My birthday and New Year's

What exactly my left hand was trying to do in this picture escapes me, but here I am on my 27th birthday. The celebration we had was rather quiet, in compliance with my personal birthday custom ever since God knows when. As soon as I got out of bed, my mom and I walked to Carrefour to buy a birthday cake, strawberries and ice cream which we would later discover was lemon sherbet. I cooked paella again, garnished it with a couple of lemons we had picked from trees outside the flat, and brought out some leftover wine from New Year's. My mom sang to me happy birthday.

I didn't stumble upon life-changing epiphanies on my birthday, neither did I see the light at the end of the tunnel. My body was too tired from all the holiday rush. I was just thankful for all the good things that had come my way in the last 27 years, and I started to watch TV on the couch, wishing I could do more for myself and for others in the years to come.

NEW YEAR'S EVE
In Spain, doce uvas is a tradition observed on New Year's Eve which consists of eating consecutively twelve grapes at every strike of the bell in the countdown to the new year. People normally gather around a plaza with bags of this fruit taken from home, to await the striking of the cathedral bells. The 12-second countdown starts with the first strike. One grape must be swallowed for every strike if one is to have good luck in the following year.

In Malaga, my mom and I went to the Plaza de la Constitución to see how this was done. We didn't know that we had to eat the grapes while the bells were being struck, starting instead to chew just when the countdown had finished! As soon as the clock struck 12, couples kissed, champagne bottles popped, cameras flashed. My mom and I were busy spewing out grape seeds on the floor.

There was a live concert at the plaza where we stayed for a while to dance (my mom danced, too!), light some fireworks and just immerse in all the revelry. We reached home at 2:30 am and I sneaked my mom into the flat under the security guard's nose, and we resumed pigging out on the night's fare.

Travelling with Mom

The holidays turned out to be a dream come true. My long-standing plan of taking my mom to Europe and traveling with her was finally fulfilled. How do I sum up the adventure? A contradiction of sorts. The whole time she spent here was exhausting for me but invigorating, quick and yet somehow dragging. Her presence was both a welcome respite from thesis work, and a daunting challenge to make each day perfect.

We left Malaga for a week-long tour before Christmas, wrapped in heavy clothes to fight the winter cold. She was the star of the journey, I was the tour guide. The baggage boy, the photographer. Given her age, I thought the trip would be too physically demanding. However, it was clear that my mom was giving it her best. We made it together to the top of the Florence Cathedral, hurdling 463 steps!

The experience was a learning chance for her. I fed her bits about history and art, and stuff like ionic, doric and corinthian columns. The itinerary I had prepared took us to three cities, which were Rome, Florence and Barcelona.

ROME
The first thing that welcomed us in Rome was a door. We flew in at late night and headed straight to the hostel, only to find no one to open for us the door. We frantically knocked, pushed the door bell and called out. However, the hostel looked closed for the day. I thought for a moment we would have to sleep on the streets! I walked back to the station, called the hostel owner's mobile, and when I got back to the hostel, my mom had already made friends with other hostel guests. Apparently, management forgot we were arriving!

Despite that, and a failed pickpocket attempt on the train, Rome was still a favorite. We went to the Pantheon, Colosseum and the Vatican City (see pic on the right), and traversed the narrow cobbled streets around Piazza Venezia. Revisiting Rome, I realized its charm was not only found in the major sights, but more in its old office buildings, its colored walls and 10-foot wooden doors. Tourists throw coins into the Trevi Fountain believing that would ensure their return to Rome one day. My mom and I followed suit, using one-peso coins!

FLORENCE
Florence has a lovely cathedral, the Duomo, whose marble facade boasts charming shades of green. I wasn't really planning to take my mom to the top, but somehow we entered a wrong door, found a ticket booth, paid, and before we knew it, we were climbing our way to the rooftop. Aside from the Duomo, the city's real gem was Michelangelo's David (the pic on the left is a copy of the original statue). When we went to the Galleria dell' Accademia, where the real statue was being kept, I couldn't take my gaze off its imposing and seemingly perfect physique. David's body looked incredibly strong, alive and human, it sent my poor hormones into a panic.

The hostel where we stayed for two nights turned out to be much better than Rome's. The place looked spanking new and guests could freely use the Internet to boot. There we ran into Diana, a Filipina who was part of the establishment's housekeeping staff.


BARCELONA
In Barcelona, we shared a flat with Lendert and Yushin, a young Dutch-Chinese couple from the Netherlands who had just been engaged when we arrived. I swear the guy was a real looker in person, I couldn't help but envy his girlfriend! We got to Barcelona in the late afternoon of the 24th and had a simple Christmas dinner with them in a Chinese restaurant. We spent Christmas day itself gallivanting around the city, relaxing, buying souvenirs and preparing for the long train ride home.