So I missed a year or so...

OK, so it may have been a while since writing... most may think that I have forgot how.  But that is not true and as I promised, I am in the process of revamping this site to keep you all informed of the fun and fancy free-good times..

And, if it's your first time, there is plenty to catch up on... You know, the whole Spain stuff...  You can go read old post for all that good stuff.

If you're back for more fun and adventure.. I'm glad you made it back!... I have a lot to catch you up on.

So, I guess a good start would be when the Andrecito was born...........

It was a dark, stormy, night.  The windows were being battered by torential downpour and lightning filled the skies every second.

All of that really happened except the rain, storm, and lightning.

But it was nightime.  And Sara was very, very much preggers, and by all the signals I could read, very much ready for the little bugger to make his brief exit.  A that would happen.  But it would not be brief. 



Once the Sara had the feelings and the contractions started going... we headed out to St. Joseph's hospital on the banks of the Missouri River.  Estimated time we arrived: 11ish pm March 31st

In the end... who is the fool really...

We get settled into the maternity ward and start getting excited.  Any hour now, we could be brand new proud parents! What's not to be excited for, even if neither of us had a car, savings, or a job to support our new frijolito.  We had each other, friends, and family.  The rest could wait.  And wait we did.  At about 12am April 1st I even had the foolish insight to write a welcome to our new bubba on a white-board in the delivery room: Welcome April Fool's Baby!

We stay up through the night, phone calls have been made to out of town family, everyone's getting excited!  We wait.
Morning comes and goes.  We play rummy and various other card games to distract Sara from discomfort and hunger as she's not allowed to eat.  Bubba's still not ready to come out.
We wait.
By late morning I succomb to my sleepiness and of course I get made fun of and pictures are taken.
We wait.
Evening comes and the contractions are getting further apart, causing some concern on a family already burdened by weariness.
We wait.
By nightime, April 1st, next step decisions must be made as we want to avoid C-section if at all possible.  We discuss with the doc and drugs are given to help along the process!
We wait.
Now, action starts happen! Contractions are going full steam! Nurses are making there moves now! It's rolling now!  Where hours dragged on before, seconds are flying by now!  Hand squeezing and yells between doctor and birthmom are constant!
Time of Arrival: 12:18am, April 2nd 2010......
April Fool's Baby....
Coulda fooled me.

So we have a prime and healthy baby frijolito and he's rumblin and tumblin all over now.
And more stories will come as I continue to update and re-vamp my Blog. 
And now, a shameless plug for my upcoming BikeRide for BikeMS.

And today's special delivery! Frijolitos!

I'm in the midst of training and getting my stamina up in order to complete 115 miles over two days!

Thats right 115 miles!  On a bike! 

So how can you help!  Go here http://main.nationalmssociety.org/goto/aaaustin63

and Donate!  Tell your friends and family!

A great cause to help fight MS.  Thank you so much and come back for more stories and adventures!

-Angelo

"Believe me, my children have more stamina than a power station. "

-Robbie Coltrane

Scorched Sunsets on a Salted Isle...

A post from what seems like ages ago... enjoy.

Cam and Pep shadowed by a Sicilian Sunset.


Benefits of being living in Madrid.  Going to Sicily.
As much of a hassle RyanAir can be... you really cannot be their prices... And as much of a hassle Italian language can be.... you really can beat the sea air, the wine, the people, the pizza, and the gelato..... God the Gelato.


I suppose I should start at the airport, where this trip almost got halted instantly.  I had a rookie traveler moment and lost track of my passport.... my less than legal passport... thru the security checkpoint.  I swore that I had it in my pocket but somehow by some twisted act of fate, it ended up in the pocket of our local friendly 'Guardia Civil' agent.  So the picture is me, pacing around the Barajas Airport security checkpoint, patting all my pockets,  checking my bag, cursing in English and Spanish, swearing that I just had my passport.  I ask the guy checking the x-ray screen if he had seen an idiot's passport lying around on the conveyor belt.  He points me to the Guardia Civil agent.  My heart drops.  Joder.  For those of you new to the Spanish federal law enforcement agencies, Guardia Civil is a little mix of the FBI and local Police, but most importantly they also play the role of the INS (La Migra). 


As if I didn't have a plane to catch, I walk over to the agent as calmly as I can.  He's busy on the phone.  I try to get his attention, he looks me up and down and returns to his conversation.  So as I stand 4 feet from him, waiting impatiently for a flight to catch, he continues to talk to his other Guardia Civil buddy about his upcoming weekend family get together.  I don't think he knew I could understand him, but he's also Spanish, so he probably didn't care.  He hangs up, and I throw on my best American tourist spanish, praying that he just looks at my ID page, and goes no further to my visas.  Flips through it, gives a quick glance at my bloated Passport photo, gives a double take, asks where I'm from, "California", flips to my visa pages, clearly doesn't really look at the dates... hands me back the single most important document someone abroad needs.  I walk back to Pepper and Camilla holding my bag and coat.  Situation downgraded from Defcon 2 to 4.  Lets go catch a Sicilian plane.


We arrive in Trapani, Sicily to a sleepy little village just big enough to be called a town nestled  into one of the small harbors around 10ish.  Me and my two traveling companions are eager to find our hostel/apartment to put our bags down and maybe 'mangiare' on some awesome cuisine.  One problem, none of us brought a map, or address to our hostel.... this trip is littered with rookie traveler mistakes....  We go into scramble mode and thankfully are saved by our flatmates back in Spain who text us our destination.  (I dropped the ball on this one)... End up in the living room of a 70 year old Sicilian lady, sweet as can be, but spoke not a lick of English, nor us any Sicilian.  We work it all out and we do get into our apartment/hostel.  The next few days are filled with flavorful pizzas, crazy rides in cars with Sicilian Pizza mom's,  sunsets on a salt crusted seaside,  ad hoc jazz clubs, and a foggy evening in a mountain village called Erice (E-ree-che).  The Sicilian people are wonderful and life seems to take an even slower step compared to Spain, which is saying something.  


The countdown continues when baby boy arrives, Sara and I are waiting impatiently, but in the same moment, are enjoying these last weeks of full nights rest.  Call or email to catch up say hi....


"And the adventure continues."
-Angelo A. Austin


-Lo






 

Triptophantopia...

This is a post that has been a long time coming... as it is almost two months old... but you can insert a cliche here about procrastination... and that will make it all better....

 Alex checking to make sure beast is in fact dead...


Notwithstanding, according to most American surveyed state that, Thanksgiving is the crown jewel of American holidays (I don't know if this is proper use of 'Notwithstanding', but reread the sentence... it just seems to fit just right).  El Gran Salon is not a flat to let an opportunity such as this pass us by.  So we ate turkey....  What more do you want... a long drawn out tale of how:  1: Alex and I had to go find a 2nd turkey since the Spainard at the market downstairs gave some BS excuse at how he could not get another turkey... after he promised me the day before, not even 15 hours prior... that we were just fine.... or 2: how we spent two days cooking some of the most wonderful stuffing, succulent, constantly basted turkeys this side of the Canary Islands...or 3: how we spent the night relishing in our Americana, introducing the several non-americans to the ritual of engrossing ourselves in the richest and most flavorful food that we, as Americans have to offer.... yes we did all 3 and did them to such a degree that all patrons were not only surprised but overflowed with bounty...

Ravaged bounty.

All brought additions to the feast,  such as the tradition requires.  Mashy Mashed Potatoes, Cranned Cranberry Sauce, Breaded Bread, Greened Greeny Salad, Aptly Appled Pies, and Creamy Creamed Desserts...and None forgot their plate, and although 4ths were available, no one took the opportunity...

Bottled and Boxed wines flowed like wine and all were glad to take their fill... a Power Point presentation of how Thanksgiving began was showed by Alex and myself... in order to inform the non-Americans of how this tradition came to be....  But since the actual version of the story is boring and oxy-moronic, we decided to misinform our guests and entertain them all the same... details are lost somewhere  between the triptophan and the stuffing but the bottom line was that the turkey's are responsible for the mass Native American exodus on the North American continent... and not Expansionist America... hence it is the most hated of all winged creatures.... and it is the reason why we try to eradicate them every 4th week in November.... we have yet to succeed, but be damned if we don't give it our best shot every year!

Not to make this my soapbox, but I mean, much truth is made in jest....
 
So, Turkeyday came and went... Tummys full and warm... Sweet tooths just whetted for the even more lavish holidays of the upcoming season... people succumb to the Curse of the Turkey... by falling to sleep within 25 minutes of consuming the beast... dangerous on so many levels...  Many 1st Thanksgiving Dinners for international attendees and I believe 'El Gran Salon' pulled it off quite nicely... many thanks to all who attended and contributed their efforts to the great feast...

Another victim of the Turkey Curse

More posts to come... See you then!
-Lo

"I love Thanksgiving turkey... it's the only time in Los Angeles that you see natural breasts."
-Arnold Schwarzenegger

The one post you want to read.

So, I have taken a hiatus from blogging.  I still hate that word.  Its been over a month since my last post.... Yes, I still have a Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year's post that I would like to put up....and I will get to those... but first, I have another story to tell...

So, one time there was this awesome American who met another awesome American in Spain....[insert cliche comment like 'Boy meets Girl' 'Crazy European Summers' ' Spanish Wine' ' Birds and the Bees' , Etc..] ... and now, I'm gonna be a New Dad starting this April!... (take time to read that again if you would like).

Some of you may already know this, some of you may not... but for those of you who actually read this (I think there are about 2 of you), I thought it would be irreverent to leave you out of such juicy details, although I gave you no details at all.  And no, this is not a test to see how long I could pull your chain... I'm gonna be a Dad!

That's really making a long story short.  But for all of you that are dying to know, I will be heading back to the States in February, not sure where for the long term or the short term that matter... all I know is that I have to go to St. Louis to hangout with a futbolista (Sara says el bebe has quite the boot)... and no, we don't know whether its a boy of a girl... but I know that is one of the first burning questions.

Me watching Rudolph in preparation.

If you have more questions, you can leave a comment, email me, call me, skype me, gchat me, or send a postcard and I will try to field it... in the meantime, I will be enjoying my last days here in Spain and hopefully get some good posts up before I leave on an even bigger adventure...

-Lo


"Live as if you'll die tomorrow, Learn as if you'll live forever." -Ghandi

Flat out like a lizard drinking....

Another birthday has come and past... Now we try to recollect what actually happened and possible find an explanation why our flat looks like it went thru a tornado with a B.A.C. of  .23....

El Palacio Real taken down the street from El Gran Salon...

To start the night Alex, Dave, and I head toward Madrid's center to take a walk, catch some great sites of our illustrious city, and grab some grub.  The autumn air was crisp and the people were out in full force.  Covered up and enjoying the increasing chill of the season.  I now realize how effing hot summer actually was here and how much I miss a nice cool breeze.  Walk by the Palace, stroll by the Arch at Principe Pio, and a tromp down Gran Via and we find ourselves in the city centre at Sol.  The city is bustling per usual on a Saturday night, each couple and group of friends with their own plans for an exciting fall evening.  At this point I realize how much I don't really know about the Spanish and their culture.

Principe Pio at night.

I've been here for six months now and still feel that around every corner I turn I see a completely different side of Spain and the mix of culture it provides.  From the ornery Spanish doorman who permits me entry into the apartment building he guards, against his better judgment, to the bright eyed South American toddler, probably Colombian maybe Venezuelan, who rides the metro fidgeting and leaning against his dad wondering how much longer this ride will be. Bright eyes and restless hands moving, flitting, without rest.

Walking thru the city, the sites call out to you and demand attention.  One must ignore their beauty and reverence if one wants to actually arrive to desired destination. We run a couple of errands, party prep, and grab a quick bday dinner and an overpriced and mediocre buffet.  What the restaurant lacks in quality, it makes up for in seconds, thirds, and fourths.  We leave the center, head back to the flat and await our birthday celebrants.

El Gran Salon fills quickly and liters empty even more so.  Approx. 25 friends from his school and around Madrid come to give him a Birthday shout out.  Italians make German jokes, Germans make American puns, and Aussies look like wombats...  Hours of palavering (read The Dark Tower) and the party wanes down.  We figured that Alex's absence a few hours into the party was caused by him receiving a special present from a lady friend.  We also realized that once everyone had left the party he was probably just passed the eff out.  We pounded on his door and received no reply.  Bird Law dictates that if one is busy with intimate agendas, one replies to a strong poundings on ones door.  (Watch "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia") With no reply, we decide to invade to find him more than soundly sleeping.  Dave and I make a non-verbal decision and launch ourselves on top of him giving him a rude awakening and administering more alcohol as medicine.  He quickly regains his bearings and we continue his celebration.

With only 6 or so of us remaining, we break out the birthday cake and give him a proper 'Happy Birthday' with matchstick birthday candles and all.

Alex ready to slice his cake as well as party goers...

A good birthday for all of us here at El Gran Salon and we look toward Thursday for our next gathering for Thanksgiving. (Which has already happened as I write this, currently digesting that triptophan laced meat)  Updates on Turkey day to come.  November has been a non-stop month, but Madrid isn't such a good place for sleep anyway, FYI for any of you planning on visiting.  We will see you next time, loyal reader, with full bellies and surrounded by friends and family.  Be Thankful.

-AAA

"Are you allowed to drink Absinthe with dinner?...."
"I didn't think there were rules here..."
-Lo & Wombat

Cause and Effect.

Autumn Art Graffiti captured by the Guss.

 As the temperature drops here in the center of the Iberian peninsula several changes take place, as in the rest of the Northern Hemisphere.  The autumn clothes make their debut and the scarfs seem to accent the spanish eyes quite perfectly.  Hazel-blues and Grey-greens stand out strongly against overcast sunsets. Botellons (large gathering of young drinking revelers) are harder to find and the crowds move indoors toward smoky dim lit bars and lounges.  Film festivals replace the outdoor music variety.

We here at  El Gran Salon have also shifted gears to find some more cultural related activities (besides eating chorizo and indulging in Mahou).

Jam Session at the lounge "El Plaza"

The latest: Jazz. Throw on your best M. Davis album and come inside, speak easy.  The Jazz scene here in Madrid is much like any other big international city I.E.: Chicago, New York...... but not the Utah variety.  A couple different Jazz fests have filled our auditory palettes with such jazz varieties as Lounge with accompanying Sax and Trumpet, Piano Jazz with added jazz flute (a la Ron Burgandy), and Latin Jazz infused with the rhythmic bongo drums (my favorite).

THE David Guss, El Ingeniero, Angeloco, and Wombat... taking in a night of Jazz.

It is peculiar and even refreshing to see the Spaniards, usually so entrenched in their own particular culture that one could only think of them as Spanish, take in something that is so unrelated and different.  The jazz singers melodic voice, although in English, traverses language and culture giving all listeners a sway that seems inherent in the human genome.  Smoke fills the small, intimate setting.  Whispers fills in the ambient noise, vibrato smooths and fades out mental chatter, and one can only sit back, slouch slightly in the lounge chair provided, and relax.  

Happy Birthday to Alex, tonight is another gathering of linked souls to celebrate the 23rd anniversary of the crazy German's birth.  Bring on the Green Fairy...
-Angelo A. Austin


"Don't play what's there, play whats not there"
-Miles Davis

H,B,S, & TOS.... part 2.

The south of Madrid at Sunset... Estadio Teresa Rivero

 Survival. The most primal of instincts.

Madrid. The most primal of foes.  Day in day out, it is awaiting you.  Menacing carniceros (butchers) offering you delicious meats. Angel faced Panaderas offering sweet nothings that make the eyes roll in enjoyment.  Jovial Meseros pouring amber goodness into copas grandes from behind their elegant oak barras.  And I am stuck here.  In the midst of the devils delights.  Donkey Island ain't got nothing on Madrid.  Now if I believed that such evils were out to get me in ill will, I would be flagellating myself more often than Ellen Degeneres dances in an ill-worn pant suit.  But I don't, so I just take it all in like Monstro the Whale.  One Jimminy Cricket at a time.

After the Russians took off back to Bulgaria (where they shake their head for 'yes', and nod for 'no') the flat headed right back into another week of crazy (like there is a different type of week).El Gran Salon went thru the normal week motions: learning English to kids and Adults (Dave and Angelo-->teachers), going to class to catch up on some sleep (Valerie--->Engineering Student), or just not going to class and learning more than usual (Alex---> Econ Student) The weekend speeds up on you with some big plans.  Number one, My first Spanish futbol match.  "Vamos Rayos!!"

Estadio Teresa Rivero sitting next to apartment buildings and tiendas.


 My friend Robin, previously from Camp Esgaravita... if you're keeping up... invited me to see a Rayos Vallecanos match in the south of Madrid.  We head up from the metro mouth which puts up about 10meters from the stadium entrance.  The stadium sits directly in the middle of a neighborhood, much like the famed Wrigley Field in Wrigley-ville.  Robin tells me a little history of the club.  Apparently, this club is situated in a more liberal part of town and during Franco's reign it was a place where the sentiment in the air was less than accommodating to the dictator.  One form of protest comes in the form of sport.  The Rayo Vallecanos have been a voice for the anti-fascist movement for years and the setting doesn't seem like it is changing soon.  The anti-fascist Madrid punk band, Ska-P, has even named a couple songs after the group of futbollers.  Look it up.

Recap:
Rayos Vallecanos laid a beat down on the visiting Real Murcia.  A two-nil final with Rayo striking early in the first 15' and again in the 90' just to cap off a dominating night.  The futbol hardly crossed the midfield stripe into Rayo territory.  I doubt if Real had more than 3 shots on goal.  Now that we know about the actual match, lets talk about the best spectacle of the match: The Hooligans.

 No one forgot their banner...Why?

Now I'm using this term loosely.  Its more like the superfan section.  Comparable to the student section at an college football match, except bigger, louder, rowdier, and soooo much more Spanish.  The flags they bring are not pennants.  They are FLAGS.  Ten foot PVC pipe draped flags.  The strong-but flexible pipe allows the holder to spin the flag wildly as they add their voice to the constant raucous.  Are there complaints to"put the flag down your blocking my view"... ha... that my get you a Spanish boot to the midsection... but that would never happen because you are already 3 liters deep and waving your own ridiculously huge Pipe-Flag.  

Because no one forgets their banner...

The chants are not chants, but Battle-Cries involving the entire 20,000 spectator crowd, none of whom are here to support the visitors.  I look around to see my Spanish neighbors and as they yell back at the 'call and response' the superfan section has started, I can see that they have been coming here week in and week out for the better part of their lives and I wouldn't find it hard to believe that each one of them did their time down in the superfan pit. 

At one point the superfan area splits in two sections, right down the middle.  The crowd is now completely in the aisles and each side is yelling and screaming at the other.  The Flags are then thrown into the middle, where there is now empty bleachers.  After all the flags pile in the middle, a battle-cry match ensues, seconds later... the two sections charge each other in Braveheart fashion screaming and yelling in a thrashing mosh pit.  The stakes, who brings the flags to the next match, I am assuming.  A minute of battle and the crowd is back to its previous state of cheering and hooliganing...  No real harm done as they are all on the same team, but it proves the kind of mentality these fans are in as compared to their American counterpart.  Like comparing Christian Bale's Batman to Adam West's...

Birthday song time

After the great match, Robin and I head back to the flat where I start to whip up some real Mexican Chicken Tacos, with real spice... (Cue Gabe, Why Not?) for Dave's Big B-day.  The flat starts to fill up with friends and family ( who are one and the same here as an Ex-Pat).  And to spice it up, throw in two French gals, a Romanian damsel, a Norwegian chick, and a Swiss maiden. Bake for 20-25 minutes and let cool. Liters are passed around as the Tacos are devoured.  Laughs, Stories, and Music flow thru the flat.  The lights shut off and votive candles are placed on top of the banana bread which is used as cake.  We all have a raucous night and good times were had by all until eyes fell black or until the metro opens at 6.

We relax for a few days, but there is no rest for the weary.  Alex's B-day is coming up in two days.  And if you don't know the routine by now, you're just not paying attention.  More to come... keep coming back for more fun.

The day after

-Angelo A. Austin

"I may have said the same thing before... But my explanation, I am sure, will always be different."
-Oscar Wilde