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

Halloweens, Birthdays, Sausages, Football, and the occasional Surfer...pt. 1

What makes Halloween so interesting here in Spain is that it is a very new concept.  I'm assuming that Franco, Spain's former dictator, was not too keen on allowing the Pagan American tradition to invade his borders with his very strong Catholic views. I however have the privilege of working closely with children between ages 9-12 and it is very clear that they don't have the same grasp on the holiday as their American counterparts.  I of course gave them  pointers and hints on the process. A run down on why you take a pillowcase out with you to trick-or-treat and the best way to destroy your neighbors jack-o-laterns were key categories.  One refreshing thing about Halloween being so new and interesting to the Spanish is that they have not evolved (more like digressed) into seeing who can be the slutty-est or who can make the best interpretation of the last episode of SNL. Its terror, scary, and gory... the way it was meant to be... Give them 10 more years and I'm sure they will be finding the shortest skirts and the best dreadlock wig but for now, its nice to a good zombie walking around.  Which takes me back to the horse ranch at Alcala once again....

As I said in the previous post, my good friend Ivan was planning a Halloween bash and he is not one to disappoint.  I arrived with Alex and Dave to the ranch around 11pm surrounded by some good looking Ghouls 'n Ghosts in full gore and regalia. (yes, that game effing scared me really bad when I was 8 or whenever nintendo came out with it... it was the theme song...I'm sure my brother Phil remembers).  A couple drinks into the party an urgent Ivan comes up to me and asks me if I can don a zombie mask, head out into the graveyard and scare children...... "Claro"

The Chicken King, ZombieDave, and 400yearold death queen... you know, taken the metro.

What I don't know is how much effort was spent putting this Haunted Ranch Walk together. It started of with a "Ring" like scene with creepy girl climbing out the well clawing at you, thru to darkened horse stables where assylum twin girls awaited with high pitched moans, into the horse arena turned graveyard where I waited with pick, shovel, and Zombie faced , into a SAW V warehouse where the butcher was waiting with chain saw revving.  With Zombie-Michael Jackson as their tour guide, the ranch walk was a scary delight.  About half way thru the night, a real headless horseman screamed thru the camp, tromping so close to party goers to cover them with dust as he stampeded by.  All the chilling senses you want grazed and shocked during this one special night of the year were perfectly tingled and hacked.

After the terror came the party.  Drinks and dancing flowed like candy corn.  Zombie-Michael Jackson paid his tribute to his former self and all attendees: Spanish, Foreigner, Adult and Child alike had a night that they may or may not remember.  Two huge thumbs up to Ivan and his crew for throwing the Halloween Bash that most party connoisseurs (as myself) dream of.

A few days to recover from the Halloween bash and the crew here at El Gran Salon are back at it again.  After a month long hiatus from the CouchSurfing world, we threw open our doors once again hosted some more of the most wonderful internationals you can find.  In addition to a couple of Bulgarian surfers (they weren't Bulgarian, but Russian, but we didn't know that until we met them, so we just decided they were Bulgarian), we also had the privilege of having Alex's Dad, Ralph, take in the whirlwind known as the  couch surfing world.  And Ralph brat (brought) sausage!  Homemade German Sausage!  They really are doing something different.  Because it was magnanimous.  Sure having a BBQ in November is a little late in the season, but delicious none the less.

Fast-Forward:-->Liters-->Malasaña-->Tapas-->Teach Bulgarians how to Shotgun Beers-->Bulgarians Falling off hand rails in Plaza Dos de Mayo-->Injured Backs-->Jager-------->Scene.

Yet another couple days of recovery, a few English classes learned and we come upon THE David Guss' big B-day. But before we ensue into that night of thrills, spills, and automobiles.... we shall take a break.  Also in the next edition of Angeloco on the Road: my first European football match.... the crowd goes normal.

-Lo

"Its the big button on every camera on the planet"
-Angeloco explaining how to function the whiteman's soul-catcher....

This is the beginning of the Fall.....

The precipitation in Espana drops for the most part on the flat area.

Cam y Alex hanging in the park.

The past two weeks have been a semblance of a normal and habitual life in Spain.... as boring as that may sound... its still quite exuberant and full of life. My friend Pepper (yes, the spice and the person have become one) and I have met a few times at the parks to take in the Spanish life to its fullest. Watching the Granpas play with their nietos and shuttling them from one piece of playground equipment to the next. Huge grins plastered on small children's faces as they hurl their little arms and legs down various slides and climbing apparatuseseses into the awaiting patriarchal arms, strong and weathered all the same.

In El Jarin Capricho... strumming...

As Pep and I pass time talking about the various different aspects we have come to enjoy and embrace, a small boy comes to listen to me strum the guitar. He listens with the correct amount of silence until the end of a song and gives a standing/jumping ovation. The drool which was barely hanging on to the side of his cheek has no chance of survival after the explosion of claps and laughter. A few songs, the mom thanks me for entertaining her little drool production factory, and 'el nino' squeals off to find another form of interest. A well spent afternoon.

Beyond lazy Sundays in the park, I have filled my evening with various metro rides and with a few English classes spotted in between here and there. Couchsurfing has been put on a hiatus for the month of October but as we end the month with Halloween in our sights, the flat prepares to open its door once again and take on a fresh wave of surfers in November. I doubt it will be as crazy as summer was, as there are not as many travelers, but you never know... stranger things have happened here in Madrid.

In addition to making common house improvements, I've taken upon the task of turning my balcony into a small garden. Being embedded in the city has brought out the urge to have some sort of Green in my life... I am open to any suggestions... as I have only attempted growing things out of dirt once in my life... and it was quite the task... I will give you updates on my progress...

Not the most exciting of posts but there is some value in returning to a normal cycle of life... but for you adrenaline junkies... here is a list of upcoming events!

• Halloween on the Finca: "Its terror, not sexi" Ivan's explaining how you are not to dress like a slut for Halloween in Madrid

• The Re-Opening of the Surf Hostel: El Gran Salon <----- click here We've put a lot of work into the place....

• My continued quest to educate as many Madrilenos as possible... for a small fee of course.
  

• The continued conquest of the ARIZONA REDBIRDS IN THE NFC WEST... yes, I have to stay up until 4-5am usually to watch the game, and thats only if a good friend skypes me, sets the computer in front of the TV while I yell and scream 5000miles away... Rediculous.. NO... Just Loyal!

• Thanksgiving! Gathering all the Americans I know to celebrate the offering of corn, vegetables, and other scrumptious foods from the Native Americans to our European settlers in North America... While the settlers returned the favor by giving them swine flu blankets.... (Don't send hate mail, I love Thanksgiving, but I couldn't pass up the opportunity)
  

Have you seen this mouth.... You can hear it from anywhere...

As always, come to Spain and enjoy all the things you are missing... you can only live vicariously through me for so long, before you take the plunge and come out.... except for Kim... we have noise restrictions here...

-Lo

"He has all the virtures I dislike and none of the vices I admire."
-W. Churchill

Where is the effing band!! THEY'RE ON IN 2 MINUTES!!

As most of you know, the flat here in Madrid participates in Couchsurfing.org. It has been one of the most rewarding parts of moving to Spain. Being able to meet new people from all over the world, having many different cultures show up on your doorstep opening horizons and removing misplaced stereotypes (most of the time) has been very rewarding. (One being that Americans don't know how to cook which I gladly dispell! The conversation usually starts by, "Don't you guys just eat fast food..... )

The Highway Children.
Back: Jodie Oaks, Uncle Meat, Flor
Front: Marquee Moon, Bottomless Liter, Willly Rockefeller, and Wilson Silvers

Our living room transforms into a hostel. Different furniture formations with proper names have been assigned:i.e. large dinner formation, movie watching formation, large sleep formation and so and so forth... the two couches turn into beds,and we have two single mattresses that go into the back of the room, next to the pole. One group in particular that has recently visited our hostel and the reason I allude to Couchsurfing, is the band: Uncle Meat and the Highway Children.

Yes, that is your cue to look up their Myspace and actually see who I am talking about. (www.myspace/meatykids) They have traveled down Europe from Manchester, England spreading the sweet sounds of folkiness and freelove and joy. As with any awesome traveling folk rock band that spends a few days(a couple of weeks really) at your house, long nites were had, short mornings ensued,and a slight split of the forehead followed me around for the remainder of the day. Each morning is started with the strumming of a banjo or mandolin and a slight smell lingers from the night before. Me and the flatmates would show up to some of their street performances to give the crowd a boost of energy and show our undying support. The patrons of Madrid are usually easily to obliged, especially if you sound good.

Highway Children on a train... Taking the Metro by storm...

One fine evening we made it out to Club Nuit with the band, a former strip club turned bar (you can't even tell with all the mirrors and awesome faux marble statues) and their special, 5euro all you can drink from 10-12... The alcohol is watered down, the bartenders are smug, and the beer is served by the 4ounce cup but even in the face of adversity one can enjoy themselves quite nicely. Although Club Nuit was a blast, the most memorable moment of the night was the metro home... The fun part about hanging with the band is that at a moments notice, they can break out the instruments and turn your life into a small music video. Waiting 10 minutes goes by really quick when you got a band by your side and the metro ride.... it went by in a jiff... don't know how much the one spanish lady appreciated when a motly crue of hippie rockers and their groupies sat next to her on the train, (she switched cars at the next stop) but I loved it.
Busking at Sol.

Along with great music, it was great fun getting to know what it takes to get on the road, challenge the world, and to see a complete different way of life. I learned a fair amount of Manchester slang (Chip you...) and the large scale meals cooked together are always great gatherings. I am sure we will see this group of wild childs again and more crazed nights to

ensue.

In other new, the departure of Caterina and other small Italian adventures, the world (the flat) is changed forever... find this and tonnes of other stories right here in Madrid... we'll do it over a big flat dinner... see you then.

-Lo

"Courage is not the absence of fear, but the conquest of it"
-Unknown

White Nights and Blurry Mornings...

Kevin has come and gone along with our good Austrian friend Phil but the tales of summer will be told for generations to come. They may include but are not limited to the following stories:

La Tomatina- Dirty Wet Tomato Red Fest.

Wingmans- The Fraternal Order of Crazy Men in Spain.

Recuerde Plaza Dos de Mayo!- The warcry will ring for decades.

Parque Warner- Its like you’re in Hollywood, except a little more classy.

El Tigre- Because El Leon doesn’t sound as cool.

Feliz Cumpleanos a mi- That means happy birthday to me.

Parilla- Like a sausagefest, except with more meat.

Fiesta en la Finca- Horses, BBQ, Eggs, Luis Jackson, and Ivanloca (Maniac).

Phil getting the most action he's had in years.....

Any of the above stories may be elaborated on by myself or Kevin. And half the tales will be withheld from the record books to remain as crazy memories of a wild month filled with madness and debauchery.

So I move on from a month filled of Hollywood a.k.a. Kevin expecting things to slow down a bit. This is not necessarily the case for Spain. The weather has cooled down a bit allowing Madrid to reawaken from its sleepy summer slumber. Holidays have ended and people and the Spaniards are back doing the things they do best, eating great food and consuming (you can’t say dr*nk, King’s Rule) wonderful beverages. Tintos de Verano flowed throughout the summer giving the drinker a brief respite from the unyielding heat.

So in honor of the last days of Summer what does Madrid do…. Throw a party of course. La Noche en Blanco (White Night) is Madrid last hurrah for summer bringing together the city’s biggest bands, best museums, performers, and sporting events. The museums open up their doors starting at 10pm and stay open until the party stops, 6am. Children and elderly alike use this excuse to skip a night of sleep and revel in the joys of the nightlife. The streets are quarantined from auto traffic and the people roam from barrio to barrio rediscovering the art and culture distinct to each area. The concerts don’t stop all night as you see Spanish bands, rappers, English rock, in addition to the broad range of street performing per usual from Madrid. Artwork from all of the country is displayed as people revel in the end of summer party. My flatmates and myself roamed the city for hours receiving an education on how successful a citywide party can be, especially when provided with the proper lubrication.

Me: and yes, its made from real Zebra!

We now move toward a more beer-centric style of outing in honor of Oktoberfest just a `hop’ around the corner in Germany. So cozy up as the leaves turn shades of yellow and orange with your frothy lager or warmed buttered rum… time for fall.

October starts and I start teaching classes again as all the kids head back to school. Stay tuned and I’ll keep you informed on what else Spain has in store for the closing of the year. Stop on by if you’re in town… I’ll take you to El Tigre… ask Kevin… he’ll let you know how it is.

Coming soon in the next edition of Angeloco: The Band: Uncle Meat and the Highway Children, they came, they saw, they were conquered...

-Lo

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

Attack of the Killer Tomatoes

For those of you who have not heard of La Tomatina, I have provided the following link for your information.

http://abcnews.go.com/Travel/story?id=5669478&page=1

It has pictures and little background story that every good red blooded American loves to enjoy. Now, I will tell you the real story behind that goes down in this little festival in Buñol, Spain.

ETA of the first thrown Tomato: Wednesday August 26th 2009, 11:00:00


Time: Saturday August 22th 2009, 15:35:09 (yes its a 24hr clock, rookies)

What one must do to begin La Tomatina is to sit around your living room with 6 of your closest boys, keep knocking around the idea of, "Yeah, man, lets effing go to the Tomatina, it'll be effing awesome!! etc... etc.."

This process takes place over at least 4 days. Everyone thinks its a great idea, but no one really makes any progress toward the goal of getting to the festival. Finally, a day before the party, your Austrian friend goes on-line and books two rental cars for 2 days. (Thank you Goose) After the cars are booked, you must go to El Rastro (the huge flea market down the street) to find clothes that you know will be destroyed. This step is optional, but fun nonetheless.

Time: Tuesday August 25th 2009, 16:15:48

The whole crew is assembled. 8 unripened boys heading to La Tomatina to become Marinara made Men. We pile into the Citroen C3's provided by the rental agency and head on the road.

Time: Tuesday August 25th 2009, 20:30:22

Flight Crews
Red: Wildcard, Rod, Goose, Sundown
Blue: Maverick, Iceman, Viper, Hollywood.

Four hours later, and we are still in the greater Madrid area. We have no clue which way is which and the Google Maps we have, aren't very good. We have made several stops for directions to get back on track, which is harder than you think when you haven't driven a car or used the freeway system, and solely relied on the metro for the past 3 months.

A quick bite to eat, some last minute supplies, and we are back on the road. A few crucial double albums are bought for the road trip off the side of the road. (De La Soul and STP) Road antics ensue, two cars packed full of vigor and excitement rage through the Spanish countryside to the coast. There may have been a full moon-ing, birds flying, and a few mama jokes thrown from car to car, but all expected.

Time: Wednesday August 26th 2009, 1:08:55

We arrive. Bodies achey and bladders full from the 5.5hour drive. We make one quick lap around the pueblo in the cars to find the best location to set camp, which took 5 minutes. Get out change into proper tomato attire and head to the drinking holes. 100-200 early revelers are out and about in the square with the same agenda as ours... Stay out until the last tomato is tossed.

Time: Wednesday August 26th 2009, 8:08:54

The sun starts to breach over the Spanish skyline. People who aren't crazy and decided to sleep a few hours start to horde in. The streets that were only littered with people throughout the night start to get full. The crew grab their last beers before the walk to the towne center. Chants, singing, and dancing accompany us as we head to the where all the action will go down. We were looking for the ham pole.

For those of you who don't know about the ham pole, where have you been... its a a greased telephone pole. Thats right a freaking 30foot telephone pole, greased with fat, I'm pretty sure its pig fat, and it has a ham on top of it... yes, a big 15lb ham.

What a ham pole looks like.

The point of the ham pole, is that the festival doesn't officially start until someone gets that freaking ham. We made valient efforts. At one point I had at leastfive full grown humans on my shoulders before the man-pile toppled over. And still no ham. Hours go by. The crew is exhausted. The ham taunts us from atop this over grown 30ft greased toothpick. Exhaustion starts to consume me as my body begs for me to halt my exertions.

Time: Wednesday August 26th 2009, 11:00:00

The water cannon sounds! A second wave of excitement and energy surge through my body. The hair stands on my arms. Like giants lumbering through a dense forest, the massive dump trucks full of tomatoes plow their way through the field of humans. The tiny streets of the small pueblo can barely fit the trucks and the humans. People press each other up against the walls to avoid the large wheels. Like large koopa-troopa transports, the trucks are hold thousands of pounds of tomatoes and about 20 people hurling tomatoes at the bystanders waiting for their chance to hurl there own tomatoes.

When the trucks finally get to their pre-decided spots, they unload. The hordes ravage the pile of tomatoes. The smell of ripen tomatoes is inescapable. Tomatoes without wings learn to fly. Chaos ensues and there is no order, no rhyme, nor rhythm for the next hour. You lose your friends in the following mayhem. Bend down to grab tomatoes, only to stand up and get 3 to the face and one to the chest. I grab tomatoes by the half dozen and look for my next victim. I am hunting. I find Tucker, we exchange tomato melees, and as he reaches down for more ammunition, I fill his face with a virile tomato paste. (He thanked later for this, as he found a nice young lady to remove the paste, with her bra) No one said it was a friendly food fight, just a food fight.

Time: Wednesday 26th 2009, 11:15:00

The second cannon sounds. No one is spared from the battle. No prisoners. We start the long walk back up the hill to find refuge. The locals bring out their hoses to try and rinse off some of the revelers along the way back to reality. The acid from the tomatoes itches the skin and burns the eyes. I see a pillow take flight and explode full of feathers. The feather stick quite will to my hair and I lumber back to the car looking like a bad halloween chicken. Testosterone crazed men try to rip the shirts of peoples backs on the walk back. I find Kevin along the way to they car. I take a second look at him and realize his face is not normal. Two butterfly stitches are attached to the right side of his face.

"WTF" I said.
"I got uppercutted in the face, I've been at the medical/festival headquarters for an hour"
"That sux"

Like I said, it was not a friendly fight.

Time: Wednesday 26th 2009, 4:20:09

Iceman after hours of being faced by tomatoes.

We get to the cars and rinse off as best as possible. I succumb to my exhaustion as we take our crew to the beach in Valencia. The water of the Mediterranean washes over us like a warm salt bath. We find some shade next to a wall and all pass out for an hour or more. We make the long trek back to Madrid and try to recall what we just experienced.

"Did that just happen?"
"Yeah, I think it did."

-Lo

"Every fight is a food fight when you're a cannibal" - Demetri Martin

Back in Madrid: Fiesta de La Paloma

My days in camp are over... I've learned tons of lessons about children, games, language barriers, and Spanish life. I plan on heading back to Acalà for the fiestas at the end of August, but I'm sure I'll have a full entry on those nights... Let's not get ahead of ourselves.

La Latina

My barrio is one of the most international areas of Madrid, La Latina. You have to go off the tourist beaten path to find the small boutiques, international cuisine, and rocking bars. Anything ranging from South American flare to the Middle Eastern hooka lounges, La Latina is where you want to be for the world vibe. This weekend was the fiesta of the patron saint of La Latina, La Virgen de La Paloma. Needless to say, Spaniards don't need a reason to party, but it always helps to have a common Saint to cheers to...

Fireworks booming over La Latina.

Tucker (the new flatmate), Erik (Couchsurfer), Robin (fellow teacher on the farm) and I head out to the main plaza to throw back a couple litros. My photojournalistic side takes over and the memory card starts to fill up. Thousands of revelers walking shoulder to shoulder with no other goal except to eat good eats, drink good drinks, sing good sings, and smoke good smokes.

Advertencia!: When ordering a 'Mini' expect a liter of whatever drink you ordered...
Ex: Dame un Mini de Gin y Tonic => Expect a liter cup half full of Gin and half full of Tonic.
Its like calling a fat guy 'Tiny'

The masses congregate around fountains taking up any ground space available to give the legs a rest, take in the view, and get some people watching done.... maybe splash a girl or two.

One interesting aspect of the fiestas that they are non-discriminant to age. I have seen 2 year olds out with their parents and I have seen a 75 year old couple out on the town in traditional Spanish garm, full flamenco dress in tow. This is all at 3 or 4 in the morning... It may seem strange, and you would think the kids and the grandparents would both need naps, but the Spaniards pull it off well.

The fireworks put on a spectacular show, the fiesta starts to wind down, me and the boys say good-bye to the awefully friendly Spanish girls we met along the way, and we start the trek home. The glow of the Sun starts to peer over the city, adding additional haze to my sleep lacking mind. La Paloma has done it again.

Tucker (the bearded wonder), Me, Maria, and the two Sonyas at the end of Fiesta de la Paloma.

Kevin is officially on his way in two days, fiestas in Acalà de Henares, and I expect full mayhem to ensue....

If you want to join in the fun... you can hide in Kev's luggage.

-Lo

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

Camping, now in Spanish!!

The second round of smallish Spaniards have come and went. Its very strange to look out into a group of people, expecting to see familiar faces, only to have your mind tricked... I see all the same bodies, and shadows. Hear the same familiar voices, and pitter patter of 10 year old feet, but the faces have changed... They have transformed into different smiling faces yearning for knowledge and acceptance...The experiences that you have with the kids is great, although short, and leaves great lasting impressions.

Alberto with his prize horseshoe!

Other experiences besides waking up, singing, teaching, playing, reprimanding, picking up, feeding, footballing, running, and putting to bed the kids has been Ivan. Ivan is probably the most kind and interesting Spaniard, if not human, I have met thus far. Ivan is the Spanish farmhand who takes care of maintenance at Esgaravita and more importantly, the horses. He has joined me and my English teachers here at the farmhouse for BBQ's and drinking on many occassions. (He doesn't drink alcohol, but he gets wasted on Coca-Cola, it really hillarious, its a site to see) He takes care of the farm I am at in addition to a very large horse ranch about 15mins away. This past Sunday he took me, Sara, Camilla, and Pepper to the epica (equestrian center) to get some horseriding in.

Ivan making out with the farm burro, Ramoncito

Suffice it to say, I haven't rode a horse, or anything that resembles a horse(other than my motorcycle, which is very different I've learned) since an awesome Grand Canyon trip when I was approx 12 or 13... Ask my Dad, It was one of those trips that you remember forever.

So I'm sitting on a horse. We're walking along, checking out the Spanish countryside, crossed a small creek, loving life. We start to trot, going good, I can handle it. Pepper's horse, Baraka, is one of the wildest horses on the ranch and doesn't really want to do anything but run. He starts to run... that means we all start to run. Pepper and Sara run off at rapid speeds. I lose site of them as they run full speed into some trees... Of course my horse, Mysterio, follows going pretty fast, at least for me... the trees speed by me... Sara gets hit in the face with a branch, knocking off her glasses and cutting her on the forehead. I see a 15 foot steep embankment to the road. One would think the horse would go up slowly, but he's obviously done this before and hits the hill headstrong. I lean forward, hug Mysterio's neck and close my eyes... Effing crazy horse. We all end up on the road. Looking at each other, wondering what just happened. We headed back to the epica for some beers and to relax. A great Sunday of riding thanks to Ivan. Friday he is throwing a BBQ at the ranch for a birthday and to say good-bye to some teachers leaving for bigger and better places.
Me and a horse... just relaxing...

Camp is winding down and I'm starting to look forward to my life after camp. Heading back to Madrid, and starting to find more work, and plan some travel. Updates to come.

If you around, and in town, let me know, and we'll get down..... brown clown....

-Lo

"Its not the experience you have, but the people you experience it with..." Pepper Walkup the Baraka tamer

Red Hot Spanish Summer...

Welcome back to the Angeloco Spanish Hour... Grab some popcorn...

¨Lo¨ entering one of the many workshops...

The tornado of a week has flown by leaving a warpath ingrained in my psyche of life at camp located in Alcala de Hernares.... La Esgaravita.. All the cliches are true... Everything from 'Ernest Goes to Camp' to 'Red Hot American Summer' can or has happened. Our oldest campers are about 14 years old so we don't get some of the craziest camp pranks available, but it is still non-stop coas- (choas in espanol)...

Yesterday all the campers got in a ton of trouble for taking all of their canteens and having a water fight all throughout the bunks... I found it quite entertaining, but the monitors did not... On top of being an English teacher at camp, I am also a semi-camp counselor helping to organize all the activities these 100 kids do... So yesterday we went to a pantano (small lake) for rowboating, archery, and wall climbing. A good and exhausting day all around.

Tons of camp games such as 'Angels & Demons' and 'Capture the Flag' are played often. Camp romances (twelve year olds holding hands) and rumours are prevalent. I am in charge of the bi-weekly sports outing to the community soccer fields where huge 'partidos' (matches) ensue and a quick dip in the pool afterward. And of course, the big 'buzon' (mailbox) where everyone can have their letters sent to their friends and read aloud to the whole camp... Good times.

The Americans showing the Spainards what a Slip ´n´Slide is...

My class consists of eleven 8-9 year old spanish children who are so fun and cool to hang out with... I've receive several drawings on the white board from the girls, and the boys like to bug the girls while they are doing it. I'm very happy with the group of kids I have to teach and hopefully some of the concepts and vocab sticks... But, I also understand I only have two weeks to teach something in an ever changing camp environment. At the end of the day, the kids are here to have fun during their summer, and keep their english levels consistent with constant usage in social situations... Its a blast.

I never went to summer camp, but now I'm catching up for lost time.... The food is very 'campy'.... As in mass produced... and just tasty enough to be called food.. Sometime the lunch ladies (They serve all meals, but its just easier to call them that) surprise you and know how to make a really good spanish dish in mass quantities. My fellow teachers and monitors are fun to hang around and we work well together... Sometimes you need to just hang out with a couple of people your own age and have a nice cold one after dealing with spanish brats all day... So its good to have them around...

Some of my best campers... throwing up the hangloose sign... since thats all i do all the time...

Fourth of July went off without a hitch... I brought a little piece of the red, white,and blue to camp... We had a true American BBQ complete with burgers, dogs, and Bud. A six pack of longnecks costs an arm and a leg but the nostalgia was worth it...

All is going well. Its hard not to be going well when my biggest responsiblity is to entertain 8-12 years olds in english... sometimes they bug.... but come on... its camp...

Kevin just booked his flight to Madrid... just another brave soul taking up my offer to enjoy the spanish lifestyle.... more to come

"We're not superstitious, We're Catholic" -Katrina explaining the difference between superstition and catholicism.....

Careful what you wish for...

So it has been 10 days since we last spoke and much has occurred... It seems I start every post this way, and that's the way it will stay. Until I learn how to post regularly, that is...

A few days of a little class and a lot of relaxation pass without much excitement. I attended an intercambio (English/Spanish talking exchange, for practice) in which I met tons of new Spanish friends and went out for some drinks afterward. Topics such as music, sports, and cultural differences of ten arise. A couple days in the park, watching people, birds, and fishies do their thang. Making a trip over to 'El Tigre' for some awesome beer and even better tapas. (They're always better when they're free) The Canterbury Crew (the name I just gave to me and all my classmates) put together a 'House Crawl' in which a few houses are assigned a drink to host for an hour or so and the whole party jumps from house to house throughout the night and all across Madrid. Many games of 'LCR' ensued... So like I said, uneventful. (Oh yeah, and I broke my camera. Funeral services to be held on Friday...) But that was until everyone in Western Europe decided they needed a couch to stay on... So of course we let them stay.

The past two weeks, our flat (yes, that means apartment) has been crawling with internationals hailing from all across the globe. You have already read about Bridgette y Veronica couchsurfing in the best hostel in Madrid, and now adding to their ranks are the following:

• Jill y Lissanne (Amsterdam,Netherlands)
  
• Dave y Tim (Washington, USA)
• Geoffrey y Friend (Sorry I don't remember his name, France)
• Anna y Lena (Winnepeg, Manitoba, Canada)
• Tomas y Mark (Los Angeles, CA, USA)
• Kasia, Sara, y Monica (Poland y UK)
• Sara y Jeremy (Fellow Gauho Locos!!! California, USA)

Yes, thats 15 couch surfers in 2 weeks, not including the 4 flatmates, all in a 4 bedroom flat, with one bathroom.......

Suffice it to say, its been a little crazy around these parts in the last few weeks, hence the blog abscence. And its only polite to show the surfers around town every once in a while and make sure they enjoy their stay here in our humble Madrid town. (Cue 'What is Love' music) In addition, I was brought up that it is very rude to have houseguests and not have a suitable dinner... So about every third night there has been an American Style Barbque (Bakersfield Style!!) bringing together Burgers, Chicken, Pasta, Tortilla (Spanish Potatoe Egg Dish, not what your thinking), Salad, and drinks. The drinks were mainly Tinto de Verano (Wine and Lemon Soda) which aren't technically American, but they were served by the pitcher, so I think they still get an honorable mention. Many nites with full glasses and full bellies. The glasses eventually were emptied and the Kings cup was 'consumed'.

Two more of Mark's (my flatmate) friends are in town and another 4 couchsurfers are on the way... The wave of people just keeps coming... I would like to thank Katrina, my flatmate, for organizing and being the Hostel coordinator for the past two weeks and the weeks to come. She loves doing it and it is a lot of patient and hard work at times. She runs a tight hostel around here.

I only have two more days left in the flat until I take off for summer camp in Alcala de Hernanes for a month and a half, so I plan on enjoying them. Mark takes off for Japan soon and I will miss him immensely as he has been my guide here in Madrid and has shown me the ropes of this crazy town. Things have still not settled down completely and I am about to shake it all up again. Summer camps here we come.

So, now that you know I'm not joking around, why don't u schedule that flight out to Madrid and take me up on the offer. You better be comfortable with the hostel experience though... Its quite different than the 'W'....

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