12 Hours in Air Travel

For some time Eric and I have been planning for a very busy December 3rd and 4th.  I had some work that took me to Luxembourg since the night of the 30th and Eric is to leave on the morning of the 4th (as I write this) to fly to Paris and then Lome, Togo, to see his mom.  By the best of estimations, our schedules were only going to allow for some 10 hours in overlap on the ground - a stressful amount under any circumstances.

Friday’s travels for me began rather benignly with a faster than expected taxi ride to the Luxembourg airport and the resulting twiddle your thumbs and look for food time.  The plane was about 20 minutes late on take off, which seems to be the norm for about all of my European travel thus far.  With little turbulence on what was a small plane – carrying approximately 25 of us – I was pleased with a return journey that was allowing me to read some.  And then the pilot came on the loud speaker…

French…
Italian (maybe?)…
English…

“Good evening ladies and gentlemen.  We have a small problem.  While we have been in flight the air traffic controllers in Madrid have gone on strike.  We have two options.  We can return to Luxembourg, realizing the next scheduled flight to Madrid is on Sunday night [2 days later].  Or we can divert to Barcelona and you can wait there to see how the situation resolves.  We will be taking a vote of the passengers on these options.  Thank you.”

You gotta be freaking kidding me!  I have planned for a lot of possible travel situations in my days as an adult but there is no planning for this contingency.  I immediately begin planning my trip from Barcelona and thinking about the train timetables I studied on a recent trip there, wondering if they might still be cached in my computer’s history.

The flight attendant has begun working her way down the isle, passenger by passenger, repeating in many languages the story from the captain and scribbling a vote along side the name of each passenger on her manifest.  Being close to the front, only 4 votes were cast when she reached my row (all for Luxembourg, I might add), which was shared by a young woman who also preferred an English explanation.  The attendant and the captain had their stories straight as I detected few inconsistencies but she did let slip more detail.  “The strike is planned through at least 1am [about 7 hours later] but we really don’t know as this was unscheduled.”  “Don’t worry; we have enough fuel to return to Luxembourg.”  Looking back, there is a lot of humor in some of these statements although I only had brief levity waves at the time.  I just kept thinking, “how am I going to get home?”

But luck was on my side in a strange way last night and before the flight attendant could finish her polling, the captain was back on the speaker.  French, another language, English…”The striking workers have agreed to let any flight that took off before 6 land so it looks for the moment like we are going to Madrid.  We will begin our decent in about 30 minutes.”  So being on a schedule 5:15 flight that took off closer to 5:45 seems to have been my saving grace.  From that point, there was no mention of the event again by the staff and things moved silently like every other flight I have taken.  You approach a dark city, seeing only intricate patterns in the lights of the roads and houses.  It’s not exactly reassuring to know that your plane is being controlled by someone who isn’t sure they really want to be working that day, but I eventually landed in Madrid.  I even made it home in time to tuck Dorothy in.

So, now, I have just gotten a text from Eric, a bit after 6am.  He stands in line at Air France, his flight not showing cancelled but the line seemingly endless and doubt invoking.  The Spanish military took over the airspace over night.  Iberia, the main Spanish airline has cancelled all flights until 11am.  Air France seems to be checking people in and taking luggage.  Fingers crossed for Eric!

All of this strike I think stems from some of Spain’s recent actions to try to put in place “Austerity” (aka budget saving) measures to build investor confidence and attempt to stave off a run like Ireland and Greece have seen.  I certainly wouldn’t expect this to be our last run-in with the backlash to these money saving plans.  This strike though should escalate lots of tensions in the country as it's at the start of a long holiday weekend with lots of travel planned.  Who would have guessed that with Eric’s first trip to Africa, a land of my travel complexities, he’d be having the hardest time getting out of Madrid.  I hope for his sake and his mom’s that this all works out.  He’ll make the best out of whatever and if he is to get cancelled or something at least it’s still in his home city so he can come back easily.  It’s been an eventful 12 hours for this household’s travel…

Abroad for Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving to me is the strangest time to be away from the U.S.  It’s the holiday that uniquely pulls at our heart in ways, which cannot be eloquently described, to non-Americans, especially in another language.  Independence Day is special but it is less of a family holiday to me.  This year was a weird one for our family in that we are living abroad but also Eric’s mother is abroad, too, having recently moved to Africa as a part of the Peace Corps.  So, for us it must be strange, but I am sure it was also strange for our family back home.

While we were in Hong Kong, Thanksgiving was always a let down.  There really were very few options for celebrating it there and so we got very disappointed after trying hard to find something.  We happened to be in Bangalore, India, one year and also attempted to find something there but instead ended up at a Pizza Hut with a close friend.  This is all came as baggage to Thanksgiving 2010, and is probably why we tried to deny that it was going to happen or that we had any special sentiment about it.  We had not celebrated Thanksgiving in 2009 because we had just been placed with Dorothy for adoption the day before so our life was a whirlwind; the planned outing in Chicago with Eric’s dad and step-mom was not to be.  But Wednesday night silent desire had bubbled up in our sleep, and any pretense that we didn’t need to do something to celebrate the holiday was gone.  Thus began our Thanksgiving.

After my morning workout, I consulted Google and came up with some promising possibilities for a Thanksgiving meal.  Eric suggested Hard Rock Café, which is close, but its festivities were sold out.  I called three or four other places I found listed, but all seemed full or required reservations at least two days in advance.  We were striking out.  I kept Googling, found one more possibility and hopped in a taxi because I knew like Black Friday that if there were any opportunity here it was going to require the skills I had honed in years of garage saling with my mother and grandmother.  Break out the shin-guards; this might get ugly.

Taste of America is a small store which was actually pretty close to the first temporary apartment we had in Madrid but I’d never seen it.  Google had led me there as I looked for pies or other possibilities to add to a modest at home meal.  After jogging up the block from where the taxi dropped me, I saw the awning and started to get excited.  I could see lots of activity.  I cracked the door and tried to squeeze my way inside passed the line of people waiting to checkout.

Each time I find a new stash of American items that I haven’t had in months, I must admit to feeling a little crazed.  It’s not like we are starving or even suffering in selection opportunities but I think this reaction is still natural, particularly when you are already feeling homesick.  I can only imagine how Terry might feel when she comes to visit from Africa or after finishing.  So, entering, my hands start to grab really random items indiscriminately.  Caro syrup – oh I have to have that.  Crisco – I didn’t even know I was missing you!  Barely four feet in the door I took a deep breadth and realized I needed to take control of myself.  I had no basket and no idea what I was doing.  Then, I saw them – pies – apple, pecan, and pumpkin.  But each of the boxes had a name written on it; crap.  Was I again to be disappointed?  Then I saw one on display.  Moving in, I picked it up.  No name, but no box either.  I moved over to the proprietor of the store and asked if this one was taken?  After much checking, and a little disbelief, she said she didn’t think so.  I took that as no and was off.  I was in line, determined to purchase said pie before they realized they were mistaken or something.  After about 10 minutes, and a nice chat in line with a woman originally from Wisconsin running a cooking show on Spanish television (check it out), it was my turn to pay.  At the counter I was also able to grab cornbread mix.  Oh, I almost forgot my other success – bagels.  I’ve been searching for them for a month to feed a very odd craving.  So with all of that, it was back in a taxi to home to figure out how to bring this together into a coherent meal.

Thanksgiving night 2010 for us ended up as cornbread, chili, and apple pie a la mode.  Combine this with a previously ordained web chat with Eric’s mom who had Internet access just for the day, and that was our night.  While I worked some during the day, Eric had to work a full normal day, including several hours of Spanish lessons, so he was less than festive.  I think his Facebook status for the day summed up his mood – “Bah! Humbug!”  Things didn’t turn out as bad as they seemed they might at the beginning of the day but next year we’ll definitely both be taking the day off.  We have so many things to be thankful for and to celebrate together with food, fun, and a relaxed day.

It’s Time to Experience

These last few months have been exhausting.  While fun and exciting, most of what moving abroad with a baby means is a lot of stress, logistics, and downtime spent worrying about the many things you’ve neglected.  Parenthood certainly brings with it whole new areas for feeling potentially inadequate if you let it, and when you uproot your family and move to a new country no amount of time spent worrying on these issues seems enough to compensate for the changes in your child’s life.

But now is the time to start our Madrid experience…and I am ready.  Intellectually I know I have to but I have a lot of momentum around putting myself last on the list of priorities that needs to change.  It feels better already to admit this.  It’s been great to feel the vicarious excitement of others in our European adventure but I don’t know that I have actually felt a lot of that excitement yet.  My natural tendency is to be a bit guarded in my reactions, attempting to anticipate what could go wrong.  My parents do the same thing, which drives me nuts sometimes in them, but I know I do it as much or more than they do.

Our move to Hong Kong had a lot of this same pattern to adjusting; however, there I had more time to explore because I wasn’t working as much and we weren’t parents.  Also, there, I got very luck to fall in quickly with an awesome group of friends through a Stitch ‘n Bitch.  I haven’t yet found that outside group that is not work and is not parenting that I feel fully connected with here and selfish in attending.  So, the exploring begins.  We are no longer moving to Spain.  We are no longer new.  We live here; get into it!  There are a lot of possibilities and things to be excited about.  All the worries and things unfinished will still be unfinished later!

So I Skip Verbs Sometimes...

When you move to another country, personal interactions become much more important because so often you are clinging to the 70 percent of a situation which you actually understand through reading visual clues, gesturing, or other things in the context of a situation.  I don’t think I ever realized how much of communication truly is beyond the words before living abroad (especially with a baby).

Now, I fear I rely on these other signals too much.  Sometimes without realizing it I just stop using important things when talking – like verbs or sentences.  The brain is truly an amazing thing and the more I live with myself the more I realize I’ll never fully understand my wiring.  But two things related to language have appeared while living abroad. 

First, is the verb skipping habit. There are days where I just feel like I can’t communicate at all with people; then I’ll realize its because I am skipping all verb usage.  Just trying to act out my verbs or imply them doesn’t seem to work well.  This usually gets Eric rolling as I am sure it really is quite entertaining, although at the time I am thoroughly embarrassed and will deny I am doing anything out of the ordinary.  

The second thing I have learned is that my mind can handle learning another language but nimble it is not. It’s like the handle on that part of my brain is really heavy and takes a long time and effort to toggle back and forth.  Case in point, on a recent trip for work to Italy for 2 days, rather than just speaking English (or staying silent) I would instinctually respond in Spanish (or French – I don’t know where that came from!) but there was nothing in my brain which was inclined to use the few words of Italian I knew.  This brain is rusty!

But even for the all the weirdness of interacting with others with this brain in a foreign language I remain remarkably not good in, it’s possible to get about anything done, with enough time, frustration, and insanity.  Sometimes the little things like working through an internet connectivity issue over the phone or that the dishwasher is electrocuting you (yes, this was actually happening) become the small miracles of the day.  The victories over yourself and your inabilities.  The victories of feeling a bit more at home.  Who needs verbs...not me...well, except in writing this.  

A Spanish Wedding

Iglesia de San Manuel y San Benito

Five minutes until the wedding was to begin, we stood on a busy sidewalk across from Retiro Park, groom a few feet away checking his iPhone for a just-arrived text.  Up the few steps that separated us from the cathedral entrance a parade of exiting people flooded out.  They went left; we were on the right.  Slowly it became apparent that one wedding needed to end before ours could begin.  Our first Spanish wedding but apparently the third or fourth wedding in that cathedral that evening (ours was set to begin at 7).  It's hard to imagine a U.S. bride putting up with this scenario but for the Spaniards this all seemed normal.  The ceremony is only the beginning of the process, and they were all out for the long haul.  Unfortunately, we weren't.  We only had childcare coverage for the ceremony, not for the hour and a half bus ride, the dinner, the dancing or the 6 am bus ride home that would follow.

So, we enjoyed the curiousities of the ceremony and look forward to attending a full wedding in the future.  We were late additions to the invite list (one of Eric's colleagues) since we’d only met a few weeks earlier.  It was quick for a Catholic ceremony, about 35 minutes, but very beautiful.  We were on time as we only had to walk over but many of the guests were late, we think for lack of parking.  One particular guest made her way down the isle ten minutes into the ceremony and proceeded to have the first pew of attendees all scoot over so she could squeeze in.  I'd love to know who she was!  No attendants here.  No ring bearer.  Only the bride, groom, mother and father.  The bride and groom sat in the middle with the priest and the parents on either side, to help arrange the long train and provide the rings are the appropriate time.  I understood very little of the wedding as the grand setting and somewhat muffled acoustics made it simpler just to enjoy the ambience rather than to focus on any details.  The only major sections I picked up were the Lord's prayer and obviously the vows.

Street greetings

I should note one other Spanish wedding tradition that I am sure our American friends would wince at.  With the invitation the bride and groom provide their bank account details.  No wedding gifts from Crate and Barrel here.  Just send the money from your home computer in advance.  This is one of the few areas of Spanish life where they are oddly efficient and non-emotional.  We spent more time kissing in greeting and on exit than in looking for the wedding gift.

Baby + Ruth

We have been blessed with a wonderful nanny in Dorothy’s life these past six or so months – Kate.  She’s probably ruined all other nannies for us as she’s very caring, independent, and smart and has great intuition and instincts.  But happily for Kate, she has a life to live in Chicago…

So enter Ruth.  Ruth is Dorothy’s new nanny.  She started on the 20th of September.  She is Honduran and has lived in Spain for about 5 years.  She’s in her late 20s and seems a very curious, gentle, and hard-working woman.  She is trying very hard to improve her English and to help us with our Spanish as we navigate the new terrain of caring for Dorothy and finishing settling in here in Madrid.

Different from our situation in the U.S., Ruth is living in our home.  She has a separate apartment with a quasi-separate entrance and everything.  It’s good for us as we get some additional flexibility and good for Ruth that she doesn’t need to maintain another place (although she does, at least temporarily).  But I have to say Ruth’s living with us has been more of a stress than I expected during this adjustment period.  Like any new arrangement there is some stress, and we don’t always get along.  I think we are seeing how much harder it is to get past some of that when you are staying in the same household.  But, I think we might be getting past the worst of that as the last week has been improving.

As for the language barriers, there is no doubt that Ruth is helping me with my Spanish, if for no other reason than the fact that she forces me to use Spanish more frequently than I would otherwise.  I have basically lost all my hesitancy in speaking and will now blabber on, very incorrectly, to store clerks, doctors, etc.  Ruth’s English also seems to be improving some but she still reports understanding me better in English than in Spanish (sad).  She’s making attempts to read Dorothy’s English kid books, if with a bit of a struggle.  I’d say she’s using English about a quarter of the time and exposing Dorothy to Spanish the rest of the time.  This was part of what we hoped for Dorothy so we’ll see how her language continues to develop.  So far Dorothy isn’t using many other words besides dada, but she’s very verbal and trying out many sounds and mimics often.

It’s funny to have someone in our lives named Ruth because that was the name of one of my great aunts.  Dorothy actually gets her middle name, May, from one of my other great aunts.  Eric said that the Ruth is about as foreign sounding a name as you can get in Spanish, as the language doesn’t really contain the right sounds to make it.  That’s somehow appropriate, as Ruth still has no idea what my name is.  She thinks of me as Eric 1 and Eric as Eric 2.  We have gone over and over “E.J.” but to her it just doesn’t work.  For a while she was calling me Ethan, which seemed about as close in pronunciation as she could get.  I’d like for her to eventually be able to say my desired name but for now it’s not much of a stress.  One of Dorothy’s younger “adoption cousins” (group of six families who adopted through our agency at the same time) is Ethan so I like thinking about Jill, Ross, and Ethan when incorrectly referenced.

Looking through the Tunnel

I swear some weeks fly by and others just creep.  This was a strange one for sure.  We’re not yet settled, but we’re not new to Madrid.  We have been here long enough that it’s embarrassing to say “no hablo espanol” but many aspects of the city and living still seem mysteries.

It was a rough 40 hours or so from Sunday night through Tuesday morning at 1:30am when our building’s water was shut off.  This summer we have had more water issues than I can remember ever having.  It started in Chicago where we lost water to our condo for the better part of a week.  It was incredibly frustrating and as close as I have seen to a riot in some time.  With hundreds of people living together and no water things got very tense very quickly. 

Dorothy has been battling a nasty cold since Thursday night.  She’s been a trooper with it but we don’t yet have a permanent doctor here so we are very anxious to see her get better.  Even though we have found lists of English-speaking doctors, when calling their offices are not as English-friendly thus far.  Dorothy’s new nanny starts on Monday so hoping we don’t have to go to the doctor before that time and we can go with someone who speaks some Spanish (although little English).

We have our new apartment.  Things got signed on Thursday night.  It is quite exciting if still a bit surreal.  The only things that occupy this apartment until our shipment from the U.S. arrives next week are a few random bottles of water and a nearly finished room for the new nanny.  Since she’ll be living with us we had to get everything set for her even if we aren’t there full-time yet.  Closing on the apartment was significantly more stressful than either of the homes we have owned previously but I think I’ll leave that for another post.

I have a call with my brothers in a few hours.  Will be good to catch up with them.  We started doing three-way calls which is kind of fun.  Seems to be a lot more like we are all together than when just talking one-on-one.

So, lots of adventures this week.  Several marathons I could have cared to do without but all and all still a good week.  I think we see the light at the end of the tunnel that is flashing “settled” and I hope we make it there soon.  Vagabond life can be exhausting.  

I Almost Paid $20 for Betty Crocker

It’s a strange thing the price we will pay for something.  A bottle of water is the physically identical whether it’s sitting in at a store in Minnesota or the Sahara, but I am pretty sure where I’d be willing to pay more for it.

Being abroad makes one reconsider significantly what tastes and media are essential and will be bought at almost whatever price to satisfy a short or long-term need.  It can feel a little absurd sometimes – how much abundance we have of local fair – and yet we all know how cravings work and the mad abilities they have to drive our minds.  When I was in Chicago, surrounded by pizza, I would crave Rudy’s pizza so badly sometimes.  In Hong Kong, it was Mexican food and we would seek it out in the most obscure locations and cook it at home on our little burner.  In HK, we indulged in a weekly People magazine fix.  Brought over to a few special locations it could be found for about $12-15 if I remember correctly.

Sunday, we were running late with some things and realized that all the stores had closed and we were planning to make a cake for Dorothy’s nanny’s birthday. In addition to cake needs, the water in our building was out (and remains so).  So, with few other options, I went down to VIPS.  VIPS is a strange store. I’ll try to summarize with a few simplified references and likenesses for different people in our lives:

• For all our Kansas friends   VIPS = Hastings + Kwik Shop + Hannover’s House of Pancakes 
• For our Chicago friends   VIPS = 7-11 + Borders + Lou Mitchell’s
• For everyone else   VIPS = convenience store + small book store + lunch counter

VIPS had all that I needed and was a block away.  But with the footprint of British colonialism still underlying most of the distribution channels for English-language media and food, I was faced with many more options for sweets and baking things from the U.K. than from the U.S.  Biscuits and Cadbury’s abounded.  But I wanted cake or brownies.  One row of Betty Crocker met my gaze and I immediately grabbed.  It looked perfect.  The brownie mix that I can pick out of a line-up blindfolded.  I only in passing even bothered looked at the price, as this was something I NEEDED.

         15.99€

I stopped cold.  Apparently $20 was my limit for brownies.  I couldn’t do it.  Knowing that I didn’t have vegetable oil and that substituted olive oil was already questionable, knowing that I had no milk to accompany the brownies, and knowing that I still had to bake them, I passed the Betty Crocker by.  Instead I settled on a British brand, surely inferior, but at 7€ and requiring only butter, it seemed a safer bet.

Box in hand, I return to the rental apartment feeling partially victorious, that is until Eric asks, “what are you going to bake those in?”

A Few Things I Love…

Less than a month in, here are a few things which I’ve found different – and thankfully so!

• Spanish almonds. Um…hello!  I am not sure I can ever go back to California almonds!  So similar and yet so different!
• Leisure. There is no doubt the Spaniards know a thing or two about lounging.  It’s a weak point for me but I already feel as if I can actually just sit around on the weekend and do nothing and be totally content. I am not even sure lounging is the right word because that would imply intent to relax while I think they just stay relaxed. 
• Bank service. We have a personal banker who I go in and see daily.  Hopefully that will slow down soon, but for now it’s my morning ritual.
• A seatbelt sign that turns off. The Spanish airlines do not keep the fasten seatbelt sign on for any longer than absolutely necessary – finally! 
• Restaurants that care about the food. While I don’t love all the Spanish food I’ve had thus far, I do love that the places that I’ve been scant with my consumption seem genuinely concerned. 

From Formula to Film...A Few Things I Miss

I know I am spoiled.  I get it.  I am American and I’ll never totally understand all the ways in which this privilege plays its way out everyday of my life.  But I really miss some of the things I took for granted in everyday life back in Chicago – what I considered little things are apparently luxuries.

• Instant baby formula.  Who knew that only in the U.S. could you get baby formula that doesn’t require you to boil the water?  Our search in Spain has come up empty so far so yesterday Dorothy transitioned to her new Spanish formula and we are now starting the kettle several times a day.  D grew well on the instant mix! 
• Movies and TV. If I were consuming Spanish language films and TV, I’d be in heaven, but sadly I am nowhere near that state. And apparently every popular website for content viewing in the U.S. is protected so only certain IP addresses can access – screening you out if coming from outside the U.S.  IT is advancing, as this wasn’t the case when we lived in HK only 5 years ago.
• Dry cleaners. Definitely wouldn’t have predicted how hard it’s been to find a dry cleaner.  Madridians are crazy fashionable and everything is pressed.  I think they must iron at home all the time.  It’s insane.  And the dry cleaners we’ve found are insanely expense – more than $5/shirt.  

It goes without saying…friends, family, and all our loved ones back home – we miss you the most!  These are all minor material things or conveniences, which makes it funny.

On Holiday?

It was Labor Day in the U.S. which means absolutely nothing here in Spain.  It is the first of many disconnected holidays that will without a doubt leave us somewhat mismatched with downtime in comparison to our American friends.  But when you are already 7 hours away, a missing holiday or an extra holiday is hardly noticed.  Lucky for us, most of the holidays appear to favor Spain.  Eric has a calendar for work that has many fun surprises for two Americans who aren’t expecting a four-day weekend in October – it’s like Dorothy is already in school and we’ll be having a parent-teacher conference.

Over the weekend we took our first day trip of what I hope will be many.  To Segovia we went, an hour away by drive.  Through the mountains we went, Dorothy napping away in route and waking cheerfully on arrival. Segovia is known for its spectacular stretch of Roman aqueducts and they did not disappoint.  Hard to believe their incredible practicality at the time they were built, and I am sure the Romans could never have imagined the scene that would unfold around the aqueducts over the years.  In addition to the architecture, we saw several impressive cathedrals and a palace – the example from which Walt Disney drew inspiration for his California Kingdom many years ago.  The food was not that impressive except for a few sweet treats that did not disappoint.  Specifically, my favorites were the macaroons (French version).  We had a strawberry-flavored one that was the most amazing macaroons I have ever tasted, gushing with soft flavorful frosting.

ID Card Material

I've been incredibly neglectful of photos but we are truly still getting settled and I have no idea where the camera's computer connection cord is.  So I thought I'd share one of Dorothy's ID photos, taken on Thursday (9 and 1/2 months).  Pretty soon she will have two forms of picture ID - her passport and a Spanish NEI card (identity card).  This shot was for the NEI.  It turned out really cute but will forever enshrine one of our temporary attempts at new hairdos, some of which are more evenly spaced than this one!  I actually kind of like the differently sized poofs.

This is the second time we have taken Dorothy in for a passport-like photo where the technician has delivered the photos to us and voluntarily printed out a bigger photo for us to take home.  It's very been very sweet!  But the technician in Chicago did freak me out when I went (without Dorothy) several weeks after Dorothy got her passport photo to Walgreens to pick up some other photos and she had printed out this free copy.  The fact that she had seen enough of our printed photos to remember D was my daughter and knew where her passport photo was stored in Walgreens's big computer system was enough to stir some privacy concerns for me.  If she hadn't been handing me photos of our cutie, I would have been creeped out.

Gaga for Real Madrid

We are interviewing nannies for Dorothy.  It’s been one of the three continuing stresses in our relocation – 1) finding a good nanny for D, 2) finding a good place to live, and 3) making sure we had all our money in the right country at the right time to allow for #1 and #2.  Our new nanny will actually live with us, which adds a new level of pressure to an already guilt-laden decision.  After some networking with people from Eric’s work and reading up on the subject we decided we had to use a nanny service and were pleased to interview our first two candidates last night.


I wish we had a nanny cam installed in our apartment as the interviews themselves I suspect would have been highly entertaining YouTube material.  While productive, let’s just say I don’t think Eric or I felt exactly the most professional in our interviews.  Both candidates had some professed level of English language capability, but their abilities were much closer to my current level of Spanish ability than any actual dialogue proficiency.  Thus, daughter in tow, we proceeded down the windy question and answer path trying to gather details on perspectives, plans, and logistics while not being offensive in our attempted translations of big picture topics and constant jumping back and forth from English to Spanish, Eric to E.J. (Eric to translate for E.J.), and so on.

As an example, consider what I think was a fairly typical question from when we interviewed for nannies in Chicago.  “Please describe your ideal family or situation.”  Well, it became quite clear than in translation this question was coming across as what type of family they would like to have in an ideal world.  Needless to say, both candidates interviewed had large eyes and somewhat puzzled looks until we hastily added “por su trabaje”, our probably incorrect attempt at saying “in your job.”

It’s hard to know what experiences to count the most.  On the job training, formal education, a high level of shown organization, or ability to be creative and flexible. One of the candidate’s most recent experience was working for a player on the Real Madrid (pronounced royal) soccer team.  This wasn’t something which was of particular interest for us other than the experience gained but we have a feeling she will be hired quickly as the team and its players are so loved in the city.

In reality, it was probably a pretty good interview as someone working with you in your home often sees you in your less polished times.  We were left with very good impressions of both candidates and continue to debate our next steps.  Language is no doubt going to be an early issue, but we will both be taking some form of intensive Spanish training and we want Dorothy to learn both English and Spanish over the next few years.  So we'll see after the weekend how our decisions go.  It's a relief to finally meet some candidates if nothing else and hopefully with any luck we'll find someone who fits well.

All of Madrid has Returned

I was a little bit of a sceptic on this notion that Europe takes August off but after our first few weeks here I can confirm August is vacation month.  On our arrival we found at least half of the stores on the street with signs of temporary closure.  Eric has been trying to contact people with advertisements to rent an apartment and to date only one agency has actually responded (out of more than 10).  Everywhere we have gone things are tempered with the fact that it's August...so...you know...no one is here to do that.  Even the Starbucks I have started to frequent which is close to our current rental was near empty at all times of day...

...until now.  Last night, the last night of August, everyone seemed to come back.  Our street became packed and our avenue which seemed like such a quiet change from Chicago shared the many sounds of its people well into the night.  The return of normalcy and business should be good for us and allow the completion of important tasks like setting up a bank account, getting a permanent rental, and finding a new nanny.  So now, we have no more excuse of it being August - it's time to get fully settled.

Digital Phone Amazement and Entertainment

Digital phones are among the most amazing inventions and truly changing the nature of how place is perceived.  Wherever we are at in the world, as long as there is an internet connection, the way people reach me by phone remains the same thanks to my digital phone.  In Hong Kong and now in Madrid we maintain a local Kansas City phone number which means that it's possible for us to call anyone in the U.S. directly and for the same to happen in reverse.  While I could go on about how life changing this has been for me personally and professionally, I think it'd be more fun to focus on one new digital phone feature which wasn't around when we were in HK but is now more common - digital voicemail transcription.  

I love the concept of not having to actually listen to voicemail and of having some written way of keeping track of them.  That's what digital voicemail does, it transcribes a voicemail and puts it into an email form so you get it wherever you are and have email access.  The thing I didn't expect with this service was just how entertaining I it could be.  

Case 1: The poorly transcribed voicemail

Date	: Aug 16 2010 09:33:24 PM
From	: OMAHA NE (1402XXXXXXX)
To	: E Reedy (1XXXXXXXXXX)

"Hey Jay, it's me it's ish cheese pizza finished not really sure. Just thought I'd figured during the night. I'll be up for a while. If you wanna give me a call otherwise I will hopefully catch you tomorrow before before you and I also well, hope turkey went down got a bus and I talk to you soon. Bye "

This message was from my brother and while I know he loves food the digital transcription had him seemingly food obsessed...cheese pizza and turkey.


Case 2: Some things are funnier written than when heard

Date	: Aug 27 2010 12:53:40 PM
From	: TOLL FREE CALL (1866XXXXXXX)
To	: E Reedy (1XXXXXXXXXX)

"Hi I'm calling for Eric 3-D this is Nancy with RCN. Just following up on it. Looks like someone else may be moving into the apartment not exactly sure. Unless we have the apart all. I'm sorry. We do have the information here. I I apologize. You have a great day. bye bye "

This was an apparent phone call from our former cable and internet provider looking into why someone was trying to sign up new service at our house.  What I love in this transcription is how you can see the stream of consciousness.  It's maybe not that funny, but I've reread and reread this one over the last week for some reason.  

The Crawlers

It's been a good weekend in Madrid.  Feeling our way around town, we were able to explore new possible neighborhoods and some areas which are starting to seem familiar.  I should be accurate - Eric was able to explore.  I would be lost right now if it weren't for him and his insane abilities at navigation and visual memory.  He's taken all the driving thus far and thus most of the real stress in navigating the streets.

Today, Dorothy decided to crawl.  This afternoon and actually more precisely about 4pm.  She's had the abilities for a number of months but always shown more interest in walking than crawling but something clicked in the living room of our rented apartment.  Lucky for us, Eric and I were both there to see it so that made it all official.  These things really are like the Olympics - until witnessed by someone else in addition to yourself it's not going to make it into the record books.  I can't say that there was anything surprisingly appealing at the end of Dorothy's gaze that appeared to drive her desire to crawl and close space quickly but it was obvious the rest of the night that she's a woman with new freedom and we're going to have out hands full.

Three crawlers in Madrid sounds a little disgusting and creepy but its a good sign we are all gaining some confidence.

Once in Madrid - Loco...Twice in Madrid - Amor

Nearly a week in Madrid and I am on the plane back to Chicago to pick up my visa. It didn’t get approved before we needed to leave so I went to Madrid as a “tourist” and waited for the phone call from the Chicago consulate which would take me out of the netherworld and make clear the direction of our next few years. While we have been headed towards living in Madrid for some months (actually close to half a year), I have continued to keep my guard up and to prepare for what we fully expected would come – rejection of our family’s legal legitimacy. But the world is changing...finally.

I visited Madrid for the first time a decade ago as the first leg in my version of the classic college summer trip. I was newly out of the closet and reexamining my world view. I’d spent every summer during high school and college close to home at a job, educational opportunity, or volunteer role. I knew it was time to get away and spend some time figuring out just who I was. I, like most newly-out gay people I know, had a new zest for life – the love and happiness that comes from clearing your chest and being accepted by those who love you without hesitation. It truly was the most invigorating year of my life. Eventually, I returned to earth and realized that I didn’t have special super hero powers.

Why I chose Madrid as my destination really was a mystery to me at the time and now. I had some high school Spanish so I think I thought I could go there and get by. But if I’d really done my homework I think I would have found that most people with high school Spanish can do little more than read the random street sign – they are not equipped for immediate plane departure conversations with natives. Whatever it was, when I landed in Spain, looking back, I think I lost my mind a bit. Perhaps it was being on my own, perhaps the foreign country – whatever it was, I was loco. I proceeded to hold up in my Madrid hotel room (a single – no hostel there) for two days, eating primarily trail mix that I’d brought from the U.S. I took my entire time in Madrid to try to sleep and to curl up in a ball on my hotel bed and try not to freak out. I didn’t go enjoy pinchos (little tapas like meals). I don’t remember going to see any sights. I remember walking down a couple of streets and attempting to buy some food from a local vendor and getting completely freaked out. It was such a sad visit. (Note to reader: my summer improved dramatically following my next city in the trip – Paris – where I hit bottom and seemed to come out of whatever stupor I was in.)

So I am really glad after one week I didn’t let my one previous Madrid trip color my consideration of our family’s move. I have found Madrid to be quite delightful, if a bit empty with August vacationers exiting the city. We have constantly explored in our attempt to see different neighborhoods and consider the big decisions which need to make in the next few weeks. I am really excited for the next few years and the opportunity to live in Madrid. Perhaps I’ve matured a lot or perhaps I am more open to things now than I was when first a visitor, but it somehow now all seems destiny. Things come together in the craziest combinations when we look for opportunities instead of roadblocks.

Without Address - In Route to Spain

Friday we sold our place in Chicago, a closing and important step in our forthcoming move to Madrid. Eric, Dorothy, and I are hold up well in a hotel in downtown Chicago for the weekend. It was a good time to visit our favorite spots and act like tourists in the city we've called home for close to four years. We expect to hear from the consulate Tuesday that we can pick up our visas. The interview there last week went really well and didn't raise any new issues in paperwork not completed, same sex coupledom, or anything else. If the call comes, then we'll leave on an Iberian flight to Madrid Tuesday PM, arriving Wednesday morning. We've got a three bedroom apartment booked for six weeks from when we arrive that is fully furnished (including crib) so we will be able to take some time looking for the right rental place to move into when our stuff arrives. The move out went well but was exhausting as any move always is. Everything we own is either in one of our 7 suitcases or in a 20 foot cargo container which is likely still in Chicago, awaiting our visa number so it can hit the seas. Our digital phone is up and working well so you can continue to reach us on the number which was formerly my cell. For now that's on forward to my new cell phone but after the move will be set to ring in Spain.

That's all the news right now. We've gone from totally craziness in moving out and closing on our condo to what seems like a real serene time before the move. Good to catch up on sleep and lounge for a couple of days. I can already tell that is going to be a passing phase.