2. Queso de Tetilla: This is the nun’s tit cheese, named so because it is often made in convents and has a characteristic breast shape, complete with a nipple. Recently we had a british visitor who was a cheese enthusiast, so my Spanish coworkers were trying to explain the tetilla. He thought they were saying that the cheese was made out of human breast milk. In general cheese is an area where Spain does pretty well, and In contrast to bread totally kicks the ass of the US. To this day I still don’t understand what “American cheese” is nor do I want to. All I know is that United Statesians simply prefer an English cheese, cheddar. In our defense, we are clever enough to add chilis into a cheese, so although our time honored traditions are weak, our innovations are strong. Our standard cheese we buy in Madrid is queso Manchego, which is a blend of sheep, cow and goat milk which runs along a gradient of aging. This one is good, especially the curado, considering its the cheapest thing in the market. I don’t know a lot about the somewhat more expensive tetilla, but we went to markets where old ladies were selling super fresh cheese alongside all manner of local produce. Contrast this with Madrid’s frankenfood imported from Almeria’s creepy white tent agricultural system. I have confidence in the quality of the Galician cheese. I bought one that seemed to be smoked a bit, although this was subtle. It was good and versatile and reminiscent of Gouda, and of a similar softness. Like gouda its a little bland, but if that’s what you are looking for the cheese gets a B+.

3. Galician white wine: You are served a teapot-like thing and then drink it out of bowls. I think we had one from the Rias Baixas region, but as I am a wine ignoramus I don’t really know. It was a white wine, which I normally don’t like. This one gets an A-, damned good but I’d still prefer a decent beer.

4. Galician beer: Estrella Galicia replaces the hegemony of Mahou and Cruzcampo in the north. All three of these are complete garbage, so its hard to notice the difference. Ocassionally, Galician bars will have a portugese beer on tap, Superbock. For a medium light lager, Superblock absolutely crushes all Spanish beers that are not made in Barcelona. So Galician beer gets a C+, only on the merits of the occasional presence of the neighboring country’s beer.

5. Pimientos de padron: When I first came to Spain I had no hot sauce, and nothing more exciting in the roomie’s spice cabinet than paprika and black pepper. I went to the produce section of the grocery store, and asked if they had pimientos picantes. I was directed to a bag of pimientos de pardon. I was so pissed, they were about as hot as an icicle down the front of your pants. I showed them to my roommates, who were afraid of them because apparently most are not hot, but occasionally there is a wild ass one in the bunch which melts your face like a laser. Knowing the Spanish take on chilis I was skeptical to say the least, as some Spanish people think their patatas bravas are spicy (only once did I experience spicy patatas bravas and those were not in a restaurant). I have seen pimientos de padron as a tapa before in Madrid, one of the few truly vegetarian ones. But tapas aren’t usually free in Madrid, so I was reluctant to shell out 4-6 euros for a small dish of food that wouldn’t come close to satisfying my nutritional requirements, and despite everyone’s recommendations would not even be hot…at all. I mean no detectable capsaicin, like an Anaheim chili.

So with some trepidation I finally tried the things in Ferrol, just down the road form Padron which is the source. As I predicted, I never encountered a hot one. But John did and Becky did. Basically all these are are whole fruits, stem and all, fried and salted so that the outer skin is a bit singed. You eat it whole except for the stem and the former sepals, like you wound a pepperocini. I had no idea what I was missing because these are truly awesome, at least in Galicia. The flavor is somewhere in between fried okra and New Mexican green chili, without the potential slime problem of okra. We had them like four times, I want some now. A.

6. Galician breakfast: I keep harping on this, and I am aware that different cultures do different things, but the Spanish breakfast is wholely inadequate. It’s not that the foods are bad, there just isn’t enough calories or volume. The toasted bread with crushed tomato and oil of the south is largely replaced by croissants in the north, both of which I totally enjoy, but even if I was a 5 year old girl I would still be hungry. This is not a matter of culture, it just doesn’t make biological sense. Bodies need fuel BEFORE making demands of them, even if the demands are only a normal workday. This becomes especially poignant when you are cycle touring. Riding a bike all day you can rip through 4000-10,000 calories. If you burn more than you have in the tank you go into a caloric deficit and begin eating yourself. Once you go down this path (called “bonking” for the “bonk” sound you make when you fall down and can’t get up), it takes hours to recover even if you then have a giant meal. People undertaking endurance activities know that you eat before you feel hungry, because if you feel hungry you can expect your day of activity to end shortly. The problem in Spain is that if you ask someone if they have something else available to eat (meaning more substance) they look at you as if you can’t possibly be asking that. Of course, the kitchen isn’t open yet…why would the kitchen be open? D+ (the croissants are tasty with jam and butter at least, make sure and eat the butter you will need the calories).

7. amount of food. with the generous giving away of bread for lunch and dinner, and the generally larger size of the food, I wasn't walking away hungry from meals not called breakfast. So this was a big upgrade. B.

the backwards caministas

2009-08-18T05:45:00.000-07:00

OBEY

these people are looking for the pirate ship from "The Goonies". Chunk is in the middle.

here is "the riddle of steel" pondering the riddle of where the hell is the campground. crom's beard!

We are back to the hellhole vampire city after two fabulous weeks of vacation. And the best part is that we still have two weeks of vacation in Italy coming up next month. The northwest is my new favorite part of Spain, although the cities are underwhelming (hard to beat Barcelona), the general attitude of people and the rural surroundings really take the cake.

I am sort of running a half-assed cycling blog here, with the hopes that it will one day be useful to touring cyclists. So far none have ever left a comment....but just in case they are out there I should go into a little advice about getting around with your bike on the train. This ain't Amsterdam, ace. Spain is lagging behind Europe in making its trains bike-compatible

Do to outlandish luck, and a successful hapless dumb foreigner act (we are good at this because we are in fact hapless dumb foreigners) we arrived in Santiago de Compostela from Madrid with our bikes, on an overnight sleeper train. I really made an effort to find out under which circumstances you can bring a bike, and under which you cannot. The information is not made available easily and when you get the information it is totally ambiguous. so its a crap shoot. Generally speaking you cannot bring a bike on a national train (meaning a long distance train usually with only a few stops). The exception seems to be if you have paid the high price for a family sleeper cabin. Even then you are limited to 4 bikes per cabin, though even as a bike enthusiast i have trouble seeing where the bikes would be stowed. They are supposed to be dismanteled, although really they only require removal of wheels and pedals, and supposed to be bagged but apparently wrapping in plastic is sufficient. We had bought tourist class beds which are 4 to a cabin, unisex and with strangers. So at the platform with 10 minutes to spare we had to rip the bikes and gear apart, squeeze through cavernous hallways to our separate cabins and appease our roomies about our bikes taking up the whole cabin. We had only 10 minutes to spare because despite arriving 45 minutes early, we had to wait for the platform number to come up onto the board only 15 minutes before departure. Then a horde of people who had actually arrived later than us beat us to the line to the escalator, then we got turned away from the escalator and told to use the very slow and busy elevator. I had it easier than becky, because her cabin was full of old women who brought such large bags that they could not lift them into the overhead storage and thus consumed the only logical place for a bike frame (on end, fork stuffed into the closet), So we actually put the bike frame precariously overhead. Most of the ladies were satisfied, but one kept bitching that it was dangerous. it was really her fault that there was no place else for the bike to go....but we were totally bending the rules to the breaking point, so we had to try and make everyone happy. My cabin had one guy, so i had time to help becky, and stow my stuff without creating a major ruckus although i felt like i was creating a major ruckus. However, even after finishing I was so stressed I couldn't sleep for hours.THIS IS THE WRONG WAY. HERE'S WHAT TO DO INSTEAD: If you want to travel on a nice efficient national train you must do so on one with sleeper cars like ours, these are called trenhotel. But shell out the bucks to buy the cama familial. Otherwise you need to string together multiple regional trains or media distancia trains which are much better able to accommodate bikes. When you search the RENFE (spanish national train company) website, many regional trains will not come up. So you have to be clever, and chop your trip into segments, and search based on these until some regional train options pop up. On our way home yesterday we took a regional train from Oviedo to Leon. This was exactly like the commuter trains in the cities. With a little bungee magic I was able to secure my bike vertically to some rails so that it did not block any exits and i could be free to take a comfortable seat and read. The stretch from Leon to Madrid was a regional express, which had an entire care empty in the back with d-rings for securing bikes and wheelchairs. We also saw a media-distancia train with a specila handicap/bicycle car. it took 9 hours mind you, but it was so much better than the stress from the trip to Galicia, and it only cost 35 euros each, and no bike disassembly.

Ok, heres what we did: We stayed a night in Santiago de Compostela. So heres the deal about this town. A long long time ago, someone found some bones in the future site of the cathedral. Due to some miracle revelation and the stamp of approval by some bishop, these bones were somehow pronounced the remains of St. James the apostle of Jesus, a man who was excuted in Jerusalem. How did he get to Galicia, well that link involves a holy unmanned boat, and the miraculous enclosing of the remains in stone. No flying spaghetti monster, however. Why noone questions the obvious truth...that someone elses bones were found...is a matter of religion. My god has meatballs and thousands of noodley tentacles. Why James? I don't know, there were 11 other apostles after all. I guess you've got to rule out Judas, and Peter was already taken in Rome, and Thomas was a doubter of Jesus's zombie skills, and John was kind of an asskisser. Whos left...Sneezy, Dopey, and oh yeah St. James. So anyway, since the pope bought all this it became truth, and for centuries religious pilgrims have poured to the cathedral site from all over Europe.There are numerous pilgrimage routes culminating on the cathedral. Anyways, its a nice city and a nice cathedral well worth visiting. It is third in importance only to Jerusalem and Rome for catholics, though I reckon most American catholics don't know much about this.

We rode out of there on a hilly inland route towards a Coruna. It was really confusing because 70% of the towns are so small they don't appear on the map, towns have multiple names (Spanish and Gallego, yep Galicia has its own language) and the road numbering system appeared to be different from our map. But we made it. The really small roads are nice for their lack of traffic, but if you tend to worry about where the hell you are I'd suggest sticking to the secondary highways. A Coruna really pissed us off because it turned out to be a a big city we could not escape. Our escape route spontaneosly turned into a full-bore freeway, and we decided to get the F out on the train to Ferrol. I will say that the beaches at A Coruna were very nice, otherwise we didn't give this place a second look.

The short train ride went around the bay through awesome little houses and farms. In Ferrol, we stayed with John, an affable former roomate of Becky's. He is some form of naval engineer who works at the ship yard, and gets a monthly stipend (in addition ot his salary) for living expenses. His stipend is 50% more than my salary. He gave us a bar tour of Ferrol and showed us a couple absolutely perfect and almost empty beaches. All of the Medditerranean is currently writhing with human flesh, but these far superior beaches are empty! Somehow, despite barely speaking Spanish, he knows how to get every barman to bring out a secret stash of liquor concoction for free. One guy had replicated Bailey's perfectly, and another guy had found a way to recreate the gummy coke bottle candies as a drink. I also managed to learn what a kite suit is and actually witness kite surfing, and get shitfaced which is one of John's specialties.

Aftre this break, we started our ride for real, taking the western coastal highway, then an overland route to the north coast. Up to this point we were having trouble finding places to camp. But as of the town of Viveiro the character of our tour changed a bit. Here is is possible to go on a beach bum bike tour. You can ride in the morning, early afternoon, and arrive to ste up camp with plenty of time to go to the beach and have a swim. The water is cold usually, but it only takes a few minutes to get used to. My favorite was in between Foz and Ribideo, where awesome waves were crashing into a tiny beautiful beach around sunset. Although I previously had an aversion to developed campgrounds, a hot shower is key in this circumstance. If you had warm weather you could repeat this cycle for at least a week...ride a bit, hang out at the beach, ride a bit, hang out at the beach. Shortly to the south was As Catedrais, which at low tide features all sorts of water sculpted arches, passage ways in the rocks. As with a lot of places that are cool, its popular, so you have to put up with hordes of humanity. But definitely worth a stop.

Shortly after Ribideo, we entered Asturias, and the first thing we saw was an Asturian bagpipe and drum band. This is also where we started following the northernmost pilgrimage route backwards. it was funny watching the look on pilgrim faces wondering who was going the wrong way, us or them? Luarca is a notable town along here, a it sits in a canyon with a small harbor with a light house. The view from the light house featured the distant green hills so typical of Asturias (and the labels of Asturian dairy products, this is happy cow country), a nice beach, and efficiently stacked town built on the canyon walls which reminded me of an old world Bisbee, except for the aforementioned oceanic business. We camped on the cliffs overlooking the ocean, unfortunately there was no super easy beach access that night, but it was awesome. Finally we made our way to Cudillero, a foggy harbor town, also incredibly steeply built on cliffs. Then we spent one night in Oviedo. We decided we wanted to finally go get shithoused at a sidreria on our last night in Asturias. We passed up an expensive looking one in the tourist district, and then literally the next 5 or so were closed. Considering that we were in the biggest town of Asturias which is famous for its cider throwing bars, this is absurd.... and I guess I already said how we got home. Luckily it won't be long before I get out of this city again.

random darts

2009-08-01T01:43:00.000-07:00

1. Next teusday, we are off to galicia/asturias for 2 weeks of cycling. I will be really happy to be somewhat cool again and see some green somewhere in my field of vision. I love deserts, but when the summer rolls around I am really craving wet greenness.

In Spain EVERYBODY is on vacation for the month of August. You can't count on anything getting done, be it burrocrat papers, or simply keeping a shop open. Its a ghost town at our work. It the only time of the year in Madrid that it doesn't feel like someone is following you around all day pushing you because you are not moving fast enough. So, the city heat blows but you might think that some people would be stoked to hang around and enjoy a more relaxed madrid.

But heres the curious antropological fact: Instead of taking the opportunity to be rid of their fellow humanity, everybody does the same thing. They go to the beach all at the same time. I've seen it on the news, it looks like every beach on the meditteranean is hosting Woodstock. Except theres no concert to watch, its just the beach. That is a strange contrast, Americans tend to want their space but Spanish people love to be surrounded by hoardes. You couldn't pay me to go to one of those beaches right now. I like going to the beach, having a swim, reading a book in the sand, throwing sticks to dogs, whatever....but what do you do for a month at the beach. I don't understand, at all. Isn't that exceptionally boring?

2. I was thinking of Roll this morning. Haven't seen the guy in over 10 years. I think he's a hot shit tattoo artist in portland now.
"You dont learn from books, college boy, you learn with your fists!"

3. When I was a kid we went to church every sunday at the church that was associated with my catholic school. It was boring. So boring that I read the bible to pass the time. Granted it was an illustrated bible for kids, but it was big and I read the damned thing front to back. I tended to like the monsignor (this is above a normal priest, below a bishop), I don't know why, I barely ever listened to what he said because I was so enthralled by Leviticus. I puzzled quite a bit over the organ. There was a person near the alter on the ground floor, sitting at and playing the organ. The wierd thing is there was a large almost bedroom sized wooden box with pipes coming out at the ceiling. I was told these were the organ pipes. I couldn't get my head around how pushing the keys on the organ caused air to come out of the pipes, thus making the sound. The best I could come up with is that there was a team of people inside the wooden box at the ceiling. They would have to be kneeling because the ceiling would be low in there. Clearly, when one pressed the keys on an organ it would send a signal to the person manning the corresponding pipe, and they would give it a lungful. I figured the signal would be something like a stoplight.

Later my fascination with the box of pipes morphed a bit. I would fantasize about how I could get into it, or at least up there. I could swing on a rope form the giant crucified jesus, to the angel sculpture midway up. Then with a few deft moves i could just grab a curve of one of those pipes which might allow me enough leverage to get up there.

One day, I started to visualize something that the monsignor said. He said the church was God's house and Jesus's house. I'm sure I understood this figuratively, but I had a daydreaming problem. Sometimes still to this day, what is in my head is just more intriguing than the actual world and i get lost for a little while. So I thought about where in the church Jesus lived. The priests always emerged from behind the alter, and I always wanted to go back there and see what was there. I think this is part of their theatre that grabs you imagination when you're a kid, and perhaps keeps you somewhat in their thrall in adulthood. I figured they lived back there, but i guess people probably don't live in the back of churches. Anyway, it didn't seem like Jesus just lived with the priests, what would he be doing back there when they came out for mass? Just having a cup of joe and reading the newspaper? It had to be somewhere else, and the only possible explanantion was that the organ pipe box, was Jesus's bungalow apartment in the church. Another thing the monsignor said was that the church was a house of love. This of course, would influence the decor of the Jesus apartment. I imagined all white walls, except for a big red valentine-esque heart shape painted on one wall.

France pants

2009-07-04T09:47:00.001-07:00

What the shit is this? Gondola jousting thats what. So things have settled down enough that we don't have to think about our recent roomate suicide so much, and i can write a little about our trip to france 2 weeks ago. The family came by and picked up the rest of his stuff, and told ana that he had been depressed since he was eight years old. He had never lived away from home, which is common in Spain where a ton of people stay with their family until they are about 30. Him getting his own place was the psychiatrists idea to help him fell better. But thats enough of that, we went to southern France to visit Chris and Bre, and Miles the dog.

They are doing well and have alot of the same problems we do in Spain (except one: chris makes more money than me and becky combined, oh the humanity). Also they are enjoying the opportunity to travel as much as possible. But it was good to just speak to people effortlessly in our own first language without thinking alot. Plus who the fuck can understand French, the pronunciation of Montpellier was something like Mo-Pe-Yay. Overrall i found France pretty pleasant and green. And I did not personally witness any of the famous rudeness. Just like I didn't find germans to be cold, robotic, and controlling. At first the atmosphere was reminiscent of a hot bowl of soup when we landed in Lyon. But the humidity toned down a bit for the next few days in Montepellier and although warm enough it was at least cooler than Madrid.

Most of the pics are form Saint Giulhem le Desert, aka St. Bill. This turned out to be a great little medieval town in the mountains. The biggest difference between this and several medieval Spanish towns we've been to is that this one had loads of flowers and other greenery incorporated into its twisty alleyways. I don't recall Saint Bill having that urine smell of old cities. It was also overlooked by a ruined fortress. We ended the day with an awesome swimming hole in the river, of the EXACT perfect coolness that you desire at the end of a hot day, and a BBQ at one of C&B's friend's houses. I was incredibly jealous of his garden, I can't tell you how much I miss having a garden. Ok, i'll tell you.....alot.

The following day we had the stellar idea of going to the beach. The wind just was not on the same game plan and kept pelting us with stinging sand until we finally gave up and left. Eventually we made our way back to a sheltered cove with an entourage of Canadian and French people, friends and friends of friends of chris and bre. The thing that sticks in my mind from this outing was a conversation about words that people hate. Becky really hates the word "panties". I just thought it was the word for female underwear. But this other guy also hated "panties", in fact this word was almost as cringeworthy as "lover" to him. Personally I really hate "precious", and "darling", but I kept this information to myself, lest we start down a slippery slope of erasing half of the English language. It occurs to me that all four of these words could be used in a single sentence that would have offended all of us. What words really bother you?

Oh, lest I forget...the beach town Sete has canals. And In the canals, gondola jousting. This was not quite as cool as a demolition derby with cold PBR in hand (because they don't have PBR and nothign ever catches fire or explodes), but I wished we had a couple idle hours to watch. They even have shaded bleachers. Next time. Sand fell out of my pockets for days afterward.

My new roomate jumped out of the 7th floor window

2009-06-27T12:48:00.000-07:00

Oh hi, how was your Saturday morning...well let me tell you about ours. Wednesday, after months we finally got a new guy moved in here. He seemed like a nice enough guy, but we were a little annoyed that our roommate hadn't really spoken to us about him before telling him he could move in. She left us a note Teusday night, saying she found someone and he was coming the next morning. Sure enough he was already moving in the next morning. He brought a new TV and parked in front of it most of the day. He chatted with us while we ate dinner and he was watching soccer. The usual stuff...why are you eating so early (8:00pm), do you like futbol? I didn't see him at all thursday, and fugured he went on a trip or was hanging out with his family who live pretty close. Thursday night i got up to piss in the middle of the night, and i thought i saw him sitting in the dark in the living room. But i didn't have on my glasses, it was dark, i was half asleep, and if a person is really sitting in the dark alone they want to be left alone probably. Again friday I didn't see him despite that I worked at home all day. This morning, saturday i got up and made coffee, and Becky slept a little more. We heard him get up and leave and return from the grocery store while i was drinking the coffee. A little later Becky got up to pee, and then told me she saw him standing in his underwear in his room, apparently changing, but didn't say anything because she didn't want to embarrass him. We were feeling lazy so we started watching "Lost" on my computer. Then the doorbell and the buzzer rang a million times so we went out to the door. There was 2 cops asking if there was an older person who lived with us. They were asking the next door neighbors too, so it seemed like they were unclear about where they were looking for this person. Cops just kept coming very 5 minutes, and wanting to come in our house look at the layout, were asking about window orientation and stuff like that. Since they were asking about an old person, and becky thought she heard something about a cardiac arrest...I thought perhaps there was a person who had a heart attack in an apartment. Maybe they managed to call for help, but were locked inside, and the cops were looking for a way to get in. But it appeared that the victim was down in the parking lot from our balcony. We even joked with our next door neighboors about how confused the cops seemed to be. Finally the cops came back and they wanted to go in the new roomates bedroom. We knocked to no answer, and it was locked. The cops broke in and nobody was inside and the window was open. At this moment, I asked the cop: Is the person down there young or old? -he was young. So I asked if he had dark hair-he did. i asked if he was taller than me-he was. At almost this exact moment, our old roomate Raul called on the phone. He told becky that our roomate had jumped from the window. The cops had gotten Raul's number because his girlfriend's folks live in our building. So Raul across town knew what happened before we did. So long story not so short- or new roomate of 3 days killed himself this morning after going to the store for orange juice. He is essentially a complete stranger, but this happened while we were in the next room watching TV and just waking up. Ana, our other current roomate called on the phone from work. She said he had been acting wierd and he had told her he hadn't been around because he had to go to the hospital. But I guess he said nothing else about that. Very 10 minutes there was a new group of inbestigators going to do whatever in the room. We basically begged the cops to let us leave after a few hours so we could think of something else. I'm realy glad the door was locked, otherwise we could have been murder suspects. The cops were pretty civil though, although quite confused and confusing. We ended up going to a bar. We left a key for the family. They have already picked up most of his things. I can't believe this day.

Riding the midget bike in the rain

2009-06-13T02:20:00.000-07:00

Some folks at work put together a plan for a group overnight bike ride in Parque Alto Tajo in Guadalahara. It really reminded me of Walnut Canyon in Arizona. Its the coldest and least densely populated part of Spain, or so they said. We were on a field trip in Jaen when we got the invite, so we didn't hear about it until we returned, so there was very little time to get ready. What was there to prepare? 1) we don't have mountain bikes and this was an off-road tour, 2) for some reason i brought my newer nicer tent for one person to spain instead of the older danker one for two, 3) i have a set of panniers but becky has none. So at the last minute all this crap was rounded up and we were off just in the nick of time. I had borrowed Andrea's bike for Becky, and was hoping to find some time to work it over. It had both brakes rubbing and needed a tune up. One guy showed up, a friend of some of the guys on the trip, who just seemed so familiar. i realized he looked kind of 50% Jimmy Stewart, and 50% Sean Penn. Then I realized, no, its Cmaeron form Ferris Bueller. When we got to the trail head, I found that "my" bike, borrowed from Luis's girlfriend was actually smaller than Andrea's. I remembered this person as a tall slender woman, so i thought the bike would only be a little small. I had to ride Andea's with the seat post dangerously maxed out, my lungs compressed from hunching over, and my heels hitting the panniers. To top it off, despite that it had already been hot as balls there was cold rainy weather coming in. Its funny, few people want to ride with me because they think i like rides that are way too long, but under this set up I was the one sucking wind, weak and timid. Becky reconfirned that she totally hates mountain biking right out of the gate. The guy who "knew" the route sent us on a ridiculous side trip and took a wrong turn at the most straightforward intersection in the whole route. This delayed us long enough to keep us out as the rain started coming pretty hard. The gloves I bought Becky weeks ago were too small, consequently she had no gloves, and her hands got really cold. So I gave her mine, and guess what...my hands got really cold. Luckily there was a shelter where we could sleep inside with a fire, so i never used the tent we borrowed (apparently made of bricks and lead). I have gotten cold while camping out in wet weather before and I know if I hunker down in my sleeping bag I'll eventually get warm again. But I was really glad we could have a fire indoors. The problem was it was like the snoring olympics that night, so there wasn't much sleep to be had. Every man on the trip was sawing logs. And then theres eating. Do you gas up the car before or after the trip? Before, right? Bodies are like cars, you put in fuel and it goes. That shit doesn't fly in this country. Food can be summarized as "too little, too late". And everything always has to be a big fucking group activity, so you can't just say "sorry we're wierd foreigners and we eat early. we're just going to eat something quickly right now." Instead EVERYONE other than us has to begrudgingly eat earlier than they wanted to. They don't make you feel like a dick about it or anything, I just don't get why everyone always does everyhting at the same time here.

Sorry about the bitchfest. All in all this was a beautiful place, and the people were nice...but I'm never doing this shit last minute again and I'm never going to borrow someone elses bike for more than 10 minutes. Either I am prepared or I don't go. Next time I'm outfitting my surly with nobby tires.

post backlog #2

2009-06-12T12:23:00.000-07:00

If you look in Google Earth, Almeria is surrounded by mysterious seas of white rectangles. These are structures built of white shade cloth for pseudo-indoor crops. I guess the white protects them from the sun. They look kind of like something to keep E.T. in quarantine. Becky thought they looked like refugee camps. Adding to the wierdness is that the countryside is full of ruins abandoned during the 20th century when people just picked up and went to the cities. Often you can't even see the ruin from a distance, but you can see the amazing growth of cacti that were apparently planted as ornamentals long ago. Most hillslopes are terraced, another vestige of recently abandoned agriculture.

A local researcher showed us around his various study sites. We were closing to turning cannibal when our hosts finally decided it was about lunch time at 4:00. This followed a hearty breakfast of toast with tomato and olive oil seven and a half hours earlier. After all that all i got was gaszpacho, and some pisto with a gross egg i didn't eat for lunch. So this long awaited meal amounted to tomatoes more or less. Later, i lobbied for pizza for dinner, and the spaniards thought two app. 12-inch pizzas was sufficient food for 4 people and figured i just didnlt know what i was asking for when I ordered two larges. Spanish people eat like children. The Mediterranean diet is just a clever way of saying starving. I wonder if its like this in Greece, Italy, or other Mediterranean nations. We insisted we were getting more food and if there was extra, well, we could eat it the next day. We ate it all, no problem. I know porky americans are in a poor position to tell other people about nutrition....but shit, these people eat nothing. Over here they don't eat the pizza directly with their hands. They put each slice on a little cardboard triangle. i don't know if they are afraid of getting their hands dirty, or the pizza dirty. i think its related to the fact that they use throwaway plastic gloves for selecting produce, and for pumping gas.

I was happy to get to see the Tabernas badlands, which I've been reading about in geeky science papers for years. This is also one of the main sites for western movies of the 60's. I hate westerns, but I like to see the sets. I used to work near similar sets near Kanab, Utah, like the Bonanza ranch for example. Many of the so-called spaghetti westerns were not shot in Italy but in Spain (Paella westerns). There is actually a place there called "Texas Hollywood", which seems to be some sort of movie set/ tourist trap. It has a typical old west main street with the saloon, etc., in addition to a Mexican pueblo, in addition to various arabesque structures. I think the nonsensical name "Texas hollywood" is indicative of something: if you asked a typical small town Almerian to tell you what they know about the United states, Texas and Hollywood are certain to be mentioned right after New York. When I move back to the states I'm going to open up a place called Paris Alps Rome, it will have all kinds of Europy shit like cathedrals and escargot. One of the study sites was a set from the young Indiana Jones television show. Literally, there's all this erosion and runoff monitoring equipment right next to a deteriorating and fake (styrofoam) mine entrance that was made for the show. I think the last crusade has some shots from here as well, maybe the high speed tank chase part with those zany Nazis up to their typical shenannigans.

When we got back to Madrid some friends invited us to an anarchist squat bar. I was skeptical, most "anarchist squats" in the states are junkie hives. This one was a derelict building that has been taken over as a community center where noone actually lives. They have a community garden (apparently on the roof), FREE spanish classes and legal assistance for immigrants (the poor kind not the united statesians, woe is me), a bike workshop, and various art projects and workshops. Again in the states, for this to work there would have to be strict no drug, no booze rules, but this place has a bar. And its cheap, and they have reggae shows there. They sell beer in "minis" which despite the diminutive name are the largest beers you can find (0.75 L, i mean this is approaching Bavaria proportions) for 3 euros. Of course one would be shared among like 5 spanish people passing it around spreading herpes and swine flu, but I like having my own big boy beer in hand and i'll just catch my own diseases thanks (in recent months i have been totally ravaged by almost every cold to come down the pike, so i'm a bit sensitive on this spit and disease sharing issue). I wish I had the insider information to know about places like this a year ago.

may is over, post backlog #1

2009-06-09T14:31:00.000-07:00

A couple of becky's random shots from el Escorial. the monastery-palace of felipe 2 (one of those inbred Hapsburgs form Austria with their f-ed up noses and hairlips), and the dehesa landscape of the nearby mountains. It's worth going to Escorial only for calzones.

Still wonder why i don't like Spanish food?? Well, let me serve you up some tripe and eggs. This was from the Fiesta de San Isidrio, the patron saint of madrid. People put on their special costumes and go over to the park for drinking and traditional foods, such as tripe. Have you ever cleaned your stove with a sponge soon after cooking, and the sponge touches hot metal and emits really rank steam probably containing botulinum at the least or maybe ebola. That is what tripe smells like. The cuchinillo (roasted suckling pig) is not nearly as disgusting, but it really reminds me of dissecting a fetal pig for 3 weeks in a biology lab. We met an ecuadorian friend and a colombian firend over there at the festival, in addition to a spanish guy and had a fine old drunk in the sun sort of day. Its really funny when we can't totally speak spanish (we are getting better though) and they can't totally speak english, the conversation has a way of drifting in and out of the two languages, and sometimes just combines them in the same phrase. This is why some clever sod coined the term "Spanglish". Despite that this city of millions sponsored a festival in one park, apparently nobody thought it might be a good idea to provide a toilet anywhere. The gutters ranneth with urine.

Now playing at the palacio de cristal...rat and bear. This is bear. This is art.

La Criticona

2009-05-10T02:44:00.000-07:00

Last weekend we went on a bike ride around Madrid with about 2500 friends. La Criticona was a special annual mass ride where people from everywhere were invited to Madrid to participate. This is somewhat nonsensical because they didn't bike from Rome, for example, just to come to this ride...but whatever. Why get all hung up on being a purist, the result was thousands of riders absolutely taking over Madrid. Teresa was up from Granada so she went along. Despite having lots of friends form work who regularly go to the monthly ride, I've never gone because: a) i never remember, b) I have mixed feelings about critical mass. On b, the cruel irony is that I have been personally responsible for about 30 rides in two cities, and have personally contributed to some of my own grievances. I have seen that being in a mass ride is exhilarating, and inspires regular people who don't ride their bikes much to ride more because they suddenly realize they are part of something. And its just fun, especially when people bring a sense of theatre and humor. If you haven't been to one, the idea is this: cyclists meet at a known time and place, and proceed to ride slowly in a group, usually in a meandering path. Most places, the mass must stay together or its defeated, so if a red light occurs which would split the mass, the riders just keep going with the aid of corkers who just sort of park their bikes in front of the cross traffic. Theres themed rides, costumed rides, and naked rides. I think they are coolest for everyone involved when they feel like a circus-parade hybrid. Although it is sort of a vague protest (of global warming, isolating car culture, construction of cities for cars instead of people, lack of bike safety, lack of bike infrastructure, marginalization of cyclists, etc.), I think it fails the most when it becomes more of a protest and less of a celebration. This leads to anger and confrontations. This is not really a venue for changing any of the above grievances, theres no follow up city council meeting and the mayor is not standing there thinking "we're gonna have to add more bike lanes". If the mayor were there he would more likely be thinking "riot squad?". Also, while the very heart of the whole thing is doing for a couple of hours one day a month, what cars can do 24 hours a day every other day, when it starts leading to feelings of revenge upon the world rather than elation at all the other cyclists and all the smiles on their faces, it can go to bad places. I have a citation for "obstructing a public thoroughfare", technically an arrest for a criminal offence (no shit), to prove it from a ride that wanted to be an Iraq war protest (of course we were 174% right, but in the political climate at that moment this was a touchy subject to say the least). Once you realize you are not changing the world with your ride, you can be free to enjoy yourself, which in turn leads to enjoyment in those around you, even many of those stuck in cars that cannot go anywhere. Usually when you are stuck in traffic there's not a juggler standing and performing on your front bumper...that's more fun than getting home on time.

Anyways, this was near the ideal. It was the biggest mass I've ever been to, and a tie for most theatrical. There were so many of us that were literally could not move for minutes at a time.

The highlights:
1) We started near the Plaza Cibeles about a km N of Atocha train station. The first indication that we were an outlandinshly large group was that, travelling in the direction of Atocha, we looked to our left and saw the front of the mass travelling in the opposite direction. They had made a U-turn at the roundabout by Atocha. At that point, we were at least half a km from the trains station...if you get out a pencil and some paper and your graphing calculator to do the difficult math.... that means the mass was a km long on a road with 4 lanes in both directions! But, what speed were they travelling, and did they reach Cleveland faster that the train from Philadelphia with an average speed of 100 km per hour?

1a) The ride was so big and slow, we could have stopped at a terrace, had a coffee, and rejoined the ride.

2) Early on, a bus became trapped in the mass. I thought when we passed he was going to be a swadling bundle of road rage. Actually he was cheering and taking pictures of the never ending stream of cyclists swarming around him. And why not he was getting paid, and you don't this somehting like this any old day.

3) In Moncloa, the mass encountered another mass. Apparently we had split into multiple monstrous groups, and then recollided.

4) The entirety of one direction of Gran Via, the Spanish Broadway Boulevard, full of bikes as far ahead of us as we could see.

5) The mass observing pedestrian crosswalks, but not allowing automobile cross traffic to penetrate. The pedestrians were applauded.

6) Would-be penetrators stranded in the middle of a sea of bikes with people camping out on their hoods. A few pissed off (like cabbies, the diplomats of the automobile world), but some just laughing at the futility of their attempt.

7) We took the tunnel under Plaza de Espana. Normally this would be like riding into a meat grinder, but we made it our bitch.

8) The ride ended at the plaza in front of the palace. New riders just kept rolling in. Someone with a big stereo had started playing techno and 80s dance music. A dance party was slowly beginning. We ended up going somewhere else, but I'm curious how this all went down, looked like the makings of a good party.

9) Skeletor got our backs.

The low point: There's only one. At one point the mass was split by cross traffic in the tunnel. A few riders started a surge to encroach, stop the traffic, and rejoin the mass. One guy in a car may have nearly hit someone, and was enraged. There was a cop at his wit's end, trying to calm the guy down and tell him to wait. Not helpfully, some riders were taunting the guy as the rode past. During all of this there was a little girl in the back seat, terrified by the near accident, her dads anger, the presence of a cop, and the crazy cyclists hurling insults at her dad.

All told, a great day with one shitty moment and about 3 hours of good moments. The regular ride is at 8:00pm, last thursday of every month, Plaza Cibeles.
http://bicicritica.ourproject.org/web/node/265
I'm not sure what city has next year's criticona. First in Rome 2008 (5000 riders), then Madrid 2009 (2500 riders), 2010????? Here's the link
http://lacriticona.ourproject.org/index.en.php

pass the pork

2009-04-29T13:13:00.000-07:00

I'm not afraid of swine flu or terrorists or socialism, I'm afraid of cars. Chances are pretty solid that mostly everyone reading this will succumb to a death linked either to cars or cheeseburgers, not pig diseases. Why are we freaking out that a couple hundred people died of the flu? Get a grip. With socialized medicine you could just go to the doctor for treatment. The people that died waited to long, or more likely couldn't afford it. It's wierd what people do and don't fear. Social medicine is not Stalin, and swine flu is not the chevy bearing down on your ass right now (don't look!). If people start turning into zombies, go ahead and be afraid. i've seen enough movies to know that shit goes downhill from there.

I haven't felt like writing at all recently as you may have noticed. I bought becky a bike so we've been taking a few modest adventures, nothing outlandish. We're talking about a possible august bike tour in scotland. I'm feeling a need to do some longer rides soon. I've recently learned about randonneuring, and although I'd heard of it I just thought it was some kind of bike race so dismissed it. I don't care about racing, i'm not fast and I'm old. But randonneuring is different...theres no winners just finishers. The goal is to ride, self supported (carrying tools, food, clothes, water, etc.), a certain distance in a limited time, depending on the event. If you complete an entry level one, you can enter the next highest level. the entry level is 200 km in 13 hours, and they range, i think, up to 1400 km in I don't know how many hours. So it's touring, but balls-out, no time to sleep or stop riding touring. So anyways, I'm inspired, And I want to try somehting like this but I'm in fairly poor shape right now heading into the summer when all riding must cease.

We've also gone over a couple times to escorial, just an hour west of Madrid to check out the town and/or hike. It's a cool small town with a palace/monastery, but most importnantly it's in the mountains in one of the few human-managed landscapes where the management actually increases biodiversity.

We almost went to Galicia for the upcoming holiday, but got smacked by the high last minute cost and the heinous 8-hour train trip. So we're hanging around Madrid while a friend visits from granada. Galicia will have to wait until june as I've got two work trips in May to the south (read: hot as balls), conveniently scheduled over weekends. So to make up for my lack of posts heres some random pics that becky took with her sexy camera.

attack of the 50 foot virgin

2009-03-22T13:24:00.000-07:00

We just returned from Valencia and Las Fallas. Las Fallas is a festival in honor of St. Joseph in which sculptures, some enormous, are constructed, paraded and then burned on the final hellish day. The statues are satirical, depicting fuckery in all of its major forms.

As i have before in other parts of spain, I walked away with a Disney sort of taste in my mouth after my first visit to Valencia. First the Fallas (the sculptures) themselves can best be described as "pinnochiod", and are like little pieces of Fantasyland spontaneously scattered in plazas all over the city except that some of them have their balls or breasts hanging out. Aside from the Fallas, there is also a 'Tommorrowland'. The city of arts and sciences (tommorrowland) is a bizarre collection of museums and concert halls, and best of all an example of 1960's futurism (except that its only a decade old). Why is it that whenever someone wants something to look futuristic it is either white or polished naked metal? I've always liked this kind of imagery, partly because it has such a short shelf life....if you wait a few decades you quickly find out how dumb your vision of the future was. This is why I've always liked airports (I think I'm the only one). Did you ever notice that the only place you ever saw a monorail outside of disneyland was in some airport? futurism. Aside from the Fantasyland cells, and Tommorrow land, there is a giant statue of the virgin made of flowers brought by hand by parading women. We can call her Snow White. The parades literally last days, all to bring flowers for this thing. We thought they might burn it too, but then figured that these catholic idolators might not be into burning a giant idol of the mother of Jesus in front of the cathedral which houses the holy grail (more on this later). Finally, there is no Adventureland or Frontierland, but during las Fallas Valencia has something else that is a little of both and then some. At least every 30 seconds you are scared shitless by some form of explosion. Every kid in the city is lighting off firecrackers that are REALLY LOUD, every day at 2:00 there is a 45 minute long firing of cannons in the city accompanied by fireworks, every night at 1:00 there is a fireworks show. You never experience any smell other than gun powder and you wonder why you keep blowing black snot out of your nose. If you ever wondered what living in a warzone was like, here you go...... Beirutland! I liked the pinnochiod sculptures, the 30-years-too-late 60's futurism (in spite of the lack of a monorail), the attack of the 50 foot virgin, but i really, really, really hated the stupid firecrackers. hated them. really.

a pinnochiod fantasyland cell hiding among us and waiting to be activated.

the towering virgen, right before she came to life and destroyed a city block in rage.

in the world of the future buildings will serve no practical function.

The burning was pretty awesome. Predicitably my photo card was full the second they lit off the falla we had chosen to watch burn. we picked one in the plaza next to one of the gates still standing form the city wall which is no longer standing. but becky got some awesome shots. really, this is catholocism?? it's really different than all those heinously boring sundays when i was a kid. i could have gotten into this.

these people are patiently waiting for an inferno in front og them as one erupts behind them.

beirutland- this was one of the smaller childrens fallas which they shot with a rocket launcher.

after the burning, valencia actually got a bit boring. we ran out of things to do. we were just too jaded after beirutland. FYI the aquarium and science museum at tommorrowland are overrated and overpriced. aparrently the vatican reconginizes that the cup used by jesus at the last supper, aka the holy grail, is located at the cathedral in valencia. huh???!!!! isn't this the famous lost relic that the arthurian legend and an indiana jones movie were about? they should have just gone to valencia. isn't it also a figure of speech, refering to a thing that despite infinite searcing cannot be found-with the implication that quite possibly it doesn't exist. do you believe its just sitting in a church in valencia? i don't. sounds like another shroud of turin to me. but anyways, we never quite made it over there when it was actually open, so we are also still searching for the holy grail.

valencia food review: There a few things you are just supposed to eat when you go to this city.
Paella: ????, I went to Valencia and didn't have any paella. to be fair to myself, i have had paella on numerous occassions cooked by a guy who learned it from his mom, who is in turn from valencia. also i like the theatre of making paella in a big pan especially over a fire. but, alas, most paella is lost on me, even if i did eat meat i would not want to eat a plate of rice befouled with a stinky sealife diarama on top. i cannot stress enough that seafood makes me gag, sorry its the way i am and i can't change it. i don't want sea bugs cooked in their own gut contents just dropped whole onto my food. the few vegetarian ones taste exactly like what they are, a big plate of salty ho-hum rice with way overcooked veggies. big deal. so totall unfairly, my grade for paella is C+. But maybe you would like this stuff...

Bunuelos- These sounded really exciting and unique. They are basically donuts with pumpkin in the dough, served straight out of the frier, and dusted with sugar. They definitely were good, but after all the talk I was expecting something incredible. Also I had hoped they would actually taste a bit of pumpkin, they don't. they are decent but I'll take an elephant ear any day, B+.

Horchata, Orxata- I have written before about how much I love Spanish horchata. Mexican horchata is good but his stuff is 1000 times more complex, and is made of a sedge tuber. To me its like a lowfat milkshake with a touch a cinnamon and a dash of sprite at the end. and i'm just tallking about the cheap shit you can get in the grocery store, and no they don't add cinnamon and sprite the tuber just has those flavor elements. In valencia, there are horchaterias everywhere and the stuff is great. You can get it in liquid form, or slushy, and best of all with coffee. A+ (paella is an overrated fad, just go straight for the horchateria).

punk rock week

2009-03-15T03:58:00.000-07:00

oh did you want to hear about cuenca? i thought i might just post a bunch of cryptic pictures for a change. old cuenca is built on a narrow ridgetop above the confluence of a river and a smaller stream. its famous for its "hanging houses" which are on one side of the ridge. the most famous one is in several of my pictures and is an abstract art museum now. it has a cool all white room, which is itself a piece of art. Actually it is far cooler than the art it houses. the landscape around cuenca is really beautiful and mountainous, and semi-wild. much more so than madrid anyway, we would have done some hiking if it hadn't been unrelentingly wet. every new city we go to i tend to like more than the last. valencia is next on the agenda for las fallas, one of the wierdest festivals in this nation of wierd festivals (more at 11:00).

in the time since, we have jumped through all the beaurocratic flaming hoops and becky has a signed contract. i have refrained from posting about this process because i already lived it and all i can say is it sucks and theres nothing i can do about it. but its mostly over, at least the hardest parts.

this week my friend from work, alberto, played a gig with his punk band. two days later, stiff little fingers played. the last time i saw stiff little fingers was in portland a few years ago. everybody i went with was extremely excited because noone had any idea they still existed and they were a favorite of pretty much everybody. i told lucy, an irish friend in portland, about the show and she said "really! theyre old belfast rockers!". i said "duh!!!!"(it's hard to imagine more punk credentials than growing up in late 70's belfast. maybe if they were from somalia or something it would be more impressive). she rounded up a friend from alaska and her old boyfriend, both huge fans. i rounded up some old vegas friends who lived in portland. my friend mark elected not to go becasue he thought it would be a bloodbath of skinhead violence. for some reason the irish punk bands, e.g slf and the pogues, have a fan base in the US that includes these guys (not the racist kind, but rather the ones who will kick your white ass to prove they are not nazis. which is worse, i wonder? at least the nazis just come out and say "we are fascists"). he was right about the rivers of blood, but it was worth it, and my friends and i did not personally recieve face smashings. at that time the guitarist from the jam played with them and chad made off wth his pick after a show of hoarse sing alongs, fists punching the air, etc. we were totally prepared to be dissapointed, like going to see david lee roth on life support at a casino on an indian reservation, but the band was incredible and we left unable to speak and drenched in sweat.

this time, i went alone. becky was not interested, and niether was alberto. the scene couldn't have been more different. the place was full of grayhairs who looked like average 30 and 40 somethings off the street, and it was astonishing to think that all of these people in there had once been punks. not a single skinhead face stomping, or even a punch occurred the whole night. the band was just as tight as ever, though they must be really bored. people only want to hear their songs from 30 years ago, including me to be honest. jake burns looked like a middle aged suburban dad or possibly grandpa. there's no pretention as he doesn't try to look cool or younger than he is, he just literally limps out behind his big belly. he would look at home in a golf cart. but he can still totally sear your face off when they lay into "suspect device". i like that element of surpise. i accidentally punched the ceiling for that one. then i lost what was left of my voice on "alternative ulster". made it home at a respectable gray-haired 12:30.

Cuenca

2009-03-02T13:28:00.000-08:00

i threw the sidra

2009-02-15T01:29:00.000-08:00

I'm caffeinating, waking up with not quite a hangover but a little raggedy around the edges. We went out to a town called Sevilla la Nueva for a BBQ and party. My old roomate is renting a house out there, a real house with a backyard, on the edge of town. It was a celebration for a guy who defended his dissertation. Like most parties I've been to here, Eduardo instigates a sometimes choreographed dance. luckily I was spared but Becky got pegged for this one. Eduardo is kind of reminiscent of an aerobics instructor and is always surrounded by the girls who, predictably, like dancing. He also made his favorite hot drink from Ecuador with a sugarcane alcohol called aguadiente (teeth water??). The thesis defender and family are from Asturias, a green wet part of Northern Spain with a celtic culture. They drink cider there. There was something like 96 bottles of cider (sidra) brought down form Asturias. I have to admit, my first sampling of the cider was kind of like drinking bile. I have become a fan after drinking it literally all day yesterday. It's flat, uncarbonated and pretty tart, but the ritual is very fun. First the pouring is meant to fizz it up, so you actually pour it from 3 feet above a tilted glass (throwing). You throw about 8 ounces at a time. Once you begin throwing you are obligated to pour the whole bottle. You spill about 50% of it and pour it all over your hand and feet. Then you deliver the glass to some unsuspecting jackass who is obligated to drink it. You are supposed to drink it in one gulp while its still fizzy, but stop your chugging short of the final swallow. The final swallow is poured to the ground to remove sediment and cleanse the part of the glass that you drank from (typically everyone is sharing the same glass-great for getting herpes). This little offering to the ground is also kind of like a tipping a 40 for the dead homies. Also each bottle results in 6 pours and you dont drink the dregs of the bottle because it has too much dead yeast sediment. Also back to the earth from whence it came.

Brains!

2009-02-08T02:24:00.000-08:00

I'm such an idiot. The coolest thing ever happened yesterday and I didn't go. Marcha de los Zombis is a three hour parade of zombies across Madrid to honor George Romero. I stumbled across a little blurb about it on some website. I was trying to find out about the rates and opening hours of the gym down the road,, which I failed to learn, but then there were zombies... I read that this occurs on the first Saturday of February and I said to Becky "Shit! There was a zombie parade last week and I had no idea. I've been waiting for forever for anything half as cool!". So trying to salvage the day we went over to the gym on a fact finding mission, and of course the facility we wanted to use was closed (this happens to me literally 5 times more often than not...if I've got the time and motivation, whatever I'm looking for is closed for siesta or for no clear reason) . But at least we found out when it was open and how much it costs. Later, at about 5:00 becky was tired so took a long nap due to the pernicious jetlag, and I went for a jog for lack of anything else to do even though the wind was face-cracking icy. Later at about 8:00 we were watching the news, and the zombies were on. Turns out the goddamned thing was yesterday from 5:00 to 8:00 (!!!), and we had nothiong to do and totally could have gone. The month started on a sunday, so yestereday was the first saturday.

this is what it would have looked like:

Zombies heading down to the metro. Really the same as every day when the working stiffs head down to the metro.

2009-02-01T02:12:00.000-08:00

Get your own knuckles at the knuckle tattoo gun.

This is my only submission of knuckles, from Lawrence. i have to agree on this. I have nothing in particular against the steelers, but they already have 5 super bowl wins. Go cards! Seeing as how the game starts at midnight here and I doubt that the bars with satellite TV are open that late....might be missing this one.

It's snowing some of the biggest flakes I've ever seen, but its too warm to stick.

2009-01-30T12:28:00.000-08:00

Right now in the US the most fuel efficient car in the Prius at 45 mpg city, 50 hwy. If this sounds pretty good, I'll tell you why it's ridiculous. I tell anyone who will listen, I remember clearly the Geo Metro, when I was in high school. We thought gas was expensive because it was over a dollar. This car made about 20 years ago (!) got 45 mpg city and 50 mpg hwy. How can car companies claim they simply can't make cars more efficient, when equal output was available before they jammed SUVs down our throats. Why does this loser industry get to be bailed out by the government? Where's the innovation? I've been wondering for years: why isn't there diesel hybrids on the market. A normal diesel, not a giant cowboy pickup tested in a mine field...just a car for regular people, gets around 40 mpg. Hybrid technology boosts that mpg considerably, right? Why don't you get my chocolate in your peanut butter, and make this car. I asked a diesel mechanic what kind of gas mileage that could equal, and he said in the range of 80. Better yet, make it a plug in hybrid soit can be partially powered by renewables, domestic coal, nuclear, and hydroelectric power. Better still, make it a BIOdiesel plug in hybrid, then it would never require a drop of petroleum. I just found out that Volkswagen is almost there with a Plug-in hybrid Diesel Golf (not biodiesel but I bet it can be converted), it gets 78 mpg, absolutely crushing the current field. If GM could churn something like that out they deserve a bailout. The American auto industry needs to do the country a service and make a car that will help wean the USA off of it's out of control oil addiction. If they can't do that for the good of the nation which bailed them out they should probably just be replaced by Germans who know how to get shit done.

Soundtrack of my life

2009-01-25T14:09:00.001-08:00

I lost all my thoughts of angels in an aspirin billboard, walking down 16th street, hit the cross street "Catatonia"

Blake Schwarzenbach is my favorite lyricist. That's him in the middle looking very Kerouac in black and white, and wearing Mission Street like a halo (even though he's from L.A., the anti-San Francisco). He's also a really creative guitarist, but its his words that have made his bands stand out to me. People always ask me what the weird tattoo is on my wrist, and I can't seem to describe it succinctly. Well, succinctly, its the symbol of Blake's band Jawbreaker...but it's not really a rock n' roll tattoo in the same sense as an "AC-DC", or a zig-zag man. It's more of a symbol of my favorite poet, who's able to put words to exactly how I feel, and the guy I still like to listen to after about 16 years and counting.

When almost all punk bands were writing very political, angry and anarchistic songs about class warfare (sometimes articulately, sometimes not), he wrote about himself. Some people who do this are pretentious and narcissistic. He doesn't sound that way because he was just writing about what he actually knew, unlike most of the punks who knew alot more about PBR than class warfare, for example. His songs tend toward the melancholic

"I could walk a million miles, suffer freezing rain and failure. Its familiar"

"I'm sick, not hungry, sick of people starved for love"

....but usually not all the way to depression.

"Everyone is drowning in sand, couldn't you use a hand?"

This theme makes the happy songs even happier,

"she thinks it's stupid that we get paid to jump around. Its what I live for. I hope I never touch the ground"

and the jokes even funnier because they are surprising.

" I wanna be your shirt, so I can hug you while you work. I wanna be your wife, so you can beat me every night"

He has a sense of humor, with a subtle joke hiding in maybe half of his songs, and a particular skill at plays on words:

"I learned to put on airs, I needed them to breath"
"now I need a guillotine to get you off my mind"
"I fell from the wagon into the night train"
" We live like astronauts, but our missions never cross"
"I tried to drink you off my mind. I just got wasted. It only made the pain that much more acute. But cute isn't strong enough a word. Unintentionally gorgeous. An accidental charm. A graceful drinking arm. Disarming..."

There's a few enigma's built in here and there, ripe with symbology and significance. But it's bring-your-own-symbol, these could mean many things to different people and despite their elusive meaning they can't easily be forgotten :

"This is your angel. Please respond"
"There was a sun once. It lit the whole damned sky. It kept everything, everything, alive."

After his band Jets to Brazil disintegrated, he sort of disappeared from music in a J.D. Salinger kind of way (ok not that extreme, but it is strange for a musician to just stop recording music for years) and teaches English at a college. You can even look him up on Rate My Professor and read about how many of his students think he's brilliant, hot, or a dick who shouldn't be discussing politics in an English class. I always though he might write a book or something but I don't think he ever did. I am so psyched he has a new band, the Thorns of Life. He's playing with Aaron Cometbus, the guy who had an equal impact on the punk fanzines, basically the punk literature. He was also the drummer of Crimpshrine and Pinhead Gunpowder. Still may favorite zine was his travel log of his ill-fated bike tour of Europe from many years ago, turned stolen canoe tour after the bike was hopelessly broken, turned travelling circus with the french jugglers and their pogues tape. I need to pick up his anthology just so I can read that one again. Anyways, I hope this is a real band, and not just a garage project. I also hope these two icons can actually equate to a good band, instead of a half-assed all star game. So far the videos from crowded house parties pretty much sound great (given that they are shitty shaky videos from crowded house parties) , kind of halfway between jawbreaker and pinhead gunpowder go figure.

Crossing Communidad de Madrid, Spain by bike

2009-01-24T09:56:00.000-08:00

The travel books will tell you Spain is not a popular destination for bike touring. This might lead you to the conclusion that it’s a bad place for touring which is wrong. Secondary roads often make for good riding in my experience. Just steer clear of autopistas. Since I live in the largest city, I think this probably applies to the whole country. If bike touring is doable here, it’s probably doable elsewhere. So after a long hiatus…here is an entry about cycling. When I first got here, everybody I asked about cycling told me about mountain bike rides, but the almost unanimous opinion of cycling on roads was that it’s too dangerous and they wouldn't do something like that. When I was directed to the "hardcore cyclist" guy of the department, and he found out I was bike commuting in Mostoles, he actually told me to ride on the sidewalk. For the record, except for a couple trouble spots, commuting in Mostoles was no problem. A few people tipped me off to what I would call “urban trails “like the green ring around Madrid, and other people told me about vias verdes which are basically the same as “rails to trails”. But nobody really thinks about, or was able to provide information about, the kind of riding I love…not particularly fast long rides that last all day. And I'm not looking for rides where you drive you bike somewhere and then ride, I mostly just want to either walk out my door or take the available public transport if its REALLY far, and ride. So I’m going to be the guy to help the next person looking for this information. The following is a description of how to cross the majority of Communidad de Madrid with little interaction with cars, either for recreational riders in the Madrid area or tourist cyclists that are crossing the interior of Spain (the communidad is like a small state, or big county). One of the worst things on a multi-day (or multi-week, or multi-month, or multi-year) tour is getting across the big cities without taking a really dumb indirect route. So that is the piece that I hope this provides to someone who wanders across this on the web. Basically this is a link-up of urban trails, vias verdes and roads. There are plenty of small roads with low traffic that are perfectly safe to ride on, but I think any cyclist would enjoy and almost car-free day from time to time. Day riders might enjoy this route in pieces.

The description is from North to Southeast, but there’s no reason not to reverse the direction.

Section 1: Soto de Real to north Madrid city: ~35 km
If you are cycle touring and have wound up in Soto de Real, you have just crossed the Sierra Guadarrama not so long ago. You may have come over Pto. Navacerrada, Morcuera, Canencia, Somosierra or somewhere else in Castilla y Leon (I’ve done all but Somosierra and all are nice rides and it should be a fairly easy spin down to Soto in less than 25km, depending on which pass you came over). This trail makes use of a city funded-project to safely get road riders out of the city to the nice roads in the foothills where they want to ride. It’s a two way- paved bike road that is separated from and parallel to M-40. I don’t have a high quality map, but since it parallels M-40 the whole way (usually west side) it ain’t hard to find or follow. It’s not as picturesque as the mountain country you passed through earlier, but it’s a nice rural landscape, greener than you probably suspected with lots of cow pastures. The best thing is that there is few road crossings, so it’s like a freeway for bikes. The worst thing is that there is zero shade, so if riding in summer make sure you’ve got the water you need, and be aware of heatstroke and dehydration symptoms. South of Colmenar Viejo you can pull into the back of a gas station-convenience store right of the trail for a sliver of shade and my favorite cycling food-ice cream bars. Unlike the Anillo Verde, below, this trail does not have water stops.

So far the website with the most complete compilation of all the bicycle routes in the Communidad is http://www.pedalibre.org/vias_ciclistas_madrid.htm
They are an advocacy group and have some description of all routes in espanol.
In the map below the Soto de Real to Madrid trail is the one running N-S near the top. The trails described below in sections 3 and 4 are also shown.

Section 2: Anillo Verde: ~ 20 km
The Anillo verde is a circular paved path around Madrid, it connects all the burbs with their monotone red brick apartment buildings (boring) , and quite a few parks (pretty nice). It’s biggest failing is that its got quite a few crossings of roads, and it can juke you if you go where you think it should go instead of where it actually goes. But it’s a great connector, especially when passing through an unfamiliar city of 5 million. To avoid getting lost, and avoid wrong turns at intersections with other urban trails, always follow the poles with an orange top. When riding the path from Soto de Real into the city, there will be a fork, one direction leading over a pedestrian path, the other direction marked by a spray painted arrow on the path. Follow the arrow, don't cross the bridge. In a few more km the path will terminate at another pedestrian-cycle bridge. You will hopefully know the terminus because the trail markings gradually disappear, and although there is room to continue riding, you would be travelling the wrong direction on the side of a freeway with no traffic barrier. I did this once, it was lame, avoid it. The real route does not put you in such a situation without a barrier. Once you’ve crossed the ped bridge look for the orange post and the anillo verde. You want to travel west. If you are confused, you were riding south on the path from Soto, so you want to basically make a convoluted right turn via the ped bridge.

The most error proof thing you can do is stay on the anillo verde, but between the 2nd rest area and a couple km beyond the 4th (Fuentelareina on the map) the road crossings might become maddening. So you could just ride the road for a few km, just keep one eye on the trail so you can catch it when it leaves the road and enters a part after the 4th rest stop. Eventually you will make it into Casa de Campo, the biggest park. It’s confusing in there, just always look out for the orange top poles. If it’s late in the day there is a youth hostel (here they are called alburgues, although FYI a hostal is a cheap hotel with shared bathrooms that can be just as cheap as an alburgue) inside the park. I’ve never stayed there, so I don’t have anything to say about it. But this park is where you can find zombie hookers, ride a cable car, go to a roller coaster park, or go to a zoo (whichever you prefer). You might also need to roll into Madrid for parts or something. The easiest thing to do is hit up Otero on Calle Segovia. This is a decent shop, although they seem to be really paranoid about theft and everything is locked up. From Lago (an artificial lake in casa de campo), exit using Puerta del Angel, turn left on Paseo de Extremadura, cross the Rio Manzanares using Puente de Segovia and then climb the hill of Calle Segovia. You’ll pass right by the domed cathedral on your left and under the viaduct (a cool looking bridge). Shortly after the viaduct watch for the bike shop on your left. If you head up to the cathedral, you are close to the major sights of Madrid: the palace, Plaza Mayor, Puerta del Sol, Templo de Debod, Sabatini Gardens, Plaza de Espana, Etc. You can find Madrid walking tour signs which direct you to all this city center business.

If you ain’t sleeping, sightseeing or fixing your bike….just keep riding through casa de campo to Parque Manzanares. You’ll know it because there is a big hill with a crazy scrap metal-like sculpture on it. It is near the southernmost point of the Anillo Verde.

Heres a map…click for a larger version. You’ll notice the route has connections to some additional routes in the city too, and it has the metro stops which could be important.

Part 3. Parque Manzanares to Via Verde de Tajuna ~47 km
To change trails, the simplest thing to do is follow the anillo verde left upon entering the park. Eventually you come to a roundabout, go 25% around and turn right on a pedestrian path that has segments of pavement interspersed with segments of grass. Cross the bridge at the end of this and then turn left on the paved path which parallels the river. It, the more southerly N-S trial on the map up top, and its junction with the Anillo Verde is also shown.

This one has a tricky spot. Take the path along Rio Manzanares. Despite the general disdain for this skanky river among Madrilenos, this is a nice idyllic shady trail, especially welcome in summer. When passing under bridges, the path is rough cobblestone which you will fail to see because you’ll be wearing sunglasses when you suddenly plunge into the shade, so don’t freak out if your horse gets a little spooked without warning. Ride it out buckaroo. There seems to be perpetual construction nearby, so parts of the paved river path may be closed, but there is a dirt path on the other side that works if you have this problem. You have to find the intersection with a trail that spurs off to the right after maybe 3-4 km. The problem is this trail is not constructed yet, its just a rather rough dirt path, but strangely it’s got at least one bench and lights which you will see. Take this, walking if need be (its short) and pass through the tunnel under the freeway. Right after crossing there’s sort of a broad sidewalk to the left, take it. Before long the broad sidewalk is parallel with a road, and within a few hundred meters, dumps you out there. Turn left on this road. In another 100-200 m there is a T intersection, turn R, then take the first L. Follow the present road to a roundabout and use it to turn left (under a road bridge). Watch for the via ciclista (it’s red asphalt on your right. Apparently these two trails are slated to be connected soon, and this clusterfuck won’t exist. If you get lost just ask someone where the via ciclista a San Martin de la Vega is.

Almost immediately a bridge takes you to the other side of the highway and there is a gas station here with a convenience store…if you are out of food and water deal with it here because opportunities are scarce for 18km or so. So… just follow the trail south. At one point there is a fork, this doesn’t matter much as they converge again later, but the simplest option is to take the left fork. Soon you will pass through Perales and you’ll notice it’s kind of a shanty town and there might be a family of gypsies having a barbecue actually on the bike path. I've seen it, and had to ride around it. Don’t let this scene of urban decay get you down…press on and you start passing through a relaxing series of Kansas-esque wheat fields, then you start climbing. The climb is nothing major, and you are rewarded with a sweet downhill and a plantation forest on the right after the crest of the hill (nice spot for a shade stop). This is probably a good bet for ninja camping if desired. If continuing keep on paralleling M-301, and you want to keep an eye out for M-506 a little ways before entering San Martin de la Vega (the turn is where the train station is). Day riders who are running late will want to remember this train station might be a good way back to the city.

This portion of the route on M-506 and M-302 is shared with cars, but is a great road for riding. There is also a bike path connection planned, but it doesn't exist yet and I gotta say it's not really needed....I'd rather see new paths going in new directions. M-506 is flat, has low traffic, and passes through the river valley which is all agricultural fields. After ~ 5 km, you will need to get on M-302 at a roundabout and begin the minor climb out of the valley in the direction of Morata de Tajuna. These hilly uplands are a beautiful typical Mediterranean landscape of shrubby sprawling oaks and bunch grasses. These are hunting areas, and provided you don’t run across hunters are also probably good ninja camping. After about 6 km on M-302 you will start rolling down into the town of Morata de Tajuna, where you can catch a via verde.

Part 4 Via Verde de Tajuna: 36km
Vias verdes are the same as rails to trails in the states, they vary in their surface condition, length and connectivity to other vias verdes, but they are all abandoned rail routes. This via verde is going to be on the right when you are beginning to enter town. There’s a sign for it, you’ll have to make a hairpin left up a steep hill, then you come to a parking lot at the trail. This was the trail terminus but they just built a new 11km extension from here to Arganda del Rey, a town closer to and connected to Madrid via metro. People day riding rather than through riding might want to keep this option in mind for returning to Madrid or as a bailout if you are out riding too late and its getting dark on you. For the record this new section is really nice, and passes through some of the aforementioned oak savannah landscape found on the uplands in between the vegas (the fertile river bottoms- not “meadows” as it is often mistranslated in Las Vegas). In fact, if you want you could hop on the metro (weekends, and weekdays early AM and late PM only) somewhere in Madrid, ride it all the way down to Arganda del Rey, and get on this path. This alternate route would skip over most of section 2 and all of section 3. Anyways, the Via Verde…Take the right turn, which will drop down and pass though town. Go straight unless a marker tells you otherwise, and if at any point you are making a steep climb, you’ve gone the wrong way. This via verde is a really pleasant ride, and it is reasonably diverse: theres some pine plantation, some towns, some crops. You never really climb much, but you also never score any long downhills. The via verde is a “Y”, at km 35 (about 23km after you entered at Morata) you have the option of going right on the via verde de los 40 dias (it goes 14 km to Carabana, or left to Ambite (14 km). I’ve only been left. Both ways will dump you out near the border of Guadalahara and should be sufficiently distant from Madrid that secondary roads will be a decent ride. In the case of the left hand route, if you are on a mountain bike there is an additional 21 km of additional unsurfaced riding all the way to Yebra in Guadalahara.

Heres an OK Map…once you get on the thing you don’t really need it.

Check out http://www.viasverdes.com/ViasVerdes for the lowdown on this and the entire via verde system. There are printed books that you can find in the bike shop, but: 1) they are less up to date than the website, 2) they cost 20 euro each, 3) they are not organized by region, so to learn about all the trails in an area you need both books. So most people will probably want to just use the website and print out what’s relevant to your tour.

my new tattoo

2009-01-23T11:20:00.001-08:00

back in Spain now with a new tat

Get your own knuckles at the knuckle tattoo gun.

I saw this on bikesnob, so i just had to try. Knuckletattoos.com is my new favorite website for the next 10 minutes or so.

Get your own knuckles at the knuckle tattoo gun.

leave a comment with your best knuckles (copy and paste the code in the comment box), i'll post my favorites.

Noche viejo

2009-01-04T09:38:00.000-08:00

So, I'm in the states. If you are trying to track me down, send me an email.

Heres how New Years Eve went down. We were in the burbs by Detroit, going to a party of some home town friends of Becky. Her good friend gave her directions to the house of another friend. We went out there and she couldn't recognize the house for sure, there was a party going on in a white house with a blue star in lights, dangly icicle lights, and somebody's grandma in the bay window. It looked like the only party on the street so we figured we were golden. Before we went in we called to make sure it was the right house: It's white or tan, right? It's got a blue star and icicles right? Is there an old person in the front room? Yeah, Yeah, and Yeah. So we followed some other people into the party into the kitchen. Becky didn't know the people in there, seemed like a bunch of family and a bunch of people in their 20s-30s. We figured it was the girl's friends and extended family, fixed up a drink and chatted a little bit with them. We were previously told that the party was in the basement so we started to walk down when i heard a scream and several thuds. This was the sound of Becky falling down the wet basement stairs (luckily wood, not cement), clutching her drink in a death grip claw. That got everyone's attention, ....and as I helped her get up and made sure her back wasn't broken, we were offered ibuprofen by a stoner that apparently lived there. So Becky's in pain, but not really injured, and we still can't find the girls we are looking for. So we went back up the stairs to ask where Clair is. Who's Clair? We'll always remember this as the New Years where we crashed the wrong party and Becky fell down the stairs. My feeble explanation to the people, still in shock from the basement acrobatics, was "sorry we crashed your party". They tried to give us jello shots as a consolation prize.

Wheres the love?

2008-12-14T13:53:00.000-08:00

So, we finally had enough of our slumlord, no heat, and no internet. We moved to a new apartment tonight. The neighborhood ain't pretty or interesting to be honest, but we are pretty happy about the change. So i have a backlog of things to write about. We have taken a couple weekend trips around Spain because it's easy and we wanted to escape aforementioned prison. I understand something better now. For a while now i have been wondering why I don't love Spain. Am I more picky that I thought, do I want everything to be just like home, am i too rigid, am I failing to understand/appreciate the culture, am I too old to appreciate adventure anymore, am I ADD, do i need ridilin, do i need testosterone replacement therapy, do I need vitamin A? I'm just sort of ambivalent about most of my time here. I seem to obsess on the things that annoy me. Everybody else that you talk to just freaking gushes about Spain and they are totally enamored with flamenco, tapas, partying all night, sangria, etc. For me: flamenco=kinda boring for me and also kinda ironic that Spain wants to claim this and still hate the gypsies, tapas=catfood, partying all night=my early 20's, not now, besides it costs a fortune i do not possess, sangria=ok, but i'd prefer just a beer. I just wondered when I'm going to feel the same way as all these people...is it just not for me or am i missing something? I figured it out. Here's the deal, I have been introduced to Spain ass-first. In other words, Madrid is Spain's ass. People are jerks, its really crowded and noisy, you have to spend alot of your life on trains and subways, and you pay way way way too much for way way way too little. Living in Madrid feels like you are about to get trampled and then have to pay for it.

On consecutive weekends we went to Segovia (N of Madrid), and Granada, and I really did love them both. So,I do love Spain (I also loved Barcelona and Toledo, and I thought Alicante was passable with its castle and nice beach) I'm just living in the wrong place, and unfortunately that can't change in any easy way. We'll just have to visit better places. Segovia was an easy and cheap train ride over the Sierra Guadarrama to the north. In reference to Segovia, the travel guide said that "travel writers are challenged to use enough superlaxatives". This sounded pretty rough, these poor writers are really getting blocked up in Segovia. But upon closer examination it was "superlatives"..so welcome to constipation free Segovia!. We were rather late in leaving on a Saturday, so we decided to stay overnight in a cheap hotel. When we first arrived and made our way to our target hostal, we thought this was going to be a beautiful city, then we got to the hostal. I rang the bell. Then someone shouted from a window "Deme! = Speak to me (command form, this is how Spanish people talk, in direct orders. You just have to get used to it. They claim its not rude, but it still feels that way sometimes". I said "Tienes habitaciones = do you have rooms?". They shouted "No = no". That was it...not "I'm sorry", or "I have one tommorrow". Just NO. So we figured, oh well the people are donkeys like the Madrilenos, so we're in for a treat. But except for that minor annoyance...we found another cheap place and had a great couple of days. It was cold and the nearby mountains were snowy, which I liked. This is another Medieval city that was previously a Roman city. So we wandered around the narrow snaky streets, by the obligatory gothic cathedral, and downhill a little ways to a great view of the Roman aqueduct bridge. (We're short on pics heres b/c I forgot my camera, and Becky's wasn't charged...so use your freaking imagination, a little effort is all I'm asking for here). It was all accentuated by the twilight-lights coming on but still a little light in the sky- and the snowy mountain backdrop. We even found an art exhibit with a piece by Andy Goldsworthy for only 2 euro. That was a score.

The next day we visited the Alcazar (fortress; pictured above). Sleeping beauty is in the turret on the left. Winnie the Pooh trotted out the drawbridge an gave us a balloon. Then we rode "Mr. Toad's Spanish Inquisition" . Yeah, it looks kinda Disney, but it was where Isabella and Fernando started their joint rule, and the unification of modern Spain, and the conquest of the Americas, and the inquisition. It was super cool inside. There were a bunch of suits of armor, and it became apparent that the knights who wore them were total shrimps, 5 footers. Seriously, who did these little people fight?4 year old girls? I guess our modern industrial world is capable of growing much bigger people due to much better nutrition.

Then we went to Granada to visit Teresa who is teaching English at the moment. I know her form Flag, and she happened to have another friend visiting from Arizona, and the place she was renting was owned by a woman from Moab (the city i lived in before Flagstaff). So that is really odd. Aside from being a century old building, it has been redone by the landlord to be a stereotypical Moab house with wood floors, chili ristras, wood stove, and pictures of yogis. It only needed a climbing wall to be complete. They said the landlord (who actually lives there) leaves something to be desired, but the place rules. Its above Albayzin, the moorish quarter, which is like a very steep sort of maze built on a hill side. Right nearby are the cave houses of sacromonte, historically occupied by gypsies. It has 2 terraces, one on the uppermost roof with a beautiful view. It was up here when we were in shock and awe about how much better her house was than ours, that she told us she pays 250 a month to live there. For reference, we paid 600 a month for misery and got hosed on the deposit by our former landlord.

The view is cool all around, most striking being Alhambra, the moorish palace complex that occupied the rocky hill across the river from Albayzin. This part of Spain is really rich in its Moor-arab-muslim legacy. Our first full day we walked up the hill to Alhambra, and Becky's head was really hurting. We were worried that this was a sinus infection, in fact we almost didn't make the trip, except that the alternative was to stay in our dismal apartment, which is not good for sick person either. Later in the day, after a nap, when her whole face was about to explode...we decided it was time for medical help. It being a holiday weekend we did not have the option of going to a normal health center, rather there was only a few open which were all basically emergency rooms. We were really dreading this experience, theoretically anyone has a right to medical care but we didn't know what kind of shit we were going to have to go through, and how much we would have to pay for going to the E-room instead of making a normal appointment. After 5 minutes of confusing garbled conversations and a short wait, we were seeign the doctor. We managed to express all the key symptoms, and the doctor readily agreed it was a sinus infection. Meanwhile a nurse in another room was prepping an anti-inflammatory shot (he almost gave me the shot, by the way, not knowing who was the patient). After the shot, we were given some drugs and a prescription which we claimed at a pharmacy across the street. So on a national holidayit cost 4 euros and 10 minutes to get a cab to the e-room, about 20 minutes of diagnosis and treatment, followed by a purchase at the pharmacy of 1.50. So all you people that think nationalized health care is a bad idea...what can you say to that? It was the smoothest running thing I've seen in a while (except for me almost getting a needle in my ass, like some sit com).

When we finally visited Alhambra this is what it was like. The key thing to notice is these guys were detail-oriented. Every surface is covered in intracte plasterwork, and I am challenged to use enough superlaxatives to describe it. So, check out the pics.

Does this picture make you feel a little bit dirty for looking at it, or is that just me?

train pass update

2008-12-03T01:09:00.000-08:00

The train pass that I bought on the 8th of November, became invalid December 1. So after all the bullshit, i didn't even get a whole month of use and probably did not save a dime. Apparently you have to get the pass on the first of the month to get a month's worth of use, and you do not pay less if the month is 28 days. So yesterday I had to buy a train ticket at the station. So as I was leaving the station the turnstile did not accept my perfectly valid ticket purchased that morning meaning I can't leave! So I tried every machine, and looked incredulously at the ticket 10 times, saying things like "son of a bitch!" and "motherfucker!" and "unbelievable". Then I got full of righteous indignation- very much like when you come to a traffic light on your bike and the light won't change even thought there hasn't been cross traffic for 10 minutes because the whole system is made to be triggered by cars, as if thats just ok (imagine if cars had to wait for a bike to show up before the light switched, doesn't sound very fair does it) so you flagrantly run the light hoping that a cop will pull you over so you can yell in his face just how fucked up this is and shame him (as if you could really shame a cop)- blah, blah, righteous indignation...so i decided it was my duty to climb over the turnstile, and hopefully a security guard would run up and I would throw the ticket in his face and say "Joder! Hijo de puta!". Then the turnstile shocked me! They are an unjumpable electric fence. It turns out there is a pager thing to call someone to let you out if this happens. I saw it but thought it was for people in wheelchairs or something other than my particular problem so it never occurred to me to use it.
Now I have found that once you have the card from the tobacco shop, you can insert in into a machine at the station and purchase tickets for the month. Only problem is that i need to change the zone of my pass, therefore I have to start the whole process over and get a new card. One day this all might become easy, once I have found every way to do it wrong.

SISBN#342

2008-11-25T05:22:00.001-08:00

Standarrd Issue Spanish Bureaucratic Nightmares are becoming so ubiquitious that they are now hilarious to me. I've decided to periodically document them for you. We'll start with # 342 for no good reason.

Monthly train-metro pass: so if you commute by public transport, it makes sense to get a monthly pass. In Spain like alot of places, this requires a special photo-id card. In Spain you also need a little paper ticket that is supposed to last a month. If the process were sensible you would go to a train or metro station, fill out your application, they would take your photo, charge you a small fee, and hand you your laminated card in about 5 minutes after it has cooled down form the machine.

So I went to the metro station. The guy told me that they do not issue these cards in the station, or any station. Instead you have to round up some things and go to a tobacco shop. First, nobody ever takes your photo, you have to round up your own passport photo. I have a really nice pasty sickly one, and for some reason i look really happy (and ill). And you are supposed to make 2 photocopies of your ID (this is familiar to me, everything requires two photocopies of everyhting. You will be told you have to go get copies of something even when there is a photocopier clearly visible behind the person). So I've already made 2 trips to get these things, then its time for the tobacco shop...which did not issue the train pass. Nor did the second one. Finally the third one did! They never asked for the photocopies i made a special effort to get, they just made up my card and gave me the ticket. Now, there must be a special reason this is done in a tobacco shop right, and in only specific ones? Like they have some special piece of equipment or a special computer database? No, its just a piece of cardboard with an adhesive cover that you use to attach the photo, it is assembled by hand in 5 minutes. Meanwhile in every metro station, there is a person sitting behind a window with nothing to do for the whole day, unless the turnstile malfunctions.

Prague: do I ever work?

2008-11-25T04:43:00.000-08:00

the cosmographical clock, old town square

inside the ossuary at Kutna Hora, near Prague. creepy.

the view from the national museum toward old town.

Ted wants to know if I ever work. Yeah, when I feel like it. Nobody wants to read a blog about work do they?? ...."Today i revised the first half of the manuscript and developed the design for my experiment in december. I scanned the excel files for missing cells and converted the format for analysis"....LAME. I only write about fun stuff. So here is some pics from Prague and vicinity. Prague is the premier gothic city. I'll spare you the tiresome descriptions, theres a million cool things to see: the obligatory cathedral, numerous Dracula churches, random castle like towers at the end of every major street, the Charles bridge, the cosmographical clock, and on top of all that it is the city of Mucha and Kafka. Nearby is the somewhat dismal town of Kutna Hora which has an ossuary, where for centuries the remains of thousands of dead people have been arranged in a church interior: in four large pyramids, for example. There are skulls strung along the ceiling, like popcorn on a christmas tree. Theres even a crest of the family which owns the property that contains at least one of each bone in the human body. The place was a treasure chest of photo ops but i had a hard time getting pictures without flash-and flash is only good for ruining photos in my opinion. Alright, thats it for my vacation last month.

the grotto, a fake cave in a castle garden

random church facade, can't remember the name

The ossuary again, the cherub appears to have skulls radiating form his head

do what you gotta do

Alemania 2: Larry Bird lives on on the Berlin wall

2008-11-21T07:03:00.000-08:00

Berlin was cool for its historical sights. Because it got bombed silly in 1945, theres not a ton of stuff to look at, it's just not beautiful anymore. I enjoyed the east side gallery, a remnant of the inner wall which was the site of an international mural project. Since then people have chipped away pieces of it and layers and layers of additional art and scrawling have been added. Definitely, the old art is completely compromised, but when the medium is a wall part of the piece is that it will change over time, heterogeneously and for both better and worse. I like Che in the Che T-shirt. We went to the holocost memorial, a grid of conrete blocks of various heights. You can walk among them. Curiously, the interpretive museum said it was unlike most such memorials in that the sculpture itself does not emply symbols. WTF? Each concrete block has the approximate dimensions of a grave. The blocks are tall in the center, in fact the whole monument has a shape reminiscent of a heap od mass-disposed corpses. When you stand in the middle they tower over you. Each block is gray and drab, implying anonymity. I forget thee number of slaps but it was some odd number that I'm quite sure was not chosen at random. No symbols my ass, I wonder what they meant by that.
We were sort of looking for Hitler's bunker, which is, we were told under a parking lot. In the place where we thought it should be there was a new building. The Bunker is quite close to the memorial, and also to the Brandenburg gate where Hitler put on some of his famous rock concert light show speeches. The gate is a significnt site to say the least. Napolean made a big show of marching into it, and Hitler made a big show of marching out of it. The arriving American troops also came into a bombed out wreckage city throught the damaged gate. it was stranded in the death strip between the two parallel walls for decades. now you can walk through it again. Also nearby is the parliament building with its recently added clear domed roof to replace the one destroyed by bombing so many years ago. As we left a group of 100 people in costumes sort of danced into a line on the lawn, playing loud techno music and mooned us. I think the government was the target but we got caught int he cross fire.

Cyrus

2008-11-20T01:43:00.001-08:00

"Everyone benefits if we can leave our cars, walk, bicycle and access other transportation alternatives."- President Obama

Cyrus has spoken suckas! That's why I voted for the guy.

Alemania 1: learning how to eat

2008-11-18T00:53:00.000-08:00

Several weeks ago we went on vacation. We had to “sleep” on the hard linoleum floor of the airport prior to our early morning flight because the metro doesn’t run at night, and a taxi would probably cost as much as the plane. In Europe, the kings of budget flights are Ryan air who seem to save you money but put you through all kinds of scams first. For example they fly to Frankfort-Hahn airport and call it Frankfort. It’s not. So we flew in almost sleepless, and commenced taking buses to Bonn, Germany. The plan was to meet up with Becky’s friend Liz in Bonn, at the house of their mutual friend Hagen and his girlfriend Lena. Hagen, Becky and Liz had all lived in a communal flop house in Michigan for stoners and skallawags. Someone asked Hagen his favorite memory from the house and it was some time he was so wasted that he didn’t remember it…he only knew the story from what other people said. So in other words he couldn’t remember his favorite memory. Good times. I call mine “the lost years”.

Neither of us had actually thought much about Germany, it was primarily the place where we would meet up with people and launch our journey to Czech, Hungary and beyond. It turned out to be really beautiful and we were catching it in full fall colors. By pure chance, our initiation was the Rhine valley which is dotted with castles and blanketed in deciduous forests, in addition to having nice cliff faces from time to time. I didn’t really know what Germany looked like…really nice actually. We ended up staying four or five days in Bonn because it was simple, easy, and a totally pleasant place to hang out. I had a vague and totally unfair image of Germans as being uptight and robotic and always one step away from attempting to take over the world (the true motive behind the European Union as you may know). They were not, not and not. Actually totally courteous and perhaps not outgoing, but friendly. All around a very civil society. And stuff was comparatively cheap there, which was a nice surprise when travelling Europe these days.

Hagen and Lena became our part time tour guides which was great. Hagen did display some funny German traits. For example, meticulous precision and a desire to control: we ate pasta one time and he said he liked the pickled cabbage with it. I promptly started mixing it into my pasta, when he clarified that the way to enjoy it is with the cabbage on the side, and perhaps mixing in a little with each bite. He was very clear that German bread should not be eaten with peanut butter. The barley bread was not to be toasted because all toasted bread tastes the same, and that would ruin the unique flavor of the barley bread. It was the most rigid, and amazingly specific eating regimen I have ever seen. Besides learning how to eat, we also went to Koln, which is nearby, to see the cathedral, the chocolate museum (never quite made it there) and have the local specialty beer style: Kolsch. As a brewer I have tried and failed to get my head around Kolsch, first it is fermented warm like an ale, then it is lagered. So it starts like a steam and finishes as a typical light lager. It is served in really small glasses dismayingly reminiscent of the Spanish cana. The KEY difference is that there is a dude walking around who takes note of whether you have finished your beer. Unless you place a coaster over the top, the default is that you want another, and it arrives in seconds. To be honest I thought the light German lagers were about as lame as the American counterparts. But I was enjoying the BIG food…finally a place where people eat enough for an adult, instead of child-sized tapas reminiscent of cat food with an olive in it. Later I sampled some German dunkel beers which were generally damn good, the Weisse were good too, the best in the world if you are into that sort of thing (a little sweet for me but Becky likes them).

On one of our last days we all went to Berg Ells, a castle in a beautiful river valley. The castle came about gradually as a series of large houses with a shared inner courtyard and shared walls. The tour was the perfect level of information and interp, really pretty fascinating. You usually don’t think about how things like castles came about. In this case, according to their version, the castle belonged to a family which regulated the trade route, i.e. the river valley within which the castle seemed to be sort of a guard station. What they didn’t say, but is likely to be true, is that traders had 3 choices: 1) travel really slowly over roadless hills and forests, 2) pay these people for safe passage, or 3)be killed trying to pass without paying. Repeat this cycle a few centuries and you have have a family rich enough to build a castle and still rich today after the collapse of 2 German empires.

Germany has a sort of web-based ride share board which is totally cheaper than the train. Any traveler should use this, but our first experience was pretty flipping insane. With our German translators’ help we arranged a ride to Berlin after a few days. Lena was given a description of the guy that sounded like a personal ad: SWM, 6’0’ sandy blond hair, slim & athletic, 30 years old, enjoys Nordic walking, seeks like-minded passengers to Berlin. So we were planning the ride to be Liz’s first date with this dude. The driver was a freaking maniac. He was in his 50’s and the first thing he did when I recognized him and tried to wave him down was nearly run me over. Really! The autobahn sounds really cool, but actually it is terrifying. If someone was driving too slow in front of him (less than 100 mph), he would pull up beside them, honk the horn and make sure they saw him flip them off. All of this was done on the autobahn at 100 mph or so…that’s right no eyes on the road just finger and angry face aimed at some haplessly same person who doesn’t want to drive that fast. He was a retired trucker than took a van load of people back and forth from time to time. The roadside gas stations had robot pay toilets which cleaned themselves after every use. I peed in the bushes instead, i don't pay to pee...but nobody told me about the robots before hand, that might have changed my mind. I might pay for robots. When we arrived in Berlin, the maniacal truck driver turned into a really friendly chatty guy, cheerily dropped us off at the hostel which was in his neighborhood and bid us goodnight. Schizophrenia.

Toledo....not in Ohio

2008-11-07T07:53:00.000-08:00

These are a few pic's from Toledo. We were so disappointed when we got there that it wasn't Ohio. Actually it's a medieval walled city built up on a crag, which was occupied by Moors for a long time and reflects their architecture. It was also famous for sword-making. It's got one of many cool gothic cathedrals in Europe, which you can only see from a distance. This is because all buildings share walls and streets are just windy alleys which always smell like pee. So from half a kilometer away you may see the pointy spires. But unless you wander down the right alley you could never encounter the thing. It's a totally cool place to visit and is only a short 30 minute train from Madrid. I almost had a meltdown in the train station. We arrived in time for a train to Toledo, only to find out that the machines do not vend tickets for the high speed trains and you have to go to the ticket office which was a SISBN (Standard Issue Spanish Beaurocratic Nightmare). We actually had to take a number and wait the better part of an hour to purchase a ticket....as a train with empty seats left for Toledo. I felt that having a few more people manning the empty counters would have been a better expenditure of resources than the number dispenserr and digital paging system, but what do I know. We talked to a couple who had tried to get a train ticket to Toledo the day before and had just given up. But its ok we made it.

Anyways Toledo was a month ago, since then the guy I voted for and actually like really got elected. I thought it was the first time ever, but then I remembered that I voted to re-elect Clinton. I didn't really like Clinton, but the guy who ran against him was such a douche that I can't even remember his name. Some old white man. Douche. So that one doesn't count, because I was mostly voting against a douche rather than for somebody.

Turns out voting abroad is a total sham, to make you feel sort of OK like it matters. I got everything I was supposed to receive, and got it sent off. My problem is that the official receptacle for the ballot is an envelope which has both my name and my registered party on the outside. I thought the United States had a secret ballot system. What if the mail carrier is a racist? Or what if I live in a small town and he/she knows me and doesn't like me. Becky was way on the ball, and well in advance requested her absentee ballot. It turns out that her request was sent to the old address of the voting registrations department (or whatever the hell its called) which was changed. Seems pretty important to forward these things right, or notify people that the address changed right before the most anticipated election in decades?? She didn't discover the problem until it failed to show up, and then it was too late. What a load of shit. At least this time it wasn't very close. Maybe my vote counted, and Becky's didn't but in our respective states it didn't end up mattering.

I´m totally not dead!

2008-11-01T11:38:00.000-07:00

no posts because no internet. no tengo internet.

!que mierda¡ ¡hijo de puta! ¡Joder!

i am living well enough however. my girlfriend has moved in, we comiserate about how rude madrileños are on the metro, we went to the medieval city of Toledo (really neato), and we went on vacation to germany and the czech republic. I think if I hadn´t already payed the extortion, i mean rent, I would have actually saved money compared to Madrid. I´m a little down on Madrid right now after seeing how civil Germans are (they wait for you to leave the train before barging in like the running of the bulls), how efficient things are (i really doubt it takes 2 months to get your internet installed in Germany) and how comparatively cheap life is (we stayed in what seemed like a swank luxury spacious apartment for rich yuppies, and found out the whole place cost only 40% more than what we pay for a room in an apartment with no living or dining room....and we routinely and easily found decent vegetarian meals for around 3 euro) . Maybe I should have gone to Germany? It was getting cold but the fall colors were amazing. Also my daily commute is making me exhausted all the time, it seems like all I do is work or travel to work. I underestimated this.....but the alternative was to stay in Mostoles which is plenty boring after 2 weeks or so. Can´t win. Becky is still on vacation in Budapest. I´ve got pics, keep checking in they´ll show up one of thes days. I´m coming to the states this winter, just bought the ticket. I fly on Xmas day to detroit with Becky, then at some undisclosed point I will come out west.

Oh yeah, i think prague might be the most beautiful city I´ve been to, you should go.

london baby

2008-09-28T07:04:00.000-07:00

i took maybe 7 pictures in London, i like these three (especially together). i'm not telling what they are.

The riddle of steel....and other assorted crap

2008-09-27T12:29:00.000-07:00

It appears that a whopping 4 people voted to name my bike, and indication of how many readers there are not named my mom. El guapo was the favorite, it got 2 votes. It goes well with the fact that I am in Spain, and that bike truly is a handsome devil. I also got two write-in suggestions "Conan the bikebarian" and the "taint bruiser". Taint bruiser sounds like an enemy, not like my best friend...so I have to pass on it despite the catchy ring. The Conan one is good, but i think maybe Conan already has some richer material. I forgot a rather obvious option suggested by Thulsa Doom....the riddle of steel. Conan the barbarian is full of awesome manly dialogue, e.g. swordmaster- " what is the best thing in life?" Conan - "to crush your enemies, drive them before you and hear the lamentation of their women." I'm actually surprised that Surly does not make a bike called the riddle of steel. All of the Surly frames are steel, in fact Surly is a steel cult, as are many of the custom craft builders. Steel is a rebellion against weight-weenie roadies in their neon lycra silly suits, it's old school, strong and proletariat. It's union-made PBR. When Conan is a boy, his dad, a blacksmith, makes a sweet flippin' sword (not a carbon fiber sword, a STEEL sword) and tells Conan that he must learn the riddle of steel. Shortly afterward, Thulsa Doom rolls in on his Harley and lops everyones heads off, burns the women and rapes the houses. Conan lives and is made a slave otherwise the movie would only be about 6 minutes. Later the adult Conan is beaten to a fleshy oozing pulp and has this chat with Thulsa Doom:

Thulsa: You killed my snake! Forgrim is beside himself with grief. He raised that snake from infancy.

Conan: You killed my mother! You killed my father! You killed my people!

Thulsa: Ah! Probably in my younger days, no doubt. In my quest for the riddle of steel.

Conan: The (gasp) riddle (gasp) of steel?

Thulsa: (emphatically)Yes! You know of it boy! Do you wish to know the answer? It’s the least I can do to tell you before I kill you. Steel is not strong. Flesh is stronger! What is the blade compared to the hand which wields it?"

...at this point Thulsa doom beckons to some floppy-necked drugged out hippy chick who hurls herself from a balcony(gasp) . Then, proving his point...he says (emphatically) "THAT is strength boy!" I don't know if he's right...it's more like an example of what religion can do to a brain. I imagine the dialogue there wouldn't have been as poignant if he said (emphatically) "THAT is how dumb you are if you join my snake cult, boy!" So there ya go...the riddle of steel now you know it and you didn't even get your ass kicked.

Another name option is Cyrus. CAN YOU DIG IT SUCKAS!!!! Or maybe you're all turning fag-got! Cyrus is the gang leader from "The Warriors" who gets assassinated by the Riffs who blame it on the warriors, who need to get home to Coney and could easily, EASILY , do so if they just took off their colors. But they don't want to act like faggots or anything so they decide to wear their colors and fight everybody instead, it's kind of like US foreign policy. One strange thing is the resemblance of Cyrus to Thulsa Doom, both physically and in their Cicero-crushing, mad oratory skills. There was actually gang warfare in the theatres when this movie was released....so you know it's good.

Thulsa Doom, Cyrus....great orators, cult leaders, misunderstood tragic heros. One was a part-time snake, one got popped early in the film.

So what do you think, el Guapo, The Riddle of Steel, or Cyrus?

How's this for a segeue (spelling? what is the deal with French vowel abuse? And furthermore, what is the deal with full grown japanese girls and mickey mouse shirts, watches, hats, backpacks, etc.?)...

Obama- "Can you count SUCKAS!!!! The future is ours, if you can count!!" Websearch this, you won't be dissapointed. The first debate is all over the TV here. but more importantly... McCain has 13 cars, Obama has one hybrid. Score 13 for Cyrus, suckas. And I've seen pictures of Barack on a bike. 13 more for Cyrus! Thats 26-0 if you can count.

Finally, this appeared on another blog that I read sometimes. I have to admire the way he is taking this D-bag senator to task. I once had a guy turn right in front of me forcing me to slam on my brakes and just barely avoid hitting him. Then I confronted him in a parking lot. I told him he was a fucking asswipe and he almost hit me. He told me I shouldn't be riding on the right of the lane (not true, that is the legal position when not changing lanes, preparing for a turn, or avoiding a hazard). I said some other adrenaline-gibberish, after which he said "leave me alone" and drove off, completey unconcerned about any problem I might have. He was right, what was I going to do, punch him, or dent his car? Then I get arrested, sweet, good solution. I called the cops with his license and a reckless driving complaint, I'm sure LV metro was very concerned too. "Um yeah, we've got our hands full harassing homosexuals and black people, we'll advise a squad car to keep an eye out". It was a demonstration of the fuedal system of the road, bike serfs and SUV barons. But anyway, this time the D-bag is a mercedes senator, and I reckon he isn't enjoying the attention the following incident is attracting. Turns out that the internet is not only a source of bad information and porn, but is also empowering:

September 17, 2008

Senator Jeff Klein
Legislative Office Building
Room 313
Albany, New York 12247

Dear Senator Klein,

RE: My request, as a member of the board of Transportation Alternatives, to meet with you to discuss transportation policy as it relates to bicycle safety, carbon emissions, the cultivation of New York City quality of life, breathable air, and traffic congestion.

Though you may not know my name, you may recall that you and I met today under rather unpleasant circumstances on New York City’s Broadway, just north of City Hall. You were driving your black Mercedes. I was riding a small folding bicycle and wearing a purple helmet.

To refresh your memory:

Traffic was moving rather slowly and you were heading in the downtown direction, as was I. You were in the far left lane and I was riding on the curbside of that lane, near your rear passenger door. Suddenly, you began to veer your Mercedes to the left, potentially crushing me between your car and the cars parked on the side of the road.

With nowhere to go to get out of your way, and to avoid serious injury or death, in desperation, I chose to knock on your window to let you know that I was there and that you should avoid veering further in my direction.

At this point, you brought your vehicle to an abrupt halt, not to avoid hitting me, but because you apparently needed to communicate something to me. You rolled down your window and said, “Get your hands off my car, you fucking asshole.”

I said, “You were veering into me and going to crush me.”

You said, “You better not touch other people’s cars. You might find that touching other people’s cars is more dangerous than traffic.”

This gave me the impression that you were threatening me.

I said, “I think my life is more precious than your car.”

You said, “I didn’t see you.”

I said, “If you’re driving a car, it’s your responsibility to see what’s in road space before you veer into it. That’s what your driver side mirror is for.”

You said, “I looked in my mirror.”

I said, “You should also turn and look over your shoulder since you know there could be a bicyclist.”

You said, “Yeah. Well, maybe you should watch where you’re going.”

I said, “Where was I supposed to go? I was there. And you were veering into me.”

I was about to remind you that, in the past week, two cyclists have been killed by automobiles in New York City, but you made a gesture which implied you considered this conversation a waste of time and drove off. That is when I saw that your car had special license plates proclaiming your membership of the New York State Senate.

A red light stopped you at the next intersection. I rode alongside you and, more cautiously, tapped again on your window. You rolled it down. I could tell by your face that you weren’t happy to be talking again to this particular New York State citizen, on whose behalf you govern.

I asked you, “What is your name, Senator?”

You said, “Senator Jeff Klein.” This is how I know it was you.

Now, the thing is, Senator, I don’t particularly call you to task for calling me a fucking asshole. If the roles had been reversed, and I had a big black Mercedes and you came up in a purple helmet, knocking on my window, and I didn’t realize I was on the verge of crushing your legs, I might have called you a fucking asshole, too.

I’d like to point out, however, that, as mad as you were about my touching your car window with my hand, you could double or triple that strength of emotion when it comes to how frightening it is to be on the other side of the Mercedes driving wheel, especially when that particular Mercedes is coming toward you.

Weigh it up: “he might scratch my black Mercedes” against “he might cause my little girl to be left fatherless.”

Weigh it up again: One guy is riding a bike that weighs a grand total of 22 pounds and has a relatively small potential to harm others. The other guy is in charge of a powerful machine that weighs a couple of tons. Which person has the greater responsibility to watch out for the care and welfare of people who may get in their path, by their own fault or not?

As a State Senator, I’m sure you especially feel the weight of the obligation to look out for the welfare of others, no?

Again, this is not to say you did not act like many other humans in the same situation. But it is to say that transportation policy in New York City currently falls way too short of making sure that unintended confrontations like ours–and worse ones that end in fatalities–don’t occur.

Proper policy, which provided ubiquitous segregated bike lanes or which limited traffic congestion, could reduce such incidents without having to depend on drivers of black Mercedes, for example, remembering to look in their driver side mirror or over their shoulders.

It is for this reason that I hope you will honor my request to visit your office, along with Transportation Alternatives Executive Director Paul Steely White, to ask you to reconsider your current platforms on transportation and traffic congestion in New York City.

As you know, the United States’ dependence of foreign oil contributes significantly to our current economic crisis and is a matter of national security. Furthermore, the planet’s future ability to support human life is in peril because of global warming caused, in large measure, by the overuse of the same foreign oil.

At the same time, countless studies show that making the streets of New York and other cities safer and more convenient for bicyclists and pedestrians would reduce automobile use, dependence on foreign oil, carbon emissions, and traffic congestion while contributing to breathable air and livable streets, improved retail business, and the physical health of New Yorkers.

Yet, until now, your platform has presented obstacles to the adaptations that might bring these benefits to New York City. Not only did you oppose congestion pricing, a measure intended to decrease vehicular traffic, but you proposed eliminating the tolls on bridges and tunnels into Manhattan on holidays, which would bring more traffic into the City and further encourage automobile use, just when it should be decreased.

I hope you’ll consider that these policies are out of step with the current times. I hope, too, seeing, in the case of our confrontation, the result of your policies when it comes to impact on personal lives, in general, and the safety of bikers, in particular, might also give you cause to reconsider your position.

Policies that make New York City safe for bicyclists and pedestrians–the people who live on the streets as opposed to the people who just drive through them–is best, both for our citizens and the planet.

I look forward to hearing from you regarding my request to meet in person to discuss these issues.

Yours sincerely,

Colin Beavan
aka No Impact Man,
Board Member, Transportation Alternatives

Readers, if you would like to support my request to meet with Senator Klein or to generally register your thoughts about his confrontation with me, a telephone call is the most effective means of communication. But if you can’t call, please email.

You might also care to register your concerns with his more senior colleague, the leader of the Democrats in the State Senate, Senator Malcolm A. Smith.

editors note: i was a few days late in hearing about this and posting anything about it. In the meantime, so many people called the senator that no impact man is going to meet with him about transportation alternatives.

big bang, lavapies style

2008-09-24T11:25:00.001-07:00

Is it just me or does an underground facility to replicate the big bang seem like a bad idea?

I'm just writing to say I'm still alive, just busy and without internet at home. After my vacation I had a trip to London for a nerd conference, and I did a talk about nerd stuff to some nerds. I stayed on with the kids from the lab for the weekend and drank proper british pints, spoke proper English, and I saw THE proper Rosetta stone among many other cool objects. I saw like half of Egypt, Greece and Rome in the British museum, but for some reason I was really impressed that I saw the authentic rosetta stone among all this stuff that the English plundered.

I'm stealing internet from a neighbor now (actually he's probably stolen all the info off my computer by now, so good deal for him). My landlord has asked the internet company to begin our service, a month ago. Classic Spanish style, that's just normal to wait a month for installation apparently.

So since the quick London trip, I have moved into Madrid, at the north end of the Lavapies neighborhood, the former Jewish district centuries ago. Now it's sort of "ethnic town" with immigrants from Africa, India, and several other parts of Asia. The bad news is now I'm a subway commuter, but the city is so much cooler than Mostoles. Plus I can get a little work done on the subway so its not totally lost time. I can find food I like! And cheap! I can buy a half pound of cumin for a freaking euro. Five minutes away is an Indian buffet, 8 euros (this is pricy compared to the states but it's practically giving shit away in Europe). I went jogging the other day to the palace, the cathedral and the Egyptian temple. And everyday I walk somewhere new and interesting. I've never had such an interesting jogging route before, or so many "old world monuments" five minutes outside my door (In fact none...ever). I live on the top floor, so theres a big terrace where I enjoy my morning & weekend "chill with coffee" time. Downstairs, so close I could spit on it, is my favorite bar in the neighborhood. It has a logo with a Tom Waits-like demon face. Actually I think its a Satyr not a demon, but its a dope bar. The tapas are a crap shoot though. I can never recognize anything they bring me, and its different every round. Once they brought me baba ganoush which I was psyched about, then they brought some mayonnaise slop with stinky fish in it. I tried a little city cycling the other day, and its really pretty chill even on the larger streets. The truth is traffic does not move very quickly so its easy to keep pace with automobiles most of the time. This despite the warnings of how dangerous it is, from all the people (like my new roomate) who have never once ridden a bike in the city. But, so far, for anything in the city it's quick enough just to walk and that way I don't have to worry about bike theft. The weather is super nice again and I've been back on the bike a little, discovering new cycling paths which take me south to the river valleys instead of north to the mountains (just for something different). One of these days I need to make a map of all the places I've ridden, with notes. I would have liked to encounter this very thing on someone's website before arriving.

Soon some pics of the new house & hood...

Becky arrives in only 7 days. I can' t believe it's been 6 months.

Heres a fun one....I live on Jesus & Mary street (Calle Jesus y Maria) and my landlord's name is Christ (Cristo). If he can heal lepers you'd think he could get the internet to work. Fraud! Charlatan!

my most ridiculous hitch hiking experience ever

2008-08-31T04:22:00.000-07:00

All this talk of Ireland and Irish folks I met in Alaska reminded me of a funny story from the past. I was at the Talkeetna bluegrass festival in Alaska, which is a pretty long running event. It was my second one and right when it started getting way too big for its breeches. I'd guess its 10 times worse now. It is 3 or 4 days of late nights, all day booze, bottlerockets zipping past your head as you try to find your tent in the blackness, and security provided by the Hell's Angels. On the day after I woke up and decided to pack up and go, staggered through ground zero, stopped by Johnny and Sarah's school bus to say what up and became aware of some major irritation in my eye that was getting worse. It was watering and really sensitive to light and I couldn't really open it. I said goodbye to all the scallawags and walked out to the road to hitch back up to the Denali area to camp somewhere. There was about 20 hitchikers trying to leave and the one in front told me to go down the road after the last of them...this is hitching etiquette in his mind. I couldn't see so I didn't argue or tell him that the reason he can't get a ride is because he looks like an angry dick. After 5 minutes my ride came, bypassed the angry dick and the 19 other hitchikers and came right to me. Karmic retribution in action...or so I thought. One remarkable thing was that it was an RV leaving the festival that stopped. RVs are so unlikely to pick you up that they are not worth the effort of extending an arm, let alone your arm AND your thumb. The driver was some stoner about 30 years old that had "borrowed" the RV from his grandmother. There were several teenagers on board an a guy I used to work with who also happened to be hitching. The first thing anyone said was sorry about the smell, which proceeded to nearly make me puke on my feet. The shitter was broken or full...or something, and it was hideous. But If I could tolerate it for less than 3 hours I could set up a quiet camp and rest, otherwise it was waiting for 20 other guys to get a ride before I did. So we zipped along merrily in a possibly stolen and at least dubiously borrowed RV full of sewage, and I couldn't open one eye. Before too long the driver stopped to pick up another hitchhiker, which ended up being a native woman that was completely shithoused. She was stark raving loaded. So now I've got one good eye left, a nose full of shit smell, and ears full of the incessant cackling of this old drunken coot. Shortly after that, we get pulled over by the highway patrol for speeding. During this intermission everybody is ID'd, and guess what? Me and the guy I know (Hal, if I remember right) are the only ones who have driver's licenses, and Hal did not bring his with him to the festival for fear of losing it in the melee. Because the driver had no ID, It delayed the policeman from learning the probable truth that the guy did not own and probably did not have permission to use the RV. We had made sure to say 10 times that we were hitchhikers to preemptively absolve ourselves from anything these dipshits had done. At this point an amazing thing happened....the drunk woman decided to just walk away down the middle of the highway pushing the cop out of the way when he tried to stop her. Since he was probably patrolling 300 miles of highway alone, he had no choice but to deal with her and let us go. But he ordered me to drive the RV because I had a license. I feebly said "But...my eye" or something like that, which of course he had no time to hear about. So off we went, without the cackling drunken hag at least, but still with an RV load of dipshits, enough shit smell for 1000 hells, and the guy that can't see (me) driving a probably stolen RV....BECAUSE A POLICEMAN ORDERED ME TO (that is the punch line, hence the caps). After a half hour or so I am really struggling because I just can't see and my eye really hurts, we were low on gas anyway so the original driver says he will drive after we get gas. We figure we are off the hook with the cops because the only one probably had to go pretty far south to put the drunk lady in jail. So the guy has no money to purchase any gas. So here's what he does, he takes out the stereo and trades it to the gas station owner for a fill up. What this means is that if he was telling the truth and he borrowed this RV from his grandmother, he will be returning it with a broken shitter badly in need of emptying, and no stereo. Nice guy. He drove the rest of the way and I was so tired of it all I just fell asleep. When I woke up he dropped Me and Hal off at Denali. We didn't really have to say anything we could read the exhaustion and relief on each other's faces.

Epilogue: I hitched another short stretch with somebody I can't remember and decided to stop in and see if I could just crash at Brenda and Kathryn's trailer in Healy. I was really not in the mood for one eyed camp setup in the dark with rain coming. They had a trailer that was so off kilter than you just sort of pitched and tumbled downhill until your fall was cushioned by the bed, cleverly positioned at the lowest point. Kathryn was around so we went to the payphone at the Totem Inn so i could call my dad. He's an optician so I thought he might know something about eyes and what the hell I should do. He thought I had probably scratched my retina or maybe a cinder from someones campfire got in there. But there was nothing I could do at 11:00 pm except see if it got better (eyes heal fast), and if not see a doctor. So we had a few beers, then I went to sleep and woke up with my eyes functioning normally, no shit stench, no borrowed RVs, and no police. So if your eye is ever inexplicably fucked up you should just have a beer and go to bed. The end.

So...back to Ireland. I ended my Ireland trip with a visit to Kathryn's house about 12 years after the above experience. She and her fella Dunnock have a nice house near Clonakilty with a flat floor, no pitching or tumbling, easy access to the beach (they are surfers), and close to Castle Freke (pronounced "freak") owned by none other than Lord Freke. Also they have a new baby, good work.

Dingle pensinsula and Killarney

2008-08-30T07:11:00.000-07:00

I took a few days on my own to see parts of Kerry I had always wanted to see, including the Irish-speaking Dingle peninsula. After my last trip to Ireland, I had met a crazy Swiss guy in Scotland who had spent 3 weeks in Ireland and never left the Dingle peninsula. Seemed like a good place to go according to what he had to say....although the same guy seemed to think that since we were sleeping in an airport in sleeping bags, it would be ok to just whip out a camp stove and cook dinner and play hackeysack inside the airport.

One of the draws is a walking route called the Dingle way, which is a totally silly name. It sounds like the way of life for a gnome-like race of beings called the dingles. And where do they live? In Dingle town of course. Usually people take about 2 weeks to do the whole thing, but I just wanted a sample for 1 or 2 days. Since I got the bus to the town of Dingle, I walked from there to Dun Cuoinn, about 20 km away. Also Brenda had recommended this stretch. Her and Kathryn had done the hike years ago, forgot tent poles, but went anyway. Don't let minor inconveniences like a lack of adequate shelter stop you!

The walk turned out to be my best day. The route is constantly changing and impressive for different reasons. Walking over to the town of Ventry takes paved country roads, and extraordinarily muddy cattle runs over a minor pass, then you walk about 2km on a really nice beach. The sun had come out here, so it was hard to remember this sunny beach was in Ireland. I managed to waste a couple hours having a coffee, laying on the beach, buying stuff for dinner, and totally misunderstanding where the route was supposed to go. I was unconcerned because I thought I was traveling 14 km , not 20. After the beach you make your way through some some roads and mud, and emerge pretty unexpectedly at some stunning rocky cliffs along the coast. I stopped to see a prehistoric hill fort only to learn that that town over yonder was not my destination, and I still had 8 km to go, and it was already 5:00 with fog settling in on the mountains. So I was hurrying... the route goes over the top of the uppermost pastures on the hillslopes, just below the fog. I passed numerous other hillforts and beehive huts but didn't have time to stop. I just remember the sheep had done a fine job of mowing everything down to a homogenous golf course like turf. The hillslopes were covered with mazes of gray stone walls. Basically this was the Ireland you see in movies, on postcards, and advertisements from the board of tourism. I think the first photograph I ever saw of Ireland may have looked just like this, and consequently I've had a life-long interest in Ireland. Nice to finally see it. I made my way finally to the town which also featured my hostel and the westernmost pub in Europe (this claim seems dubious, but it was a decent pub). The rain came in shortly after I arrived. The hostel owner thought I was nuts to have walked all that way in sandals...but why not, it doesn't matter if sandals get soaked right?

Turns out the next day was pretty rough weather. The rain wasn't so bad, it was the body flattening wind. Since my only opportunity for a bus back to Dingle was that day, I took it, otherwise it was hitching out in the wind and rain, or a sand-blasting while walking on the beach. Dick Mack's is in Dingle, and it is probably the perfect example of an Irish pub, a fine place to read a book and have a beer while the wind rips off peoples heads.

The next day I was going to bus back to Cork to visit another friend, but since the weather had calmed down I took the opportunity to stop in Killarney and tour the National Park and the lakes frenetically on the shittiest rental bike ever. Usually when you rent a bike, it has actually been tuned...but I had to do that myself. It really felt good to get back on a bike, I have been wondering about Ireland as a touring destination...but people have widely differing opinions on this proposition. European national parks are decidedly more tame, but the history gives them alot of character that most of our parks lack. For example, In addition to lakes, mountains and waterfalls, this park has an old abbey, a castle, and some sort of mansion I didn't have time to see.

How I learned to stop worrying about nutrition, and embrace the curry chips diet

2008-08-29T16:06:00.000-07:00

I was skipping along the Dingle way, making merry with an elf at one elbow, and Fungie the dolphin with his fin crooked through my other arm. We sang, and sang...and laughed. Good times! We stopped at the chip house for curry chips. Fungie had dolphin-safe tuna and washed it down with a bottle of T-bird which had floated across the ocean. Then, satisfied, he lit up a discarded cigar stub that some careless tourist had thrown overboard into the harbor.

You probably can't think of a single Irish food, except perhaps corned beef, which is neither common or popular in Ireland. This is probably because they have a rough climate for growing a variety of crops, and had a long history of poverty (until 10 years ago, about) and having other people take all of the fruits of their labor. But there is a fast food delicacy (oxymoron?....I say "no!") in Ireland. Everybody knows of fish and chips and that it is perhaps the only popular food export from England. But its also common in Ireland and the attraction isn't really the fish, its the spuds. They put the wierdest things over a pile of chips: cole slaw, stuffing, peas and carrots. The best is a curry sauce....I looked it up, its made of apple, onion, tomato and curry powder (nothing too dubious). Going to Ireland and not having curry chips is like not having a stout...seriously what the fuck is your problem if you don't have a stout at least once. I don't care if you don't like beer, you can have one once. After departing from Cork, with nobody watching, I ate curry chips daily. Go ahead lock me up, I'll just do it again when I get out.

The other thing you need to know about is brown bread, the best bread I've ever had and a type of soda bread. People have offered me homemade "soda bread" in the states before and i thought it was total crapola. They always make the white variety (always much lamer in my opinion), and then totally ruin it by adding raisins and shit like that. It's like a giant dry scone. The brown variety is made with a really course whole wheat flour, buttermilk, and it uses the an acid-base reaction between the buttermilk and baking soda to "leaven" the bread...no yeast. It stays fresh for days even if you leave it out, and fits nicely into a muddy, dank backpack. I have no idea why this bread has not become popular anywhere else.

ireland pt. 1

2008-08-29T13:50:00.000-07:00

I just returned from my first trip to Ireland in, I think, 8 years. I missed the "celtic tiger" economic and housing boom, but heard the phrase at least once every day. I first noticed the increase in cost of living about 10 minutes after arriving in Dublin, when I ordered a pint and it was 4.50 euro, about 7 bucks! last time i was here a pint came in at just under 2 pounds (less if it was Beamish, which is my favorite anyway). I think this is due to the boom, membership in the EU and the price of fuel...but what do i know I don't live there. Everything got a lot more expensive, but I am a master of as cheap as possible. Which is what I was thinking when I booked my flight on Ryan air from Dublin to Cork, for 0 euros (only 26 euros in hidden fees!!! fuck you Ryan air). the only problem was I had booked the ticket on the 29th not the 19th, which was why I was not in Cork, rather I was in Dublin drinking a 4.50 pint. I like to think I'm fairly smart, but when it comes to booking travel or managing money I am the Titanic, the Hindenberg, Katrina, etc.

The upshot was I got to catch up with my friends Johnny and Sarah, who I had not spoken to in years. They used to have a school bus in Alaska, and throw parties on it at music festivals. Despite all the booze, I remember (in between the inexplicable forgotten parts) those as being great times full of freedom. I used to work really hard while going to school at the same time, tenaciously saving small amounts of money. Then when the Vegas heat was unbearable I would take my paltry savings rarely exceeding $500 and escape to Alaska to live the life of a born free scallawag and relish my unemployment and near total lack of expenses or plans. I would encounter the same people year after year (other scallawags), then they would bring their friends who went on to become people I would run into year after year. This was how I met all of my Irish friends, and their friends, and so on.

After the stopover in Dublin, I got the bus down to Cork City and on to Bandon, which is near where Brenda and Jeff live. They are running an organic farm there with Brenda's brother, Eugene, and living in a really cool old house which had not been lived in since the 60s. Its on their family farm which used to be a dairy farm, in fact at one point Eugene may have been the world's only vegan dairy farmer.
There was no running water or electricity, so in alot of ways it was reminiscent of the Alaska experience. In the farming operation they use a no-till system, and simply cut grass repeatedly and apply it as mulch on the beds. The spuds like this just fine and they are incredibly easy to harvest...although its a tough year for all the farmers because there hasn't really been much sun, basically no summer.

Heres a few more of my favorite pics from County Cork. The ruin is the 14th century abbey-cemetary at Timoleague, and the coastline is near Courtmacsherry. Then we were all devoured by slugs (no picture available).

Maxibon, you vex me so

2008-08-09T04:51:00.000-07:00

Its been pretty hot. not quite phoenix or vegas hot, but pretty hot. Every other street corner in metro madrid has a little stand that sells Maxibon, a brand of ice cream sandwich, cleverly hybridized in a Frankenstein sort of way (you can see the bolts and stitches) with a chocolate covered ice cream bar. you can hold the ice cream sandwich half while you eat the ice cream bar half, while only getting your hands moderately sticky. One of the stands were I go running often is run by africans, and is sort of a hangout for africans who congregate there every night and play chess. every stand has a picture of some guy, I'll call him maxibon for simplicity, sometimes alone and sometimes with his zany friends. They are so cool, they are always doing crazy things like eating ice cream bars sideways. From day one I have hated this guys face, and his straight white teeth so frequently exposed. he looks like a guy at the university, raul, who i like but something in the back of my mind remembers maxibon and how badly i want to punch him (maxibon not raul)....poor raul has no idea this thought is crossing my mind and probably wonders why i have such a difficult time concentrating when we speak. Maxibon is like the jingle you hate, then one day you are singing it to yourself walking down the street and you realize it and want to just leap in front of a bus. if i ever see maxibon in the street im gonna deck him right in his toothy ice cream cavern....right in his dental dairy processor...right in the moon pie...right in the vanilla vurmhole...right in the chuckling confection composter.....MAXIBON.

i'm going to ireland next week, i hope its cloudy every second, with plenty of water falling out of the sky, and noone has ever heard of sunscreen.

big trouble in little china

2008-07-31T14:25:00.000-07:00

My culinary experience is improving dramatically. I had been getting into this rut where I would walk into the grocery store in my neighborhood and not want to buy anything there. I'd proceed to make myself get the handful of shit I always get and leave as soon as possible. But I think it's just my town. Madrid seems to have everything, though it may cost you dearly, and you may need some insider information. Once in a while you score big. A Korean guy in my spanish class told me about this market where he was buying Kimchee really cheap, and he said they had lots of other stuff to. It is really hard to find as its in a very cryptically marked brick building, but inside is a traditional spanish market which consists of stalls operated by various sellers. Despite the traditionalness, it turns out theres alot of foreign stuff there also including 500g blocks of tofu for 0.60 euros! Incredible! Previously I had chalked tofu up as unattainable because it cost 3.50 for 250 grams! I aint a rich man. But this tofu is made in madrid and even cheaper than the states.

I also got a tipoff from some expat blog about a secret chinatown underneath plaza de Espana. The plaza is a nice small park with a monument to Cervantes, and I have noticed, much like the blogger, that there were two dodgy looking staircases going underground in the plaza, supposedly to a parking lot. When you go down there, there is a chinese travel agency, a bar which serves chinese food, and a full blown asian market. The first thing I saw in the window was Huy Fong Sriracha! It cost dearly, but come on, that is worth it. If you take the time to shop around for stuff you will find some incredible bargains, and enormous differences among brands. I was feeling triumphant as I left, and right as I emerged from the stairs to the street again I saw the critical mass (bici critica here). My first impulse was to body check one of the riders to the ground, like the cops do in New York. Or maybe flip out and drive a car right at them like they do in Seattle. But instead I just checked it out and hooted and hollered. It looked like a fun group, maybe 300-400 that I saw, and there must have been at least 50 pirates among them...must be the local CM style. I know alot of people think these rides are counterproductive, but I just think : how fun to dress up as a pirate, team up with 300 of your friends and ride at will on the streets of the capital. That can't be that bad can it?

We’re here because stop signs are a pain! The world is watching, fascist pigs!

2008-07-29T11:13:00.000-07:00

Some of you will want me dead….but I have been looking forward to gas prices rising this high for a long time. The reason is that, while it will hurt now, it will force us to do something that will preempt much more pain in the future. It’s a risky moment because we can choose some things over others, and certain things won’t benefit us very much in any long term way and will create an opportunity cost because a workable solution was not pursued (again and again). A lot of people will want to see the US increase drilling for oil, as if our demand could be satisfied this way. It can’t, it would only help some and for a while, and it would force us to do things we thought were a bit unsavory in the past: more offshore drilling, drilling in wildlife refuges, seismic explorers next to national parks…that sort of thing. The simple facts are: we’ve always known oil is finite, but we still bought a less than efficient car, we still chose to live far from work, we still had 2 or more cars per family, etc. Now we’re screwed. The only president that ever told the truth about this was Jimmy Carter, and he’s been retrogressively vilified for it…basically he said “we’re going to have to use less oil”. The only true thing Bush ever said was “America is addicted to oil”, then he proceeded to do nothing about it.

So what do we have to do? Lots of things will be a piece of the solution which maybe I’ll write about another time. But number one is: find a way to live our lives while using less oil. I’ve been happy to read recently that a lot of people are actually doing it…by riding bikes. I’ve read stories from many different cities about this radical change in behavior and attitude. And then I open MSN and see this link “Increase in bike riders fuels new road rage in Oregon”. It links to a short newsweek article by Winston Ross, and talks about a series of incidents I’ve been reading about on bike blogs for a couple weeks. First, thanks Winston for throwing gasoline on the fire. The article talks about some drunken douche that beat a man with his bike, then a drunk driver who tried to run down a cyclist on purpose supposedly to kill or at least maim him. Both road rage incidents. Then a cyclist ran a red light and had a crash, nothing to do with road rage (furthermore, how many cars ran red lights and got into crashes that same day? i reckon more than this one cyclist that is so important to talk about). Then a cyclist and a guy in a car got in a fistfight because the guy in the car said something about the cyclist not wearing a helmet. Ok, sort of road rage but more like a regular argument turned fight, unclear who the actual first puncher was. Not mentioned, was a recent incident in a Seattle critical mass ride where the news reported a man and his family were cornered in their car, tried to escape, and then were attacked by an angry mob of cyclists. Later eyewitness reports indicated the man gunned his car directly at a cyclist and dragged him, then hit another, and then…the cyclists beat the shit out of his car (The sequence seems pretty important here). I’m really annoyed by this article: why?

1) Right off the bat, look at the link…there is road rage because there is more bike riders is what the link is actually saying. In other words bike riders caused this. Nowhere does the article indicate that anyone involved in anything was a new rider, thus the link between these things and new ridership is unclear in the article. Furthermore, why doesn’t it say “Idiots with cars talking shit, threatening or assaulting cyclists fuel new road rage in Oregon”. Obviously that’s a loaded title, but about as accurate as the real one. There are incidences where both cyclists and drivers are being total idiots, and incidences where its unclear who the idiot is. This journalist is turning all of these events into “a pattern” and the result is that he makes the new trend of increased bike use as a car replacement into a bad thing.

2) After setting the scene of this media-accelerated pattern, he goes on to ponder why. We are told in one sentence that most cyclists say drivers act as if they don’t exist, that’s it…the cyclist take on things. It says that motorists are pissed that cyclists run red lights, but some cyclists defend running red lights because it’s a pain to hop off their bikes. Nobody hops off their bike at intersections, that’s just silly. And its not about it being a “pain”…I think the argument is more along the lines of this: traffic laws are written by and for people that drive cars. Most of the time they make good sense for regulating bike traffic too. Occasionally some of these rules aren’t the best for bikes because bikes are a different type of vehicle. Because a bike can stop in a much shorter distance and enjoys a completely unobstructed forward and sideways view, some people would like to see laws that permit bicycles to treat stop signs like yield signs. Cyclists lose kinetic energy that they have created using their own power when coming to a complete stop, and must slowly restart after the stop. Any bike commuter will tell you how they feel when they need to make a left turn from a complete stop, with 10 cars waiting behind them. Like a fucking rodeo clown without a barrel. You can breakaway must faster from a slow roll. The faster you can ride the safer you are. People in cars often misunderstand this slow-roll-instead-of-complete-stop behavior as “Oh my fucking god that maniac is just going to dart out in front of me!” and then they slam on their brakes, which causes the real hazard because the cyclist has already fired the synapses to move his legs and dart through the hole that would have opened had the car not slammed on the brakes. I’m not saying that idiots that just blow full speed through stop signs are in the right (they are dumb and at least endangering themselves, and they are probably riding brakeless track bikes in the city), I just want to point out that that the above explanation is at least a little different than “I don’t stop at lights because it’s a pain”. That’s just shit journalism. It’s kind of like when they show some protest or something on TV, then have invite some random stoner over for a sound bite to explain the whole thing: “We’re here because stop signs are a pain! The world is watching, fascist pigs!”

3) The article devotes a paragraph to some guy (why him? Of all the people to devote a paragraph to, such as ….I don’t know…the people involved in some of the road rage incidents?) who is angered by cyclists not wearing lights and wearing helmets. What does this have to do with the central theme of the article? Nothing, it’s a total red herring. And what is the helmet obsession? Yeah, if you are in a wreck a helmet will reduce the probability of a major head trauma, no arguments here. But here’s the thing: automobile accidents are the most common killer of people under 40, and despite seat belts and airbags, head injuries are still common, and over two thirds of the people reporting to a hospital after a car wreck are there for head injuries. So, lives would be saved and injuries prevented, if people driving cars wore helmets too, its not just a cycling thing. Furthermore, there are many things that people do or don’t do that make them less safe, like not using turn signals or traveling too fast. Almost every driver speeds at least once a day. So why is everyone going on about helmets in this article…because they are a device to portray cyclists as lawless and too lazy to ensure their own safety. If a drunk driver ran two red lights dragging nuns on the hood and hit an unhelmeted cyclist, the ensuing news article would find a way to blame the cyclist because he wasn’t wearing a helmet. That’s the state of the media. The guy wonders why the cycling community doesn’t insist everyone wear helmets and lights…first off there’s not a central command station for the cyclists. And most bicycling organizations do in fact advocate the use of helmets and lights. If I was “the guy” who had nothing to do with anything but got picked to be interviewed in the article, I might have said “Why doesn’t the automobile community insist that every driver be tested on sharing the road with cyclists?” I’ll bet none of you reading this had a single question on your driver’s license exam about the bicycle statute for your state. Get this…in Copenhagen and Amsterdam there’s literally millions of cyclists. Almost none of them wear helmets, in fact they think they are ridiculous. I’m sure accidents occur, but cycling is quite safe. What’s the difference: I think it’s because there’s better bike infrastructure, and even though there’s still a lot of cars there, drivers are much better educated about how to share space with riders. It’s a good thing to avoid a head injury if you get hit, but it’s 1000000000 times better to not get hit because people on bikes and in cars know how to coexist.

So more people are riding bikes now. This is undoubtedly a good thing, because it means we are using less oil which is the root of our most pressing problems today. Don’t listen to dipshits like Winston, who want to make you afraid to ride a bike, or rile up your indignation at the lawless bike pirates. YYAAAAAARRRR!!!! I propose we all just get along and stop acting like assholes.

The Michelangelo encryption

2008-07-26T11:13:00.000-07:00

I have been busy. I went on a field trip to Sax to do some work last weekend. To the left is my best picture from Sax., maybe my best photo ever. What is the thing speaking, and why are it's words in a cloud as if they are thoughts? Then I took my days off in the middle of the week. I took the train to Cercedilla, then hiked the Roman road to Peurto Fuenfria. On the train I saw the fascist monument at Valle de los Caidos, plain as day, you can't miss it. The roman road was cool, its about 1000 years old, but was repaved (recobbled really) about 300 years ago, and nows its falling apart again. It was a hazy day so the Puerto did not offer much in the way of views, but it was a pleasant enough walk. I wisely opted out of biking it which would have required a mountain bike. My bike hasn't been seeing alot of recreational action...just commuting. The Roman Road is also part of one of the Camino de Santiago pilgrimage routes which converge on Santiago de Compostela. So it consists of many layers of history.

the sweetest trail map i ever saw

a cow taking a load off on the roman road to fuenfria

Today I went to the convento de los descalzos reales (Royal convent of the barefoot, approximately). I didn't know anything about it except that it was recommended on one of these expat-travel Spain websites. It said "fantastic treasures lie within"...so I was suckered. Maybe it was a riddle, extolling me to find my inner beauty. The convent was actually was pretty cool, except guided tours are compulsory, do not follow a logical order, are totally dry, and give you no time to really look at anything. And they don't allow pictures. I wanted to dawdle and see the details like the cool tiles on the floor, the raggedy toenails of Mary Magdalene, the writhing cherubim at the feet of the virgin. The best thing about catholicism for me are the things that the reformationists hated so much: idolatry, medieval symbols that are still in use and no one understands anymore, and gaudy wealth. The convent is a series of chapels that are covered in baubles, gold, fake gold, trinkets, sculptures, sculptures wearing gold crowns, gold paint, and very old religious iconography, oh and gold. If you are an anthropologist studying the Spanish, like me, you will find it totally enthralling...if they'd just give you 5 seconds to look at shit and actually permit photos. The past and present of Spain is very much about catholicism, from the conquistadors to the inquisition to Franco (i may be overcynical but I can't think of positive things to mention in this list), and even now. For example, the pope is going to return to Madrid I think next year, and the Spanish government will pay for it. It's really weird that this is a democratically elected socialist government, which also has a monarch that is a subject of the pope and the catholic church. It seems like an impossible combination, but history is weird like that.

Some of the oddest things about the convent were ones that were conspicuously not mentioned. i wondered, what the hell does all of this mean? I did a thorough job of dodgy internet reasearch to solve these mysteries, so now i'm an expert. Perhaps now I will write a cheap imitation of Umberto Eco and sell a million copies at grocery store checkout lines. I'll call it "The Michelangelo encryption".

1) There was a statue of Mary, at her feet was a dragon, and a frothy mess of chubby baby heads with wings. I imagine the dragon was some incarnation of satan. The baby heads, the part that really bothered me to be honest, were a way of representing angels (cherubim to be exact). Because these were fat babies they seem to be a hybrid cherubs and putti, innocent souls represented as fat babies with wings.

2) Flagellation. A painting in the old nun's dormitory depicts a woman holding a cat of nine tails. Basically an instrument for purifying yourself by whipping. Portaits of nuns showed a knotted rope that they wore. I thought this might be another self torture device, but it turns out to just be an early form of rosary or prayer knot.

3) The beasts of Valle de los Caidos. After the bewildering apocalyptic imagery of valle de los Caidos...I recieved this lesson in a tapestry hanging in the convent dormitory. First the figures at valle de los caidos are not apostles, rather they are the gospels. Each is associated with a symbol which indicates their representation of Jesus. Eagle, Lion, Ox, Man. For example the ox is a beast of burden image of Jesus, the man is the universal man. John is associated with an eagle. We were told by the tour guide that a dominant theme in all the tapestries was the depiction of the transfiguration of bread and wine into the body and blood of Jesus, something the protestants wanted purged from the church, but the tapestry maker considered the most important thing ever. John is holding a chalice, unmentionted was the freaking snake tail hanging out of the cup! !! A quick search of dodgy internet info reveals a snake with a chalice is a pagan symbol of masculinity. For John, the legend goes that he was given a cup of poisoned wine, made the sign of the cross over it, and the poison slithered out in the form of a snake. Patrick driving the snakes form Ireland is probably a similar metaphor. The weird thing about the tapestry is that the snake TAIL hangs from the cup, as if the snake is crawling in. This will be the centerpiece of my novel.

4) In one room, Mary Magdalene is portrayed in a hyperrealistic wooden statue. You can see the blue veins in her hand. I couldn't help but notice...her toenails were like mine. Too long, rough with pieces broken off here and there. The platform she was standing on had junctions were multiple pieces of wood came together. These are absent from the statue itself which leads me to the obvious conclusion that the platform is some type of container. If you want to know whats in it you will have to buy the book and tolerate gratuitous use of cliffhangers at the end of each chapter.

This just in...Generalissimo Francisco Franco is still dead.

2008-07-16T13:27:00.000-07:00

Valle de los caidos (valley of the fallen) is a weird,beautiful creepy place, and a fine easy day ride from el Escorial. There is only a minor climb of about 4 km, you can ride all the way from Madrid city or take the train to Escorial which is what I did. After uncle Franco crushed the republican guard, the communists, and the anarchists, he announced he would build a great monument to those that died in the Spanish Civil War that he pretty much started. Accounts vary as to how the great monument was built...forced labor by republican prisoners, or a way for prisoners to choose to reduce their sentence. The valley itself is a nice forested area and you can see Madrid city, numerous small towns, Peurto Navacerrada, and (I think) the Roman road which passes over Puerto Fuenfria. In the middle of the valley is the world's largest crucifix, built on a rock outcrop. Within the rock outcrop is a basilica. The fallen (thousands) are apparently buried in the valley, though it is unclear to me where. Their names are not part of the monument. As it turned out Franco himself is buried here, so it is also the tomb of the third most famous fascist in world history. As I understand, there were parties in the streets of Madrid when he died, so I don't know why he was honored like this. They should have just dropped him off at the city dump. Maybe it was a subtle insult to have him buried among all the people whose deaths he caused? Franco's name is one of only two that appear in the basilica (which unfortunately was closed when I went), so he ended up building a giant monument to himself whether he intended it or not. The cross reflects his catholicism...to this day there is really only one religion is Spain. People are impressed by the vast number of protestant and non-christian religions in the US. The cross itself is a fractal, because any cross section is a also a cross (wow, cross section of a cross! the phrase itself is a fractal). The cross is buttressed by apostles, all associated with beasts of some sort. Since they are riding animals it makes it seem as if they are the four horsemen, in fact this whole place indicates DOOM. The sculptures have a mortared blocky look to them like the Thing from the fantastic four. When I was there I realized I had seen this cross from Navacerrada, not realizing just how immense it is or how cool it is in person. I read on the internet that there is actually a ladder to a hatch on the top. Sounds like a fine ninja mission, sitting on top of the cross shotgunning PBR, listening to Black Sabbath and shooting off bottle rockets.

No shit dude, its a big cross, I bet Mussolini was jealous.
You know what they say about the size of a dictators cross monument.....yep, big feet.

Bonnie Prince Billy

2008-07-11T11:51:00.000-07:00

....i just saw his show in Madrid last night. I am totally haggard today. He was with a different band than the last one I saw. Although i think the lumberjack bassist was with him last time. The bassist is like the ox pulling the cart, he makes everything possible but noone seems to notice. They are going for...and producing... a really rich and polished sound, really very different from the more raw Palace Brothers days. It sounds as if there are more instruments than there really are. I like some bands for their minimalism (e.g. almost all punk rock is pretty minimal), but this band is the opposite...and they are damed good. They used alot of harmonic vocals complemented by Jennifer Hutt, who is also an excellent violinist and not so painful to look at either. She was the highlight really, the one who got to do all the small important tasks while the bassist heaved away to no applause. There was another singer/guitar player named Emmet Kelly...the name of a famous clown. It was weird for me to see Will Oldham focusing on singing rather than playing (he played on most songs but often not major parts)...he's known as an unusual singer and is one of my favorite lyricists (and funny, disturbing, and cryptically dirty), but not necessarily a good singer. But he stood up there as if it was his job. Without an instrument his stage presence and persona, and occasional facial twitches, are reminiscent of Jim Carrey playing the grinch. He is really playing up the scary inbred hillbilly persona, but cracks numerous silly jokes. I still can't believe they played here....awesome.

Did you send me mail?

2008-07-08T14:10:00.000-07:00

A least three people have sent something to my home address, only to have it returned for no apparent reason. I don't understand the problem...becasue it appears people are using the correct address. if you have or are sending me something...thanks, and email me for my work address which is more secure.

Swimming holes, dog time, rafaella carra ...and all i got was this lousy tick

2008-07-07T11:07:00.001-07:00

Turns out Spanish people have fun 24 hour parties sometimes. Pablo and his girlfriend Patri had a party last weekend. i caught a lift with two of the post-docs from the university, and we met up with several others in Zarzalejo, the town I wish I lived in. We went a short distance into the mountains, up a dubious looking creek to an AWESOME swimming hole. We spent about 5 hours swimming, algae climbing, sleeping on rocks and cliff jumping. The dogs whined and barked, and Sua was fishing like the bears on National Geographic.
We returned to town, toured the garden and commenced a barbecue. I discovered Spanish horchata, which tastes very much like Mexican horchata, except it is made from the tuber of a sedge, called a chufa in Spain, or a tigernut in English although I am quite sure you have never heard of one. Apparently, this was a crop of ancient Egypt, and retains its popularity primarily in Spain. I made guacamole, some salsa and quesadillas with mushrooms. Everybody was so impressed, because Mexican and American pseudo-Mexican foods are viewed with a bit of mysticism. I tried to tell them these are like the three simplest foods in the world. The pathological fear and hypersensitivity to chiles was pretty funny...but they ate my food and liked it alot. About 86 beers later Ares the human, not to be confused with Ares the dog, said to me "Let's join them on the balcony for karaoke". What the @#$%^, Pablo has a karaoke machine??? Turns out the plan was to use some sort of internet-based karaoke, a stereo system and a computer screen...but it never actually worked so we just watched funny you tube videos. I got to see the hilareous repertoire of Rafaella Carra, an Italian singer. She made a bunch of videos in the 80's, always with an entourage of ridiculous coreographed dancers. It's almost as if they are making fun of the concept of dancing. In some ways they reminded me of the original oompa loompas. I truly lost my shit because the silliness was so unexpected. I recommend you look up her video for "Hay que Venir Al Sur" on you tube, it was my personal favorite. You can see a current picture of her below, hanging out with Eli Bernstein. About three or four in the morning I went to sleep on the balcony, because I wanted to be cold for a change. I had a pile of dogs on me all night. Some people think dogs smell bad, but to me dogs smell like my friend who will always be happy to see me, and might steal my food when I'm not looking... but would never betray me in any serious way, and might even endanger his/her own life to protect mine. My brothers and sisters were dogs. Dogs smell good to me as long as they haven't been rolling in shit or a carcass.
The next morning I woke up because Ares the dog was licking my face. Everybody gradually woke up and we had a slow breakfast and coffee session. I left with the same folks I rode with, who had forgotten to tell me the car was not going back to Madrid. So I was going to ride the train with Ruben, while Cristina drove somewhere else that I never heard. We had time to kill, so we had a beer. We kind of had to hurry to get back to the station where Ruben could not find his ticket. He purchased a second ticket just in time to watch the train roll away. So we had another beer...then actually had to run to make the second train. How many PhD's does it take to catch a train on time? Two, but one per train. Previously the train conductor told me that for me, the best route home was to switch trains after a few stops with a 30 minute layover. Actually it was a 90 minute layover, so I ended up getting off the original train then catching the next one on the same line after 30 minutes. Long story short...it was hard getting home yesterday. Customary long-ass metro ride ensued after the train. When I got home Santi had returned from vacation and pointed out the giant tick on my head. Thats what you get when your best friends are dogs.

Rascafria ride & hidden treasure in Madrid

2008-07-02T10:42:00.001-07:00

Hola chicos. When i reread my old posts i sound really negative, i think i just tend to write more when i'm annoyed. I don't want you to think Spain sucks. For me there are three things that suck: my girlfriend is in the US, i hate the food and the often mentioned burrocracy. What i like is the sometimes surprising natural beauty, the depth of history and culture that only comes with age (celtic, basque, roman, visigoth, moor, anarchist, monarchy, fascist), and the art treasures that only an old empire could have amassed. I did my ride to rascafria via peurto de la morcuera, returning via peurto de cancencia...about 100km each way. So I've got 4 puertos in the bag for this mountain range...never mind, its a wierd obsession i have, kind of like hikers who bag 14ers in Colorado. It was all pretty, but I wasn't exactly a shutterbug...there just weren't good shots. Everything beautiful was too big to be captured in a photo. I stayed the night in Rascafria. Could I do it in 1 day, yeah I think so, but I would have to avoid the afternoon somehow or do it a month ago. Despite the altitude, la morcuera is quite warm and you are exposed to the sun for over half of the climb. From madrid its a 70 km approach just to begin the climb, and then you bust ass. I was hurting at the top, and was totally bonking. I could see the parking lot/scenic overlook at the pass maybe 0.4 km away but I couldn't make it without stopping to eat. This happens to me from time to time. This one was tougher than Navacerrada i think, or maybe it was just warmer. Par usual the downhill was killer, although a dumbass on a motorcycle almost hit me head on. If you have to veer into the middle of the opposite lane to make a curve, it's simple...you are travelling too fast. These guys are 100X more reckless and dangerous than the drivers of the cars. Unfortunately they love the same roads that cyclists do, because theres few cars. I had a customary stop at a spring near the top, all the puertos have springs developed into fountains. I found a hostal in rascafria for 20 euro, and pretty much passed out from 4:00 - 7:00. I couldn't motivate to climb another puerto (e.g. los cotos from the east) on account of my caloric deficit. The I went out and carbo loaded (this is what some people call drinking beer). The next day I got up early and tried to beat the heat. I stopped 3 times for breakfast, which always consisted of donuts and coffee. Puerto de Canencia turned out to be totally easy, the grade was mellower, it's a bit lower, and the approach is a tree tunnel for part of the way. I recommend this ride to any cyclist, oh and theres a spring with water at the top.
Last weekend it was near 40C in madrid, plenty hot and it just doesn't inspire me to get on a bike to be quite honest. So i went into Madrid to score a free museum visit. First I returned to visit some favorite Picasso, Dali, and Bunuel that i had seen before and tried to take in some of the Reina Sofia colletion that I hadn't really seen. After they closed I walked around looking to treat myself to some good vegetarian food. The thai restaurants all had meaty menus and no tofu, and even the indian restaurants menus were meat centered. I did find a vegetarian menu which cost 16 euro, yeah seriously about 25 bucks for lunch! So much for that idea. But in my wanderings, i was also looking for a pint, I found the Caixa forum. I passed it going one way and just thought it was a bank building. I passed it the other way and saw a 4 story building covered in a jungle! "what the shit is that!" "That" turns out to be a sort of arts community center sponsored by a credit union. they had a nice exhibit of mass produced art (posters, stamps, postcards) by Mucha, aka Joe ArtNouveau. They also had enormous paintings by some nameless artist that were actually vertical sheets of wax upon closer examination. Finally they had a small theater which was showing short Japanese animated films. And the building itself is a work of art (see pics). On the way back to the metro, i made the most important discovery...convenience stores run by Turkish people sell these durum wraps for kebab. You get like 30 big-ass burrito sized ones for 4 euros. They are identical to tortillas! Not exactly cheap but compare that to 2.50 for 6 fajita-size tortillas made by Old El Paso. Now wheres the corn tortilla substitute?

Field trip and the Donkey Masters

2008-06-20T06:50:00.000-07:00

Last weekend, two guys form the lab and I left on a field trip to the south of Spain and several stops along the way. We passed throuch Castilla-La Mancha twice. It is truly the Kansas of Spain, with windmills and quiltwork of crops. It's really big too, I think it might be a similar size to kansas as well. I had a frustrating time because the other guys were on a really tight schedule and I had a really hard time finishing my work in the alotted time, also my field methods just were not working out at most sites. At least i got to see the study sites that everyone is using and starting getting an understanding of the Stipa steppes of the Meditteranean, and I used my time as well as I could. We had a site in Alicante, then went over to Murcia to Carrascoy. Carrascoy is the site that everybody hates because it is hot as balls, and for some unknown reason there are swarms of flies. After dealing with that site in the afternoon we treated ourselves to a swim and a night on the beach not so far away. It was near a town called Portman (doesn't sound very Spanish) which is full of guiris. Many signs are in English and you have to ask people if they speak Spanish. Guiri is the derogatory term for the rich foreigners, mostly British but also German and American, that have been buying the entirety of the Meditteranean coast. Theres actually British pubs in some of the guiru towns that don't serve Spanish. How insulting is that? It's just so British! The beach seemed like a great idea when we got there because the weather was awesome and cool and beer tastes pretty good on the beach. but that night really hurt us because all of our gear got wet due to humid air, there were mosquitos out all night, there was a really bright moon....and finally there were helicopters flying over us all night. We had to get up at 6:30 after really not sleeping. We had two stops in Murcia, then we stayed in Castilla-La Mancha. After two sites the next day, I had to get the train to Madrid because I had an appointment with the Donkey masters.

Theres some back story: I had been waiting for two months for the police to send me a letter notifying me that it was time to come in and get fingerprinted. Naturally I started to think the letter was never sent. Of course there is no way to find out. You can call all day, nobody will answer the information line. There's no way to check your status online. I was getting antsy because I thought I only had 2 more weeks to complete this stuff. So the only option was to go to the giant high security police station and wait hours in line to ask. Andrea went as my interpreter, and she explained what we wanted to a policeman at the gate who told us to wait in line 2, the medium sized one. It took maybe 3 hours to get in. People are jerks in there, there was a chinese immigrant there who was being berated by one of the helpful customer service personnel. Apparently he thought that if he spoke faster and shouted, suddenly her spanish comprehension would improve. Luckily, when it was our turn we were called by the other guy. He informed us that we had waited in the wrong line if we wanted information. He told me I already had an appointment to get fingerprinted (news to me), so we should not have waited in the line for making appointments for getting fingerprinted. Seriously, most people have to do this: waste a day waiting in line making an appointment to be fingerprinted, waste another day in line waiting to actually be fingerprinted, the waste another half day in line to pick up your national ID card. All this horseshit occurs over about 3-4 months!!! The appointment, which I cannot choose and which is compulsory, was June 18, right in the middle of the field trip. The day after we went to the station the goddamned letter arrived with my appointment information, so the entire previous morning had been wasted on nothing. So that's why i needed to take the train home before the field trip was over...to get fingerprinted.

So i woke up at 6:00 and took the train the the police station. i was told by the Colombians to get there early, so i was there at 7:00, 2 hours before they opened. there were the three lines, each with a little sign at the beginning. One sign said Huellas (Fingerprints)and one sign said Citas (Appointments). So clearly these two are totally vague, is the fingerprints line for getting fingerprints, or for making appointments for getting fingerprints, or both? Is the appointments line for making an appointment to get fingerprinted, for existing appointments, or for making some other kind of appointment., or all three? The coppers weren't there to ask yet...besides so far they have a 100% bad information rate, so why ask them anything? So I started asking people what they were in line for and came to the logical conclusion that most available evidence points toward the Citas line. I waited in line all the way through the metal detector to the doorway where I could have been printed, when a cop asked me what I was there for, then told me I had waited in the wrong line. I was supposed to wait in the Huellas line, which I forgot to mention wraps around the block. So, a fair thing to do would be to put me at the back of the Huellas-line people that had made it past the metal detector. This would put me at the approximate point I would have been had I stood in the right line. But no, he made me leave and go to the back of that line. Finally at 1:00 I had made i through that line, and sat down to talk to the first nice person of the day who was checking my documents. One of the documents was a payment form to pay the 10 euro fee, which I had filled out. It turns out they do not accept payment there, I was supposed to have paid in my bank and had the bank stamp the form certifying that i had paid. Why? I don't know, if the high security police station is not a secure place to make a payment what is? Now I didn't really understand what I was supposed to do although she tried explaining in Spanish slowly, and in bad english (which was kind of her)....but I was told to leave and go to the bank to get proof that i paid, and come back (without waiting in a line this time!). At first I thought maybe this was something I could do at an ATM, but of course the nearby ATM was broken. But I found a branch of my bank and paid using my ATM card (have you ever heard of such a weird process, it's totally new to me). Then I had to go back, show my permission to return to the same policeman who had kicked me out...who actually looked remorseful, and go back inside. I had to bring my own passport photos (3) and give them to them. Two months ago I had already delivered 3 passport photos at another police station. I think every cop has me in their wallet so they can show their friends and family the new foreigner in spain. Why don't they just have a fucking camera, like the DMV? I don't know. Finally, i got fingerprinted, it took 5 minutes. The lady who printed me was a surley hooch who seemed to think she was having a bad day. Bad day my ass, she got paid for her 8 hours, probably got enough sleep, and had lunch. She told me I had to come back in forty days to get the card. I still don't know if they will tell me or if I just drop by and waste my day in a line to find out. At 2:00pm I got home, 8 full hours of that hellhole.

Spanish and Latino people have told me that this kind of beaurocracy is the same everywhere...that is BULLSHIT! The Spanish have mastered it and the latinos inherited it from the spanish. There is just no fucking way that Sweden, or Germany does things this way because those people are organized. Even the US is better, provided you are not coming from Mexico. Heres some tips for not being a donkey institution: 1) just put up a couple signs with decent information about what the different lines are for, it would cost almost nothing and take only 10 minutes. Because the place is full of foreigners it makes sense to have signs in Spanish, English, and Chinese. There are people walking all over the place totally confused about what is the right line. Sure the place is swamped by too many people coming in...but easily half of the clusterfuck is due to NO AVAILABLE INFORMATION ABOUT WHAT THE HELL YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO DO WHEN YOU ARE THERE 2) If you have an information phone, answer the goddamned thing. 3) Get a camera. 4) if you charge a fee, ACCEPT PAYMENT, 5) Don't have people wait in one line to make an appointment to do something, then wait in another to actually do the thing...have one line, 6) Lay out the entire process in simple terms on a placard outside, and on a website, and 7) as soon as a person is assigned an ID number they should be able to go online and check their status. who knows if the post office lost your precious letter. How could you tell?

I'm off riding in the mountains tommorrow, something I do like about Spain that doesn't require 10 papers and 3 passport photos. Its too hot to do a mega ride, so I'm going to Rascafria, spending the night, and coming home Sunday. Might also try to climb Puerto de Navafria or Los Cotos if I feel like a tough guy.

2008-06-19T15:03:00.000-07:00

Its been a long time since my last post, and alot has happened and alot hasn't. Two weekends ago my field trip in Sax was cancelled AGAIN and I was going to do the Rascafria, 2 puertos assault...but I discovered my rear tire was worn out. i mean fabric showing worn out. I also somehow destroyed the valves of three tubes...how does that happen? I think there is something gravely wrong with my pump. But anyways, I've just been working over every defect in my bike: new tire, new brake pads and cables, a thorough cleaning. next is the big chainring which is really worn with a couple broken teeth. Turns out that shit wears out. So instead i went to a movie in english in Madrid with Santi and his girlfriend who was visiting. Before the movie we went to an Egyptian Temple. There just happens to be one in a big park in Madrid, as if every park has a temple to Isis. Spain contributed funds to help "save" several archaeological sites when Egypt decided to trade its heritage for the Aswan High Dam, a dam which can kick the ass of Hoover dam (I think thats what they really wanted, not hydroelectricity or controllable irrigation). So Egypt gave a salvaged temple to uncle Franco. Who knew Franco was such a softie. Turns out theres also one in Amsterdam and another in New York for the same reason. It wasn't much to look at, and seemed more Roman that Egyptian (In fact its final makeover was when the Romans controlled Egypt)...but does your town have a 2000 year old Temple in the park? i didn't think so. I enjoyed it very much, its also where Madrid goes to see the sunset and get married.

The next day I took a day trip to Alcala de Henares, the town of Cervantes. I went pretty ignorant, so I do not know the significance of much of what I saw, but I just wandered around and enjoyed the old buildings like I always do. It is mostly Renaissance aged, and was/is the home of a famous humanist university. My favorite thing ended up being the door to the cathedral, which had these sponge-like sculptural elements with birds living in them. it happened to be across from an "official guiness-certified irish pub". I thought for sure they might actually serve a pint in there, but just bottles and they cost either two nuts or an ovary depending on want you got. At least it wasn't canas (half sized beers, what is the point really). The Guiness tasted great though, after a steady diet of Spanish lager. Standard issue Spanish beer isn't any worse than its American counterpart. Mahou is most common and is pretty much insipid...not bad not good, just beer. Cruzcampo is thought of as a shitty alternative, probably because it comes in plastic bottles, but I like it a little better. But they are just the cheap working class shite, the PBR and Oly of Spain. Also, Amstel light, a dutch beer and possibly the most boring in the entire world is ubiquitous for some reason. If you come to Spain and want a good beer, try Voll-Damm, Bock-Damm, or Mezquita. As i understand, Spain's wines are excellent. But I'm a wine ignoramus. it all tastes fine to me. Besides, I can't stomach all of the hooplah and ritual surrounding wine. wafting, swishing, texture, sniffing, swirling, etc. The bottom line: IS THE SHIT FOR DRINKING, OR WHAT? Ok, that was a rant that had nothing to do with Alcala or its architecture. Anyways, we just don't put much effort into our buildings anymore, its too bad because these details are really amazing. In 500 years will our modern buildings be of interest to anyone? Not to this guy, he is an enemy of wind power. He also appears to be frozen in carbon...thats what you get for being an enemy of wind power.

Its kind of funny that I always seem to be visiting some form of church. Churches and castles, chrches and castles, you'd think it would get boring but everything is so unique that it doesn't. Too bad the churches don't serve real pints of unswirled, unwafted, American IPA, or Irish stout.

spanish are used to last minute

2008-06-03T14:45:00.000-07:00

i was supposed to do the department seminar at noon today, but the guy in charge of organizing it didn't announce it until 7:00 pm last night. i wasted 2 full days of time prepping a new talk i had never done before and the guy couldn't manage to do his 5 second job. i suggested perhaps we should postpone, and then he told me that spanish people are used to last minute things because everything is last minute. what a load of shit. so anyways i cancelled it. i do not need to stand in a room by myself and tell myself about my research interests . im often unsure how to act in these situations. i think being visibly angry invokes a defense response, and it causes people to fail to see when they have fucked up. not being angry invokes remorse in other people, except for the 5-10% who just don't give a shit. i bottled up all of my anger and played nice guy...i dont know if it was the right strategy, but i think so. next time im just going to tell him hes a dick.

In other news, because of a black and white paisley scarf, Rachel Ray (the cooking show host) and Dunkin Donuts (who oddly enough sell donuts) are Jihadists. Theres alot of great things about the USA, but sometimes we are the biggest bunch of ignorant, bigoted assholes in the universe. i can't believe this is my country sometimes.

In still other news, when is bitchface clinton going to understand that she lost. i think she must be a jihadist and we should boycott donuts and scarves.

wow, i havent posted anything in two weeks and all i can think of to say is totally angry and negative. heres something positive: i rode a century on sunday, i think (the mileage is approximate). i was all geared up to do a 2 day ride from madrid to rascafria via puerto de morcuera, then back the next day via puerto de canencia. theres a handy dandy hostel in rascafria, so i could do this ride without loading my bike with camping gear. the weather reports are simultaneously liberal and conservative and supportive of the palestinian jihad. they will forecast 90+ precip probabilities (when, for example ,weather channel says 60%), but will not hazard a guess as to how much rain might fall or when in the day it might fall. so i killed my ride plan for saturday and what do you know...the entire morning of saturday was beautiful. plenty of time for me to have ridden to rascafria. so sunday rolled around and i was so itchy for a ride i just went out and rode 165 km. i did my usual start/finish in casa de campo and used the awesome bike only route to colmenar viejo. then i took a new route to guadalix de sierra, bustarviejo, miraflores, soto del real, and back down to casa de campo in south madrid. It was raining on and off all day but it felt really good because it was a day without ever being too warm and NO SUNSCREEN! I think I am half vampire because when the sun is out, my energy just drops exponentially. the perfect days are like sunday, when it is on the verge of raining but not really raining. yes there were times when it rained, and my bike did get covered in filth after just having cleaned everything the day before, but it was a perfect day. i maintained a pretty good energy level all day except for my near-bonk experience as i was approaching bustarviejo. it was a surprise climb (turns out my map kind of sucks if you are not driving a car), and i was going to eat lunch number 3 in the next town....mistake! always eat before you are hungry, and before the jihad. After I had eaten all of my food, homemade falafel (jihad!!!), i stopped in a gas station and got a can of pringles, an ice cream bar, and some chocolate filled cookies and a jihadist scarf. but i made it home in the evening and had some gas left in the tank. i wonder if i could ride a double century without any special training. i dont mean ride it well or fast, i mean just actually complete it in one day if i allowed myself dawn to dusk, plenty of food, and managed to pace myself (hard for me). this wondering has made me want to do the rascafria ride (~190 km with 2 big climbs) in one day instead of two. i'll let you know how it goes. so, i'll see you at the jihad, don't forget your paisley scarf and bear claw.

This aqueduct is a pipe bomb!

2008-05-23T10:34:00.000-07:00

I took a long weekend to go meet up with Brad and Juliane who were travelling in France & Spain and spending some time in Barcelona. Barcelona has moved into a tie with Amsterdam as my favorite city. Amsterdam is at the top because there’s more bikes than cars…that’s enough reason (but its also a pretty city with good art, good food and interesting history). Barcelona is paradise if you love art and artistic architecture, Spanish flag burning, anarchists, about a 1000 year history, archaeology…and theres a lot of bikes on the street and reportedly a very nice big beach. I was so intrigued with everything else I never laid eyes on the beach, or even the ocean until I flew home. I arrived sleepless because the light was on in the train all night and I was worried I might get rousted for laying down on the floor, so the next day was a bit of a dream state. The day was pretty much about the modernist architecture of Gaudi starting with the one I can’t remember the name of which is a homage to the legend of St. George (Jordi in Catalan) and the dragon. Next was la Pedrera, an apartment building with no straight lines, and a ridiculous amount of decorative details and natural forms. Then we hopped the metro to La Sagrada Familia cathedral, which has been under construction for over a century and is only about half done. This project turned Gaudi into a bit of a loon and one day he got run over in the street. Let this be a lesson to you. It was intended to be neo-gothic (its basic shape was in fact quite gothic with Ankgor Wat-like spires and an aged dark sinister look to it), but it is thoroughly encrusted with angels, apostles, natural undulating or even melting forms, and at least one frog. No shit. I think it must be the world’s only synthesis of art nouveau and gothic. The other side is being completed by another architect who nobody can seem to name (doomed to be “the other architect” his whole life, kind of an architectural George Harrison), and who has a very different aesthetic and style adding to the weirdness of the building. Nobody knows what Gaudi’s plans were for the rest of the building because they were destroyed by anarchists. When I first heard this I thought that despite all their talk and ideals, anarchists just stomped on in like a bunch of fascist goons and wrecked the place, depriving the world of an art treasure. But I guess you need to know a little context…Sagrada Familia symbolized expenditure of enormous funds to build a gift to god in a purposeful throwback to more conservation religious times (medieval in fact when you just paid the church to be accepted into heaven, oh…you’re poor, well you’re going to hell). So in other words it is and was a monument to wealth, the church, and conservatism (anti-anarchism)…there was also a festering multi-decadal resentment due to a military draft that was instituted to send catalunyan soldiers to fight for rich peoples interests. One of the men strongly benefiting happened to be the major financier of Gaudi, Guell. It is analogous to a draft to invade Iran to protect the interests of Chevron or something like that. So I guess we have to cut the anarchists at least a little slack, or at least try and understand the motives, but what a bummer Gaudi’s plans didn’t survive. I guess this history just makes the thing even more cool. I believe Barcelona was the only major city in the world to ever be controlled by anarchists, until Franco and the REAL Hilter-financed fascist goons stormed in and killed them all. The view of anarchists in the US is colored by the famous Sacco and Vanzetti trial and bombings conducted by anarchists using terrorist tactics. In Europe, the anarchists are viewed differently because they were a realized (not theoretical) movement toward human freedom, at at least for a while they successfully repelled the fascists, who are by almost everyones assessment clearly A-holes. So I’m writing too much already and its not even day 2. Day 1 ended with the Roman wall and aqueduct, Gothic neighborhood and its Dracula churches, and fantastic gargoyles, and an Ancient Roman necropolis unearthed when a developer was trying to build a parking garage. The Roman tombs used to line the road into the ancient walled city. Really all that in one day, and a perfect nights rest on the balcony despite reportedly raucous noise all night.

Day two we went to the Picasso museum in the morning, and the history museum in the evening. Both are excellent, but I have to point out that the history museum happens to have roman ruins in its basement. When I was telling my roommate what I liked so much about Barcelona he didn’t really understand why I didn’t just go to Rome if I like Roman ruins so much. Its not that the ruins were Roman that is so cool…its that that are buried under the city, encased in other buildings, recycled and built on, around, over, and in. Another example: one of my favorite small moments is when we lost juliane down a random alley and followed. Walking down the nearly deserted alley takes you to sort of a tiny indoor plaza inside an apartment building. There are four columns standing there which used to be a portion of the temple in the old Roman city. Its in an apartment complex for fucks sake. I like that a lot about Barcelona. My friends kindly let me crash on the floor of their hotel that night. Before bed I went out to book a hostel for the next night and happened to hear some kind of punk rock show. I figured I should check it out since this was anarchist city. It turned out to be an outdoor show in a plaza and it was free and they were selling enormous beers (I get so tired of tiny Spanish beers, you just end up ordering three instead of one). It turns out it was a benefit or rally to liberate Franki. I’m a bit ignorant about this so please excuse any inadvertent fabrications…but I think he is a catalunyan separatist imprisoned for burning the Spanish flag. I was waiting for another band to come on when about 20 masked people appeared and made a big show of torching the Spanish flag with roman candles and shit. Eventually there was no more punk rock, just a skinny mulleted kid who was spinning hip hop and reggae. So I realized I was getting loaded and decided to put myself to bed in the hotel.

Day 3 was entirely occupied by a trip to a small catalunyan town near France which happens to be the home town of Dali, and the site of the Dali museum which he designed himself. My dad is famous for asking “Have you ever seen a picture of Lincoln, dead?” (sorry you had to be there). To that I reply “Have you ever seen a picture of Lincoln with a nude woman on his face?” The Dali museum is in the foothills of the Pyrennees and is the largest surrealist object in the world. I guess you can think of surrealism as art’s reaction to Freud. The surrealists employed depictions of the dream state and Freudian symbols, especially Dali. I recently learned that the drawer symbol commonly employed by Dali (a drawer which opens form some point in the human body…often the forehead) is a direct reference to the impact of Freud upon our understanding of people. Two things are apparent about Dali from the museum: 1) he had a serious fear of sex and consequent obsession early in his life, 2) the guy loved his wife. One of the things I really like about him is the humor in his art, and the deadpan delivery exhibited by some of the titles of his works. Interestingly, his early interactions with Luis Bunuel, Spains greatest surrealist filmmaker are entirely blown off in Dali’s museum. I would guess this was because Dali became a bit of a nationalist (was even a Franco supporter) later in his life and disapproved of Bunuel’s communism. I wondered if the way he was signing his later work (a very official looking symbol featuring a cross over a crown) was a reflection of this. The night at the hostel was uneventful. There was four hilarious Finnish guys who sat in the lobby looking at a porno magazine and drinking about 20 tall boys of beer. They had a boom box and were playing some really shitty songs such as “Hold the Line” by Toto. They knew and sang every word, and one of them said “We do not approve of the new school rock”. They were just warming up for the bars and I went to bed early.

Day four I had just enough time for another taste of Gaudi, I went to Buell Park. This was supposed to be a fantastical place for stinking rich people to live. The project flopped and It is now an amazing city park just crawling with tourists. I can barely describe it, you should just go. More catalunyan art nouveau by the master, except this time it’s a giant sculpture posing as a park. In the tradition of Dali, here’s some pictures from the whole trip in no coherent order, figure it out…

the most fabulous object in the universe- hayedo de tejera negra

2008-05-12T14:25:00.000-07:00

i dont much feel like writing. i went with some friends to the most beautiful place i have seen in Spain and we only saw about 3 other people. my friends are botany geeks, the first place we went was a young beech forest. its a pleistocene relict, this vegetation type is more common farther north. the second was a fairly natural birch forest in a hunting area. the first (most of the pics) featured an amazing combination of colors due to perfect timing...Erica in flower (pink), Fagus leafing out (bright green), Fagus not yet leafed out (purplish brown), shiny schist with pure white quartz intrusions, a yellow green endemic lichen, and skys threatening rain with occasional rays of light. the second was like a Robin Hood forest, and turned out to be perfect for having a nap. A few fungi were out, but mushroom season (Boletes!) is in fall.

Puta Imperial en bici

2008-05-04T05:32:00.000-07:00

Alright I did a bike tour, the thing I keep thinking and talking about. It was a holiday weekend (4 days off) and my work trip was cancelled…so here was my chance to throw something together. I stole my route from Bike Spain who sell guided bike tours for hundred of euros but are stupid enough to post enough information on the web that you can deduce the route…and do it free! And I had to bust a little freestyle to link my town up with the route. Bike Spain packages this as a 7 day affair, I think with 5 days of riding. Turns out it only takes about 2.5 days. …should have done more exhaustive research. Heres a silly tour log for anybody who ever might want to do the ride. It’s a nice long weekend straight out of Madrid city.

Day 1: Mostoles to vicinity of Pto. Navacerrada (~80 km with a decent climb.) -

I have no gas for my camp stove, the outdoor shop was sold out. So I’m hoping to find some on the way. Instead I have some heavy fuel for human bodies that does not require cooking: nutella, cheese, two bags of fritos (not the corn chips this is a great Spanish thing that blends cornnuts, honey roasted peanuts, and fried chick peas), and a little bread just to help get the other shit to my mouth. This will go on top of my breakfast of fried potatoes and cheese and sriracha (which Becky mailed to me! ... aw shucks). Last year I read about a feral punk rocker guy who toured on a dumpstered bike with a trailer he made, and wore a hat made of roadkill. He could ride faster than anyone and woudn’t buy food, he would just scavenge food from dumpsters. This amazing athlete’s dietary advice was “ eat like a fat guy”. Years ago I learned this riding the ring road around Iceland…I got really skinny. You’ve got to eat like a fat guy just to maintain your weight. I reckon I need 5000 calories just to come close to breaking even today.

Ok so I started out form my apartment and as usual riding out of the city (any city) kind of sucked. The road I was using was borderline freeway…but shortly I changed roads in a town called Brunete. After that I was having a marvelous, if uneventful ride. The country is pretty nice in that area, it’s mostly cattle pasture with these oak trees that have had all their branches cut off, so the trees overcompensate with a proliferation of branches making excellent shade. Occasional granite outcrops, and stone walls of un-mortared granite pretty much complete the pastoral aesthetic. I had considered stopping by Escorial in the vicinity of Pablo’s house to actually take a tour of the palace and monastery, but it was a holiday and El Escorial was a freaking madhouse…so I blew right through. Apparently, I was riding on the “Ruta Imperial”, a reference to some damned thing that Fellipe II did, someone had altered the road sign to read “Puta Imperial”. The funniest jokes are simple. Then I blew right through Guadarrama, to Navacerrada. So at this point it’s time to climb my first Puerto, although I’ve gradually been climbing all day. It was a fairly steep pitch and kept me in my granny gears. But the climb was pretty short. I even stopped for water at a spring called “the geologists fountain” and dozed off for a while. I still made it to the Puerto de Navacerrada from Mostoles in only 6 hours, with plenty of daylight and some energy left.

I didn’t want to climb the next Puerto just yet (not that energetic) which was a few km around the corner…so I fucked off for a while at the Puerto. I had beer and patatas bravas (fried potatoes with a sauce), the only food item that doesn’t have ham or fucking tuna. Tuna is number three on my list of most disgusting substances on planet earth, the smell makes me gag. Then I went for a nice short hike to the top of the ski slope. Theres actually a windy paved cobbly road that goes up there.

My eye was drawn to a yellow flag flying up top. When I got there I sat in front of the flag taking in the panaoramic view and trying to convince my camera that it had enough battery power to take some pictures. I was curious about this weird metal thing protruding from the rocks a few meters in front of me. I clambered around to the front of it and found that it was a Madonna & child statue of metal, painted glossy black, with skis on her back. What a fun surprise!

After my hike it was starting to get dusky, so I had a logistical problem to solve: where to sleep. Camping is prohibited in these mountains, I think because of fear of fires. The only type of campground in Spain, as far as I can tell, are like those giant private ones with RVs and shit. The type that makes a backpacker shudder in horror. And these are absent from the mountains, so not even an option. There are a couple youth hostels, but why the hell did I lug all my camping gear up here if I was going to sleep in a hostel? So, long story short, I need to ninja camp somewhere and its better to not try and figure it out in the dark. Everywhere I looked was on a rather steep slope…eventually I just had to find the flattest spot I could (not very flat) before it got dark.

Day 2- Pto. Navacerrada to El Buerreco (~ 65 km).

Woke up and made cold instant coffee (no gas remember? still no gas), which, shockingly was delicious. I’m anticipating a minor climb to Pto. de los Cotos this morning. There was a bajillion road riders out and few cars. Turns out there was no climb, because you never lose any elevation from Pto. Navacerrada. From Pto. de los Cotos, I took a short side trip to a ski resort (which I also thought was a climb but was not). So I have a steep downhill all the way to Rascafria (20km). On this side trip I saw numerous flat places I could have slept, had I not wasted so much time reconing slopes….next time. I contemplated screwing off for a while near the Puerto (because it really was pretty), but I prefer doing my screwing off after I’ve covered the miles I need to cover…also I’m not comfortable leaving my bike and panniers locked up while I hike. So I got to Rascafria in about 5 seconds, it was like riding one of those light cycles from Tron. I love long downhills in the mountains because you can move faster than the cars. There no goddamned douchbag bearing down on your ass who just has to pass you regardless of the safety of the maneuver…because cars just can’t keep up. I stopped at a famous monastery (de Paular) which is over 500 years old, although it has seen many modifications over the years. It was really cool. It’s too bad there’s no monasteries for atheists, I could enjoy the secular monastic life.

Then I chugged along and before long I had somehow missed my turn to Buitrago (goddamned headphones! They push you up the hills but they are like an attention span vampire), so I headed toward Lozoyuela. Oh well, I had no particular attachment…it was just on the Bike Spain route. The roadside maps say I have a campground option near there. Down here theres no longer good tree cover, so ninja camping will be harder. So I rode to Las Navas de Buitrago looking for the campground. For want of a better word…this town was really “cute” (next thing you know I’ll be saying it was “darling”) and the country was just flippin awesome, and the clouds were keeping the sun at bay. The town looks like it has maybe 200 residents, and no campground. The locals told me I’d have to go to La Cabrera for a campground, but I ended up finding one near El Burrueco. This was the part of the tour that I thought was going to be kind of blah, but really the region is ideal for bike touring, too bad there’s not simpler camping options other than hiding on someone’s property.

At first I actually liked the campground, there was a free shower so I could get the disgusting sunscreen off my body. Amazingly, there is also basketball and soccer courts, a swimming pool, and a restaurant/bar. I discovered I had a horizontal raging angry sunburned stripe where my shirt fails to meet the top of my shorts when I’m hunched over the handlebars. Turns out my He-man shirt is a little bit short. When I went to bed I was kept awake by this stupid light that exists so people without flashlights can find their camp. I had put my tent in a cluster of rocks. This worked against me because this is where stoner teenagers come to get baked at night and escape their parents. Then there was the cannons and trambucos (muskets, not penises). Did I mention this was a holiday similar to the 4^th of July…heavy artillery is a major part of the holidays in Spain.

Day 3. El Burrueco to Casa de Campo (~110 km)

So I’ve got a dilemma…my planned route is just too short, I could have made it to north Madrid last night if I’d wanted to push. I don’t have any destinations in mind to lengthen the route, I could just make some silly meanderings, but this seems, well, silly. There are a couple Puertos accessible out of Miraflores, but I’m pretty sure both are unpaved from my previous web searching, and I don’t want to try them with road tires. So early in the day I come to the conclusion that I’m going to get back home by the end of the day. I had a pleasant ride to Torrleaguna, through Guadalix de la Sierra, through Soto del Real, over to Manzaneres el Real. I came to Manzanares to see a castle. I had some vague recollection about some Spanish castle being used in several movies. Strangely, a fantasy sequence from Beverly Hillbillies came to mind where Jethro is a knight riding toward a castle…but I’m pretty sure they did not come to Spain to film a 5 minute sequence of the Beverly Hillbillies. I really enjoyed the castle, but unfortunately the library was not part of the tour. The castle was embellished and added on to many times over the years, including the 1700s, the most extreme being in 1917. The owner apparently wanted to jazz up the towers a bit to make the castle look more castley.

From the upper towers you can look out on a reservoir and pretend its Loch Ness. Also, you can see one of the ski resorts I rode to previously (not sure which one though). No movies I had heard of were made at this castle…but La Marca del Hombre Lobo (The mark of the wolfman) was filmed here. After the castle I took the via ciclista all the way back to north Madrid. This thing is an awesome 40 km two lane bike road. It makes you wonder about how much better the world would be if we had a handful of roads for cars, and thousands of these things, instead of the other way around. To simplify and shorten my ride on the metro (which I am dreading with a loaded touring bike) I linked back up with the Anillo Verde and cruised the last 20km to Casa de Campo. I’m actually only 10km away from Mostoles but I don’t think there is any route that is not an autopista (freeway). …so the metro is my way home. I got off the metro at 9:00pm in Mostoles and found that I had cold beer in the fridge.

2008-04-27T11:10:00.000-07:00

Carbon

2008-04-23T13:13:00.000-07:00

It was raining Sunday, so I pscyhed myself out of riding and went to the Reina Sofia art museum, its my favorite in Madrid. It houses several Dalis, Picassos (including Guernica), and you can watch Bunuel on a sort of big screen. I came here last March and spent about 6 hours. I thought I was really having a lucky day becasue the museum turns out to be free on Sunday. And then, there just happens to be a visiting exhibit from the French National Museum on Picasso which occupies 4 floors (!). The bad luck part was that the museum closed at 2:30, I had only seen half of the Picasso (chronologically through his classical training, experiments in expressionism, iconic analytical cubism, and his very unique primitive surrealism; hard to believe this is just one guy) and hadn't made it to my favorite pieces. I can't complain, it was free. When I got there there was a climate change rally in the plaza in front of the museum. Spain, like most of the world, signed the Kyoto protocol but is failing much worse than most of Europe. Their emissions have actually increased (according to very dodgy error ridden estimates) by 3%. At least they signed the thing. Watch, Iceland will be carbon negative in 25 years and profit from it by selling carbon credits. They will make the US, Australia, Spain and the rest of the world look like idiots.

Heres a bit of trivial knowledge: notice the Stop CO2 signs? You might wonder why they would make signs displaying the US style stop sign in English. Well they use the same signs here, in English. Heres another weird thing: they have adopted WC (like in England, it stands for water closet) as the symbol for a public restroom. Nobody knows why. One guy used to but he died.

Afterward, I had time to kill so I walked across old Madrid to the Catedral Almudena. I thought that this was a very old cathedral but it was actually started in the 19th century, completed in the 20th century and made "official" or "sacred" or whatever by good ole JP2. You remember in Empire Strikes Back, Darth Vader had John Paul II frozen in carbon and gave him to Boba Fett to deliver to Jabba? Chewie was really sad and said "RRRAAAAWWWWRRRPP!". Well they put the carbon-frozen pope out here in front of the cathedral so Jabba and his muppet friends could admire and taunt him (see pic). I was actually thinking this as people were praying and leaving flowers for John Paul, I couldn't help it, the statue seriously reminds me of Han Solo frozen in carbon. Sometimes my brain has small adventures. Despite not being quite as ancient as I thought the cathedral was really pretty cool. I don't much go for the religion business but I do like large old churches. And nobody does grandeur like Spanish catholics that happen to be next door to a palace (yep. another palace. dime a dozen). Also its free, score!
Finally, I have occasionally seen some cool street art in Madrid, but stencils are rare. Someone actually made a stencil of two people making out on the subway, and sprayed it onto a pedestal at the base of a sculpture outside the art museum. That's the real life and art of Madrid, it belongs on a pedestal in front of the art museum.

I'm here to help

2008-04-17T14:41:00.000-07:00

Tommorrow I take my placement exam in a language school. The class will cost a couple hundred bucks but is really fairly cheap as far as these things go.

So, I'm here to help you out with some highly useful information, I'll save the best for last.

Useful Spanish words and phrases, we'll start with "T" for no good reason. Forget your mexican slang, "chinga tu madre" and "pinche gringo" won't get you far in Spain. People will only laugh like we laugh when British people ask us if we are being "cheeky", or "are you taking the piss?", or "bollocks!". So heres some good ole Spanish Spanish for you:

trabuco: literally musket, but pretty much means penis
titiritero: puppeteer
tranquilo: calm, tranquil. You can use it to tell someone to chill.
tendedero: a rack thing with clotheslines for drying your clothes indoors when its raining
tio: everybody is your uncle in Spain. its the equivalent of dude, man, or dude man. If its a woman, yep its tia. Another equivalent word is chico/chica, e.g. boy or girl.
and by the way: space is espacio not espacia, and i said in an earlier post (I am an excellent source of bad info)
and heres a "P" thrown in for fun
putamadre: i'm unsure on the spelling but this is what I think I'm hearing. It means "motherfucker". You can shout it when some jackass cuts you off, or you can say it to express how good your food is. putamadre is damn good.

Ok the best piece of info, needs some background. I am addicted to Huy Fong Brand Sriracha chili sauce. Because of the rooster logo, its is referred to as "hot cock" or I've also heard "kickin chicken". Despite all the rumors, it does not contain crack. Its far, far, far better than crack. Some people will complain it's not "authentic" enough because its made in the USA with ingredients available in the USA. I don't understand this obsession with "authenticity". Either the stuff is good or not, who cares if it is authentically derived form one culture or a synergistic blend of multiple cultures (case in point: burritos, pizza). Huy Fong Sriracha is so damned good I have their rooster on my body forever. Greg Telles tattooed me for a 6 pack, or maybe for free I can't remember, with his homemade tattoo gun. Sometimes when I tell people that they think I am joking. They can't believe that anyone would actually get a tattoo of a hot sauce label, but that's how I roll. Won't I feel stupid having that tattoo when I'm old? I can proudly say that one day I will be 80 and I will have a bluish smudge on my arm and I'll tell people about Sriracha through my dentures and they wont listen to me because I'm old and I always say crazy shit that noone listens to. The point is, it won't matter if I feel stupid because everyone will treat me like I'm stupid regardless.

People have been telling me for years to write to Huy Fong and see if I can get any free stuff for being their walking billboard for over a decade. Maybe I'll do it soon and let you in on the experiment.

Ok long setup for this: I made my own Sriracha tonight. I have no idea if its good yet, it's maturing in the fridge. But I did it in the style of Huy Fong with ripe red jalapenos. I found someone's recipe on line. I should have added garlic, but if this easy recipe makes anything remotely similar to the hot cock sauce, I'll be pretty happy.

1 pound ripe RED jalapenos, so fully vine ripened
2.5 cups of rice or white wine vinegar
0.25 cups of sugar
1 tablespoon salt

put the chilis in the vinagre, bring to boil, dissolve sugar and salt, purree the mixture, let the ingredients get friendly in the fridge overnight.

End of an era

2008-04-16T12:56:00.000-07:00

I don't have much to write about. No adventures to report. Just a realization that my Spanish is not advancing and I simply have to take a class. Everybody asked me if I spoke Spanish when they found out I was coming here. When I said un poquito, the stock answer was "you will." This will lkely come true, but its not the immersion experience I was needing because so many people want to practice English and I have to want to speak Spanish which I seldom do (just because I like to be understood when I speak, nothing against the spanish language).

It seems that this week is the week when everything breaks. The water heater broke. I broke my sunglasses in half. And my hair clippers finally kicked the bucket, a victim of high voltage. I remember my folks bought them from an old lady in the neighborhood, they were animal clippers and looked like they were from the 1960s. I must have been about 11, we used them to shave the dog because it got so hot in Vega$ in the summer. I have been using those animal shears to shave my hair for probably 15 years. I've dropped them on the floor probably 50 times, and they survived because they were apparently invincible like everything made back then. I realized I was getting shaggy, so I decided to shave some years off last night. I plugged them in using my universal AC adapter, and they got fried. I shaved most of my head, except of course I was unable to finish and was left with two parallel mini-hawks in back. Very stylish.

Deliverance

2008-04-14T10:22:00.000-07:00

I mean deliverance in a good way (I'm saved) not in the bad way (I've been raped by inbreds)...
Maria returned from Andalucia with a grocery bag full of various chiles. Her Uncle grows them for seed and sell the seed in Mexico...nobody buys the seed or Chiles in Spain.

there is a little scotland embedded in the mountains of madrid

2008-04-13T13:19:00.000-07:00

My weekend was spent in the Guadarrama mountains, i'm starting to have the lay of the land in el Communidad de Madrid stick in my brain. It's about the size of Grand Staircase, which as you may know is about the size of three Rhode Islands. This will be my first bike tour in Spain as soon as I can string a few holidays together (4-5).

I had no idea...but the foothills look like Wales or Scotland only sunnier. They are complete with stone walls, gray rocky outcrops, and lots of green. Santi and I went out to Pablo's house with a couple other folks from Mostoles, to drink beer and hang out. He lives in a tiny town called Zarzalejo.

In the morning we hiked up out of Pablo's gate straight up into the mountains...if you live in Flagstaff, picture walking out your back door on the east side to the top of Elden. We took Pablo's dogs (sounds similar to Pavlov's dog, but we didn't do any famous experiments), Ares, a war god who fetches pine cones non stop, and Sua the huntress. She captured and wounded a cool skink (sorry, forgot the snazzy spanish name), who then curled up like a baby on its back in my hand. Everything about the walk was beautiful , the weather and the view of the country and the monastery. And the rent is cheap there, and people actually have back yards with gardens (the picture is Pablo's back yard on the upper terrace. The lower terrace has a soon-to-be vegetable garden, and theres even more land above the house which has three small levels strair-stepped up a hill). There is excellent road riding there and probably mountain biking too. I would be really happy here in a similar house and I think Becky would like it alot also. The only catch is its 40km from Mostoles with lame connection via public transport. So, it would entail buying a car and getting a Spanish drivers license (a bigger deal than you think; and by the way this is my fifth and finally correct spelling of "license"), and being a major carbon emitter like everyone else that doesn't link climate change with their personal habits. Its totally the governments fault not me. Shit.

The next day Fernando and Dolo picked me up in Mostoles, and then we picked up Pablo to check out more of the mountains. They treated me to a very nice mini-tour. First we drove over Puerta de Navacerrado (the mountain passes are puertas). I was psyched to see bicyclists on our route the entire day...proof that it is possible even common to road ride in the area. I kept saying I wanted to ride this route and Fernando thought I was crazy and kept suggesting something shorter or easier, or insisting that for some reason I didn't want to do that because "you need to have strong legs". I guess its hard for him to believe that I prefer longer rides, and I like climbing mountain passes, and I actually do have strong legs and lungs. I'll have to show up at work one day and say "I rode the entire mountain range over the weekend, twice. Yeah, it was ok I just wish there was more distance and elevation gain. Frankly my legs were too strong". Pablo had some ride ideas near the Puerta, but unfortunately they were all mountain bike rides and I don't have a mountain bike any more. Shit i'll have to get another bike, bummer. The upper elevations are forested with Pinus sylvestris which has a lot in common with Ponderosa Pine, except in my opinion its a prettier tree than Pondo. We went down the other side of the pass toward Segovia to a small town called San Ildefonso. There is yet another palace here (I've seen four now by the way), but this one is my favorite (see pic). Yes that is a Sequouia in the foregound, and we think a giant cedar (like the famous ones that used to be in Lebanon). Kings have big trees. On the way out of town we stopped for a walk and once again i seemed to be in Scotland.

I even had time for a minor bike ride in Mostoles later. Excellent day.

sharpen your boomerangs...

2008-04-11T10:01:00.000-07:00

when i was about 9 or 10 i saw the road warrior. it was not my favorite movie, that title was reserved for Conan the Barbarian...but I liked road warrior alot. Especially the feral boy. I wanted to be the feral boy. he was the mute wild child with the razor sharp boomerang, and a sweet loincloth made of rat pelt or something. he used it to slice off the fingers of one of the apocalypse dune buggie goons (boomerang not loincloth). i was thinking about the feral boy today strangely enough as I was walking around my new town. i have deviated from my early career preferences.