Lost in Translation

When I told my Grandma that I was moving to the US, the first thing she said was: 

"You'll have the opportunity to learn English."

English being my second language since the early age of 4, I couldn't help but laugh.

Less than a week in US territory, I am laughing no more. 

I've become a human Wikipedia, having to explain what my British English words pronounced in a broken Irish accent are failing to express.

     · The place where your clothes go is not a wardrobe, but a closet.

     · You ask for the restrooms when you want to go to the toilet.

     · The elevator lifts you up building floors.

     · Fall is the new autumn.

     · Supermarkets don't have trolleys, but carts.

     · Rubbish is put in trash cans.

     · If you have a sweet tooth, you would want some candy.

     · When you want take away from restaurants you order take-out.

     · City center signs read downtown.

     · ...

And don't get me started on the spelling: replacing 's' with 'z' or erasing 'u' in words like flavour and colour.

Or the metric system. My head is currently a molotov cocktail of inches, Fahrenheit, pounds, feet...

Indeed Grandma, indeed, I will be learning English.

Undeniable Signs of Aging

When do we stop growing 'up' and begin to grow 'old'? 

Is it when kids expose the obvious generation gap between you and them by addressing you  as 'Madam' / 'Sir'?

In my particular case, there was that (aren't kids lovely? - sense the irony there) but most importantly, what the event triggered: acceptance. Admitting to myself that, although I still love doing some of the same things that I did years ago ("but I'm not old! I still like to do what young people do!"), the reasons for doing them couldn't diverge more.

Here is what I'm talking about: 

1. Dyeing my hair

'Sunkissed brown', 'golden bronze', 'deep copper'... My hair has seen (and in some cases suffered) a wide range of shades and highlights.
Motivation behind it:

   · Before: new looks

   · Now: new greys

2. Wearing my headphones on the go

During my daily bus commute, walking around town, at work...My headphones plugged in to walkman (yes, I'm that old) > discman (told you I am!)) > ipod > and now phone.
Motivation behind it:

   · Before: listening to brand new hits

   · Now: cancel the noise of world - I confess: there times when no music is coming out of them :)

3. Longing for the weekend
All week waiting for Friday, thinking about the free days to come.
Motivation behind it:

   · Before: Go out with friends till dawn and go out again the following day.

   · Now: Curl up under a blanket on the couch with a good book and a hot tea. My weekend plans are the best!

What makes you feel your age?

Happy Hallothanksmas!

Wait, I'm confused, is Christmas still on for 25th December? 

Excuse me if the answer to my question is obvious. Last time I checked we were half way through November, making it 38 more sleeps (38!) until then - ok, give or take a few hours depending on what part of the globe you live in. 

Why then have we gone from pumpkins and ghosts only a few days ago, straight into snowmen and and Christmas trees?! No 'in-between' whatsoever to enjoy a consumerism-free November. 

I want in-betweens, I like in-betweens! In-betweens keep me sane. In-betweens act as breathers to help me recover. 

But nope! Instead I have shops with fake snow on its windows and/or Christmas carols playing on the background. Even supermarkets are stocked up with toys, chocolates and 'turrón'. The most astonishing thing is that we don't find this astonishing at all! We happily buy the Christmas tree with all its decorations, we start loading on gold gift wrap, we start planning Christmas dinners and booking friends and family.

How did we allow this to become the new normal? 

Next thing I know I'll start celebrating my next birthday the day after I turn a year older. 

There is a clear conflict between my journey towards inner peace with all my meditation, yoga and whatnot and a world that conspires against my mental sanity. Happiness is found in living in the moment they say, well stop stressing me about future events then!

Simple Questions Impossible to Answer

Sometimes the simplest queries are the most difficult to answer. Occasionally I am challenged with questions that, although hide no obscure intentions, leave me answer-less (and that 'am I weird?' feeling).

"Where are you from?"

Both my birth certificate and passport say Spain, but my heart is made of pieces from every different place I've lived in. Pieces small enough that impede me from identifying myself with another nationality, but so big that prevent me from feeling Spanish.

"What do you do at [insert company]?"

When your daily tasks, responsibilities, organisation and focus changes on a daily basis, it is impossible to generalise what you do for a living.

"Why did you leave [insert last city I've lived in]?"

Excellent question that I frequently ask myself as well. And a very personal one. I'm still trying to come up with the perfect answer that will satisfy those looking for an interesting story. In the meantime, I smile and say it was down to 'several things, none in particular'.

"Can you recommend a book?"

I would very much love to, but I need you to guide me here a bit. Reading a book is like listening to a song, the one you choose has to match not only your personal preferences, but also your mood. It will depend on what you are looking to feel when you put the book down.

"Don't you ever feel lonely living on your own?"

The loneliest I remember feeling was during a time I had someone by my side. After then, I stopped believing that the amount of people around you is not a direct indicator of how accompanied someone is.

"How many languages do you speak"

What do you mean by 'speak'? Mam's desperate face when I fail to find the word I'm looking for proves that I sometimes fail to speak my own native one! 

"Are you staying here for good?"

None of us are :P

Bad Karma

Disclaimer: I do love this city. I'm enchanted with its beauty and I'm keen in making others see it as well :)

Living in a big city is really getting to me. It's draining all of my positive energy. The same one that I've taken years to nurture. It was easier  when I lived in a cute little small city where everyone was full of 'thank you' and 'thanks' and 'grand'.  

Ever since I moved here I sense this pervasive flow of negative energy in the air. We're all exposed to its non-discriminatory force. Once caught it spreads from person to person instantly. The most immediate reaction is the urge to give out. About everything. About anything. Vision and perspective of life is concealed by a dark layer and a strong impulse of sharing it with others grows. Soon those around mimic this attitude and so on and so on.

The lovely warm sun rays become unbearable hot weapons.

The atmosphere cleaning rain confine people between walls and awakes joint pain.

The colourful mood-boosting spring triggers allergies of all sorts.

... And like this with everything. 

I don't want to get caught in this! I'll continue with my fight for immunity, counteracting with smiles, good thoughts and better actions. 

I need however, to be extra careful! Just the other day I caught myself swearing when a car in front of me did a weird turn that forced me to abruptly brake. 

In a jungle of noise, lights, children shouting and grownups rushing around, how does one feed and grow inner peace? I'm determined to find out.

The Proud Misfit

I am

• ... a woman
• ... self-sufficient
• ... in my thirties
• ... single
• ... left-handed (but that's a story for another day)

Long story short, I am a MISFIT.

Living in a city where I am the living exception to the rule. This fact grants me the privileged position of being the target of awkward (and quite frankly, in many cases rude) comments, questions and moments all around the same theme: 

"What am I doing with my life??"

And although at the beginning all these comments made me want to climb under my duvet and cry myself blind; wisdom (actually, no, not wisdom, but rather, not giving a damn - for the use of a better word) has made me realise that not being like others is what gives me an identity.

I have accepted that I am where I have to be and made my mission to make others accept this too. Listen up:

• the only babies/toddlers I like are the ones I share some part of DNA with. And even those, I am happy to give back after a while
• no, I'm not worried about finding someone - last time I checked I hadn't lost anything
• the time when I felt the loneliest is when I had (the wrong kind of) someone by my side

• stop asking me whether I have a partner! Not having one does not make me a defective person and it certainly does not define me
• defining me by my relationship status says more about you than it does about me
• yes, I might be picky, but shouldn't you be with the person you decide to share your life with?
• I'm not sure if destiny has something good waiting for me, what I do know is that the best way to predict the future is to create it. I wouldn't be where I am if I had left things to chance instead of working by butt off!
• in the past 10 years or so I've lived in 5 different cities, met people for more countries that I know existed and seen places I had only dreamed of visiting. No, I don't feel like I'm throwing my life away
• I've found a passion and I'm pursuing a dream. I'm not trying to get you to follow my dream, so quit trying to single me out for not wanting to follow yours.

This is my life and I am working on being happy to be living it.

Stages in Life

My extended family only get together in two yearly occasions: Christmas and my Grandma's birthday. With still some months to the former, we met this week to celebrate the latter. Four generations around 86 candles, which were heroically blown by the woman who has given birth to no less than 10 children! You can now more realistically picture the amount of attendants to the event (and know the reason why we don't meet more often...). With four generations present on the night, there were representatives of all ages, giving me the opportunity of seeing life through their eyes for the duration of our conversation. All having a completely different view of the same world we all live in...

After gathering bits and pieces of the night, I reached the conclusion that life is lived in 4 different stages.

1. Flowing Life

Ages: newborn - 14

These are the years where you 'go with the flow'. Your parents determine your days, when and where you come and go, what times you eat or what you buy. You have little sense of time or perspective. Life is lived through others. At the end of this phase and after a bad hormonal kick, your environment becomes your war and you take up arms against literally everything. 

2. Theoretical Life

Ages: 15 - 29

Not liking anything in your life, you begin to imagine the great things that you fail to have and start to cook up the great plan that will lead you to a life of rainbows. You make being a free spirit your life purpose and firmly believe that all you want in life is to burn bridges and travel around the world with no other baggage than your own soul. And because anything that remotely resembles a responsibility is a clear threat to your plan, you run away from any form of commitment. You picture yourself leading a successful career doing what you love to do.

3. Fall-Rise-Fall-Rise Life

Ages: 30 - 69

But then life gives you a reality check. You realise how difficult things are, the amount of unfairness in this world. And you fall and rise again because there is no other option. And then you fall once more and have to come out from the deepest holes to stand back on your two feet; until you're knocked right out again. And rise. And fall. And rise...You become wiser and gaining a privileged perspective that leads on to the following stage.

4. Observant Life

Ages: 70 and above

With a tired body and an experienced soul, you become to live life through others (family, friends, acquaintances, actors, strangers...). Your only problems are theirs and your happiness is to witness their own bliss. 

Flavours in Life

I've made up my mind: lemon is my favourite yogurt flavour. 

It has been a hard decision to make: too many options, all of which challenge the very best of my taste buds. Let's be honest, lemon yogurts taste very little of lemon (don't get me started on the banana ones which I only know are banana because of the picture on the pot...)

This absurd logic got me thinking about all the disappointment that the food industry has created in the short distance between the supermarket aisle and the comfort of my sofa - or dining table if there is someone with me and I actually have to eat my meals at a table (which by the way, according to every health article published, we all should.) 

We're humans; we're logical beings; our brain is programmed to do admirable things. Why then, do we so blindly fall into false beliefs? 

"I like peach. I like yogurt. Hmm, I must like peach-flavoured yogurt. I will buy peach-flavoured yogurt"

Right? Wrong! - there is nothing less peachy than a peach-flavoured yogurt, ice-cream, lollipop, [you name it!]

The issue is more dramatic when you try the flavoured food first. I can only imagine the pleasure I would have missed if I had had prawn-cocktail crisps before ever sinking a fork into a deliciously natural prawn cocktail - mouth is literally watering.

Take note my dear friends of this little piece of advice: do not set expectations when it comes to flavoured food - you'll live happily ever after!

Foreigner in Home City

Three days ago, I moved to Madrid after six years in Dublin. As I navigate through this confusing roller coaster of feeling a foreigner in my home city, I come shockingly aware of what I love from both cities.

What I knew I'd miss

Madrid  

• family (duh!)
• weather (double duh! - I'm writing this from a terrace and it's 28ºC)
• the taste (and size) of tomatoes

Dublin

• friends (you know who you are)
• everything being walking distance from everything else
• Irish politeness
• Irish accent

What I wouldn't have thought I'd miss

Madrid

• visible signs with street names (I know which street I am in!)
• pedestrians walking with bread on one hand and  the newspaper on the other
• the smell of coffee and toast every morning on the streets

Dublin

• looking right when crossing a street (it's a matter of life or death that I adapt!)
• Penney's (where will I buy cheap tights?)
• not getting weird looks when you pay €3 by card

I'll have more to add to the list as I learn to live in this new place which is now my home.

Horizontal Rain

I'm yet to find a question more difficult to answer than "what's the weather like in Dublin?"

Have no fear, this post is not about the weather - phew! - it is, rather, about the effects of the ever-changing weather of this, my adopted city. And it's a true story. Happened to me only yesterday, as a matter of fact. Shamefully (for reasons you'll soon discover) I have witnesses who can back my story.

It was Friday night and I was getting ready to make the best first impression. (You know what they say "you only have one opportunity to make a first impression".) I did invest some time and effort in applying my makeup. In fact, I did put a lot of it (time and effort, not make up) spending more than 35 minutes on extending the base throughout my face, skillfully drawing an immaculate line on each of my eyes, layering mascara on my eyelashes, turning my lips bright red... Long story short, by the end of it, I was both exhausted and - I'll say it myself, cause no one else will - gorgeous :)

So what happened? Dublin weather happened: horizontal rain, umbrella-destroying winds...

Fortunately enough, I got to the place before who I was meeting and ran straight to the toilets to assess the damages. Needless to say that the reflection that greeted me in the mirror had little to do with the one I had happily said goodbye to at home. And it wasn't a pretty one. No. It was more like a "wet-dog-meets-panda" kind of look. With all that soaking hair over my face and smeared eyeshadow all around my eyes...

I guess (and totally understand) that the first impression I caused was that of pity rather than anything else, because we may all love dogs and adore pandas, but the cute irresistible ones in YouTube.

Let's badge it!

Walking down the streets on any given day, a stampede of working souls, who can't seem to get home soon enough, rush in every direction. All with a distinctive feature: a label hanging from their necks. Literally, not metaphorically. Call it label, call it badge, call it what you want... It all serves the same purpose: openly displaying information.

Here is my proposal: if we are to disclose information, do it in a way that it'll benefit society as a whole. Tell the world something that will help them. It would save so much time and efforts! Efficiency, people, efficiency.

I'll illustrate this using myself as an example. My chest would proudly exhibit the following (not exclusively, but enough for you to get a sense of what I mean):

• Good with faces, terrible with names
• Don't care about the size - or number, for that matter - of your house, car, [enter material possession]
• People who are happy all of the time scare me
• Sometimes a glass of wine is the high of my day
• Happiness is a good book and a milky tea
• If you think you're better than someone else, don't come closer
• ...

Are you in? 

Think that it will work both ways. I sure know that my my life would have been so much better if I knew up-front some of the things I only got to learn the hard way... 

• "can't keep promises" 
• "will lie behind your back" 
• "my life is build around smoking"
• "fake"
• "will betray"
• ...

 

Let's make the world a better place, let's badge it!

The Internet

I still remember the days when meetings with friends were arranged over a series of telephone calls; all of which happened in the space of minutes and lasted for as long as you could clutch to the plastic apparatus without being disturbed by my older brother (waiting for the call of his latest female conquest) my prudent father (claiming that the bills will ruin this family!). Time and place was decided and then it was left up to each one of us to be there on time or else miss whatever we were up to. There were no mobile phones to alert of unexpected delays in the public transport or other unforeseen events. The city was filled with lost souls looking for the place they were supposed to be at; asking others where this or that street was. There was no GPS, no Google Maps to consult, no Whatsapps, SMS...

The times when people actually talked to each other... I felt as if I knew everything about my friends after long conversations shortened only by the strict curfew I had to adhere to. Then the internet happened (yes youngsters, believe it or not, there was a world before the internet!); and with it, the new ability of knowing everything about everyone without the need of any social interaction. We became victims of the over-sharing epidemic.

“Whatever we possess becomes of double value when we have the opportunity of sharing it with others.”

Don't get me wrong, I absolutely love the web. I'm an auto-declared geek (my Mam's still amazed of what I have become interested in). Every part of my life is technologically fueled. I can't go offline for a day without getting stressed and suffering withdrawal symptoms. I plead guilty of visiting social network sites (why do we insist in calling it "social network sites" when we all know which site we are referring to?) with the sole and only purpose of spending a few minutes (ahem) peeking into the lives of others. Just before writing this, I confess to have easily spent a whole hour procrastinating in front of my laptop doing nothing but changing from one insignificant tab to another. Just like that: tab, tab, tab.

My Weekend Plans

When the end of the working week approaches, I fear the moment when I'll hear the foreseeable question: "Doing anything exciting this weekend?". I honestly need to think and mentally prepare for this from Mondays to be able to have something to casually drop as an answer that won't brand me for the rest of my days as being boring.

The truth is that the best of my weekends involve: a book, a cup of tea (or glass of white wine), a sofa and not much more. 

This, however, will mean my response to the dreaded question is: "Reading, drinking, lying and little more". 'Bliss' in my eyes; but I'm guessing 'exceedingly dull and uninteresting' for the listener. Not even when I go over the top and treat myself to a play in the theatre, succeeds in making a conversation out of my weekend plans. 

Let's be honest: sadly, more than half of the time, the person asking you about your weekend plans isn't the least interested in what you answer. They are either a) being polite; or b) longing for the cue "what about you?" to talk about themselves (oh, don't do people love talking about themselves...) 

This is why I have decided that the next time I hear "Doing anything exciting this weekend?" I'm going to completely ignore the social pressure around this topic and offer a frank answer that mentions all of the things I have no intention of doing (e.g. waking up early, making the watch rule my day, run from meeting to meeting) and all of the places I won't even consider setting foot on (e.g. the office, claustrophobic clubs).

I love weekends!

Every Day Oxymorons

Easy opener. How's that for an oxymoron, huh? And yet every first (and failed) attempt I make to open a milk carton, is without scissors. I'm full of hope, what can I do?

Old news for you: we live in a contradictory world. 

I'm a very private person, but for the purpose of this post, I'll make a living sacrifice and share a few examples with you. My life is full of oxymorons.

My personal life, for instance. In my last relationship, I felt so alone together that the only solution was break up, even if for some time living apart felt like the impossible solution. But he seemed too keen in making me grow smaller, and I didn't want to disappear. Yes, breaking apart was my only choice. I won't go into more detail of this bitter sweet experience, you all know how it goes. 

My leisure life as well. A few weeks ago I went to a concert. It was a one-man band playing soft rock. Nice evening, that was! There was a small crowd and the place made the acoustics amazing. It was in a small café in town. One of those places where the paper tablecloth tables hold plastic silverware and paper towels and your drink gets poured into a plastic glass. I'll definitely go back, it was fantastic!

And even my professional life, where I've seen myself making decisions based on exact estimates. The nature of my work favours communication by email, and I have to master this channel to avoid pretty ugly situations derived from being being clearly misunderstood. Very demanding. So much that my last break was a working holiday. 

Living a contradictory life is seriously funny!

On the Verge

I'm turning 30 in a couple of days.

My social media feed is literally inundated with wedding pictures and cute babies which all my classmates seem to be currently popping out (very politically incorrect use of words, but some are already on their second!). Me? Well, let's see: I'm boyfriend-less, child-less and renting (choosing my words carefully here, since thank to God I'm not 'homeless'). Falling out of the norm has convicted me to a set of society where confusion and questioning oneself reigns. "What am I doing wrong?" I find myself further and further away from those who were once so close, with less and less things in common. Whilst the girl sitting next to me in 2nd grade is engaged delivering a human being into this world, my major accomplishment to date is that I've finally managed to hold my Bakāsana for longer than a second (I know, well done me, right? I mean, it happened once and that still counts). 

I guess I should have stopped comparing myself to others waaaay back. Let's face it: at 5 I was probably eating snots but surely not composing symphonies (Mozart), at 12 I was writing boys names in the back of by school books and not plays (Lope de Vega), and the fake sickness that kept me out of lectures at 19, were never granted with a nomination to the Academy Awards (Leonardo di Caprio).

As the 3.0. version of myself becomes a reality, I've decided to care less and count more. Care less about what other people do (as long as they are happy and don't hurt anyone) and count more blessings. I don't seem to adhere to any 30-year-old stereotype anyway - which, by the way, creates a lot of amusing confusion in people. The other day I was buying cigarettes in Spain (where, literally everyone smokes) and the guy asked for my ID! Didn't know whether to be offended or flattered. It must be the Johnson's baby oil that I diligently use after my daily shower (hey, maybe I do have things to talk about to my toddlers' mums friends!). Other times, I'm taken as ancient for I find true happiness immersed in the pages of a book with a mug of tea in my hand. 

Let the laughing at oneself begin!