Where did she go?

Technology left me frustrated.

First the camera.
Now the laptop was threatening.
Overheating.
Whirring.
Slowing Down. Freezing.
Refusing to skype, youtube, itune.
The move very naturally took care of the TV addiction.
That one felt good.
So, take a breather from that internet addiction too.
Why not?

I didn't even have to try.
Spring had crept in while no one was looking.
First a flower in the grass.
Then a second and third.
Then everywhere.
Every destination was walked to.
The rest of the park was discovered.
The windmills are working.
The spring lambs are stretching their legs.

And the girls.
A great beautiful group of multi-everything.
A trip to Gouda.
Friday afternoon movies.
Afternoon teas.
Impromptu lunches.
Their children babbling in the den.
No matter their tongue.
Play is play.

The Husband finishes his first term.
But no before two intense weeks
studying, meeting
finals.
Then celebrations.
Invitations to Russian birthday parties.
A bottle of wine will not do.
Stoli it must be.
The decision not to apply to SE Asia
but to stay.
A day trip to Bruges.
and biking.

Biking.

Also.
An interview for me.
And a cold.
But biking.
We go everywhere.
My legs complain but the rest does not
So on we go.
To class. To the store.
To the park. To coffee w friends.
To the interview
wearing heels
and a purse flung over one shoulder.
My new love.

Last Friday a mud fest.
In my backyard.
Three of the little ones had discovered the earth.
Clapping as it flew everywhere.
Into hair, onto shirts and pants.
Eating it.
And the moms and non-moms
sitting on the porch sipped wine
our laughter rolling out
over flying dirt.
Ah, at last!
Not that acquaintance chuckle.
But the laughter of friends.

So much in a month
but still looking forward to so much more.
Munich. Easter in Austria.
The Wachau.
Budapest.
A wedding in Israel for me.
A school trip to Paris for him.
A birth in Amsterdam.
The visit of a friend in June.
Thoughts of Ibiza.
And so much more.

The first quarter of our year.
Done.

Barcelona, day one

The worst part of the trip happened right away, so I guess the silver lining is that we got it out of the way early.

Most of you know I had sent our camera lens out for repair before we left the US and I announced it's heavily anticipated arrival on the day before we left. That day I caught up with a good friend on skype and said "now watch this get stolen while in Spain".

Maybe the other silver lining is that it wasn't quite that bad...still bad enough.

We arrived in Barcelona and were checked into our hotel by 3pm. We lost three hours of our stay here but were happy to finally have arrived, so freshened up and headed for the market just around the corner from us.

The Boqueria Market is maybe the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. The heart of the market is all fresh seafood, in the arms extending from it you can find colorful vegetables and fruits stacked perfectly, trays and trays of candies and truffles, meats, eggs, etc. Even better, throughout the market are scattered a few counters, here and there, where one can grab a stool, order a drink and various plates of Catalonian food.

I wanted to take out my camera so I could share with you some of the sights. Opening the camera bag, I saw the lens was no longer attached to the body. Thinking no more of it other than giving R a suspicious look (he had the job of carrying it through the flight) I screwed it back on and went to take the first photo. Nada.

I turned it off and on again, made sure the lens was on tight and tried again. Nada. I looked at the camera more closely and noticed an area where the lens met the camera body. There was a big gap in one area where it should have been a snug connection. I couldn't believe it. We had been so careful traveling with it and I couldn't imagine where this could have happened. But somehow the lens was severely damaged. Mangled. Screws were loose, the cheap plastic ring that snapped into the body of the camera completely broke off this time (this was the part that was only partially broken the first time I sent the lens in, and the only part that was broken at that time) and the metal framework was completely dented. It looked like someone had taken it and smashed it against something hard.

R rushed me back to the hotel so I could fall into a sobbing heap in the privacy of our four walls, including a fifth wall right outside our window. Or as I call it, the view.

In the grand scheme of things, material things shouldn't matter as much as the people and big events in our lives. But, as our first purchase after our wedding, we spent a lot of money on a "good" camera so we could have something to record those important parts of our new life. And so the frustration was directed at something that was supposed to last at least a decade, but lasted a little more than a year. Plus I just want to take some damn pictures!

But we had a city to see and a birthday to celebrate. I gave myself give minutes to get it out of my system and then returned to that gorgeous market to grab some grub. We perched ourselves at a counter and R ordered a few things for us. New surprise discovery about that husband of mine: he speaks Spanish very well. This was first discovered at the airport when we stopped at information for directions to public transport. I liked!

Quickly set before us were two ice cold beers, a plate of grilled octopus and a plate of braised pork cheeks with roasted potatoes and chorizo. The latter was perfect comfort food for this disappointed little photographer.

All around us, tourists and students with their working cameras teased and taunted me, happily snapping away. But for a few savory minutes I didn't care.

After the market we continued down the avenue our hotel was located, the Las Ramblas. Described by most former travelers as a must, this avenue was filled with bird markets, flower stalls and street performers. Also included were pickpockets, horrible food and every tourist in Barcelona. It was just okay. I had been most excited about the street performers but maybe New York City and Prague had spoiled me, here you could only find the kind of artist that painted themselves and posed still for a long boring while.

Our next stop was the Picasso museum which we found after a stroll through the winding narrow streets of the gothic old town. I had read the artwork wasn't his most impressive (we agreed) but it is the largest collection and shows how he progressed as an artist (his earliest was at the age of nine). R said he was the Miles Davis of the art world, constantly reinventing.

We moved onto the Basilica De Santa Maria Del Mar (14th Century church, beautiful inside and out). I read somewhere that one could buy inexpensive tickets, day-of, to classical concerts they performed in the church each night. My source was incorrect about same day tickets but being there gave us a chance to rest our travel toes and take some time for quiet reflection.

By now we were too tired to enjoy a complete meal so opted for a few tapas. We found a restaurant with outdoor heated seating, ordered a glass of wine and watched the tourists stroll by as we shared a few small plates.

Tapas are not native to the area, but it's Spain, close enough! And they can be found everywhere in Barcelona because the tourists love 'em. Food factoid: tapas = to cover. We were told there once was a King who was annoyed that his subjects were getting inebriated easily and sick from drinking (money earned was spent on drink rather than food...they had their priorities). So he created a rule that all establishments had to serve some food with each drink. The plate was then used to cover the drink, protecting the it from flies. Hence tapas.

Back at the hotel we enjoyed dessert. Chocolate and fruit purchased earlier at the market. Yum.

If you remember, we started the day at 6am followed by a marathon between train station and airport. Sleep found us quickly...tbc.

(I did bring the ol' point and shoot as backup, so we have maybe five pictures of our trip, including the two above)

Vive la France!

I'm running off to Dutch lessons so today I'll post only a little intro to our Barcelona trip. More to come tomorrow...

Friday, 26 February
6am: wake, get ready to leave
6:30: get onto tram headed for train station. thanks to ueber producer planning, I purchased our tickets the day before.
6:45: arrive at train station, go to track number 11 and wait for train. we paid extra to use the express train. this one is just half an hour compared to the hour long slow train.
7:20: our 7:30 train is delayed
7:45: train arrives, sit on train and wait for departure
8:00: things are said in Dutch on loudspeaker, after a while more things are said including a suggestion to take the other slow train. people leave and go to another track, we follow
8:05: we watch our original train leave the track from our new track
8:11: new slower train arrives, we get on. it will take an hour to get to the airport which is tight but we are not checking luggage. we could wait for next fast train but if that train is delayed and we need to get on a slow train, we won't make it. train departs.
8:12: more things are said in Dutch on loudspeaker, I ask fellow passengers what is being said. Due to track problem the train is skipping the Schiphol Airport stop and going straight to Amsterdam. R already knows we won't make it. I pray for a flight delay and convince myself we'll make it.
9:15: we arrive in Amsterdam and get on another train headed for Schiphol airport. Our flight departs in half an hour. R thinks we should just stay in Amsterdam seen as the next flight isn't for another 12 hours.
9:45: we arrive at Schiphol airport at the exact time our flight is due to depart. we go straight to departures listings and see our flight is delayed! we run to ticket counter and are turned away by Dutch ticketing girl who says gate has closed anyway. We go to Veuling customer services counter and beg to be let on, stressing we have nothing to check. Guy says he can do nothing and it is up to ticketing girl from earlier, I tell R to run back to her and beg. I stay and bat my eyes at guy, refusing to believe he can do nothing. Guy makes a phone call. Dutch mumblings, guy hangs up and lets me know they will let us on. haha, I knew it! Run back to ticketing girl where R has also been batting his eyes.
9:55: ticketing girl prints our boarding passes and gives us lecture about making sure to arrive early next time. (We had planned so that we would get to the Rotterdam train station with two other trains to catch as backup and get to the airport 2 hours ahead of departure without checked bags....how much earlier are we supposed to plan for?!) I in return want to lecture her fellow countrymen about German train efficiency....the neighbors to the East really aren't so far away as not be taken an example of. She says the only reason we were able to make it was because the French air traffic controllers were striking. R "Oh, I love the French". ticketing girl "well we HATE the French". with a shrug we grab our tickets and run off to our gate. Vive la France!
10:50: board plane. once everyone is seated captain announces over intercom that take-off is delayed by an hour and a half. I'm glad we were given a such a hard time about being late! Become punching bag for toddlers sitting behind and in front of me but somehow manage to sleep a little anyway.