I'm pooped---just had a long skype call with Jody, and somehow it's nearly midnight, so I'm going to be quick. Alec went out to get car insurance this morning at.... you guessed it, our bank--La Caixa--only to find out that in order to purchase insurance, we need international driver's licenses! I guess we should have thought of that while we were still in the states. But we didn't. So we spent several hours calling around to figure out the fastest way to get them. And it turns out that we need to send a bunch of paperwork back to the states. We spent the afternoon getting passport-sized photos (again---we already did it for our residency cards), photocopying our licenses, getting a letter from our US insurance company, and packing it all in a DHL envelope to the tune of $45 plus whatever we spent at the Kinko's-type place to bribe our kids with sticker albums. I should note that Alec did the lion's share of this, including staying at the Kinko's type place with the kids to finish up while I went off to a yoga class.
We are off to the Pyrenees for a vacation tomorrow, and will likely not have access to the internet, so I may not be able to post until we return on the 23rd. Adios!
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Friday, August 13, 2010
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Car Shopping and Pilates
Anyone who's reading this probably knows Alec well enough to understand that, when he is faced with a major (and sometimes even minor) decision, like buying a car or a house, planning a trip, or figuring out which restaurant to eat at on his one night in Los Angeles, he can become a tad obsessed. Don't get me wrong--I realize that I generally benefit enormously from these obsessions. For example, the late nights he spent trawling the internet looking at real estate in Brooklyn the year we lived in DC resulted in our lovely Park Slope home. If it was not for said obsession, I doubt if we would have found such a fabulous, deep bathtub that fit into an awkwardly shaped space in aforementioned house. And I clearly use that tub much more than Alec does.
So it has gone with our Barcelona auto purchase. Alec rushes out on Monday mornings to buy a copy of Cambalache, the local classifieds paper. He spends hours every night on the internet scouring used car listings, ratings sites, blogs about cars. And then, before I go to sleep, he downloads his brain to me---telling me about the relative merits of the Mercedes Class A versus the Subaru Justy, the Volkswagen Polo as it compares to the Mazda 3. I think he needs to say it more than he needs to say it to me--it's his way of processing everything. I try to ask a few questions and be supportive.
It's important to know, before I get too far into this story, that I have given Alec carte blanche to make this decision. Truth be told, cars don't do much for me. As long as it gets me where I need to go without breaking down, I'm good. And actually, Alec is not really much of a car-as-image-maker guy either. However, given that our New York City car is a Chevy Suburban, I think he saw this as a potential opportunity to have a little fun. Which explains his fantasy with the Alfa Romeo 147. It isn't a zippy little red convertible, 2 seater, midlife crisis kind of a car. But let's face it, an Alfa Romeo possesses a certain romance that a Subaru Justy simply lacks. "Come on, Lis', when else in my life am I going to own an Alfa Romeo?" he asks. "Go for it, sweetie," I say. My priorities: safety, reliability, cost. The Alfa does pretty well on all of these counts.
He's not sure yet, so this morning---after another night of research, and transferring $$ to our bank here---he decides to head back to Auto Mundi (or is it Mundi Auto?) for another tour---he's got 11 cars to look at. He calls our friendly local banker, Josep, at La Caixa (our bank) to find out how to get the $$ to the dealer. Josep explains the process to Alec and tells him that--surprise--LaCaixa is not only a bank, they also lease and sell cars! La Caixa is becoming nearly a one-stop shop for us--they sold us our health insurance and also fund our kids' favorite museum, CosmoCaixa, a terrific science museum. So we weren't exactly shocked to learn that they also sell cars. Alec opened the laptop back up, trolled the site, and found a perky little 2006 Citroen C4 that he thought deserved a look. He called Josep again, who made a reservation at the car selling place for Alec to go out and take a look. All of the cars have been previously leased by the bank; after they are a few years old, the bank sells them to dealers or to individuals like us.
Miraculously, both kids decided to go with him, leaving me with a few free hours. Milo insistedon dressing in his new FC Barcelona soccer jersey and matching shorts (see Photo of the Day, below). This is the team's away uniform and the dayglo pink makes Milo look like a human highlighter. As Alec says, "You've got to be tough to take the field in that color."
When they got to the car lot, the woman at the office informed Alec that the car had been sold. Apparently, when Josep called, no one entered the reservation, which is supposed to hold the car until the reserver comes to see it. Now, you also probably know Alec well enough to know that he does not give up easily. Did he turn around and go home? No. Did he succumb to the salespeoples' attempts to show him other cars that might be to his liking? Absolutely not. After persisting for awhile with the first woman, another salesman intervened, told them that a dealer had bought the car, and that he was willing to tell the dealer that the sale had been made in error. If Alec wanted the car, he could have it. So they traipsed out to the hot dusty lot and found the car on the edge of it. C.C. and Milo came home with pockets full of snail shells they collected behind the last row of cars.
Before I finish this story, which has already gone on too long, there are two things you need to know about buying a used car in Spain. Number 1, they do not let you take the car for a test drive. Not at Auto Mundi, not at the La Caixa lot. You can sit in it, and you can turn the key in the ignition to hear the motor, but you can't go anywhere, not even with a salesperson riding along. Isn't that strange? And number 2, if you are buying a previously leased car from a bank, it looks like shit when they show it to you. It's dirty, the glovebox has the previous owner's chewing gum in it, and there may be wrappers on the floor. I guess they figure they don't need to waste a whole lot of Armor All if they are going to end up selling it to another dealer.
So the car looked pretty crappy, but Alec decided to buy it, giving up the Alfa Romeo fantasy, at least for now. We won't have it in our possession for another two weeks, which is how long it will take for them to make it shine like new again. It comes with a one year guarantee, which is a big relief.
And what did I do with my afternoon of freedom? As soon as they left the house, I checked the gym's class schedule and realized that if I hoofed it, I could get there in time for a Pilates class. I just didn't feel like getting on one of those cardio machines again. So I got there just in time, spread my mat on the floor, and tried to get a good sight line to the teacher. Only then did I realize that Pilates may not have been the best choice for a first class given that: a) I have never taken a Pilates class in my life; and b) it was in Spanish. My Spanish is okay, but the acoustics in there were not great, and I spent a lot of time craning my neck to see the teacher, or peeking at my neighbor who clearly both spoke Spanish and had done this before. I can tell you one thing---Pilates has a lot to do with the "umbligo" or belly button. Every other sentence was "umbligo this" or "umbligo that." I'm pretty sure she wanted us to push the BB into our backs, so I did. I felt a little like a deaf person, but I got a pretty good workout all the same.
On my way home, I picked up eggplant, zucchini, peppers and basil to make ratatouille. We had most of a sack of tomatoes left from Bjorge's garden, and I couldn't stand the thought of them going to waste.
So it has gone with our Barcelona auto purchase. Alec rushes out on Monday mornings to buy a copy of Cambalache, the local classifieds paper. He spends hours every night on the internet scouring used car listings, ratings sites, blogs about cars. And then, before I go to sleep, he downloads his brain to me---telling me about the relative merits of the Mercedes Class A versus the Subaru Justy, the Volkswagen Polo as it compares to the Mazda 3. I think he needs to say it more than he needs to say it to me--it's his way of processing everything. I try to ask a few questions and be supportive.
It's important to know, before I get too far into this story, that I have given Alec carte blanche to make this decision. Truth be told, cars don't do much for me. As long as it gets me where I need to go without breaking down, I'm good. And actually, Alec is not really much of a car-as-image-maker guy either. However, given that our New York City car is a Chevy Suburban, I think he saw this as a potential opportunity to have a little fun. Which explains his fantasy with the Alfa Romeo 147. It isn't a zippy little red convertible, 2 seater, midlife crisis kind of a car. But let's face it, an Alfa Romeo possesses a certain romance that a Subaru Justy simply lacks. "Come on, Lis', when else in my life am I going to own an Alfa Romeo?" he asks. "Go for it, sweetie," I say. My priorities: safety, reliability, cost. The Alfa does pretty well on all of these counts.
He's not sure yet, so this morning---after another night of research, and transferring $$ to our bank here---he decides to head back to Auto Mundi (or is it Mundi Auto?) for another tour---he's got 11 cars to look at. He calls our friendly local banker, Josep, at La Caixa (our bank) to find out how to get the $$ to the dealer. Josep explains the process to Alec and tells him that--surprise--LaCaixa is not only a bank, they also lease and sell cars! La Caixa is becoming nearly a one-stop shop for us--they sold us our health insurance and also fund our kids' favorite museum, CosmoCaixa, a terrific science museum. So we weren't exactly shocked to learn that they also sell cars. Alec opened the laptop back up, trolled the site, and found a perky little 2006 Citroen C4 that he thought deserved a look. He called Josep again, who made a reservation at the car selling place for Alec to go out and take a look. All of the cars have been previously leased by the bank; after they are a few years old, the bank sells them to dealers or to individuals like us.
Miraculously, both kids decided to go with him, leaving me with a few free hours. Milo insistedon dressing in his new FC Barcelona soccer jersey and matching shorts (see Photo of the Day, below). This is the team's away uniform and the dayglo pink makes Milo look like a human highlighter. As Alec says, "You've got to be tough to take the field in that color."
When they got to the car lot, the woman at the office informed Alec that the car had been sold. Apparently, when Josep called, no one entered the reservation, which is supposed to hold the car until the reserver comes to see it. Now, you also probably know Alec well enough to know that he does not give up easily. Did he turn around and go home? No. Did he succumb to the salespeoples' attempts to show him other cars that might be to his liking? Absolutely not. After persisting for awhile with the first woman, another salesman intervened, told them that a dealer had bought the car, and that he was willing to tell the dealer that the sale had been made in error. If Alec wanted the car, he could have it. So they traipsed out to the hot dusty lot and found the car on the edge of it. C.C. and Milo came home with pockets full of snail shells they collected behind the last row of cars.
Before I finish this story, which has already gone on too long, there are two things you need to know about buying a used car in Spain. Number 1, they do not let you take the car for a test drive. Not at Auto Mundi, not at the La Caixa lot. You can sit in it, and you can turn the key in the ignition to hear the motor, but you can't go anywhere, not even with a salesperson riding along. Isn't that strange? And number 2, if you are buying a previously leased car from a bank, it looks like shit when they show it to you. It's dirty, the glovebox has the previous owner's chewing gum in it, and there may be wrappers on the floor. I guess they figure they don't need to waste a whole lot of Armor All if they are going to end up selling it to another dealer.
So the car looked pretty crappy, but Alec decided to buy it, giving up the Alfa Romeo fantasy, at least for now. We won't have it in our possession for another two weeks, which is how long it will take for them to make it shine like new again. It comes with a one year guarantee, which is a big relief.
And what did I do with my afternoon of freedom? As soon as they left the house, I checked the gym's class schedule and realized that if I hoofed it, I could get there in time for a Pilates class. I just didn't feel like getting on one of those cardio machines again. So I got there just in time, spread my mat on the floor, and tried to get a good sight line to the teacher. Only then did I realize that Pilates may not have been the best choice for a first class given that: a) I have never taken a Pilates class in my life; and b) it was in Spanish. My Spanish is okay, but the acoustics in there were not great, and I spent a lot of time craning my neck to see the teacher, or peeking at my neighbor who clearly both spoke Spanish and had done this before. I can tell you one thing---Pilates has a lot to do with the "umbligo" or belly button. Every other sentence was "umbligo this" or "umbligo that." I'm pretty sure she wanted us to push the BB into our backs, so I did. I felt a little like a deaf person, but I got a pretty good workout all the same.
On my way home, I picked up eggplant, zucchini, peppers and basil to make ratatouille. We had most of a sack of tomatoes left from Bjorge's garden, and I couldn't stand the thought of them going to waste.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Art-Making at MACBA
After spending TWO HOURS last night with C.C. trying to help her get to sleep, everyone thankfully slept until nearly 8 am---although Milo was in our bed, with his stuffed bunny, when we woke up, and neither of us realized he had snuck in.
We managed to get out of the house relatively early---10:15---to go to MACBA, the contemporary art museum in Barcelona. They had a family program today, walking around the galleries and then a hands-on activity. The museum is a cool, Richard Meier building not far from Las Ramblas and, fortunately, they had two groups of families with kids--one in Catalan and one in Spanish. However, although it was billed as an activity for 5 - 9 year olds, both kids got bored pretty quickly. Partly because the Spanish was tough for them, partly because it seemed pitched to a much older age. And, of course, Milo was STARVING. They had eaten a big breakfast shortly before we left home, and I had not packed a single snack. How many times do I need to learn that lesson?
We manage to hang in there through the gallery tour by taking detours to see other pieces and then rejoining the group. Alec asked Milo what a particular brown, lumpy sculpture reminded him of, and Milo responded: "chopped liver." Once we got to the art-making part, the kids both became super engaged and dove into the activity. Milo made a pendulum and C.C. a blue collage (see Photo of the Day #2).
We hung out on the plaza outside of the museum for awhile after, and Milo chatted up the local skateboarders (see Photo of the Day #1). We were all hungry by then, so we strolled to Vienna, a little restaurant near the Boqueria famous for what Mark Bittman claims to be the best sandwich he's ever eaten--- a simple flauta with yummy jamon Iberica.
We managed to get out of the house relatively early---10:15---to go to MACBA, the contemporary art museum in Barcelona. They had a family program today, walking around the galleries and then a hands-on activity. The museum is a cool, Richard Meier building not far from Las Ramblas and, fortunately, they had two groups of families with kids--one in Catalan and one in Spanish. However, although it was billed as an activity for 5 - 9 year olds, both kids got bored pretty quickly. Partly because the Spanish was tough for them, partly because it seemed pitched to a much older age. And, of course, Milo was STARVING. They had eaten a big breakfast shortly before we left home, and I had not packed a single snack. How many times do I need to learn that lesson?
We manage to hang in there through the gallery tour by taking detours to see other pieces and then rejoining the group. Alec asked Milo what a particular brown, lumpy sculpture reminded him of, and Milo responded: "chopped liver." Once we got to the art-making part, the kids both became super engaged and dove into the activity. Milo made a pendulum and C.C. a blue collage (see Photo of the Day #2).
We hung out on the plaza outside of the museum for awhile after, and Milo chatted up the local skateboarders (see Photo of the Day #1). We were all hungry by then, so we strolled to Vienna, a little restaurant near the Boqueria famous for what Mark Bittman claims to be the best sandwich he's ever eaten--- a simple flauta with yummy jamon Iberica.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Visiting Parc Guell--"the Tile Park"--with C.C.
This post is co-authored by C.C.
Myron and Raquel (Abuelo and Abuela) left this morning---they were with us here for 10 days and it went super duper fast. We were sad to see them go. After a lazy morning at home, Alec took C.C. and Milo to the park to play basketball, and C.C. made some masterpieces with chalk.
Then, Alec and Milo headed to "Auto Mundia" (auto world) to look at used cars. C.C. and I took the bus to Parc Guell, Gaudi's fabulous park which is about a 10 minute bus ride from our house. C. C. was the trip leader, and we went all the way to the top and then all the way to the bottom. And then we saw the famous lizard fountain---see C.C. in the Photo of the Day, below. We had some ice cream in the big plaza---the park was packed with tourists---and then headed slowly home.
Bye bye!
Myron and Raquel (Abuelo and Abuela) left this morning---they were with us here for 10 days and it went super duper fast. We were sad to see them go. After a lazy morning at home, Alec took C.C. and Milo to the park to play basketball, and C.C. made some masterpieces with chalk.
Then, Alec and Milo headed to "Auto Mundia" (auto world) to look at used cars. C.C. and I took the bus to Parc Guell, Gaudi's fabulous park which is about a 10 minute bus ride from our house. C. C. was the trip leader, and we went all the way to the top and then all the way to the bottom. And then we saw the famous lizard fountain---see C.C. in the Photo of the Day, below. We had some ice cream in the big plaza---the park was packed with tourists---and then headed slowly home.
Bye bye!
Monday, August 9, 2010
Lunch at Il Gallego with Marty and Ruth
After a morning spent dealing with the bank--one last administrative errand while we still have Myron and Raquel here--we met Marty Goldensohn and his wife Ruth for lunch at a Gallician restaurant not far from our house called Il Gallego. Eating Gallician food outside of Gallicia with Raquel is always a risk given that that's where she's from and that she is an excellent cook and fierce critic. Marty and Ruth are very good friend of my very good friend Norm Glickman and his wife Elyse, and we all spent a few lovely hours stuffing ourselves silly. Raquel ordered, and soon plate after plate arrived, starting with a pan tomate (toasted bread rubbed with tomato and garlic), which is actually a typical Catalan starter. Plates of shrimp, clams, mussels octopus, pimentos da padron, sliced ham with potato, and a few other things I can't remember followed. Thanks to the iPad, which comes everywhere with us, along with some markers and paper, the kids behaved great.
Hot today, and humid. After lunch we strolled slowly home through the empty city streets--nearly everyone leaves the city in August
Hot today, and humid. After lunch we strolled slowly home through the empty city streets--nearly everyone leaves the city in August
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Excursion
It seems we have family here that we knew nothing about. Raquel, Alec's stepmother, has five sisters, one brother, and countless cousins, nieces and nephews. Olga is one such cousin---she lives with her husband Bjorg (a Dane) and their dog, Vagabondo, about a half hour outside of Barcelona high up in the hills overlooking the Mediterranean, and below the ruins of a very cool castle. We took the train from Barcelona--it hugged the sea, and the train was full of daytrippers heading to the beach for the day.
Bjorg picked us up at the station and drove us up, up, up a winding road to the house. We arrived moments after both C.C. and Milo informed us that they were about to puke---fortunately we arrived without either of them filling the ziploc bags I keep in my purse for just these situations.
The house is ringed by gardens, full of clematis, allium, and a gardenia that's as big as a tree and perfumes the whole yard.
We were joined by Olga and Bjorg's daughter Lisa, her husband (whose name I can neither pronounce nor spell) and their two children Andrea (5) and Billy (3). From the moment we arrived Bjorg never stopped moving, shuttling from kitchen to grill, cooking up a mountain of chicken, lamb chops and two kinds of sausage. We sat outside at their table and ate and ate, finishing with watermelon and the sweetest honeydew I've ever eaten. When we were finally able to move again, we swam in the neighbor's pool and laid out on the warm terracotta tile to dry.
Bjorg insisted on driving us back to Barcelona even though we had purchased round trip tickets on the train. Most of us were grateful for the ride, which got us home much faster. C.C., who threw up just 5 minutes from home, announced that she would have preferred the train.
Bjorg picked us up at the station and drove us up, up, up a winding road to the house. We arrived moments after both C.C. and Milo informed us that they were about to puke---fortunately we arrived without either of them filling the ziploc bags I keep in my purse for just these situations.
The house is ringed by gardens, full of clematis, allium, and a gardenia that's as big as a tree and perfumes the whole yard.
We were joined by Olga and Bjorg's daughter Lisa, her husband (whose name I can neither pronounce nor spell) and their two children Andrea (5) and Billy (3). From the moment we arrived Bjorg never stopped moving, shuttling from kitchen to grill, cooking up a mountain of chicken, lamb chops and two kinds of sausage. We sat outside at their table and ate and ate, finishing with watermelon and the sweetest honeydew I've ever eaten. When we were finally able to move again, we swam in the neighbor's pool and laid out on the warm terracotta tile to dry.
Bjorg insisted on driving us back to Barcelona even though we had purchased round trip tickets on the train. Most of us were grateful for the ride, which got us home much faster. C.C., who threw up just 5 minutes from home, announced that she would have preferred the train.
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