Juan & Susana en Luxemburgo

A few days before escaping to Tokyo we had my parents visit us in Luxembourg. They were at the last part of a beautiful trip that took them and the Arbulu's to Denmark (roaming by bike), Stockolm, Oslo, Helsinki and later St. Petersburg and Moscow.

So, after such an amazing trip, what did we do in Luxembourg? showed them how we lived, where we went for runs, the lake where we trained, Chuck's lard sandwich (i.e. huge cut of bacon looking meat) impressed them with the "wonderful" weather and took them to an Elvis's night with all our friends! I think they had a fantastic night ... the chairs were dancing!

One evening we were treated by Susana's "arroz con langostinos" (think of a shrimp paella, only better) and Chuck and I made (well... tried to) veal and jambon cru roulades with Chuck's puree de pomme de terre ... hmmmm

It is now official, Chuck is their favourite son in law (does it count if he is the only one?) !-)

I am turning Japanese, I really think so

The latest news is that we are going to Japan. I am eagerly waiting for Chuck to write his “beloved friends” email telling you the story of how this happened, his new team, managing the time zones, his Q&A, etc. I will not ruin the surprise and will leave a space in the blog for his tale. Here I am writing a bit about what I have been able to discover so far about this fantastic place.

We are planning to leave Luxembourg at the end of October. With all the moves I have learned that it’s good to learn as much as possible before the trip, specially about the things one likes: where to find a (GOOD) coffee shop (VERY important), a metro map, the gym, free libraries, bookshops, and of course restaurants. Chuck will be happy to know that there are at least 2 good Mexican places and even a Peruvian one (btw, just so that you measure his desperation, Luxembourg’s only Mexican place is Chi-Chi’s … really).

Having said this, no information is enough. It is all different when you finally land in your destination. Information can prepare you but the real thing does not happen until you have a foot in the new city.

For example, we are going to live in Shibuya (渋谷区, Shibuya-ku?), one of the 20 something wards in Tokyo. From what I have heard this is one of the busiest places in Tokyo. Remember that crossing that always features in Japanese movies or documentaries? Well “that” is in Shibuya. One of my to-do things is to stand there at rush hour and not move. If I manage I will just spin around a few times, that will freak them out … I promise you a photo.

Chuck’s office is also in Shibuya. By the way, there is more people in Shibuya than in the entire Luxembourg and more restaurants too. There are about 200,000 people in the 15km2 area of Shibuya. I can see that after a year in Luxembourg we will have a bit of a culture shock. Here we can see cows from a friend’s apartment!

We have to find out if he is going to walk or take the metro to work. These days, in Luxembourg we both walk to our offices, an unsustainable luxury... Because there are no street names, we cannot put the address in www.multimap.com and just check the distance. To find a place in Tokyo you have to refer to buildings such as Tokyo Tower, Tokyu department store, Parco, Yoyogi Park, etc. I think it will be quite confusing and I will most likely be lost most of the time.

Interesting, I have heard that I should not think of buying shoes over there. Expensive, yes, , but the reason is that they will probably not carry my size: a decent 40.5 (Peruvian) 9.5 (American). Just think of the delicate Japanese women feet … I’d probably scare them with mine! On that note, I have heard Chuck saying that he is looking forward to feeling VERY TALL.

More later; I am hoping that this post will tempt Chuck - who these days is buried in work from Seattle, Germany, UK and now Japan (I have seen him carrying 4 watches).

L'île de la beauté

It has been a year since our trip to Croatia. Incredible. We have been living in Luxembourg for more than a year now, the schueberfouer (main Luxembourgish city fair) came and went and we missed it again. However we did manage to find a week of holiday in the sun again. This time in the island of Corsega (Corsica in English, Corse in French).

Our route was Luxembourg to Paris (by car), a night in Paris followed by Paris to Nice to South Corsica by plane (a propeller). Our ride started a little bumpy, at 8am, we had a call from the hotel in Paris saying that they could not take our reservation and had changed us to a "sister" hotel in the same area and in an "upgraded" room. Yeah right, we agreed of course, but we are still doubting what did they mean by an upgrade ... all Parisians hotel rooms (those we can afford) are equally tiny, that includes the suites !

An hour into our journey from Lux to Paris (Chuck will argue it was 1.5 hour) Ale discovers that she does not have her passport. Uppps … the options 1) tell Chuck, get out of the car and run for your life, or 2) don’t tell Chuck, ask him to take you back to Luxembourg because you think that the iron (we don’t own an iron) is still on and burning your house. Actually, Chuck was so shocked that he turned around and without saying a word headed back to get my passport.

Finally in Corsica our holidays began. Ahhh, wonderful beach, we made it to Santa Giulia and after the usual waiting time te check in and find the right place we dropped all our stuff in our rented apartment and went straight to the beach.

The highlights of our trip?

1) A new record in beach “paletas”. Yes, we spent most of our time perfecting our new found sport and after a mediocre start of less than 10 hits we went all the way to 240 our 6th day in the beach

2) A transparent sea spotted with wonderful and inoffensive jellyfish (which I called fried eggs because of the way the look … amazingly nobody thinks the same)

3) Pizzas at the beach, ahh , almost every day. Until we realised that our bathing suits were tight(er) and decided for the Trois Deux salads next door

4) Chestnuts in everything, Corsicans even have a town called Châtaigne
(Castaña, chestnut) and we found them in almost every dish we tried

5) Brocciu cheese "the poor man's cheese." Made from the whey that remains after the production of sheep's or goat's milk cheese. And of course … charcuterie

I am not joking, check out this site for more info about the food in Corsica www.theworldwidegourmet.com/countries/france/corsica/corsica

Corsica is a beautiful island, the French call it the island of beauty “Île de la beauté” … although we spend most of our time in the beach (we have a fantastic and enviable tan to prove it) we also spent a day travelling around the island. We made it to a nice high spot in Alta Roca, found an old Genovese bridge, had a wonderful lunch of osobuco estofado and ice cream and visited Bonifacio, the southernmost part of Corsica, almost “kissing” Serdeña.

After a week in the beach we feel ready (again) to face the Luxembourgish greyness and we look forward to the coming autumn y la visita de los Brescia.

Triathletes in three parts

Part One: The Awakening

I am making myself write this post because if I don’t have a written proof, I will forget that we really really did a Triathlon.

Well, Chuck has already a couple of Marathons and a few Tri’s under his belt. But I am a total débutante. Before committing to this, I looked at these events as something done only by those with close-to-superhuman abilities.

Then, one day Chuck calls to say that Matt and Anna, our friends from Seattle, were coming to London and ‘why don’t we meet doing the Windsor Triathlon?’ I had to ask him twice to repeat himself, I was sure he had mixed up two conversations or was giving me the name of a new café in London where we could ‘meet’ Matt and Anna. Oh, no … not at all, he clearly repeated the Windsor Tri, the four of us, wetsuits, etc etc. I began to get a cold sweat. “Are you in? It will be fun” He asks. “Uhu, I guess”. I say. And then our lives changed …


Part Two: The Real deal

This was January and we signed up for the June 11 Windsor tri. Chuck did a quick assessment of our training status:

1) Biking: we are both ok. No tri bikes but decent road bikes. I had been doing spinning classes which turn out to be a good tri training. Chuck’s cycling weekends in Seattle seemed to have given him the confidence of going long ways (and enjoying it).

2) Running: there we hit a bump. So, like I said, Chuck had already done a couple Marathons. Me .. ? I hated running. After every run I got red ears, a headache, could not keep my rhythm, but overall, I just could not enjoy it!

3) Swimming: swimming. How were we going to pull that one off?

And so the training plan was scheduled. Mon & Wed we would build muscle and strengthen our body (against my will, why athletes cannot be slim and lean..?)

We found a running route and for the first two months - in mid winter - we went for morning runs. Key to this was Chuck’s influence and gifts: IPod shuffle, trainers Asics GT 2100 (sadly only in white), gloves, winter hat and long pants. Who would have guessed! After a few weeks puffing and panting, the headaches were gone and the ears were no longer red and I was starting to enjoy the runs.

Then followed the swimming at D’Coque (Luxembourg’s sports arena) and which makes English speakers giggle every time. The training at this place was perfect. Not only because it is a massive pool but because there is so many people that is almost like being in a Tri. I learned how to swim over people, avoid the kicking and the breast stroke and swim looking up, just in case someone was coming right towards my head.


Part Three: The importance of languages

June was close, and I was getting the nervous laugh. It is difficult to believe that you are ready when you have so much information about people’s timings. My goal: to finish (and secretly, not to be the last one in the race).

Then we got a call. Matt and Anna had to cancel their trip at last minute and we were lost. What do we do? Unfortunately, or luckily, depends on how you see it, Matt and Anna were key in the logistics since neither Chuck nor I would drive in England mad roads.

We came home a little disappointed (and a little relieved) but still willing to make it, so we signed up for the Munich Triathlon at the end of July.

Ahhhggg. Well, guys, all the training could not have prepared me for a Tri in GERMAN. All the signs, everything was written in this language that does not connect with me.

We started of with the swim. Wearing our full body wetsuits in a temperature close to 30° C (+90° F), we started the race in a - thankfully - cold man-made lake. Chuck started in a group 10 minutes after mine. And when I finished the swim, I was a little glad that he had not passed me already!

Get on your bikes! After the swim and a running stretch to get to the transition area, whilst trying to get our wetsuits off - I finally find my bike, seat and begin pulling everything off me. 5 minutes later the wetsuit is off. Shoes, helmet, water, sun glasses, race number, puff! Run again and start the hopefully easiest part.

That’s when it happened. I felt I was flying, going at a good speed, although still being passed by all these pro’s in awfully expensive bikes. I check my speedometer, almost 20 km; I am finishing the 1st round, then a series of photo flashes – smile – what’s going on? I can see the finish line right in front of me. “Hold on, I have only done 20 kms, I need to do the other 20” – I shout in English, whilst all the Germans look at me like I am speaking … English. Panic! A guy approaches me and tells me to get off the bike and start the run. but … I need to do the other 20! He’s like: well, your time is already counted, so it’s not valid. Just start the run. “Hell no” (how do you say this in German!?). Finally I spot the transition area that I crossed earlier, get off the bike, run in my super uncomfortable biking shoes and get on the bike again to do my second round.

(“some” minutes later) …. It was probably 10 but it felt like a whole hour. Ok so everyone had passed me. My nightmare would come true. I was going to finish LAST!

I finish the 2nd RUNDEN. This time I see the sign in German, very clear indeed - in German. Got off the bike, and began the run. Or so I thought. My legs would not move. Everyone I had passed on the bike (again) was passing me now. Oh! this has to be a joke… a hill?? A hill??? Now?? Yes, up, 5kms later, a lot of water, more water for my feet which felt like they were sizzling in the gravel – and my legs were feeling better.

Then I spot Chuck, he’s already going for the last 3kms. He’s looking good, hot but happy, and looks very surprised to see me. - Later he told me that he really thought I had dropped out – me??

The last 5kms were the best and the worst. I kept trying to make conversation, in English … until someone finally agreed and chatted with me for the rest of the race. Then I saw Chuck who had finished and was waiting for me on the side just before the end. I finished!!!! (a medal and a few tears in my eyes)

Paris Part 2: Wandering aimlessly around the city of lights

So, again we went to Paris for Ale's birthday. You may remember from previous posts that Ale likes to take pictures of her shoes. She has also recently developed a penchant for taking pictures of famouse landmarks "from an angle that no one has ever chosen before."

Case in point, this picture of Notre Dame:

I tried explaining that perhaps no one had chosen this angle because there was a tree in the way and much of the building gets cut off, but she was undeterred.


While we didn't have much time in the city, we were careful to follow the tourism guidelines closely. Namely, we wore bright white Reebok tennis shows, fanny packs and spoke as loud in English as possible. And of course, we took time to take the cheesy *trick* pictures. Here, I am crushing the Eifel Tower. Look carefully and you can see that Ale is helping me by crushing one of the legs.

My new European workout

So . . .hot on tail the success that I had adopting the Bavarian diet, I have been interested in adopting a more "European" workout routine. After much observation and enthographic study, I think I finally have it. There are a number of Italians at our gym that appear to use the following routine with some success. Not only does it make you fit and trim, but it also appears to result in long lustrous hair.

10- 15 min - Arrive at gym. Have an espresso wait for two friends to arrive. (Obviously, some changes will be necessary as I don't have any friends)

15 min - Change in to workout clothes. While changing into workout clothes, spend as much time as possible naked. Start an argument so that you can make large gestures in the middle of the locker room . . . still naked. Finally, and this, from what I can tell, is absolutely essential, . . . Spend as much time sitting bare-assed on the wooden changing benches as possible. When the time arrives to finally put on clothes, your fashion choices are essential - for my observation subjects, the choices invariable include an Italian National Soccer team Jersey, a shirt of the brand whose logo is the profile of 2 women sitting back to back and one alternating between Gucci, Dior and the Inter Milan jersey. For those of you that are wondering, yes, it is reasonable to keep your 70's era rose-colored slightly mirrored sunglasses on throughout the workout.

Weight lifting gloves go without mention.

15 min - The actual workout. Alternate sets of smith-machine bench press, one lifting while the other two reviews stories of glories past. Be sure to load the bar with as much as 10 KG (on each side!). Do at least 2 sets. While waiting your turn, primp.

10 min - recovery. Stand around the refreshment area rehydrating. This is essential given the strenuous workout or at least the diuretic effects of caffeine consumption. *Kick* legs repeatedly in order to relieve the stiffness cause by . . . um, the smith machine bench press, I guess.

Undetermined amount of time - Shower and dress. Not sure how long this actually lasts as I have never seen them finish. This segment is similar to changing in to the workout clothes. The argument evidently resumes as does the seated nakedness. Be sure to make liberal use of the hair dryer to dry just about anything that you got wet.

My only question is which member of the Azzurre am I; I think I am a Baggio, but I'm just not sure. Tough to say.

Paris part 1: A lesson in train ettiquette

For Ale's birthday, we decided to spend a weekend in Paris. We took the train on Friday evening and knowing that we would be arriving late, I decided to pack a picnic for the trip. I stopped at a local cheese shop and picked out some really nice (and old) cheeses to eat on the train.

When we opened the cheese, Ale commented, whoa - this stuff really stinks. I smelled at first but after a few whifs, my nose was comeplete dead to the smell. We enjoyed our wine and cheese and when we were done, I wrapped up the trash and, lacking anywhere else to put it, stuffed the bag of garbage in to a backpack that we had brought a long for the trip.

About a half an hour later, I opened the backback to grab my ipod. No sooner as had I touched the bag as I was almost overcome by the smell. It made my eyes water. I can't imagine the suffering that our neighbors must have endured as we had been eating. But, being France, no one had even blinked.

Evidently, it is a well known rule on this fine continent but in case you don't know:

DO NOT TAKE CHEESE ON THE TRAIN.

The blog re-awakens - Feb 2006

Blogging is hard and it takes time. I am lazy and Ale got a job so we haven't updated anything for a while. It becomes a vicious cycle because the more time with no posts means the more things you need to post to get up-to-date. At this point, we are backed up to before our trip to Croatia in August so we have LOTS to write about. . . . or in my case, skip.

Anyway, we are reinaugerating our blog. Mostly, we just wanted an excuse to open a bottle of Champagne.

Items skipped include but are not limited to:

• Various trips around Europe (Munich, Slough, Paris)
• Peru for Christmas and New Years
• A few trips to Detroit (come on now, you can't really jet set without Motown.)
• Ale learning to enjoy jogging (despite her ugly white "trainers")
• Me discovering that I really can't dance
• The failed resolution I called "Get Fit 2005" gave way to "Lose Weight 2006" (Both were preceded by Get Buff 03 and Get Ripped 2K4.
• Every single person we know has given birth. Its scary.

- C

Split to Dubrovnik on a sailboat ...

For our honeymoon we sailed from Split to Dubrovnik in a sailboat. Sounds amazing huh?! It was ...

We convinced our very good Uruguayan friends, Lula & Johnphi to join us. We made all the arrangements with our Croatian agency over the internet. I like to point that we had never been to Croatia, we had no idea of timings and we had never ever taken a solo sailboat trip. So we also hired a skipper! Hey that was a great idea huh? a Croatian skipper?! (Milo)




We arrived in Split and marvelled with the views and little streets of the old city, which was basically an old castle. Lula & JP made it to the city after being stuck in one of the country's airports for almost half a day and then stayed at this hotel which had been fired at during the war (and was still looking like the war times)



We all met the next morning at the marina and looked for our skipper and our boat for 2 solid hours. Finally, our gracious Milo showed up. We were hot and tired but happy to finally get on the boat and sail.

Oh yes, the boat... did I mentioned it was our honeymoon? well the sail boat was this very unergonomic and tiny 'boat'... Chuck & I got a bed shaped as a triangle and Lula & JP's was shaped as an 'L' (!!) yes! they were so nice to deferred and leave us the 'nicer' bed, not to mention Milo's bed, the dining room seats, just picture this, his feet and my face were separated by a piece of wood which was the door of our cabin.



Bliss ...

Croatia is a wonderful place, the sea is turquoise, the water is warm and the food is amazing. Everytime we could, we stopped in small islands and had fish steamed with vegetables and spices. It was a bit like a Peruvian dish and we all shared it which made it even more great.

Croatians, well that is another thing entirely. We (I) realised how different cultures could be, and how different meanings could come out of a gesture, a word. Milo was our test (and proof). Our skipper, kept trying to tell us how to do and not to do things. After the first evening, Chuck and JP hd to stop Lula & me from throwing him out of the boat in the middle of the night ... well we were trying, but the guy was built as a bull.

He kept saying: 'mmm problem' and then starting an explanation of some sort that neither Lula nor I would listen to. JP got tired at the second day, that left Chuck trying to be the Diplomat between the two sides. We managed a dinner away the 4 of us and just blurted all our feelings. True, we were all quite drunk at the end.

Well, our Milo, became a lot lot better after that. In fact he was the highlight in many ways: to have a Croatian tell you about his country, the islands and telling you some of his experiences really gives you a better insight about the place. We heard stories about his work, his life and we learned how to trade things during the trip. For example, to get ice for the boat (which was difficult to find in some islands) you dont just go and pay for it. You go to a local coffee shop, have a coffee (pay the coffee/s of the skipper), befriend the owner and get back with a large bag of ice.

The routine of the trip was great, we sailed during most of the day, Chuck & Johnphi trying to manage the boat. I was mostly sick and Lula tanning in the deck. Every so often we will see a naked woman in another boat, yes apparently it brings luck. I kept asking 'to whom?' but nobody answered. We will spot a nice place and jump in the water, swim for a while and then stop the boat to have lunch, which was usually bread, Croatian cheese, ham, tomatoes and our favourite drinks. Our diets went to the drain, except for Lula and Johnphi whose metabolism is so great they both looked like beach models throughout the trip.

In the afternoon we would reach our island and moor the boat (I kept calling it a boat, I know). Later we would get dressed up and out for a walk and a nice meal at a restaurant, usually with a bottle or three, of Croatian wine.

By the end of the trip, an evening under a wonderful starry sky, we just could not get enough of it. We talked, did not talk, and got a bit melancholic about leaving the boat. We even ended up best friends of 'our' Milo. At the end of the trip, we stopped at the marina and got him a new pair of mocasins, specially made for skippers, to substitute his (very) old ones. We all almost cried.

It was a wonderful experience, probably one of the best trips I have made as an adult. Did I mention it was our honeymoon?!. Yes it was an unconventional one, and because Chuck kept calling it a 'vacation' I think I am entitled to another one :-) We'll see...

Voila!?

As long as I can remember, the word, Voila!, signified unexpected revelation. It was to me never found without being capitalized and accompanied by an exclamation point. It was basically the French answer to "Presto!"
- The magician starts with an empty top hat, says the magic words and Voila!
- The make-shift key slides into Jason Grothjan's dad's liquor cabinet in 5th grade and Voila!
- Follow the straps to the back, pinch the sides of the clasps together and Voila!

You get the idea.

So, it is with profound disappointment, that I report that voila is used in everday conversation Luxembourg to basically say "here you go." It would not be uncommon for an over-worked, under-paid waitress to give you a very half-hearted:
- voila . . . your esspresso.
- voila . . . your bill.
- voila . . . a cockroach.

Its sort of depressing. Everytime I hear the word, I still look up with youthful enthusiam hoping that the waitress might pull an eclaire from behind my ear . . . but it never happens.

In fairness, I did have a rissotto delivered the other day with a voila that it more than deserved.

Who is doing the dishes?

Well ... I am being super spoiled by el Gringo :-)

And here is the proof.

He's decided to do all the work. He goes to work, earns the money, keeps the appartment clean (hold on ... we are staying at a hotel!) and then cooks dinner and AND does the dishes. I mean I am in heaven ... !



No, seriously, I just wanted you all to see this photo. I think is really really cute. Chuck was caught by the camera and he gladly posed with my washing gloves. (sweet)

Ignore this post

I am helping my friend with an experiment to see how long it takes a link to his site to show up (in Google's index, I imagine).

Text that Mark prepared for me:
Mark Eamer started to work for this really cool Real Estate company called Zillow.com. I wish him all the success in the world.

The wide angle of sports

Ok, so I understand that this post does not fit with the flow of the blog . . . but, hey, it's my blog.

I played in one rugby match last Spring. It was a cold and rainy down in Scenic Tacoma. As it was the first game back from breaking my leg, my primary goal was to complete the 80 minutes unhurt. Having said that in my minds eye, I clearly remember laying one solid hit on this enormous Islander guy who was playing prop.

So . . . when I received an email yesterday with pictures of the game, I was obviously excited to see what they had . . . Imagine my disapointement. It looks like the guy tripped over my neck.

Some things are best left un-photographed.

Getting Residency in Luxembourg

Government offices all over the world are fun. Here is the simple process for getting a Residency permit in Luxembourg.

1) Open a bank account, so you can . . .
2) pay a down-payment, so you can . . .
3) sign a lease for an apartment, so you can . . .
4) prove that you live in Luxembourg, so you can . . .
5) obtain a residency card, so you can . . .
6) open a bank account.

Any questions?

Welcome Luxembourg

Finally, we made it to Luxembourg! We arrived on July 19 and as we stepped into the airport we realised that 1) there were loads LOADS of banks and (all the ads were bank ads) 2) that it was tiny (the baggage collection area is the size of our living room) !-)

We have been here 10 days and there are so many things that are great about this city:
1) no traffic, the most you can get is a 3-car line at 5:30 in the afternoon.

2) 1 bar per nationality: 1 English bar, 1 American Bar, 1 Scottish Bar, 1 Irish bar, ... all in the Grund (the lower and perhaps oldest part of the city)

3) The map of the city fits comfortably in an A4 ... (the European equivalent to an 8.5 X 11 piece of paper)

4) If you are in the city centre, you'll probably bump into the same person several times during the space of 1 hour. (ahh and he/she probably works at JP Morgan)

5) Don't ever, ever try to take a 'sickie', and if you do, just think why? ... you cannot go out. Someone will see you (free paranoia for those lazy ones)

Luxembourg is a Duchessy, and the the Grand Ducal Palace is where the Grand Ducal family lives. The palace is right in the middle of the Old Town. It is great to be able to walk almost as close to the door and not be stopped by police or intimidated by the guards. The calm and simplicity of life here is great.



On Saturday, the plaza Guillaume is filled with antique traders and florists. And we can get lunch outside if the weather is good. oh yes! the weather, I guess is great for flowers, but not for people living of suitcases ... temperatures can go from 16 - 32 in the same week.



So, that's it for now... :-)

French is hard

Having recently arrived in Luxembourg, we have now transitioned from being basically lost in German to being lost in French. I want everyone to know that we made the transition seemlessly.

I present a few examples of our early success:

Example 1 - In our first dinner in town, Ale ordered horse. I am disappointed to report that the waiter made her aware of her mistake and she quickly changed her order. Too bad, I understand it tastes like chicken.

Example 2 - We joined a gym on day 2 in town. As with joining a gym in the US, we were asked on the membership form where we had heard about the gym. As soon as Ale handed the form to the woman who was to enter our info, the woman burst into laughter. When I asked what was so funny, the guy behind the counter (who was now in histerics) made a strange motion and said that Ale had written something that, in French, sounds a lot like "the warm up." I stared at him not understanding. In my best French, I said "huh?" He explained further (with more odd gesturing) "the before period, the warm up, the entrance." At this point, Ale and I concluded they were nuts, laughed politely and left.

About 20 minutes later it came to me . . . he had meant "foreplay." She had learned about the gym during foreplay.

So you are probably wondering, why there are no examples of my French mistakes. After all, I have inadvertent language-driven comedy in my genes (sorry dad). Truth be told, I mostly avoid it. I find that speaking English and/or asking Ale to order for me works just fine. As with all things, this is going to come to an end. Ale has picked up on my little scheme and has threatened to only order me spinach and anchovy salad until I start speaking French for myself.

So despite my avoidance, I have had one encounter so far in Lux. Sitting at a cafe last weekend, I wanted a red wine. After Ale ordered her Campari and refused to help me, I said "Von Roosh, si vu play."

Now, the waiter looked at me with such utter distain that I was almost shocked speechless. He shook his head signifying lack of comprehension. I tried again. Again he shook his head. At this point, I actually started to get a little annoyed because I was CONVINCED he understood me and was just fucking with me. Luxembourgish waiters don't work for tips so this was how he got joy out of work. I tried again, nothing . . . at this point, Ale stepped in and said . . . I swear to god . . . "Von Roosh, si vu play."

"Wee madam" and he was off. It took me 10 minutes to get my blood pressure under 300 over 200. (combination of his attittude and making me wait for a drink:)

Oh . . . but when I asked for the check he understood me perfectly. (Ladision si vu play)

The Blur de France

The tour de France came to Germany this year and we took the opportunity to go watch a stage. Ale checked the schedule and found that it started at 10am. We were about 30km from the start, so we estimated a 10:40ish arrival of the riders.



After getting up at the ass-crack of dawn and walking 6km up to the top of a category 3 climb, we set up base camp about 9:45 and waited for the riders. And we had a beer. . . . ah beer before 10am . . . glorious.






Finally about 10:45, we heard a roar coming up the mountain! Was it the riders? Oh no, it was the parade of sponsors. For the next 45 minutes every conceivable product was thrown from oddly shaped and brighlty painted trinkets-and-trash mobiles that whipped by often upwards of 50km per hour.

The utter lack of concern was truly impressive.

They threw hats, candies, pens . . . and beer! Can you imagine a parade with someone handing out beer to the all-ages crowd. Needless to say, I was impressed. In all honestly, all we got was a stupid Skoda hat and a can of beer. I really wanted the King of the Mountain hat but it wizzed by us and hit the old guy next to us. After he got hit by the hat, I didn't really feel like I could grab it before he did.

Several hours and countless "trips to the woods" later, the riders finally appeared. Now, I have to stress that we were in the front row on a bend so the riders went by within meters of us. I am talking all the big guns; Vino, Ulle, Floyd . . . and of course Lance.

But to be honest, I didn't see any of them. I mean, I am sure that they passed through my field of vision but I can't claim to have actually focused on any of them. Luckily, due to the magic of digital cameras and random picture snapping, I do have proof that they were there.

Please notice Jan Ullrich in the foreground and a little yellow jersey hidden in the back.

When Ale gets bored

An idle Ale is a scary sight. She takes pictures of her shoes.

I have titled this photo "Contemplation." Others might call it "Ordinary Brown Chuck Taylors on a hill in Southern Germany." Its sort of up to you.

I want to go on record that this was an actual old-school photo that required film and everything . . . sheesh . . . and we wonder why we can't afford nice things.

Our (un)usual weekends

During our short stay in beautiful Munich I drank more beer than I though I ever would. We used to go to a Beer Garden at least twice a week. Big tables, like the picnic ones with a long bench on each side. It is a Bavarian custom to go there with the family, listen to Bavarian music played by guys wearing leatherhosen at a roasting 85 degrees!

We did not make it to the Hofbrauhaus as often as we thought we would, but the Chinese Pagoda and the beer garden by the lake were two of our most popular stops. Look right, the photo cheats but the usual beer size = 1Lt! After that, any beer glass anywhere else looks like a miniature tea cup.

After a few of those Liters, is no suprise that we can no longer try to walk back home so instead we take the 'taxi-bike' (driven by a super fit guy who thinks - correctly - that we are just two tourists who had too much beer under the sun. ... Easy with the ride (please) .... the bumps are making us dizzy ! (but look, we keep a smile for the camera ...!)



.... If on our way back home, Chuck spots the Isar river, then that's it, we have to stop because he HAS to jump in! ... Now, although is summer, the temperature of the river is very very cold (I don't think he realises that until he gets in the water). He loves it .... It is funny, but you do not need a bathing suit there, just underwear or simply go naked. No one looks .... mmm ... not sure.


After the river, no taxi-bike will let us in . Now we are not only a pair of tourists who had too much beer under the sun, but we are also WET ... so Chuck & I have to 'walk' home.

(I thought it would be better not to show our faces, so here are our shadows - and look who is supporting whom?)

Munich

One of our coffee stops (and from where I am writing this) San Francisco Coffee Shop - just across is the Hofbrauhaus - This is a typical Saturday or Sunday morning: laptop, muffin and a pair of coffees for A & Ch. But remember that almost everything in Germany is closed on Sunday, coffee shops open at 11 (so much for an early morning coffee!)

Cafe en Seattle

Asi empieza mi columna (muy solemne, pero es verdad ...estoy feliz por que siempre quise tener un sitio donde escribir tonterias y ver si alguien las lee)

Chuck creo este blog para hacerlos reir con nuestras anecdotas pre y durante la experiencia Europea. No les voy a quitar ese placer. El Gringo es el encargado de hacerlos reir, yo intentare mi mejor redaccion para contarles un poco de como es nuestra vida y de las cosas que vamos decubriendo en Luxemburgo. (o mientras tanto desde Seattle)

Ademas soy la encargada de mantener el castellano. Parece que pasar tiempo fuera del Peru esta haciendo cosas terribles con mi ortografia y peor aun con mi vocabulario (que Chuck me corrija o hasta me ayude a encontrar palabras en mi propio idioma es suficiente humillacion). Eso si, me van a tener que disculpar la falta de acentos y enies (n~’s) hasta que vea la manera de ponerselos a este texto.Bueno, aun no hemos llegado a Europa pero a mi me pican los dedos por empezar a escribir.

Hoy estoy sentada en el 10mo (decimo) café cercano al flat, Uptown Expresso. El 10mo café?! Es que esta ciudad, Seattle, es el reino de la cafeina y de las opciones. Ok nunca he vivido en Roma o en alguna otra ciudad Italiana, pero dudo que haya otro sitio donde uno pueda ser tan exquisito y original para pedir un café y que nadie te mire raro. Me imagino que en Italia uno puede probar el mas increible café espresso, capuccino o latte. Pero en Seattle uno puede articular cosas como dopio- skinny- soya- mochaccino y nadie te mueve una ceja… eso para gente como yo, es un placer (aparentemente soy un poco complicada, eso me han dicho). Hoy dia, pedir un café con leche caliente al lado es tan simple como un café Americano (sweet!)

El Gringo y yo vivimos en la cima de Queen Anne, una zona bastante residencial en Seattle, pero a la vez llena de vida y, claro, cafes. Imaginense esto: Café El Diablo, a 100m, un café independiente especializado en cubanitos y con un local pintado a lo Mexicano. Café Ladro, a 200m, una cadena local, Café Appasionatto, donde los duenos son una familia Irani, (Irani?!) y donde siempre encuentras a un grupo de senores en sus 60’s conversando de la vida y de sus ultimas aventuras. Café Fresco, que comparte local con la peluqueria donde el Gringo se corta el pelo. Starbucks, no falta, y Café Tully’s, otra cadena de Seattle. Hasta la clinica quiropractica tiene un café (!).

Uptown Espresso es uno de mis preferidos, sera por que el café es delicioso o por que hacen unos kekes de calabaza (Pumpkin Bread) que matan (!) … llevo como 1 semana sin tentarme, ya que mis clases spinning no podian contrarrestar las calorias que estaba consumiendo en cada pedazo de keke (soy una dulcera con poca fuerza de voluntad). El sitio me lo recomendo una chica que nos recibio en su casa para Ano Nuevo del 2005 (esa es una manera de decirlo, ya que caimos como paracaidas en su fiesta).

Yo pense que despues de Londres me iba a tener que contentar con un café Americano a medias, y que poco a poco el placer de tomar un espresso iba a ir desvaneciendo… Pero esta ciudad me ha demostrado lo opuesto y ha sobrepasado cualquier expectativa. Prueba fuerte le espera a Luxemburgo. Quiza volver a Europa sea toda una aventura y un nuevo descubrimiento … pero yo hoy dia tengo mis dudas: podre encontrar un buen café para continuar mi addicion?

Podra Luxemburgo ofrecer una opcion mejor que este paraiso del café? (No duden que uno de nuetros criterios en busqueda de casa sera ‘el café de la esquina’)

Poppa's hittin' the road again - Luxembourg Here We Come

Executive Summary: I have been offered a two-yearassignment with LARGE INTERNET RETAILER in Luxembourg. AlessandraSusana Brescia Aicardi and I will be heading that wayin the next few months.

Long rambling version:

Beloved friends,

As 2004 came to a close, I made two solemn resolutionsto guide me in the coming year. First, I resolved tolose some weight. As the classic line says, fat dumband stupid is no way to go through life.

Second, I resolved to settle dowm and stay put in oneplace for a while. Create some calm and cohesion,that was the ticket. Well, if you read the executivesummary, you know that I am not keeping my resolutionsthis year.

I have been offered a role running a LARGE INTERNETRETAILER's affiliate marketingprogram in Europe. The program is anaffiliate marketing program whereby other websites putlinks to LARGE INTERNET RETAILER and/or LARGEINTERNET RETAILER products. When websurfers click through these links and buy something onour site, we pay a fee to the referring site. Its bigbusinesss and a significant portion of LARGE INTERNETRETAILER's traffic.

The job is based in Luxembourg. Myteam includes a guy in the UK, 2 in Germany, one inFrance and finance support to be hired intoLuxembourg. The goal is simple, profitably grow thetraffic sourced through the affiliate program in Europe. It has all the basics of a great role - lots of exposure,high expectations, international assignment, house onfire, etc, etc.I am still waiting to find out how bad a relocationdeal LARGE INTERNET RETAILER is going to offer me:)Having said that, I am going to take the job and I expect to be inLuxembourg by April.

To fill you in on the details, I have created a FAQ(frequently asked questions). I apologize in advancefor the vulgarity, but several are exact quotes.

1) Didn't anyone f*cking realize that you are notremotely qualified for the job?Well, I am sure that someone realized it, but notenough people realized it. Its important tounderstand that in any group at LARGE INTERNETRETAILER of more than 5 people at least one thinksyou are an idiot. Since I was interviewed by 7 people,someone realized the truth.Having said that, going after jobs for which you arequalified is sort of like dating a woman in yourleague. You can do it, but I wouldn't advise it.

2)No seriously, what the hell happened?Not sure. I suckered some poor friend of mine in totaking my aweful job and I became a free agent. Thissame friend, who in the fullness of time will notlikely remain my friend, then refered me to the hiringmanager for this position. A week later, I have anoffer. Obviously, I am trying to get all the dealssorted before everyone starts to sober up.

3) Why Luxembourg?Luxembourg is the new LARGE INTERNET RETAILER EU headquarters. ByEuropean standards it is a "tax haven" which meansthat the VAT is less than 80% and the personal incometax tops out at 90%.

4) Where is Luxembourg?Not sure really. Its about the size of my living roomand I think it is sandwiched lovingly between Germanyand France. If you get drunk and go for a walk, Ithink you have a reasonable chance of ending up in oneof five countries.

5) What does Ale think about all this?I should have put this question closer to the top.Long story short, she is excited. As she puts it, shewas ready for an adventure in the US with me and nowshe is ready for an adventure in the EU . . . and Ithink she is happy that she will get a chance to learnFrench.Btw, I should give a brief summary of Ale's adventureto date in Seattle. The biggest news is that I thinkshe has befriended half this town. She knows all theshop keepers up and down our street and isparticularly close to all the baristas. I will haveto explain to all of you someday how Ale orders hercofee . . . but there just isn't time. Put quickly,it takes about 2 minutes to get the order out. Oh,and she came home one day to tell me that she had acoffee date for the following day with a middle-agedmidget psychologist. (I was speechless . . . and I amrarely speechless)

6) What are you plans for Europe?The list is long and growing; view a mountain stage ofthe tour de france, go to Octoberfest, see Rome, takethe entire summer off, go to La Tomatina, view aSix-Nations rugby match, eat in lots of bistros, learna little French and German.In addition to the above, Ale wants to "eskee in thealps."

7) If your team ever flew on a plane together,wouldn't it sound like a joke I knew in 4th grade?Yes, it would actially. I loved every joke thatstarted with; "An American, a brit, a German and aFrenchman" . . . . I was clearly hired, in part, formy cultural sensitivity.

8) Can I come for a visit?Absolutely. I ask for at least 2 hours notice. Iwant to make sure we have a bottle of wine on hand. Iobviously have no contact info yet, but can always bereached at this email address.

9) Wait, how did you get this f*cking job again?I stumbled ass-backward in to it. It is better to belucky than good.I hope this post finds you well.Chuckps - No, I haven't lost any weight either.

pps - The subject line are lyrics from a song. Idon't refer to myself as Poppa . . . I promise.