Shades of the '60s. Maybe it's all the Beatles music they listen to
these days.
Even Bailey wanted to get into the act.
Saturday, September 24, 2005
THE MORE THINGS CHANGE...
...the more they stay the same. Big "new fad" on display at the sports store today -- hula hoops. So we picked up a couple as a small birthday present for Meg. (Click on the images below to enlarge.)
Shades of the '60s. Maybe it's all the Beatles music they listen to
these days.
Shades of the '60s. Maybe it's all the Beatles music they listen to
these days.
THE TEEN YEARS: Play Ball!
Hard to believe -- Meg turns 13 today, the 25th Sep. We had a bit of a celebration Saturday evening as I have to fly to Trapani (on the Italian island of Sicily) tomorrow for the AC racing there this week and next.
She was going to have a girls sleepover Friday evening, but it was the first day of baseball practice. Meg and a number of her friends have taken up baseball, of all things, including her new friend Emily Smith (father Alan Smith is with Luna Rossa). That's coed (boys and girls) hardball, not softball like the "ladies" played when we were in school. So the big girls' birthday-party sleepover is postponed until next weekend, though Emily came over for pizza and a movie-sleepover anyway.
At the practice last night Meg hit on base both times, a solid single and a line-drive into left field that resulted in a double and an RBI. The coach is an American named Tyler who is in the U.S. Army and attached to the nearby NATO base. Very good with the kids. Most of the parents standing on the sidelines getting to know each other were connected with the AC. Some we knew and others we didn't. Nice to make some new friends on the other teams.
Meg had such a good time playing baseball Friday evening that today we went to the huge Decathlon sports store here in Valencia and bought her a mitt. We got a second mitt for Leslie and myself to toss with her, or for when Meg's friends come over without one.
Meg and I played catch for a long time this afternoon. My shoulder is sore! I think she's better at baseball than I was at 13. Meg was big into basketball this past winter at her school in Hamburg, and for sure she was then better at basketball than I ever was, but I think she is a better baseball player.
Together with soccer, which she also likes, and swimming, seems we have the stereotypical jock-teenager on our hands. Now if I can get her a bit more interested in sailing. In the meantime, Play Ball!
Meg hit on base both times at bat.
Trouble? Which cousin gave her those shorts?! Meg trying to tell us something
now that she is 13?
New friend Emily Smith and Meg waiting for the order at the local
pizza parlor in Puzol after baseball practice Friday evening. Pizza
after baseball practice. Toto, maybe we're still in Kansas after all!
She was going to have a girls sleepover Friday evening, but it was the first day of baseball practice. Meg and a number of her friends have taken up baseball, of all things, including her new friend Emily Smith (father Alan Smith is with Luna Rossa). That's coed (boys and girls) hardball, not softball like the "ladies" played when we were in school. So the big girls' birthday-party sleepover is postponed until next weekend, though Emily came over for pizza and a movie-sleepover anyway.
At the practice last night Meg hit on base both times, a solid single and a line-drive into left field that resulted in a double and an RBI. The coach is an American named Tyler who is in the U.S. Army and attached to the nearby NATO base. Very good with the kids. Most of the parents standing on the sidelines getting to know each other were connected with the AC. Some we knew and others we didn't. Nice to make some new friends on the other teams.
Meg had such a good time playing baseball Friday evening that today we went to the huge Decathlon sports store here in Valencia and bought her a mitt. We got a second mitt for Leslie and myself to toss with her, or for when Meg's friends come over without one.
Meg and I played catch for a long time this afternoon. My shoulder is sore! I think she's better at baseball than I was at 13. Meg was big into basketball this past winter at her school in Hamburg, and for sure she was then better at basketball than I ever was, but I think she is a better baseball player.
Together with soccer, which she also likes, and swimming, seems we have the stereotypical jock-teenager on our hands. Now if I can get her a bit more interested in sailing. In the meantime, Play Ball!
Meg hit on base both times at bat.
Trouble? Which cousin gave her those shorts?! Meg trying to tell us something
now that she is 13?
New friend Emily Smith and Meg waiting for the order at the local
pizza parlor in Puzol after baseball practice Friday evening. Pizza
after baseball practice. Toto, maybe we're still in Kansas after all!
Monday, September 19, 2005
WINE WHINE
LOL, here's one that reminds us of our favorite Auckland restaurant -- Merlot Wine Cafe in O'Connell St. Perhaps owner Erwin Zimmet will post this cartoon along with the others that are well hung in his restaurant....
Thinking about Merlot makes us a bit "homesick" for Auckland. Many of us involved in the last Cup got to know Erwin and his popular restaurant very well -- some might say too well given the volumes we sometimes consumed there, to say nothing of the tabs often run up. No wonder few of us ever noticed that the walls are actually purple!
Erwin, you used to live in Spain. Why not take a sabbatical and open a Merlot in Valencia for a couple years?
Life is too short to drink cheap
wine...and is verboten at Merlot.
Thinking about Merlot makes us a bit "homesick" for Auckland. Many of us involved in the last Cup got to know Erwin and his popular restaurant very well -- some might say too well given the volumes we sometimes consumed there, to say nothing of the tabs often run up. No wonder few of us ever noticed that the walls are actually purple!
Erwin, you used to live in Spain. Why not take a sabbatical and open a Merlot in Valencia for a couple years?
Life is too short to drink cheap
wine...and is verboten at Merlot.
Sunday, September 18, 2005
HAMBURG(ER)
Have no idea how I came across the story "Hamburgers and Fries" on the NPR website, but if one takes the article at face value it answers the question of what role Hamburg, Germany played in the naming of the hamburger. The gist is:
The true story of the hamburger's origins is more prosaic. Of course Hamburg, Germany, plays a role. But the real action takes place in America, where Hamburg steaks beget hamburg steaks, hamburgs, hamburgers, and, finally -- by means of the cumulative effects of distillatory coinage -- burgers.
The writings of epicurean Louis Szathmary reveal that, by the late 1700s, sausages of minced and seasoned beef were known to the British as Hamburg sausages. By as early as 1834, the menu of Delmonico's in New York City advertised a Hamburger steak. The circa 1850 popularization of the commercially produced meat grinder provided further propulsion.
Newspaper morgues yielded more clues. An 1889 edition of the Walla Walla Union of Washington State describes a hash house where patrons learned their choices from a barker who chanted "porkchopsbeefsteakhamandeggshamburgsteakorliver." In addition to confirming that Hamburg steak had, by the late 1800s, become part of the American vernacular, the Walla Walla reference illustrates that the proto-burger had achieved bicoastal status.
A 1900 article in the New York Sun reveals, interestingly, that the term "Hamburg steak" did not resonate back in Germany: "When in Hamburg, we supposed we must do as the Hamburgers did," reported a European correspondent. "[S]o at our first meal, we asked for Hamburg steak. Besides, we wanted to see how that viand would taste upon its native heath... But to all our requests, couched in our best scholastic German, the waiter shook his head. Like many another prophet, the Hamburg steak was apparently without honor in its own country... 'Oh well,' we said, 'just bring us an ordinary beef steak.' But lo and behold, when the meat was served, there it was all chopped up and made into small cakes -- what Americans call in fact, 'Hamburg steak!'"
To a resident of Hamburg, Germany, at the cusp of the twentieth century, fried cakes of minced beef and chopped onions, bound with a bit of egg or bread crumbs, were steaks. Not Hamburg steaks. Not steaks cooked in the Hamburg style. Just steaks. No further explanation is needed. That's how it's done around Hamburg. Only in a foreign land like America is the modifier Hamburg required to make an eater's preferences known.
For the full story, Ghengis Khan and all, click here.
And I now recall that when we were growing up "Grandma Jan" always made hamburgers in the Hamburg style -- mixing in eggs, breadcrumbs, etc., almost like a meatloaf-- probably more to make the relatively expensive meat go farther in a family of seven. Nonetheless, yummy!
Ich bin ein Hamburger.
The true story of the hamburger's origins is more prosaic. Of course Hamburg, Germany, plays a role. But the real action takes place in America, where Hamburg steaks beget hamburg steaks, hamburgs, hamburgers, and, finally -- by means of the cumulative effects of distillatory coinage -- burgers.
The writings of epicurean Louis Szathmary reveal that, by the late 1700s, sausages of minced and seasoned beef were known to the British as Hamburg sausages. By as early as 1834, the menu of Delmonico's in New York City advertised a Hamburger steak. The circa 1850 popularization of the commercially produced meat grinder provided further propulsion.
Newspaper morgues yielded more clues. An 1889 edition of the Walla Walla Union of Washington State describes a hash house where patrons learned their choices from a barker who chanted "porkchopsbeefsteakhamandeggshamburgsteakorliver." In addition to confirming that Hamburg steak had, by the late 1800s, become part of the American vernacular, the Walla Walla reference illustrates that the proto-burger had achieved bicoastal status.
A 1900 article in the New York Sun reveals, interestingly, that the term "Hamburg steak" did not resonate back in Germany: "When in Hamburg, we supposed we must do as the Hamburgers did," reported a European correspondent. "[S]o at our first meal, we asked for Hamburg steak. Besides, we wanted to see how that viand would taste upon its native heath... But to all our requests, couched in our best scholastic German, the waiter shook his head. Like many another prophet, the Hamburg steak was apparently without honor in its own country... 'Oh well,' we said, 'just bring us an ordinary beef steak.' But lo and behold, when the meat was served, there it was all chopped up and made into small cakes -- what Americans call in fact, 'Hamburg steak!'"
To a resident of Hamburg, Germany, at the cusp of the twentieth century, fried cakes of minced beef and chopped onions, bound with a bit of egg or bread crumbs, were steaks. Not Hamburg steaks. Not steaks cooked in the Hamburg style. Just steaks. No further explanation is needed. That's how it's done around Hamburg. Only in a foreign land like America is the modifier Hamburg required to make an eater's preferences known.
For the full story, Ghengis Khan and all, click here.
And I now recall that when we were growing up "Grandma Jan" always made hamburgers in the Hamburg style -- mixing in eggs, breadcrumbs, etc., almost like a meatloaf-- probably more to make the relatively expensive meat go farther in a family of seven. Nonetheless, yummy!
Ich bin ein Hamburger.
Saturday, September 17, 2005
PICTURE TIME V
Today is, for once, a quiet Saturday at home cleaning up the house, the yard, finances, and our IT (another full-time job!) -- including the phone cam and other image files from the past many months. So here are some nice pix, recent and not so, that we did not otherwise get around to posting....
Sea dog? An, uh, interesting painting of HM King Juan Carlos, on
display at an artsy-fartsy ACM party during Act 4 here in Valencia in June.
Moving to Valencia: Leslie and Meg arriving Valencia Airport in July after closing down the house in Hamburg.
Apollo 13? BMW ORACLE's catering jefe, Sandra de la Mancha, fixing the first paella at our new home, and cooking her first paella ever -- with instructions over the phone from a friend. Sandra had graciously filled in during a party for the "regular" paella chef who had a last-minute conflict. Hate to see her mobile phone bill from that day, but the paella turned out great.
Small world: Christine Connelly and Meg say farewell to their mutual best friend, Sophie Kaiko, whose family has moved back to Perth. Meg and Sophie were born within a month of each other in San Diego. Last year Christine and Sophie met at the American School here in Valencia. Soon after we moved to Alfinach in July Meg met Christine, who lives just around the corner, and -- go figure -- now they, too, are best friends.
Modern conveniences: we may live in un pueblo pequeño, but this vending machine outside of a local farmacia is open for business 24/7 -- something you don't see everywhere, let alone in a largely Catholic country?
Sea dog? An, uh, interesting painting of HM King Juan Carlos, on
display at an artsy-fartsy ACM party during Act 4 here in Valencia in June.
Moving to Valencia: Leslie and Meg arriving Valencia Airport in July after closing down the house in Hamburg.
Apollo 13? BMW ORACLE's catering jefe, Sandra de la Mancha, fixing the first paella at our new home, and cooking her first paella ever -- with instructions over the phone from a friend. Sandra had graciously filled in during a party for the "regular" paella chef who had a last-minute conflict. Hate to see her mobile phone bill from that day, but the paella turned out great.
Small world: Christine Connelly and Meg say farewell to their mutual best friend, Sophie Kaiko, whose family has moved back to Perth. Meg and Sophie were born within a month of each other in San Diego. Last year Christine and Sophie met at the American School here in Valencia. Soon after we moved to Alfinach in July Meg met Christine, who lives just around the corner, and -- go figure -- now they, too, are best friends.
Modern conveniences: we may live in un pueblo pequeño, but this vending machine outside of a local farmacia is open for business 24/7 -- something you don't see everywhere, let alone in a largely Catholic country?
Wednesday, September 14, 2005
LIFE VS. BUILDING MATERIALS
With the Senate Judiciary Committee conducting a job interview in which this general subject is getting more than a bit of attention, and with a soon-to-be-13-year-old watching Sexo en Nuevo York (that's what Sex in the City is called on TV in Spain), an article in yesterday's Philadelphia Inquirer by Faye Flam caught my eye. And since this is a "Family Blog," it seemed appropriate to take a break from "Deeners," Parties and the Cup to post a more serious think piece, required reading for Meg, that begins....
The list of animals born without the usual sperm-meets-egg scenario continues to grow. Most recently, in South Korea, a puppy named Snuppy was born from an egg and a cell from another dog's ear.
Even if scientists never go through a similar process to clone a human baby, Snuppy and other cloned animals suggest, in principle, that it could be done. That implies billions of cells in your body carry the potential to grow into a new human being - a quality once thought unique to a fertilized egg. New science is forcing an overhaul of the old facts of life.
If you are up for it, the complete article is here.
The list of animals born without the usual sperm-meets-egg scenario continues to grow. Most recently, in South Korea, a puppy named Snuppy was born from an egg and a cell from another dog's ear.
Even if scientists never go through a similar process to clone a human baby, Snuppy and other cloned animals suggest, in principle, that it could be done. That implies billions of cells in your body carry the potential to grow into a new human being - a quality once thought unique to a fertilized egg. New science is forcing an overhaul of the old facts of life.
If you are up for it, the complete article is here.
Monday, September 12, 2005
MORNING SHOW
This is a test post with a large mega-pixel pic from Malmo, of the EFB editor emceeing the daily BMW ORACLE Racing "Morning Show" for our VIP guests in the team hospitality suite at the Foredeck Club, successor to our TMI Base Club in Auckland during the last Cup.
If this all works correctly, upon uploading the pic the Blogger software will auto-resize it to 400 pixels or so (keeping it within the bounds of our blog template), yet allow you to click on it to get a larger view. Not exactly a pic needing to be enlarged (unless you want to check the subtle Henri Lloyd branding or the elegant Girard-Perregaux team watch), but at least Meg can no longer accuse me of posting geeky shots of everyone except myself....
Nice branding? Photo courtesy of Oracle's Gaye Hudson.
If this all works correctly, upon uploading the pic the Blogger software will auto-resize it to 400 pixels or so (keeping it within the bounds of our blog template), yet allow you to click on it to get a larger view. Not exactly a pic needing to be enlarged (unless you want to check the subtle Henri Lloyd branding or the elegant Girard-Perregaux team watch), but at least Meg can no longer accuse me of posting geeky shots of everyone except myself....
Nice branding? Photo courtesy of Oracle's Gaye Hudson.
Saturday, September 10, 2005
BACK TO SCHOOL BBQ
The pictures tell the story of tonight's Casa Ehman BBQ for Cup-related friends living in Alfinach/Los Monesterios or whose kids are going to school at Caxton College or the nearby American School....
A game of good-old American touch football, with Kiwi rugby player Grant "Guthrie" Davidson learning new ball-handling skills, or is that new-ball handling skills?
Quarterback Ryan Braun: ready, set, hup one, hup two....
Sis boom bah? Sideline fans.
Mike Drummond and JB Braun appear with the paella, over which they had been slaving for hours (not!).
Meanwhile, the ladies cannot be enticed away from the pool table, despite word that "deener is served,"...
...nor can the gentlemen (and lady!) be pried away from Jurassic Park...
...and the parents seem none too worried about extending the cocktail hour. Center-left (and not ID'd in other pictures), Cas Kelly.
The Porzio boys were smitted by a McLaren -- what will their father Niccolo "Ferrari" Porzio di Comprotondo (ACM's popular race ops mgr who is already in Trapani getting things ready for Acts 8 and 9) think when he sees this pic?
Leslie beavering away in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on yet another tasty dish...
...while master BBQ Chef Guthrie handles the meat.
The vivacious Kelly Braun.
Recent American transplant Hayley Braun: "This Spanish watermelon is pretty good!"
Desiree Falter, the Danish denizen of Alfinach/Monesterios -- relocation expert and good friend to us and many Cup families.
One of Meg's best new friends -- nearly next-door neighbor Christine Connelly.
Young miss Falter, Desiree's daughter Claire.
Big smiles -- nearly next-door neighbors (and long lost sisters?) Benedetta Porzio and Sally Ross.
More big smiles, and a nice face-paint job from a birthday party earlier in the day.
NATO neighbors Jim and Marge Connelly, and Desiree.
Josephine and Matthew "Mugs" Ulvr-Green on either side of Leslie.
Executive Committee of the AC 32 Spouses Commission? On left (and not ID'd in other pictures), Brenda Davidson.
Teams meeting? Clockwise from left: Alinghi's Ed Baird and Hamish Ross, BMW ORACLE's Grant Davidson, Sally Ross, Debbie Smith (wife of Luna Rossa's Alan Smith), and Alinghi's Mike Drummond.
The gentlemen plotting their next movements. Angus Ross, second from left, was also celebrating his 12th birthday.
Cup veteran Lisa Baird. We are all fortunate to have wives (and kids) as tolerant and well-adjusted as Lisa and Leslie are to this "modernized AC" madness -- all the travel, to say nothing of the relocation(s).
At the end of the day, it's about the kids. Win, lose or draw, for them I think this AC experience in Spain is going to be very cool.
Coda: The clear, dry, warm "San Diego" weather made for as nice a day and evening as any of us could remember anytime, anywhere in the world; and, despite sitting outdoors with the house wide open until well past midnight, not a single mosquito.
A game of good-old American touch football, with Kiwi rugby player Grant "Guthrie" Davidson learning new ball-handling skills, or is that new-ball handling skills?
Quarterback Ryan Braun: ready, set, hup one, hup two....
Sis boom bah? Sideline fans.
Mike Drummond and JB Braun appear with the paella, over which they had been slaving for hours (not!).
Meanwhile, the ladies cannot be enticed away from the pool table, despite word that "deener is served,"...
...nor can the gentlemen (and lady!) be pried away from Jurassic Park...
...and the parents seem none too worried about extending the cocktail hour. Center-left (and not ID'd in other pictures), Cas Kelly.
The Porzio boys were smitted by a McLaren -- what will their father Niccolo "Ferrari" Porzio di Comprotondo (ACM's popular race ops mgr who is already in Trapani getting things ready for Acts 8 and 9) think when he sees this pic?
Leslie beavering away in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on yet another tasty dish...
...while master BBQ Chef Guthrie handles the meat.
The vivacious Kelly Braun.
Recent American transplant Hayley Braun: "This Spanish watermelon is pretty good!"
Desiree Falter, the Danish denizen of Alfinach/Monesterios -- relocation expert and good friend to us and many Cup families.
One of Meg's best new friends -- nearly next-door neighbor Christine Connelly.
Young miss Falter, Desiree's daughter Claire.
Big smiles -- nearly next-door neighbors (and long lost sisters?) Benedetta Porzio and Sally Ross.
More big smiles, and a nice face-paint job from a birthday party earlier in the day.
NATO neighbors Jim and Marge Connelly, and Desiree.
Josephine and Matthew "Mugs" Ulvr-Green on either side of Leslie.
Executive Committee of the AC 32 Spouses Commission? On left (and not ID'd in other pictures), Brenda Davidson.
Teams meeting? Clockwise from left: Alinghi's Ed Baird and Hamish Ross, BMW ORACLE's Grant Davidson, Sally Ross, Debbie Smith (wife of Luna Rossa's Alan Smith), and Alinghi's Mike Drummond.
The gentlemen plotting their next movements. Angus Ross, second from left, was also celebrating his 12th birthday.
Cup veteran Lisa Baird. We are all fortunate to have wives (and kids) as tolerant and well-adjusted as Lisa and Leslie are to this "modernized AC" madness -- all the travel, to say nothing of the relocation(s).
At the end of the day, it's about the kids. Win, lose or draw, for them I think this AC experience in Spain is going to be very cool.
Coda: The clear, dry, warm "San Diego" weather made for as nice a day and evening as any of us could remember anytime, anywhere in the world; and, despite sitting outdoors with the house wide open until well past midnight, not a single mosquito.
Friday, September 9, 2005
DEENERS
For fun we have taken to using the Spanish pronunciation of the English word dinner ("deener"); hopefully the Spanish are not taking up any of our bad pronunciations of words in their language -- it would for sure ruin it!
At any rate, we have had a couple of nice deeners with friends the past couple evenings. The first, sadly, was a farewell to our longtime friends Phil and Jane Kaiko, and their three girls Sophie, Nathalie and Isabell. Sophie and Meg were born a few weeks apart in San Diego, and because of the Cup on and off we have managed to live near each other ever since. However, on Friday they moved back to their home base of Perth, and many of us connected with the Cup will miss them dearly. So a gang of Kaiko friends got together for, at least for now, a last supper at a favorite family-friendly restaurant in town, Pizza Roma, where a family of four or five can eat and drink there way through the evening for only about 70 euros.
Last evening was clear and warm. Do they call it Indian Summer here in Spain? So we joined my counterpart in Alinghi, Hamish Ross (NZL), wife Sally, and boys Angus and Fergus (yes, they are of Scottish descent) for a frolick on the Puzol beach (10 mins from our urbanizacion) and a deener at our favorite beachside restaurant, El Nazaret.
Las familias Burns, Ehman, Kaiko, Ulvr-Green and Davidson at Pizza
Roma Wednesday evening.
Beachside on a warm September evening for tapas y paella with
la familia Ross. Foreground, left, is Angus Ross who turns 12 today.
Happy B'Day Angus!
At any rate, we have had a couple of nice deeners with friends the past couple evenings. The first, sadly, was a farewell to our longtime friends Phil and Jane Kaiko, and their three girls Sophie, Nathalie and Isabell. Sophie and Meg were born a few weeks apart in San Diego, and because of the Cup on and off we have managed to live near each other ever since. However, on Friday they moved back to their home base of Perth, and many of us connected with the Cup will miss them dearly. So a gang of Kaiko friends got together for, at least for now, a last supper at a favorite family-friendly restaurant in town, Pizza Roma, where a family of four or five can eat and drink there way through the evening for only about 70 euros.
Last evening was clear and warm. Do they call it Indian Summer here in Spain? So we joined my counterpart in Alinghi, Hamish Ross (NZL), wife Sally, and boys Angus and Fergus (yes, they are of Scottish descent) for a frolick on the Puzol beach (10 mins from our urbanizacion) and a deener at our favorite beachside restaurant, El Nazaret.
Las familias Burns, Ehman, Kaiko, Ulvr-Green and Davidson at Pizza
Roma Wednesday evening.
Beachside on a warm September evening for tapas y paella with
la familia Ross. Foreground, left, is Angus Ross who turns 12 today.
Happy B'Day Angus!
EL JARDINERO
El jardinero comes once a week, attired the same (and always shirt-free), smiles, quickly does the job, and is gone before you know it. BTW, that's not what you would think of as "normal" grass, but an African groundcover (name escapes me -- maybe one of our dear readers will know?) that better survives the heat and long dry spells.
Sometimes a picture is truly worth a thousand words.
Sometimes a picture is truly worth a thousand words.
20-20 BLINDSIGHT
Thursday, September 8, 2005
OUR TOWN
Our urbanizacion (suburb) is located a few minutes outside a pueblo called Puçol (in Valenciano) or Puzol (in Castellano), which in turn is about 20 minutes north up the coast from Valencia. Either way it seems to be pronounced "poo THOL".
Valenciano is essentially the same as Catalan, the dialect spoken in and around Barcelona. But don't ever say that to the immensely proud Valencianos, the majority of whom consider themselves the conservative keepers of the flame here in Spain as the home of the Partido Popular (more or less the "Republicans" of Spain) while Barcelona is the home of the liberal socialist party, PSOE (mas o menos the "Democrats").
It does get confusing at times -- for example, "bank" is caja in Castellano and caixa in Valenciano/Catalan.
Since coming up with a ç is not easy in Blogger, and takes a lot of farting around to cut and paste, I will stick to Puzol, thank you.
Puzol has a good little website, including daily local news. If you are running Internet Explorer as your browser and have a Google toolbar, go into the Castellano version and right click on the text and you should be able to click on "Translate Page into English" and get a fairly understandable translation.
You will see that Puzol even has its own modern "strap line" or "claim" -- "entre mar y muntanya" meaning "between sea and mountain." LOL, that actually would pass the truth in advertising laws in most countries.
At any rate, we note that our pueblo had another fiesta yesterday involving the running of the bulls. And today Puzol is in the headlines for what one hears is not an uncommon small town problem -- one of the bulls died after being confined for too long.
Here is the story out from our favorite expat newsletter, Valencia Life:
The traditional bull runs of Puzol – just outside Valencia – were the scene of tragedy yesterday after one of the bulls died. Under the regulations for the running of the bulls in any fiesta, members of an ambulance service must be present, but in the case of Puzol, they took over an hour and a half to arrive, during which time the twelve animals were kept locked up in a truck. A statement from the ambulance service revealed that a mistake had been made over the dates and as a result an ambulance had to be called from Valencia City.
Not exactly the kind of small town problem I remember hearing about growing up in Pinckney. Maybe they need an ambulance service for the poor bulls!
Like parades in Pinckney, the occasional
running of the bulls in Puzol, yesterday.
Valenciano is essentially the same as Catalan, the dialect spoken in and around Barcelona. But don't ever say that to the immensely proud Valencianos, the majority of whom consider themselves the conservative keepers of the flame here in Spain as the home of the Partido Popular (more or less the "Republicans" of Spain) while Barcelona is the home of the liberal socialist party, PSOE (mas o menos the "Democrats").
It does get confusing at times -- for example, "bank" is caja in Castellano and caixa in Valenciano/Catalan.
Since coming up with a ç is not easy in Blogger, and takes a lot of farting around to cut and paste, I will stick to Puzol, thank you.
Puzol has a good little website, including daily local news. If you are running Internet Explorer as your browser and have a Google toolbar, go into the Castellano version and right click on the text and you should be able to click on "Translate Page into English" and get a fairly understandable translation.
You will see that Puzol even has its own modern "strap line" or "claim" -- "entre mar y muntanya" meaning "between sea and mountain." LOL, that actually would pass the truth in advertising laws in most countries.
At any rate, we note that our pueblo had another fiesta yesterday involving the running of the bulls. And today Puzol is in the headlines for what one hears is not an uncommon small town problem -- one of the bulls died after being confined for too long.
Here is the story out from our favorite expat newsletter, Valencia Life:
The traditional bull runs of Puzol – just outside Valencia – were the scene of tragedy yesterday after one of the bulls died. Under the regulations for the running of the bulls in any fiesta, members of an ambulance service must be present, but in the case of Puzol, they took over an hour and a half to arrive, during which time the twelve animals were kept locked up in a truck. A statement from the ambulance service revealed that a mistake had been made over the dates and as a result an ambulance had to be called from Valencia City.
Not exactly the kind of small town problem I remember hearing about growing up in Pinckney. Maybe they need an ambulance service for the poor bulls!
Like parades in Pinckney, the occasional
running of the bulls in Puzol, yesterday.
Wednesday, September 7, 2005
SCHOOL DAZE
Meg begins school at Caxton College this Friday, and today she wanted to model her new, mandatory school uniform, which Leslie and Meg had acquired while I was in Malmo.
Much to our surprise, Meg thinks the uniform is okay because it "saves time in the morning -- now I only have to worry about my hair." She went on to say, however, that "the gym uniform has so much plastic in it you work up a sweat just wearing it."
Meg is going into Year 9, which is equivalent to USA Grade 8. She is still among the youngest in her class (turns 13 in a couple weeks), but from the placement tests she took this summer there was no question that she would go into Year 9. Seems the International Schule in Hamburg did a good job.
The school is a seven-minute drive from the house, so that is an improvement from the 20-minute school commute (with Leslie driving at least one way most days) she had in Hamburg. And there are many Caxton kids here in the neighborhood, including the three children of Ian and Shelly Burns' (BMW ORACLE Racing friends) just around the corner.
We had checked the school out in April when Leslie and Meg were here, and it seemed excellent in all respects and has top reviews. There are one or two other international schools in VLC which are also reputed to be good, but we believe Caxton has the best balance of academics, facilities, proximity and extra-curricular activites.
Last week Meg and Leslie went to a Caxton orientation day. They found out that Spanish class is not "Spanish as a second language" but normal spanish studies for los Espanoles. The non-Spanish kids take extra Spanish to catch up. All other classes are conducted in Ingles, though with 90% of the 1000 or so student body being native Spanish, there is plenty of Spanish spoken on the playground. In Hamburg the mix was more like 50-50 between German kids and expats. Should be an interesting experience.
A bit preppy, a bit geeky -- after all, it's una escuela Catolica (Opus Dei
no less, but then so is the King, the Navy and most of upscale Spain).
Love the shoes, especially on the gunboats that Meg calls feet.
Making fun with Mother's glasses and one of the reading
assignments.
LOL -- looks like a pose for the pre-season progam, but American
football is one sport not played at Caxton. In such a hot place why
is the gym uniform 100% acrylic?
Much to our surprise, Meg thinks the uniform is okay because it "saves time in the morning -- now I only have to worry about my hair." She went on to say, however, that "the gym uniform has so much plastic in it you work up a sweat just wearing it."
Meg is going into Year 9, which is equivalent to USA Grade 8. She is still among the youngest in her class (turns 13 in a couple weeks), but from the placement tests she took this summer there was no question that she would go into Year 9. Seems the International Schule in Hamburg did a good job.
The school is a seven-minute drive from the house, so that is an improvement from the 20-minute school commute (with Leslie driving at least one way most days) she had in Hamburg. And there are many Caxton kids here in the neighborhood, including the three children of Ian and Shelly Burns' (BMW ORACLE Racing friends) just around the corner.
We had checked the school out in April when Leslie and Meg were here, and it seemed excellent in all respects and has top reviews. There are one or two other international schools in VLC which are also reputed to be good, but we believe Caxton has the best balance of academics, facilities, proximity and extra-curricular activites.
Last week Meg and Leslie went to a Caxton orientation day. They found out that Spanish class is not "Spanish as a second language" but normal spanish studies for los Espanoles. The non-Spanish kids take extra Spanish to catch up. All other classes are conducted in Ingles, though with 90% of the 1000 or so student body being native Spanish, there is plenty of Spanish spoken on the playground. In Hamburg the mix was more like 50-50 between German kids and expats. Should be an interesting experience.
A bit preppy, a bit geeky -- after all, it's una escuela Catolica (Opus Dei
no less, but then so is the King, the Navy and most of upscale Spain).
Love the shoes, especially on the gunboats that Meg calls feet.
Making fun with Mother's glasses and one of the reading
assignments.
LOL -- looks like a pose for the pre-season progam, but American
football is one sport not played at Caxton. In such a hot place why
is the gym uniform 100% acrylic?
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