What's for Christmas eve dinner?

Ajo colorado (patatas con pimientos)

Chuleta de buey a la bilbaína and some good company...

MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!

Stuck in Stockholm

First things first: anakngsinampalukangmanokputangina!

Let me repeat myself: anakngsinampalukangmanokputanginatalaga!

For those of you who are not from the Philippines, I just said a very bad word in my native tongue. The reason behind my ire (and near insanity) is a very unfortunate incident that happened this morning. I'm supposed to be back home in Malaga and enjoying a full night's rest in the privacy of my flat and yet I find myself typing these words at Arlanda airport in Sweden. Have you guessed why? Because I MISSED my fucking flight!

Yes, that one thing I thought would never happen in this lifetime finally materialized. My flight left at 6.45 am today and I had stayed up all night for fear of oversleeping and missing the first airport shuttle at 4 am. I didn't miss the shuttle and yet the next thing I knew was that airport staff was informing me that I was sure to miss my flight. Why? Because I was at the wrong airport!

So right now, at 21.36, I'm still here in Stockholm and pissed off on what is supposed to be the worst day of my life. Pardon the word pun in the title but I couldn't think of a better one to describe the situation. All I want to do now is get home.

Apparently, Stockholm has more than one airport. By "more than one," I don't mean two or three but FOUR fucking airports. It so happened that I took the wrong shuttle at Central Station and I was transported to the wrong airport, which was, by some strange twist of fate, TWO hours by bus from the right one.

Truth to tell, apart from my constant and strong gut feeling that something terrible would occur on the last of day of the tour (of all days mind you!), there had been some signs that something would go wrong:

1. The shuttle driver announced that the trip to the airport would take an hour and 25 minutes. When I first arrived, the trip from the airport to Central Station had only been 40 minutes. However, I kind of ignored this detail because I thought that the shuttle would simply do more stops than during the first trip.

2. I was supposed to fly from Arlanda airport. When we were nearing our destination, I kept on seeing road signs that said: Stockholm Skavsta Airport. I mistook Skavsta for the Swedish word for airport because in some countries they DO use the local word. In Norway, for example, there are signs that say: Oslo Lufthavn, and the latter word means airport. I didn't realize that Skavsta was the NAME of the airport that we were going to, and it's located in the outskirts of Stockholm in the middle of fucking nowhere.

3. Upon entering Skavsta airport, nowhere in the huge monitor that displayed all departing flights could I find Malaga.

4. At Skavsta airport, the system is different because everybody, regardless of flights, gets to check in at the same counters. I joined the queue and thus wasted some precious time. When my turn came, the check-in person couldn't locate my booking number in their database and so advised me to approach a counter at the back end of the lobby. Right there I sensed something was wrong and yet I kept my cool. The lady said she didn't believe it was a big problem.

And so there. The next thing I knew was that the lady at information was breaking to me the news, rather gently, that I had come to the wrong airport. There was no way I would make it on time because it was barely over an hour before departure and Arlanda airport was two hours away, even by taxi. I didn't realize the gravity of the situation until much later in the day; I would later get increasingly pissed off, and finally, mad like hell.

Of course, the first person to blame for this incident was myself. I had read about Stockholm's having several airports and did not pay enough attention. I KNEW that my airport was Arlanda. But unfortunately, it's not enough to know which airport your flight is departing from, you should also note which airport it is NOT departing from. Perhaps I should have slept last night so that my mind was more alert and this would have not happened.

Apart from myself, who else was there to blame? Who could have known that I was headed for Skavsta airport? Well, the answer is... the shuttle driver! The ticket that I presented to him before boarding the bus had "Arlanda" written all over it. And there's a different fare for every airport destination. He should have read my ticket carefully and not simply punch holes in it.

In any case, thanks to the wonders of the Internet, within half an hour since that painful realization that I wouldn't go home as planned, I was able to book the same flight for tomorrow. My original ticket didn't include a rebooking insurance, so I had to pay the whole fucking amount again, which was heartbreaking. Throughout the trip, I had been scrimping in order not to exhaust my budget limit. I knew that upon returning to Malaga, I would have other expenses. But all that I'd saved during the past 10 days just went to waste!

After a heavy breakfast at Skavsta airport (I ate a lot with a heavy heart!), I headed back to Central Station. I dropped by the supermarket to buy some food for the day because I knew that at Arlanda, where I had decided to stay until departure tomorrow, everything was ridiculously expensive. So I bought two liters of orange juice, one liter of mineral water, a pre-packed cold pasta dish, a sandwich, some donuts and pastries, like I was going on an excursion. Then I headed with my stupid grocery store plastic bag in hand towards the shuttle stop and this time I boarded the shuttle for ARLANDA.

As soon as we were at the airport, another equally terrible incident almost took place as if the gods were really conspiring against me. Upon entering the vicinity, the driver announced that the shuttle would stop at Terminal 2, 3, 4 and 5. What the fuck? So it's not simply Arlanda airport, but it's even more complicated. I checked my flight booking in search of the terminal number but it was not indicated, so I didn't know where to get off. When the shuttle stopped at Terminal 2, virtually everybody got off so I asked the shuttle driver if that was the terminal for Sterling airlines. As soon as he said yes, I stepped out and made for the baggage compartment to retrieve my backpack. However, I noticed that the shuttle door almost immediately closed and the tires were beginning to turn. The shuttle was leaving with my baggage in it! I lost my cool and ran as mightily as I could towards the front door (it was a looong shuttle) and banged with extreme force on the windows like the Malagueños do, to keep it from leaving. Astounded by the banging, the driver stepped on the brakes immediately and I signalled to him with a hey-you look on my face that my baggage was still in the compartment.

He didn't seem too happy about the banging but hell, I wasn't about to allow another misfortune to befall me. Two incidents on the same day would have been too much for my heart! It's not like I just missed a bus or something, I missed my fucking flight!

And so I arrived in Arlanda Terminal 2 at 12 pm. I think I asked five different people if that was the right terminal for my flight just to be sure and not commit any oversight this time. I pulled a baggage cart and dumped all my stuff into it and then began the long wait for my flight back home.

What did I intend to do to while away 18 hours inside an airport? Well, a lot of things... a lot of pathetic things like stroll around with my baggage cart, frequent the toilet, eat lunch and dinner in a damn corner of the lobby, smoke a lot, whine endlessly and read. I fucking finished a 450-page Spanish novel that I had taken with me for the trip, and it was only 21:00 when I reached the last page.

Towards late afternoon, I got really frustrated and mad about the situation that I felt the need to destroy. I went inside a restroom and broke the flush handle of the toilet seat and flung it into the waste can. I went back to the lobby and realized that it felt extremely good to break the flush handle. So a few moments later, I went to another restroom, took a pee and left the faucet open. Oh, how good it all felt!

It's 00:15 now and I've got nothing else to do for the next five hours before check-in starts. What a lesson I learned today. If you happen to be reading this, make sure the same thing doesn't happen to you! Check your flight details! Otherwise, you'll have to pay a high price for your negligence.

As for me, I will make sure that I'm the first person in line at check-in later this morning. Puchanggala, di na talaga mauulit ito!

Wide awake in Kungsholmen

It's 1.05 in the morning and I can't go to sleep as of yet. I took a nap a short while ago but I decided I would get up around midnight so I can be sure not to miss my flight early today. It is cold here. And nice. Kungsholmen is lovely and it is my last stop in this backpacking tour which started 10 days ago. Later at 3 am I will have to check out of the hostel. It is so cold I have to wear my gloves as I walk two kilometers from here to Central Station where I'm taking the shuttle that goes to the airport. Or else my fingers would freeze and the joints would lock up like they did yesterday morning.

It's a good thing this hostel has free Internet access. The lobby is virtually deserted at this hour of the morning, it's just I and the wavy-haired hostel receptionist, and some light pop music playing in the background.

A short while ago one female guest in her early twenties just walked into the lobby and suddenly broke into tears at reception. It looked like she was raped or had just gone through something equally horrible. She just stood there for a few seconds in front of the receptionist whose facial expression gave a rather baffled but sympathetic look. It was quite a scene. Then suddenly the guy seated beside me at the computer terminal stood up and approached reception. The crying girl fled as soon as she saw him, because it turns out that the guy was her boyfriend. The still-baffled hostel receptionist is now playing psychologist to the guy, and I'm overhearing stuff like a lover's fight, engagement rings, and a huge sum of money that the guy dished out for a whole bucket of beer that the girl spilled in a bar last week. Then the receptionist asks the guy -- have you been seeing someone else while you're on tour, so that your girl might be angry or jealous? Hmmmmm... weird stories... weird stuff happening in the wee hours the morning.

I'm so sleepy, and my head is spinning...

Adventure starts tomorrow

I haven't travelled alone for quite sometime so tomorrow's trip will somewhat be a challenge. I have to admit that I've been quite stubborn because both travel literature and my travel buddy had discouraged me quite strongly from going to that place and yet in the end I chose to heed nobody's advice but my own. All I knew is that I wanted to be there! About this place, Lonely Planet warns: "Travel in _____________ from November to January is a pretty cold, dark and miserable option."

Well, we shall see...

English classes OVER!

Words are not enough to describe how relieved, contented, delighted, joyous and ecstatic I am that I have finally quit teaching English. I finally said goodbye to all of my students last week, and I'm posting pictures of some of them here. Oh, how I hated surfing the Net to look for grammar exercises, cutting out stupid visual aids, and having to commute and to show up at their doorstep with a plastic folder in my hands for the past one year or so. At last, all of that is now a thing of the past! And yet I would be lying if I said that I wouldn't miss my students. Their company, which perhaps made my teaching stint less nerve-racking than it would have been, will definitely be missed. The high school teenager you see on the left is Neto, who was my longest student for eight months. Right below are José María, Máximo, Cristina and Lourdes (who are actually fraternal twins), and the very adorable Ángel and Miguel.

Dark skies

I hate dark skies. In Malaga, we've been getting a lot of dark skies lately and the feeling that one gets by looking at them is generally cold. The clouds always seem heavy these days and it's hard to see a patch of blue. So I was surprised when I woke up this morning and found that the park outside my flat was blanketed with sunshine! What a pleasant view it was! I even managed to write a poem, and I feel quite good because I'd stopped doing it for some five years already. Reminds me somehow of my college "literary" past, but at the same time it feels odd to be doing it again. Anyway, here's the poem I just wrote.

Hilaga

Pa-hilaga
ang daang
babagtasin nitong mga paang
hahakbang unti-unti,
papalayo.
Mag-iiwan sila ng yapak
sa rutang walang malay
na iguguhit
subalit hinding-hindi sila
babalik.
Magbabaon lang sila
ng lupa sa talampakan
at sa pagitan ng mga daliri.
Aakyat sila ng bundok
at mamumuo ang putik
sa loob ng kanilang kuko,
tutubo ang mahapding balat
sa talampakan.
Lalangoy sila sa dagat
at mangungulubot
sa lamig.
Pagsapit ng gabi,
dadalawin sila sa panaginip
ng hilaga, at magbubulugan
sa pagtulog ang mga daliri:
Gusto naming matunton ang hilaga.
Paano kung matuklasan nilang
ang hilaga pala'y kathang-isip?

Sunday lunch

I met with my Brazilian buddies Patricia, Julia and Adesly this afternoon to have lunch in a Brazilian restaurant to celebrate Patricia's third year in Spain. I'd promised myself not to pig out, as I usually do in eat-all-you-can restaurants, but there was simply so much food! The waiters kept on making the rounds to drop off all sorts of grilled meat on your plate that you hardly have time to breathe and think before taking the next bite. We went out of the restaurant exceptionally fed, and with bloated tummies! Here are some pics...

Loss of knowledge

There is a certain experience in my life that I have been through a couple of times but which I don't how to describe without sounding vague or ridiculous. If you happen to be reading this and have had the same experience, be sure to leave a message. For the lack of a precise term, I must name whatever it is I've set out to describe here as the "loss-of-knowledge state."

It is a particular moment in your life when all of a sudden you lose your ability to communicate. The change occurs all of a sudden and can usually last for several days or a few weeks. For no apparent reason, your oral (not written) communication skills seem to hit rock-bottom, and you are almost completely inarticulate if not mute. You open your mouth but what comes out are random words, because in your head you can't string coherent or at least meaningful sentences.

While this loss-of-knowledge state lasts, you are powerless and have no control over the situation. No matter how hard you try to concentrate, it seems impossible to express complex thoughts such as opinions, observations or personal emotions. In extreme cases, articulating simple thoughts such as questions or commands can also prove difficult. The loss-of-knowledge state is so overpowering, that you often have no choice but to wait until it is over.

I call it loss of knowledge because I'm referring to one's knowledge of words and of speech. Your capacity for oral speech is momentarily disabled. It usually occurs when you are going through a particularly stressful period in your life, which is best captured by the Spanish concept of "nervios" -- an emotional state characterized by stress and anxiety. If you're thinking that being dumbfounded after a stressful day in the office (because you had an argument with your boss and embarrassed yourself during a presentation) constitutes a loss-of-knowledge state, then you don't get what I mean. Because I'm referring to something worse. Loss of knowledge occurs when two weeks have passed since that stressful day, your boss has given you a salary raise, your presentation has been praised by clients, and yet all of a sudden you find yourself incapable of coherent speech.

The closest comparison I can think of is a writer's block. However, I'm not talking about the few moments or hours wherein a writer can't seem to hit upon the opening sentence of his article. That's a petty kind of writer's block and must not cause worry. The loss-of-knowledge state is closer to a phase in which a writer is totally rendered incapable of producing any writing and has to wait for a few months or even years before his new piece comes out. Thus, I'm talking about a more profound and persistent kind of block.

Those who speak foreign languages are most prone to fall into this loss-of-knowledge state. All of a sudden, they can't communicate in the foreign language they supposedly know.

A couple of years back, shortly before leaving Japan, I felt I went through such horrible experience. Towards the end of my stay, my Japanese-speaking skills diminished almost to a ZERO-level. I couldn't construct complex and meaningful sentences. I could understand what people were telling me, and yet I couldn't shoot back with meaningful answers. For no apparent reason, I was limited to simple sentence constructions like "I see," "certainly," "really?" etc.

Right now I have reason to believe that I've slipped back into this loss-of-knowledge state. I feel that I'm losing my knowledge of Spanish! A few weeks ago, I was at the supermarket and no matter how hard I squeezed my brains out, I couldn't figure out whether plastic bags were called "bolso" or "bolsa." These days what comes out of my mouth are simple sentences with one subject and one predicate, and I can't seem to construct longer sentences that use relative pronouns such as that, which, who, whom, etc. It's as if I hadn't studied Spanish and lived here for two years!

Whenever you're trapped in the loss-of-knowledge state, your best bet is to simply continue talking to a lot of people no matter how dumb you might sound to them. The harder you try to overcome it, the more futile it seems to fight the thing. As for me, I think I am more curious than bothered by it.

In Filipino, there's an adage that goes "Hindi nananakaw ang talino." Which roughly means that knowledge can never be stolen from you. However, if what I'm saying is true, then momentarily at least knowledge can be taken away from you.

So, anyway, does anyone understand this post at all? Have you ever experienced this loss-of-knowledge state?

From Rosa Montero

I've been reading literature quite a lot lately, at least more than I used to since I graduated from college. The last book that I read, La Historia del Rey Transparente, was surprisingly like olive oil. It tastes good but you shouldn't take in too much of it. However, I stumbled upon a nice passage from the book which I would like to share. I'm not sure whether my translation captures the impact of the original, but here goes:

Los hombres suelen llamar destino a aquello que les sucede cuando pierden las fuerzas para luchar.

(Men often call destiny that which befalls them when they lose the will to fight.)

Food for thought?

Japanese friends on honeymoon

This is Tomomi and Yasuaki. For those who are not familiar with Japanese names, Tomomi is a she and from there the rest is easy. I've known Tomomi for some seven years now through a cultural program in Tokyo which we both participated in. It turns out that she tied the knot with Yasuaki last May and they decided to come to Spain for a belated honeymoon. It was fun to see them again! I got to play Mr. Tour Guide -- as I always do whenever some friends happen to be around the area -- and invited the couple to have dinner in my flat. Modesty aside, I must compliment myself for not messing up the food this time. My culinary skills are above average under normal circumstances. Yet for some reason, something fails whenever I cook in volume. So I was surprised (and almost bewildered) when everything turned out fine last week, except for the steak which kind of came out rock-hard because it wasn't completely defrosted before frying. No matter how disastrous that sounds, I was actually delighted. I've hosted more embarrassing dinners in the past :--)

Sleep2

For the past two weeks, I have been rudely awakened in the wee hours of the morning by a tiny and yet powerful noise. My bed is placed right next to the window from where the noise comes into my bedroom and it stays to hover around my face and my ears until my unconscious state is rudely interrupted. My usual response is to clap my hands helplessly in the dark and halve with my palm the air around my ears, but that is not enough to make the noise go away. It continues to fly, like a helicopter soaring above a volcano top, and shoots an annoying zzzzzzzzzz sound deep into my poor eardrums. The bane of my sleeping hours -- a mosquito -- just won't leave me in peace! I have a feeling that the same mosquito has been coming to visit me for the past two weeks. Because my room is always mosquito-free both during the day and right before bedtime, so perhaps it has always been that ONE mosquito with a bad habit of turning up at 3 am. The flapping of its wings, worth more decibels than my alarm clock and cellphone alarm combined, has always been enough in itself to suck me out of slumber. Autumn is officially here, but I can't close the windows at night because that would be too uncomfortable as of yet, so yesterday night my tiny little adversary came back again. This time, he wasn't back to simply demonstrate the vibrating effect of his flying skills, but he even bit me on the face! I just wish that his sucking tubes were clogged with more facial oil, than blood!