Reading and Cereal

I was reading Linda Castillo's book, Shamed. A murder occurs in an Amish community and the sheriff who was raised Amish and left the community is racing the clock to solve a kidnapping and murder. Good suspense and it kept me engaged. It was book 11 because it was one I randomly grabbed in my library app not wanting to study on what to read. I won't go back in the series but I would read more.

Do you know the term "brought out of the story"? I am pretty easy going about playing along with plots and twists-turns. Grammatical errors and typos always make me pause and think about if the book was published by a big New York firm and that sort of thing. Sometimes something in a story doesn't sound quite true and it will make you stop and think. This is being pulled out of the story instead of staying in the flow. 

While I can highly recommend this book there was one moment that brought me out of the story. The sheriff is talking to the 5 or 6 children under 11 years old. It is late almost bedtime and they are eating cereal. 

I did not grow up Amish but my parents went through some hippie phases. If you want a play on words, they can be a bit granola. In fact, most of my life they have made granola from scratch. We would buy it at times as well as a healthier alternative to processed cereal. I did get to eat cereal from boxes too. It had to be something with some nutrition in my mother's estimation Wheaties or Life Cereal if I begged. I've never had Captain Crunch, still. It was considered sugar and no substance.

I know about home made granola intimately. And we call it granola we don't call it cereal. So this begs the question from me: do Amish communities, or does a conservative Amish family buy cereal? The family in the book is designated as a strict family. Or is there a recipe for cereal that I haven't encountered with my everything made from scratch up bringing?? I find this very interesting. If you happen to know, I'd love to hear. 

It was a silly detail that made me pause in my reading.  I know some Mennonites but they can be very modern so I don't think I'll get my answer there either.

At my house today, I buy my cereal, happily. I mix three varieties including one here in Spain called Chocolic, it is the store brand of the pictured product here which is name brand. Chocolic would not meet my mother's cereal standards, please don't tell her. 

Ghost apartments

About two blocks from where I live in Spain are these apartments. In my head, I call them ghost apartments. Our entire neighborhood "urbanización" in Spain was built in 2006-2008 brand new from empty ground.

Many of you may recall that the economy got a bit dicey in the late 2000s. This hit Spain a bit earlier due to some overbuilding with some EU funds and well, some other government policies forcing certain standards. Time stood still for a lot of places here including these apartments.

Out my kitchen window I can see an entire square block that the electric boxes, streets, curbs, were all put in, but no houses. Right next to these apartments is a full kids play area and park walkways.

I would love to get a look inside these. From the exterior, they look fully finished but not a single soul has lived in them ever. Probably not a good scenario for any paranormal occurrences. For me it's the ghost of a building. A place completely constructed but never used. I'd love to see if it is 100% finished, appliances and everything or just a shell.

Our entire neighborhood infrastructure was put in place all those years ago and is barely utilized. When we moved into our house a year ago, it was about 7 years old. It had never been lived in, ever. Brand new but with peeling paint because there'd never been heating or cooling. Also a clogged plumbing system on one half of the house from construction debris! No one knew that either.

So now, the economy is beginning to turn up again, quite a bit slower than the USA, but instead of those apartments being advertised, rented, or sold, new ones are being built a few streets in the other direction. I can only imagine there's a bankruptcy thing going on somewhere or the empty buildings in our neighborhood (town homes and apartment blocks) are in a no man's land between owners and banks.

I suppose I have a nosy streak (like my book character Blanche?). I like to know what's inside and behind closed windows and doors. My folks used to drive us around at night for the pleasure of peeking into the lit windows of a mansioned neighborhood near where we lived. It started very young for me, I guess!

Is there somewhere you want to get a look at?

Here's a link to another earlier blog about trespassing in a place that my curiosity couldn't resist!

Weirdest places ever slept, part 4, God's house

As part of our day job related fund raising, we travel to all kinds of places and hotels. Sometimes when it is in our nonprofit world, we stay with friends or the locals offer to put us up. This is great as it saves money as we raise it. Several churches have had space to host us and we've always been grateful, but it's also some of the strangest sleeping quarters I've experienced.

I don't know if any of you have ever been in a huge building alone as a kid or an adult. As a kid I remember we'd play hide and seek in the basement of the church I grew up in while the adults ate finger food and drank punch upstairs somewhere. It always seemed like you'd get spooked and run like you'd never run in your life down a dark hallway. Also my dad used to rent "computer time"  in a big office building in downtown KC. I'd be the only person on the 10th floor poking in people's desks and such. Then I'd go even further down to the bathroom and get spooked and run like mad back to the computer room that was completely sealed and sound proof. My dad wouldn't have heard me yelling or running or anything the way it was set up. It was great fun.  I give you this as way as background to the places with dark hallways that might effect odd places I slept as an adult.

The first time we slept in a guest room inside a church it was in a smaller community, but the church could probably seat a couple hundred people. We had a compulsion to walk around and see everything just so we knew where we were at and how the land lay. My significant other sneaked into the sanctuary and tapped on the cymbals while I was in another part of the church getting a drink or something and tried to say it wasn't him. The church folks had thoughtfully put a lock on the door of the room.

One nice thing about a lock is that you are in a huge building alone and it's nice not to feel vulnerable. Two is that folks arrive at all kinds of early hours for church services and you'd like to not introduce yourself in your skivvies.

So another time, another religious institution, the guest room was actually a large lounge with six sofas that made into beds. So you just picked one and opened up. While it was a big space (besides being in a big building) it very distinctly wasn't a single bedroom. We dressed in the attached bathroom.

Well, putting it mildly I'm not an early riser. The early risers in this rural farm community were getting coffee going behind a folding curtain that attached to our room. My significant other got in the shower and gave me a moment to awake. I started worrying this big room was a Sunday School area and I should get moving. I traded the sofa room for the bathroom only to hear pounding on the door of our area. I was about to turn on the shower when my man opened the door and said that I needed to hurry they were going to have to turn off the water.  The snow storm had frozen and broken pipes which were filling the heating system with water. Uhm, okay, no pressure.

When I came out to join in the donuts and early morning church rituals, you could hear the water pounding in the heating vents like tribal drums. Really weird sound.

Okay, so another room another state. This time attached to the men's bathroom as this was the only bathroom that had a shower. My spouse taught me that it is inappropriate to balance one's makeup bag on the handle of a urinal, but honestly you just work with whatever space you have and there wasn't any. We stayed in this arrangement for eight weeks. It was in a urban spill from a very large city. The kitchen was in the basement which meant walking through the sanctuary (in the dark) and down some stairs and hallways to the kitchen for hot water or microwaves etc. So I had to psych myself up for the journey (see the paragraph of childhood basement running above!).

It was fine and we didn't mind. These are just the little challenges you don't think of unless you stay a place as unusual as the back of thousands of square feet of public use space. After a few days, someone from the pastoral family mentioned that we needed to double check the side door by the sanctuary (not the one we used in the back dark parking lot!) because it didn't always latch and sometimes homeless people came inside to get warm. No big deal but it was best to check. Yeah. Note to self check the doors and the dark hallways on the way to the far away kitchen.

So then my significant one had to leave for another meeting and I got to stay there completely alone for two weeks. It was fine. Really. So maybe yes, I ran a couple times thru dark hallways, but I was grateful for somewhere to stay. It probably helped the intensity of my prayers!

Weirdest Places Slept, part 3, Place of the Dead

We spent a big chunk of life only going to visit people we knew when we went on vacation, grandparents, college roommates, that sort of cheap and comfortable vacation where you see your people.

When we started traveling for work reasons, we went a lot of places that hadn't been on the agenda financially or as major destinations. We had some meetings in New Jersey, New York,  and other east coast locals so we drove from the midwest. We didn't used to plan for hotels and on these trips a lot of people host us so we were just winging it.

In the middle of New York somewhere far from civilization, we found ourselves too far to go back and too far to go on as the wee hours began to make us sleepy. We finally took the next exit because we saw a sign for the "White Horse Inn." Taking a dark exit far from everything we'd seen for some time, we drove another 10 miles or so into the woods and discovered the White Horse Inn was a pancake - dinner place and they were locking up. We really needed to stop for the night so we asked if there was anything near by, a bed and breakfast perhaps?

An older fellow pointed us to a campground just a few miles down the road (still further into the deep dark woods and away from the highway) and they had a hotel on the grounds. Perfect.

It was dark and late, we could have missed it but somehow saw the turn. No lights or anything, it was one of those old methodist camp ground type things with the little victorian cottages surrounding a main green. (This sort of thing though this is not the one.)

We parked in front of  a white clapboard two story hotel, relieved and tired and wondering where we were. We'd passed no towns of any sort.

My significant other checked us in while I stood by the luggage at the bottom of the stairs looking at a painting. Not an experienced artist, but well meaning. I looked at the caption and it said, 'painted by Mary SoandSo in a trance.' Trance? I looked around further and there was a quilt done in a trance.

When my honey came up with the keys, we sort of put some things together he saw at the front desk and what I was seeing and realized we'd just checked into a camp for people who like to talk to dead people. Mediums, spiritualists, and such. Uh oh.

It was so late, we were tired and now paid up so we just went to our room, even though this would not have been a place we would pick out of website to stay. Let's just say it's not our spiritual cup of tea.

It was a lovely old room with wood floors and metal bed. You know how those old eastern board places don't have a/c? Well, this was one of them. We had the lights off in a few minutes since we were beat. My man was gleefully speculating if the curtains were blowing in the summer breeze or ...? I fell asleep. He told some family members who were completely terrified for us that we'd stayed there.

It was a lovely old camp ground but as we drove away each little cottage had a sign for a psychic or a medium or something. It struck me as a vaguely sinister environment with a quaint veneer over the top. A little arsenic and old lace.

Taking a different tact on the same trip later, we stayed in a hotel near the highway that had a hot tub the size of a car in one half of the BEDROOM space. Ick. And when I turned on the TV to porn,  we were really skeeved out. I think I slept on top of my scarf. Let's say, this may when we began to realize we needed to plan a little more carefully.

The Comfort Tour

So due to visa restrictions in Russia when we traveled there earlier this year, we had to sign up for a tour. We were coming off of a busy season of life and didn't want a high speed pressure filled event, so we signed up for "comfort class" tour.

The group was small and consisted of those who'd past 70  -- and us! I don't know what I expected but not the senior citizen tour.

An old trucker and his wife from Texas. He was rambunctious and couldn't hear and she repeated things for him. He had his wallet stolen at the Peter and Paul Fortress in the line for the turnstile, but other than pride and a few choice words, no damage done. He only brought cash in his wallet from the boat since he was worried about pickpockets. I had to wonder if you didn't bring your credit card on land to buy foreign things, why did you have it with you at all? It was a strategy that paid off for him though. 

Two delightful Vietnamese sisters retired and living in California had an amazing sense of humor and traveled without their significant others. One of them spilled her water bottle as we were getting on the mini-bus and was very adamant that everyone would know she didn't pee.

A retired Canadian couple born in the UK but living in Ottawa had very British accents and almost felt like a comic sketch of a British couple. He thought everywhere was unsafe but had had to travel with a "government office" during his working days. He fancied himself an expert on everything and liked waxing eloquent on it. He was a major pro-picture taker.

A quiet tall older couple from Minnesota or the Dakotas were a matched set of tallness.  She was friendly; he didn't talk. I found myself standing by him on the 5 minute escalator ride to the bottom of the St. Petersburg metro station. It was dramatically long. He was so overcome he spoke, "You'd have to leave for work early." Then at the bottom of the long escalator was a booth with a guard sitting in it. "That'd be easy work." I guess he thought about work.

There was one other couple and they were an exact match to this northern pair where one was friendly and one didn't talk. For the life of me I couldn't keep them straight. Except one fella wore a fishing cap.

While my mother has told me that I'm middle aged, I am not even beginning to be able to imagine the word retirement, so this was not my normal social set. It was almost like any group of quirky people but the quirks seem to be on steroids. Maybe our oddities increase as we get older? Is it harder to hold in our natural instincts of telling all you know or announcing loudly how bad the food or prices might be? I just don't know, not yet anyway.

 One thing that was unexpected for my husband and myself was that we felt responsible for all these people. I'm not sure if it is that we are used to living overseas and often are taking others around to see sites. We perhaps are in the habit of watching over folks. On this day, of course, we'd all paid dearly for a tour guide. She was a nice English teacher and probably around our age.

Nevertheless, my husband and I were tech support for the earphone technology, along with the tour guide, checking channels and volume buttons. We would hang back if we noticed one of the pack falling behind. We were cautioning them about pickpockets when we went into the metro station. We were definitely in mother hen mode even though it wasn't our job.

The cute thing is when we arrived late the first day (see earlier post) they were all worried if we were okay especially those from the north that must have skipped breakfast knowing the passport lines were long. It was our first time, how were we to know?

We compared notes with some younger people on the normal-non-comfort tours. It sounded miserable. They were road marched past a few more sites than us but never allowed to stop or ask questions. It sounded like a race to run past famous monuments, plus that tour was made up of three full sized bus loads of people and we were only 12. We could chat with our tour guide and ask for random potty stops while the big tour people did not have these luxuries. I was thrilled we had taken the comfort tour and had been able to enjoy the sites. To tell the truth, the comfort tour managed to wear me out anyway.

Pro or anti Daylight Savings Time?

Daylight savings sneaked up on me this last weekend here in Spain. Fortunately I had slept late, a prereq for a nice weekend morning, and my Sunday am appointment was not missed either. I noticed that despite having an extra hour, I was still running late in the end. Seems like you go into leisure mode when you think you have an extra hour!

Another shock came today when I went to the store after work and came out of the store to pitch black skies of night. How does that surprise you every single year?

The pro in this case was waking up to light. I really, really don't like to get up in the dark, so I do not mind at all the next few weeks that will give me a day lit morning.

I will miss the longer evenings though. For some reason, even though the temperature didn't change, going for a long walk in the dark doesn't have the same appeal as a sunset stroll. In the heat of summer, however, we had to wait until 10 pm for the streets to cool down enough for a walk. Us and the rest of our Spanish village! Now we are all scurrying to the park at 5 or 6 pm. Our internal meters all seek the same bit of light. Or it could be I'm getting to be more Spanish in my life style? They seem to do things in groups, rarely are people doing things solitaire.

 With Europe changing a week before the USA, I get messed up in my internal calculation of what time it is for my people back home. Then there's my grandpa in Arizona which doesn't participate in daylight savings so while his time doesn't change, I have to try to remember is this the season where he's 8 or 9 hours different from me?

I know a few people who are adamantly anti-time changing antics on the clock. Just leave it alone, they say. They don't care about long days in the summer.

I also have heard the other argument that they should just leave it switched so that the longer light is in the evenings, don't switch back and forth.

Extra light? No change? Which one are you?

Food time may not be the right time for you in Spain

This is something that always comes up with visitors to Spain. A friend has recently come to visit and in addition to noticing my food shopping procrastination,  she made me realize that we eat at funny times.

We don't eat Spanish style but after living here so long and of course dealing with the weather the same as everyone else, we have inadvertently adapted to the food schedule.

The system as I, a foreigner, understand it in Spain is generally eating five times a day. It goes something like this:

Breakfast: maybe a cup of coffee, or a cigarette, or both. Juice and a piece of toast if you're all into it.
A toast favorite of mine here is pan tomate: toasted left over bagette bread smeared with puré of fresh tomatoe, olive oil, and sea salt.

Around 10:30-11am. It's break time. I can't seem to get a firm grasp on what this is called in Spain. Almuerzo is a possibility but some say otherwise. It is not uncommon for everyone to go get a coffee from an office environment around this time and eat something small. It is very common to see people who work manually sitting in the shade or on a sidewalk eating a bocadillo (sandwich on bagette bread) and drinking wine or beer or coke. It's a snack to get you through til lunch.

2pm Comida. In the Madrid area, this is just referred to as Comida maybe different in other parts. This is normally a three course lunch. On weekdays this is a very affordable and filling option. Last week I paid 8 Euros for: course 1 - cannelones; course 2 - skirt steak and fries; course 3 - an ice cream cone, drink included. It's sort of stick to your ribs physical worker food out in the villages where we are at. In the city a few minutes away, sometime it has more finesse but it's always the same structure. This is traditionally the big meal of the day. Children are released from school to go home and eat big and they come back at 4:30 or so which makes for a challenging day for working parents and a lot of grandparent involvement or paying the school to keep the kids for this time frame. After this would be your nap if you take one, not everyone does, and many people are too far away from home to go back anyway.

5-8 pm is merienda. Again snack time but more commonly this is something sweet. A donut or tortitas: that is American style pancakes with chocolate syrup and whip cream. This is the only time of day McDonald's serves pancakes here. People generally make sure kids get something during this time frame.

Dinner, well that depends. I understand that you might feed the kids here at 8 or 8:30pm. Restaurants do not open for dinner until 8, 8:30 or 9pm depending on their preference. I've entered a restaurant at 7:50pm and been told to come back later.

For Valentine's day one year, we left our house at 7:30pm, arrived, were seated and ate our dinner as the only patrons in the restaurant. At 9pm when we were leaving, a few couples were coming in. A fancy dinner out would probably be scheduled at 10pm or perhaps 11pm.

The next question every American asks is how do they sleep with all that food on their stomach. I have no idea. I do know people stay up later here generally. Even Spaniards sometimes admit it's not good for you to eat so late.

If they are eating at home, this 9-10pm meal is something lighter, not a big three course meal. A Spanish tortilla for instance would be a dinner. It's like an egg and potato omelet but made in a flat pan shape which is a fine art here.

I usually do eat breakfast. Mother raised me to eat something before I left the house. I don't do 10:30 snack/almuerzo though on occasion will eat a cookie if I'm starving around 11am. We eat lunch in the office between 1:30 and 2 usually, rarely do we go out for the three course meal. It takes a long time and even though affordable doesn't meet our budget.

 I try not to eat anything after work around 6pm but if I'm starving I might have a snack. Dinner without air conditioning in a summer of 100+F at times got later and later. We ate consistently at 8pm but often it drifted into 9pm. Now that the weather is cooling, we might eat a little earlier. I like the free time aspect when I arrive home and often write then, rather than "starting dinner,"  so it's not going to get too much earlier than 8pm.

When we are home in the USA and someone wants to beat the crowd to a restaurant at say 5:30pm -- it sort of gives me reverse culture shock. It seems like eating a late lunch to me. Funny what you get used to without even knowing it.

Telephone company induced culture shock

I had a guy who is living outside his own culture say he never had culture shock. I think he doesn't know the definition and has an ego that makes him think he's better if he doesn't have it. Maybe he is.

Having lived quite a number of years outside the USA, I would say culture shock can sneak up on you from very unexpected directions and maybe doesn't look like you'd think, even after years. After seven years in Spain, I define my culture shock moments by an unexpected and disproportional rage or reaction of some kind. It's not that the provoking event doesn't merit some reaction, it's just that proportionally culture shock jumps you several levels ahead of what it would be in your home culture.

Take Burger King for instance. The new one nearby has -- in English  -- on the seats "Have it your way" and yet a friend of mine who is particular about how she likes her food was told "no se puede." It cannot be. Yes, it's annoying and yes it's absurd but sometimes something simple can blow you out of the water. This same Burger King which has a permanent sign on it's pillar proclaiming "24 horas" told me two weeks ago at 11 am -- 24 hours yes, but not today, only on weekends.

The last two weeks I have been at conferences. The first week was here in Spain and people came from all over Europe. Now, I made the mistake of thinking these people are Europeans so they will not have a strong reaction to Spain.

What I discovered is that I am accustomed to the eccentricities of Spain and I have accepted many of them. I don't always like it but I'm used to it.  Now my northern European colleagues were suddenly asking why things were and I had no answer. I realized eventually that they were uncomfortable with the hotel changing the hours or the exact order of things or the details we had all agreed upon.

Now perhaps I have given up fighting these things since it takes so much energy or perhaps I have just accepted them as inevitable. I realized my colleagues were having a mild discomfort and confusion which is culture shock.

I know my significant other and I have each separately or occasionally together had moments of raging against something simple or terribly complicated, but invariably something we could not control.

Last Monday in fact after conference no. 1 we arrived home to discover our internet and cable tv service had quit.  We reset the system a couple times. Nothing.

In the USA the next step is make a phone call. We put that off until morning because we didn't have the energy. The next morning the automated system couldn't understand my man's Spanish. So I asked the admin assistant at work to call. She perhaps didn't realize I expected her to find the entire answer for me. She got me into a queue for English support and handed the phone back to me.

After being on hold for more than 30 minutes and passed between offices because they had me on hold for the wrong office, I found myself talking to someone in heavily accented English on perhaps the worst speaker phone I have ever heard. It was near impossible to understand anything. I fought thru the preliminaries of my phone number etc. I kept say I can't understand you. This degredated into him shouting at me and hanging up on me. I thought I was suppose to hang up on the cable company - at least I could picture that happening in the USA, but here they hung up on ME in frustration.

My Spanish speaking colleague said I should call and renounce the guy which is the word they use here for filing a complaint. It's a very expressive word that I like a lot and would like to try sometime, but I'd been passed around so much I had no idea who or what department I was talking to.

So I called back and then the automated system hung up on me. Then I called back and they tried to sell me something before they asked me my problem. Then I finally talked to someone in Spanish. I discovered embarrassingly that the payment didn't go thru as my account got too low. Okay, I can fix that. I only needed you to tell me.

I inquired two or three times in case my Spanish isn't working well on how to go about solving this. Do I need a number when I got to the bank and pay it? No. So then I repeat their expectations and what I should do a couple times. 

My man goes to the bank and there proceeds to get yelled at for not having the right information to pay this bill despite my close questioning of the phone company/cable company person.

Something that is simple or perhaps frustrating in the USA, turns into epic proportions in another culture. In the end, we figured out how to pay in another way online and service was restored but not before we'd had a war with our own emotions and the system. Often we just don't fight things because we just don't have the energy for it, but sometimes even in the same day, we have magical moments and love where we're living!

The art of procrastinating on food

Does everyone have major grocery purchasing aversions like I do? I've become the queen of substitutions for recipes -- assuming I even bother with a recipe for dinner -- in order to avoid stopping by a store.

In the last month, my significant other and I have achieved a new all time high or would it be stooped to a low(?) in avoiding food shopping. Today we had a conversation that went something like this:
I could eat a spoonful of peanut butter for breakfast.
Oh, you're out of cereal? Don't we have bread?
No.
Hey -- we have tostas. (Spanish pre-toasted crunchy bread slices. Think melba toast.)
Perfect, peanut butter, jelly, and tostas.
I've still got cereal.
Perfect.

This conversation took place on the way to get something out to eat for lunch, so the leftovers in the fridge could be lunch tomorrow.

Everyone does avoid the store on occasion (don't they?)  but we've really turned it into a game the last few weeks. I find great satisfaction in raiding a kitchen that seems to have nothing in it and coming up with dinner. Granted it's going to be dinner with not all the ingredients but dinner it will be.

It's funny there have been times in my life when this substitution or avoidance was due to financial constraints, but this time it's just shear stubbornness or laziness. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that it's "vacation" month in Spain and everyone is either at the beach or wishing they were, so my own personal take is avoiding the reality of grocery carts.

Now, if I'm honest this month of avoiding the store has had to necessarily require visits to the corner shop in our village. It tries to do an impression of a grocery story but it really only has two aisles and a VERY limited selection. I would say most US convenience stores are probably on par with the selection. So we have picked up a couple more liters of shelf milk there, a couple lemons, some lunch meat and bread when we decided to have sandwiches all last weekend, uh toilet paper, and a few odds and ends. We also buy a lot of random things that just accumulate in the cabinets that have aided this creative non-food-buying marathon.

I know we are probably spending too much buying the odds and ends like this rather than breaking down and going to the big store, but we've been one-upping the sensation  that you need to go to the store for a couple weeks now.

So last Monday we were going to grill and had thawed all the meat in the freezer. A freak storm came up that was glorious and humid for a few hours of relief in in our high desert, but no grilling. Hmm, but we do need to eat. So eggs to the rescue -- we had a revuelto frozen package and voila dinner. Revuelto is a veg mix of some sort that you mix with eggs in Spain. Tuesday we grilled all the thawed meat and proceeded to eat it for the next couple days. Thursday on the way to work with the last two burgers in a bag for lunch we laughed and said okay we have to go tonight that was all fun but time is up.

Oops. It's a holiday and the grocery store near us is closed. Now we could have driven 30 minutes and shopped elsewhere, but not us. We decided to push it further. We discovered some forgotten fish fillets in the freezer which my hubby creatively turned into fish curry with some also forgotten cranberries.

Enough fish curry for lunch on Friday! I had a revelation that I still had a lemon and could reproduce that lemon pasta dish minus the chicken. I mean really if there's rice and pasta in the house, you can keep the game going awhile, right?

Saturday we walked to the corner pastelleria (pastry shop) and got goodies and a liter of milk for breakfast and we're (eureka!) invited to a barbecue for dinner. So we have not achieved this non-shopping streak without the help of others and restaurants to be fair.

Breakfast is going to be our undoing I think. It's going to have to be this week. Or we could make a couple more stops in the corner store to make it to a full month of non-shopping. Like I said, we've still got rice.

Cruise Quick stop wrap up: Estonia, Finland, Sweden

Talinn, Estonia
The old city stop off was near the port. A medieval colorful city with a crafts/trinkets market going in the main square even though it was a Wednesday. Not sure if it was a holiday or just a matter of the tourist part of town and summer catering to tourists. They were doing a good business so it was paying off whatever the cause.

We went into a lovely old church near the main square that was intimate, whitewashed and held ancient well used pews. Nothing fancy and they were putting up songbook numbers for a service later.  Another church more of a grand cathedral had been turned into a museum that was mostly empty but had the Danse Macabre (Dance of Death) panel paintings that remain from the medieval times by an unknown artist. Death in skeletal form but different costumes "danced" with people in all different walks of life and all different ages. It was an odd panel the full length of one of the chapels and had apparently been larger at one time.

We mostly wandered and shopped. The city was very colorful. and while medieval very different looking than what I might expect. Perhaps it was all the yellow paint and the ornate carvings on buildings that surprised me.

We got blueberry ice cream and lingonberry sorbet on the way back on purpose choosing something we hadn't seen elsewhere. It was just right and no stress kind of day. Perhaps we should have been more into the history but I  just didn't have the energy. Linen goods (ie my sweater and a tablecloth) and Russian style paintings, dolls, hats etc seemed to be the things to buy.



Helsinki, Finland
We took a 10 euro shuttle to and from the center from the port which was a good move. it was a very boutique store city that looks like it'd be fun to do home decorating shopping in but I didn't what with flying with suitcases and walking around a city all day.

We walked down to a market along the water that had people selling fruit, Finnish meals on paper plates, and homemade goods. This was really delightful and while I'm sure kept up for tourists felt like locals were there too. We talked to girls who tried to get us to buy Spanish blueberries that were on sale which is funny since we traveling away from Spain. My man bought a winter hat from a lady who knitted it. The market had lots of heavy winter linens and knifes. I'm guessing summer is short there.

We walked on to an Orthodox church that was colorfull and then to what seemed to be the main square. It was dominated by an enormous Finnish Evangelical Lutheran Cathedral inside and outside it was airy and light gray indoors. The massive steps created a seating area to listen to the music festival and for the seagulls to swoop down to try to steal whatever you were eating. It was a local festival of music and crafts and food. The significant other being the brave eater that he is bought a paper bowl of minirit (sp?) a little white fried fish you eat whole (head, fins, tale) with a sort of hollandaise sauce drizzled on too if you wished. I think it is like smelt. Fried with a cornmeal type batter or something coarser anyway  than the fried boquerones version in Spain. A band did some folk music and folk dancing going while we sat on the steps.

We shopped the little booths and  I bought a little ceramic dish from the artist. I got in a long line for some pastry looking things and asked the ladies ahead of me what I was in line for! They explained it was a traditional pastry of rice, a savory thing. One lady remembered her grandmother making them. I didn't catch the name. They wanted to know all about my trip and were delightful to talk to. A rock band started then which they confirmed were singing in Finnish but were "too loud". The pastry was artistically folded dough around a middle of rice mush then it was fried, and then it appeared to be rolled in melted butter. It was tasty but not a dramatic flavor. It made me think of survival food that needed to fill you up. While I was eating it, I got pooped on by a seagull. Someone told me that is good luck.

Stockholm, Sweden
We walked about a mile to the Gamla Stan "remarkably preserved" Old Town. It was windy, cold (in June!) with small pretty streets and loads of shops but not all open since it was Sunday. Lots of ice cream shops making their waffle cones and it smelled so good. Lots of artsy boutiques again and fun felted hats and paintings and such. We had to get money at an ATM as they are EU but not on the Euro. Kroners. It is really hard to estimate how much you need of currency when you are only there for a few hours. Every place took credit cards too.

We ended up wandering into the royal palace in the Gamla Stan and went in for 150K each, not a cheap ticket but you do get to see a lot of rooms. Most of the upholstered furniture is covered with ticking type covers, probably for protection, so the impression is not as grand as it could be. It felt like a much more subdued palace especially after Russia. It had gone thru several phases of people, royals actually living in it and what is now a cabinet meeting room was once a royal dining room. A modern room done in 1998 for the king's jubilee was all retro and 1950s expensive looking. The palace was just more used and somehow friendlier than the big shiny palaces though there were some lovely rooms. The white sea room and a dining room based on the Versailles mirror room were some of the blinged rooms. Parts of the palace had a little of an early American feel to me probably because it was moved into in 1740 or thereabouts.

A military band started playing while we were inside which was interesting and there were still ceremonies going when we came out and we imagined what if it was for you all that ceremony. The Swedes wore imposing military pickle hats at least ceremonially. It was and interesting changing of the guard.

We had a huge slice of apple strudel from a quaint coffee shop that the prince and or his wife had been to  - at least  I think that's why they can display the photograph but not sure... then we got ice cream.  What decadence. We took advantage of our time away from the ship to eat random local things rather than try to squeeze in another meal. We used the stairs on the 10 story ship a lot and the weight gain for me was only 2 pounds (1 kilo) whew!

Sprint across St. Petersburg tourism day 2

Day two we were not late so no debasing treatment from the tour guide. St. Petersburg, Russia here we come.

First the subway ride in the brand new Admiralty stop. The first escalator is about 10 stories continual escalator. Crazy. The trains are old  and beat up looking but the stations are new. I think the Kiev, Ukraine station I was in last year was more impressive and older but they really work to make the stations impressive and regal. No graffiti like I'm used to in Spain.

Quickly back to the tour bus and the early entry of the Hermitage. Biggest museum in Europe (quantity - wise) only 7% is on display. It is housed in three palaces at least the display part. The palaces themselves are worth a visit even without the art. The impressionist exhibit was very nice. Some Van Gogh I wasn't familiar with and Cezanne as well as a lot of names I recognized. Some early pieces of Monet that were darker palettes before he moved on to lighter colors and light play were an interesting contrast to other paintings I'd seen in other countries. Rembrandt section is the largest in the world and super crowded. Ridiculous. We saw the prodigal son which had been used for a sermon in Spanish church and I really liked seeing it live. It was quite large.

It was really worth it to have a guide for the Hermitage both for the early entry they get and for guiding you to see specific things. The place was enormous and you could spend and entire day wandering and not see what you were looking for.

One thing that made me pay attention was that Oksana our guide would describe the people who had collected say the impressionist paintings and then at the end say:  and it was confiscated by the Communist government where normally you hear it was donated to the museum. Then in the tour they would have the biggest of say the Rembrandts in the world, the european silver collection biggest in the world. If the government simply confiscated everyone's everything from all the rich people in such a huge country and put it in the museum seems it would be an easy way to get the biggst collections of a lot of things.

We walked thru the grand and large Revolutionary square. You could see St Isaac's golden basilica in the distance. 4th largest in the world  or Europe or something (or maybe a lot of place I've been claim to be in the top five??) She mentioned four including this one and  Brussels, Milan and Rome.


We visited the church of the spilled blood. Most mosaics in the world. 7000 inside one church if I'm remembering right. I thought it would be the spilled blood of Christ, but it was where Emperor Alexander II was killed. There was a second (at least) attempt on his life with a bomb. It harmed some people and not him and he felt it was his duty to get out and attend to the people. So the conspirators threw another bomb and got him and so they built a church literally on the spot - they moved the bank of the river and kept the pavement and the railing wheere he was killed inside the church they built. He had freed all the serfs from the feudal system/slave system still going on but did not give them the land they lived on. The church was colorful inside and out. Russiana Orthodox so no pews.

All mosaics! The whole place was covered.

That little low railing in the back is the sidewalk railing and inside the marble fence is the original pavement where the royal blood flowed. Never seen anything quite so specific.

Church of the Spilled Blood from outside. Picture doesn't do it justice very colorful.

A quick walk down a shopping district (not to shop to show us -- a blog on tours later) We got out no money the whole time. They just marched us around very quickly and stopped us at particular shops.

Then a dramatically quick stop at the Peter Paul Fortress to the St.Peter St. Paul church, orthodox russian where all the Csars are buried including the last one and his assascinated 5 children -- they did NOT receive the royal crest on their tombs. They were found in a mine shaft where their bodies had been thrown  80 years later or something like that and dna tests verified them. Oksana was adamant that none survived that it was legend from books.

Nothing was leisurely but we did see a lot in a very short time.

Impressions of St. Petersburg, Russia

St. Petersburg, Russia ---

We did a river cruise first and I didn't realize there were so many old palaces there. Many of course have been converted into museums or other things. They are mostly a classical (I'm guessing) 18th century look of sort of row palaces along the river (like row houses). Many had white stone corners and lintels while the facade was painted bright colors. Totally did not expect the bright colors in Russia.  I didn't expect miles upon miles of them along the canals.  The river trip was a bit of a blur but there was weak warm sunshine that made a light jacket just right in June!

We took a hydrofoil ride to Petershoff castle. I slept thru the ride. The time difference of two hours from Madrid and getting up super early for the tour was really painful. We were getting up at like 4am our time. What a whiner I am - I could have had jet lag if I'd come from the US!

We just toured the gardens of Petershoff which were Versailles-esque. Peter was influenced by Versailles and wanted to have something equally impressive. The fountains were lovely and gravity fed which was impressive.

We got lots of history from the tour guide Oksana thru out the two days.
Catharine the great was from Prussia (part of Germany depending on the century). She plotted with one of her lovers to kill husband Peter III and become empress for 35 or 40 years! She was known for having many lovers. She built the one who helped her kill hubby Peter a palace on the river called Gratitude palace.

A long bus ride to Pushkin followed where the palace of Catharine is. Catherine's palace was huge from the outside, light blue, white and gild nearly in a circle but the small buildings on the opposite side were kitchens and staff quarters. The anterooms and the throne room were recently restored (since the 1970s) after being burned by the Nazis on their way out of Russia (we were told this several times). The public rooms had so much gilding, pounds of gold leaf! I think a second rococo style. It was so ornate and grand. Definitely worth the trip and effort  to go there. The entire palace is still not restored from the Nazi exodus. I did not expect the Soviet era to have taken such an interest in their history. I guess I thought they were busy rewriting or doing away with history, so this was interesting to me. Perhaps a pride issue?

We signed up for an evening folk dance show so the tour dropped us in a coffee shop in downtown where a tour minder stayed with us (I assume so we didn't wander off and have to report us to the police again). The girl was in her first year in University in philology and was studying Spanish so we practiced Spanish and talked about Spain and Russian life.

She took us over to yet another palace where the hopping and dancing was in the ballroom. Whistles and amazing glittery trimmed costumes accompanied the dancing. I often find the tourist shows a bit cheesy but this one was well done. It was just the dancing, no schtick in-between things.  At intermission, the Asians in the crowd (the majority) shoved me out of the way to get to the crackers and champagne. Shove may be too gentle of a word actually. I guess they are used to conditions so crowded they just shove and push to get what they want. Or maybe it's a vacation urgency thing. It was harsh but we enjoyed the show and recognized that this was local artists and dancers trying to make a living at their art who probably had other jobs they had to work as well like most artists.




Next time Day 2 of the sprint around St. Petersburg.

The harsh welcome in Russia

Russia requires a visa for American tourists. In order to get off of the ship in Russia, we had to be associated with a tour company or else apply for our own visa. We did look into the process of getting a visa, but visiting the Russian embassy in Madrid didn't work into our schedule at the time, so we had to find a tour to take.

We were too late to get in the ship tours, so we found another company that had decent reviews and signed up for the two day St. Petersburg comfort tour. Comfort meaning you walked less or something. 

After waiting in line for a while to get off the boat thru security, we joined another line. The passport control in Russia was ungainly and stressful and is often the case we seemed to have chosen a line that it was the person's first day on the job.  Each person had to show a visa or a tour company invitation/guarantee. It became more and more tension filled for us as we realized the meeting time for our tour had come and gone. The information they sent us said that someone would be waiting for us no matter what, but we felt bad.

We finally got thru about a half hour late. We are not habitually late people so we were stressed by this. We came out and similar to an airport lounge there were many people with signs but with the names of tour companies. We scoured the signs. None with our company. Uh. Oh. We asked one of the other guides, "Do you know if anyone from Alla is here?" She looked around and said no she didn't see anyone. We saw buses outside so we went to investigate. No signs so we asked a couple bus drivers if they knew of our company or if it was there. No dice.

We tried to go back inside and check the signs again, but a police officer guarding the door forbade it. He said we needed to wait outside and our tour company would find us. After 10 minutes or so, it was evident that this was futile.

We saw the hop on and hop off buses waiting in the parking lot and we were considering if we should do that. We knew we were supposed to be with the company that showed on the visa, but what do you do when you are abandoned? Stuck in St. Petersburg.

We went around to another entrance back into the port terminal. The policeman at this entrance was distracted by people talking to him so I slipped in. I looked at the area where people were holding signs. Still no one for our company. I gave up and turned toward the shops at the other end hoping I would find an ATM so we could get some money.

As I'm walking, someone on a bench starts yelling at me, "No, no, no." I was startled and I stared. It was a woman sitting on a bench not holding up the sign lying in the seat next to her. She picks it up and it says "Alla Tours." Before words come out of my mouth she starts angrily saying this is unacceptable  over and over again, so I cannot speak. "There is no excuse. No excuse." Being in line for an hour and a half was not good enough for her. Actually she wouldn't listen to me and just kept  yelling about unacceptable and no excuse.  I was stunned because she wasn't even trying to hear me or be polite or anything. We have contracted for a very expensive service and this is our greeting. Yes we are late but we are customers. I know customer service is weak to non-existent in Europe, apparently the same in Russia. Then she said she had to call and stop them from reporting us to the police because they'd sent someone to report us! Yikes. We've been in Russia 30 minutes and already we are getting reported to the police. I'm guessing all the old Soviet ways haven't worn off completely. She got on the phone and stopped someone from reporting us and rudely handed us off to an underling to drive us across town to meet up with the tour.

It got better from there! (more next time on St. Petersburg)

Who said you can tell me what I want?

I was on the search for a new book. I remembered someone had recommended a website for books based on setting and wanted to find it again. I was on a different computer and I couldn't get it to come up.

Then I was on the train coming back from Madrid and in my usual way I'm always jealous of the people commuting who have reading material. I decided to search for my next book on my phone.

I did a search for books by location since I couldn't remember the name of the website and I found this very interesting library mystery list based on locations in the world. (Murder in Far Away Places.) Well, I got interrupted talking on the train, so I didn't finish my perusal of the list.

When I got home on the computer I decided to find that library website and finish looking, but when I did the exact same search, nothing like that came up. In fact the original website I'd seen months ago came up. It definitely is worth a look if you're trying to find a look by location. It has a mystery category but also has books in general by their setting. Books set in

What I find so interesting about this is that on different devices doing the exact same search on Google is resulting in different list. Drastically different. I knew that push marketing and algorithms were at work when I searched, but I always assumed they were somehow pushing the real things I was looking for. After this experience, I have lost faith in Google and push marketing in general. It must be working for them. For me, I know I've seen things that interested me in the side bar push marketing way, but rarely have I bought from there.

When a search has the top color bar of people who have paid to come up first, I avoid those sites unless I'm totally not finding my desires in the list that I assumed were more organic choices below. Now I'm not really sure about any of it.

The same search - a different device - and I couldn't get the same page to come up. Who made you Google or anyone else for that matter the keeper of what I really want or what I'm really looking for? I know in theory they are trying to help me find things faster, but it's disturbing.

Fado and other emotions

Fado is a traditional music from Portugal. Other than a curious measure or two of music online I had no experience with it. Living in Spain I have more exposure to Flamenco music, so I found it a fun exercise to contrast and compare the Iberian peninsula's folk music recently.

I went to a concert of Minha Lua in la Sala Galieo Galilei in Madrid. I would never have found this on my own but an actor in one of our work projects knew my husband likes world music and he suggested we go hear his friend sing Fado. It made me feel very connected which is very Spanish, but it's a rare thing for me.

Flamenco music is accompanied by dancing. More dancing than singing it seems sometimes and it's full of violent emotions. The dancing is a stomping generally on a wooden surface for maximum volume. The stomping becomes part of the beat of the music. It's hypnotic and in a way shocking for the pure emotion of the thing. It is generally strong themes, love, love lost, why'd you leave me kind of stuff. I suppose it is the country music of Spain but with no relation to US country music in style.

Here's a link to a polished recording of some flamenco.  Even though this was done specifically for camera you get a feel for the emotion of the music.

Flamenco has a sort of gut-level emotion sensation. I've been in a performance where the woman's emotion was so strong that the young man at my table was visibly embarrassed even though he couldn't understand the words that cried out why, oh, why did you leave me.

So if Flamenco is emotion, I'd say it has sadness and anger in it.  Perhaps of sense of having been done wrong.

The Fado music (mind you this is my own experience here) was deep, deep emotion too. Each song seemed to have the ability to tug on a string in your soul. It pulled deeply sad emotions from you. The singer Vicky Cruz of Minha Lua translated some of the songs into Spanish so I understood some. It was a lot of love lost, loneliness, and poetry. It too was pure emotion but without the anger.  Soul wrenching sadness.  There was no dancing -- that's not to say that they don't ever, but it doesn't appear to go hand in glove with the Fado like it does the Flamenco.

It was a lovely evening. Vicky was accompanied by a cello and a guitar and  it was beautiful, touching and full of emotion. Turns out my phone videos won't upload, so here's a link to the group.
Minha Lua

Patron huh?

I live in a village in Spain. Friday was patron saint day in the village. I had no idea what that meant. I came home from work and took the two Spanish dogs that live with me for a walk. Before we left, I noticed that little local cathedral bells were going off at an unusual time and at an unusual level of volume.

We walked toward our usual dirt track on the edge of town which is along a ridge of hills. The intensity of the bells from the cathedral was so loud that it bounced off the hills and sounded as if the hills actually were ringing bells. It was a startling acoustic sensation and I actually stopped to look in case there was something there.

Since the bells were continuing for such a long time, I decided to veer off our dirt path into the village main streets just to see if there was anything to see. I don't really know what patron saint day means but I figured something was going on nearby.

I reached a main roundabout that converges five roads and has flags from the Madrid region, the EU, the village, etc. As I crossed the big road on the red elevated crosswalk, I noticed that loads of people, surely the whole village, was walking uphill toward the cathedral. They were converging here at the round about taking the calle to the church. They were all dressed up, like wedding in Spain dressed up which is serious. Lots of high heels, dresses, the men all had on suits. My jeans and two dogs got some dirty looks from the older ladies, so I decided to walk across them and go another way rather than join the stream.

I worked my way uphill in the village thinking I'd get above the cathedral and look down on the crowd. Meanwhile the bells are still going. People were driving into the tiny side streets searching for parking and frantically putting on suit coats as they trotted down to the church. When you are from a village in Spain or your family is from a village, you come back for important days. Looks like Patron Saint day is one of them.

I was startled to see an older lady with a cane not dressed up and wandering around like me. I said the customary "hola" but as I chose my cross street she stopped me. Over the bells, she hollered in my ear about not wanting to go that way or I'd end up right in front of the entire "public." She asked me where I lived.

For some reason, I find this hard to explain in the village. Of course I know my street address, but people tend to say by areas. I can't seem to memorize mine - I've never seen it written out since it's sort of local slang. I always try to say I live by the park. The park is Arroyo de Tesoro. Treasure brook, I suppose would be a translation. I'd call it wild cat, ditch with water-sometimes park. Well, I managed to croak out, "treasure." She says where? I say "By the park, treasure park." I can really freeze up in Spanish and sound like an idiot. She got the idea and told me to go down and turn the other way. I obeyed. It seemed best even though I wanted to see what was going on.

I was by the stinky trashcans by the fish shop when another family crossed in front of me. One woman had a Muslim head covering and style of dress but could easily have been Spanish from her appearance. The rest of the family was in jeans and regular Spanish whatever Friday afternoon clothes. Then I noticed they're speaking Arabic. Okay, nobody in our village does that and we're a long way from downtown Madrid.

The bells stop and fire works start exploding up by the church. The two dogs start trotting and as the fireworks escalate, they are dragging me two-horse team style down the street toward home. We did make it safely if somewhat surreal-y.

I decided to walk to the grocery shop for some diet coke. At the round about by the stinky trash cans, I see that all these dressed up people I saw before are marching behind a procession statue of Jesus on the cross. So I walked up to where they are stopped by the bank. When I get close, they have stopped the procession and all the dressed up people who have babies are trying to balance them on the side of the statue platform and take their pictures. So this is really unusual for a girl from Kansas, and terribly interesting, so I whip out my camera and take pictures and then decide to do a video.

I'm panning the crowd and the music starts and I realize I'm filming my neighbors. Nice one. The weird American neighbor lady who doesn't know how to behave appropriately. How many times have you seen a neighbor going down the street and  you stop to take their picture? Hmmm. Going to chalk this up to a very interesting cultural learning day.

Can you see the babies being held up there on the right?

Impressions in Switzerland + video

I attended a conference in Switzerland and at first had no intention of blogging about it because really when you go to these conferences you mostly see the inside of a hotel, right? In the end, I had a few interesting observations that I thought I would share.

The first piece of advice I'm going to give is: learn how to pronounce your destination before you leave home. I was in the throes of video production and left home in rather a frenzy. I had no idea how to pronounce the town I was trying to find.

I made eye contact in customs with the thought of asking where the train station was located. Bad idea. Never make eye contact in customs. I looked away thinking this wasn't the place to ask and for my courtesy I got to have my undies inspected. It was all very fast and efficient, but part of the challenge was trying to say where I was going. He couldn't understand me and I had no idea how to pronounce it which made me suspect.

I made it out of customs and was struck that everyone in Zurich airport seemed to be speaking French, so I incorrectly came to the conclusion that French dominated. In Switzerland, they have four official languages: German, French, Italian, and Rumantch (or Romanch). I did hear the cleaning guys in the train station in Zurich all laughing and carrying on in Italian. I think I heard Rumantch on the bus. Not sure what I'd liken it to - something with a touch of Slavic influence but still a romance sounding language.

The bus driver with the name of the town I was going to on the front of his bus (Oberägeri) could not understand my pronunciation of the town. His English was perfect but my enunciation of the town lacked something. I had trouble getting a ticket.

After the brown and dry summer of Madrid, I found the lush greenness of Switzerland soothing if somewhat chilly.  It was the second day before the clouds lifted enough to realize there was a mountain range of serious mountains tucked between the two grand hills by the lake I could see from my hotel room.

Once in the German speaking section of Switzerland, there was no longer a whisper of another language. Our conference was at a convalescence/retreat/convent type place, but it was protestant and the nuns had rather a Mennonite look and spoke only German. As you can imagine, this was not the main tourist area and not everyone spoke English like in the city. No English signs or helpful hints in the hotel. Luckily there were no fire drills, so I didn't have to try to understand the instructions.

One elderly lady from the convalescence center decided to find out what our group was about and cornered someone by the water cooler/wifi nook. She seemed disappointed that we were a film making group. She'd made up her mind that we were a psychology group.

I ducked out of a session when the sun came out to sit for a minute on the terrace overlooking the lake. A large convalescing lady with canes came and sat with me and her husband proceeded to bring chairs and place them all around.  (Them: Something German. Me: Smile and nod.) Eventually a  family reunion took place and I decided to skedaddle.

After Madrid, I had the impression that everything was very orderly and efficient. Not trying to take up the Swiss stereotypes but they are apparently stereotypes for a reason. We were to check off our choices for dinner and lunch at breakfast and the wait staff didn't speak English so at times you just decided it was easier to take what they offered than to explain.

I thought perhaps it was just me but one of the British members of the conference commented that it all seemed very clean and orderly. When we were catching the train back to the airport (after two buses to get to the train), we were sort of watching to see if it left on time due to Swiss efficiency. The train left two minutes late. Our droll Romanian companion from the conference proclaimed, "We must make a report of this," and we all died laughing.

The conference did have an outing to a nearby park area on top of one of the mountains and I saw Swiss cows and heard their cowbells!

 We also had a bit of Alphorn playing our last night (a la Riccola commercial) which was interesting to see. I'm not making this up: one of the Alphorn players was named Heidi. I was trying to see it as a cultural moment but several of my companions were getting tickled. The Alphorn players said they'd play a really different song later, but despite having a wide tonal range they only had so many actual notes. (I'm not musical so excuse that description.) The songs started to sound similar at which point the chuckling became hard to hold in. It was a lovely taste of Switzerland, even if mostly from buses, trains, and hotels.

Ebook impact on my reading

So in 2011 I took the plunge into ebook land. It was premeditated because I knew I would be moving to a place where English books would be hard to find and expensive. I chose the ipad because it also worked as essentially an extra laptop in the house, and it has some usefulness in my day job as well.

My first book was a free classic. The Mysterious Affair at Styles by one of our grand dames Agatha Christie. Enjoyed it just as much digitally as I've enjoyed her work on paper. I went to see if all of her books were free in ebook form only to get my first lesson in ebook marketing. Make the first one free, hook them, then charge full price.

I was a bit frustrated when I looked for specific books and didn't find them in the Apple Ibookstore. It also was hard to just browse. I think I should try to browse from Itunes and I'd enjoy it more. I was delightted to discover that Nook and Kindle have Apps for the ipad which opened up a whole new world. I now feel like I can visit different bookstores depending on what gift certificates I have or what mood I'm in or where an author makes their work available. I'm not limited.

I tried some different books that I wouldn't have risked money on when I experimented with booklending.com that lends via the Kindle. A little weird to figure out but then the books appeared on my app. I also borrowed a couple I couldn't finish. A rarity for me. I have not tried - yet - the library lending programs yet. I did download Overdrive but my home town library changed systems before I could borrow, so on to yet another app. Library borrowing: a blog for another day.

When I finish reading a book now, I have the internal debate of what's next. Paper or ebook? I don't want to deplete my paper shelves too quickly. I also consider how much am I going on the train or am I going to go to a Spanish tutoring class. If I'm going to class, which means the train and taking notes in class, I'll have my ipad anyway, so it's better not to add a book to the load. I am jealous of others on the train with a Kindle. It's much smaller and can be handled with one hand which I can't manage with my ipad. The weight of the ipad makes me think twice about dragging it with me everywhere. I have to get bigger purses and stronger shoulders if it is going to go automatically with me. The good news is I just downloaded the Kindle app to my phone, so I can read there too without taking the ipad. This makes me a bit more inclined to buy my books on Amazon, but I think I may have a nook app available for te phone too. I need to see if I can see my ibook cloud on my phone (not an iphone, so I doubt it.)In general I think I'm buying more on Amazon.

Something I enjoy in ebooks is that I can tap a word to get a definition instantly without leaving my book. I love this. I always read books and thought I should look that word up (Thanks, Elizabeth George), but then I didn't want to interrupt my reading to go do it. I also like marking great passages or turns of phrase that are good characterization. I don't like to deface paper books, so it's nice to mark things without the sense I'm making a mess in my book. I'm not good with straight lines or tiny printing in the margins, what can I say?

Here's an idea that would never have occurred to me pre-ebook. I might try to find a Spanish book as part of my journey of learning the language. If I can do the word look up thing, like I do in English, it would be a great learning experience. Maybe. Might be too much work in the end and reading is after all my mental release and recreation.

My first ebook

I have read my first entire book on a reader. It was a light read that only took a couple days and I wanted to put down my reflections on such a momentous moment for me. Things were different and some I liked and some I did not.

I borrowed the book from BookLending.com. That was a very positive experience - after some initial stumbling and not being sure how my book would be delivered to my ipad. Still not sure how, but it was there with almost no fussing. And I'm psyched about still being able to get free books from time to time.

I read on my kindle app for the ipad. It worked well and I had no problems. I noticed an occasional glitch that would eliminate a space between words, but then I notice typos in real books so as we say in Spanish de igual.

I missed the front cover of the book lying around the house when I read a book. I couldn't remember the author's name or the exact title and I couldn't just flip it over to see that. It's like a little of the personality of the thing is missing, but this of course doesn't effect the read or the content. You can click out of the book and see the cover.

I had some reservations about reading in bed. I hate reading magazines in bed; they're so unwieldy and it's hard to see the page when lying down. The ipad actually performed better than I expected or should I say the cover did. The cover acts as a stand so I could balance it on my (ahem) mid section or the mattress.

The angle at which I normally read (not in bed) made one portion of the screen dimmer than the rest, but by no means illegible. I read outside for a bit with a concern that the glare would make it hard but I was in the shade and it didn't bother me. I could see myself reflected in the screen while I read but I forgot about it after a while. That might bother some people though. I guess the dedicated book readers are non-reflective and I can see how that would be nice.

I was trying to flip back through and reference something earlier in the book. Never ever has a paper book given me a spinning wheel signal when I am flipping pages too fast, but I found what I was after.

I miss page numbers and seeing how far along I am in a book. I did discover that there's a way to see how far along percentage-wise and a location number but it is not a page number. I wanted to make some notes for myself and normally I would put down for myself what page number I'm referring to, but a location number seems less tangible or less accessible somehow.

My husband had to help me figure out how to lock my screen. The sensor that flips between horizontal and vertical would get excited and hop around when I was shifting around in my chair and that was quite annoying. Real books don't jump upside down when you're reading them. Once it was locked in place it ceased to be a problem.

I will be doing it again as I am far from bookstores and as we've seen there are going to be fewer bookstores even in the USA to browse. I'm importing a bunch of books too but a limited supply to be sure. I'm already grateful for my ipad as I may run out of paper reading material before my boxes arrive.

Perceptions of time part 1

I have recognized that I and many of my fellow Norte Americanos are obsessed with the idea of wasting time. Particularly in the US, I think we think about this. Me personally, I have started noticing how many things I view as potentially wasting my time. One that feels huge to me is when you have to load software or some random extra computer things. This feels like a huge interruption to what I'm trying to get done. Sometimes what I'm trying to "get done" isn't particularly important, but ask me to upload something on the way to viewing your kid's funny video and you've lost me.

Other things I put aside and don't do instantly because it will "take too long." Now I don't have a magic number for what too long is and I'm often surprised those things can be done more quickly than I realize. A good example of this is when I set the microwave to warm something for 2 minutes. Often  I stand and stare absently out the window for this 2 minutes. While there is nothing wrong with a quiet moment or two of speculation or meditation, occasionally when I'm there with the two minutes ticking on the micro - I'll do a few things around the kitchen. Recently, I washed my two travel mugs by hand and put them away. They lived on the counter for days because I "didn't have time" to clean them. Or maybe I just didn't feel like it, but that's a different blog.

My own perfectionist nature and my own sense of time and it being "wasted" or "stolen" is a challenge I've only recently recognized in my life. I've toyed iwth the idea of timing things. I'm not sure whether to take one day and time every single thing I do (which seems like it would be a pain and waste a lot of time in that one day) or do I take a few weeks and time every kind of event that occurs in a day. This may be something I revisit on and off this year. I feel like if I did this I could prove to myself that a lot of things don't take that long and some of the procrastination isn't really helping.

I read a business organizational book a couple years ago and it recommended when trying to get a desk or email under control, do everything that will only take 2 minutes or less on the spot, right then. Other things that need more attention need to go on an action, call, or project list for an appropriate time. I've tried to do this, but I often start say, responding to an email, and then discover I need to dig into some old emails or find a contact list from a conference, and the envisioned 2 minutes turns into 10 or 15. Or at least that's how it feels. If I timed it, I wonder, would that be true? Or possible is it worse than I imagine? Did it take 30 minutes? So was I wasting my time? Was it important enough to get that much time? (That's probably another blog and another self help book.)

If you were going to time events in your life, which ones would you be most interested to know how much time they took? I think my ipod has a timer, so I thought about using this and documenting a day or  a series of days. Though I sort of imagine "wasting" a lot of time that day putzing around trying to get the timer thing to work. huh.