(w) the undervalued letter.

W, wow, what a letter. There before I even reach the second sentence I've already used it 5 times (including the title of course). Where else could you find the lineup w,w,o,w,w used in gramatically correct english? The importance of the letter w to the english language reaches far and wide. Don't be fooled by it's place at the end of the alphabet. That actually underlines its true value as a letter that does not depend on it's place in line to derive it's virtues. (V is of similiar fortitude, in the previous sentence it was used 3 times! and in this one 2!) But back to w, which is of double importance. Note: two v make one w. vv=w.

Where would we be without who, what, why, where, when and how? The very foundation of our language rests on this humble and not-yet widely acclaimed letter. To ask a question, you practically are forced to rely on its services. Try to avoid it (v again!) I dare you. Okay, the verb "can" does its bit to break up the monopoly, but honestly, would you like to go around all day limited to can and could? Heck, even the conditional form "would" jumps back to our letter! Haaave it!

So we agree that (w) is important. Good.
Now for the shocker.
The letter doubleu does not exist in Spanish. Search between V and X in a small dictionary and (w)hat do you find? NOTHING. Search in large dictionary and you get maybe t(w)enty words starting with W. ALL STOLEN FROM ENGLISH. Not one is an original Spanish (w)ord. You (w)ant an example? Waterpolo. And Waterloo if you are talking about famous battles. Mind you they're pronounced, vaaaterpolo and vaaaterlu if you want specifics.

Ho(w) the Spanish (w)ould undervalue perhaps the most crucial letter in our tongue I don't know. I guess that just goes to show that cultures and languages are (w)idely different. And to each his o(w)n...

eh-hem.

I realized it's been two weeks since I've posted. Sorry.

I had written a couple of paragraphs that were naff. So I just deleted them because I realized I was writing just to fill space. So while I am again writing just to fill space, this time it will be wasting less of your time.

Shortly I hope to write something that won't be a waste of time.

not so long ago...

reminiscing late one evening.
it's a nostalgic activity, slightly slanted to one side.
slanted because do we really remember accurately?
the good, the bad, the monotonous.
or is it mostly just good with the bad melting into a puddle?
or the bad growing like weeds till it swallows up any good that was?
or neither and actually while we remember with a subtle slant, memory speaks as much truth as the present.

well whatever.
tonight i've been remembering. i uploaded photos a good number of fotos from the last couple of years so i could order prints- i'm a bit behind on the process. to decide which ones i wanted i had to shift through them all. i've only just begun and it's like being flooded with things that one hasn't forgotten, but one hasn't been conciously remembering either.
a few nights ago i was sifting through old posts from this very blog. again, things come rushing back and i even occasionally surprised myself.

i think memories are equally as important as one's present and maybe the dreams for tomorrow. without memories there is no history. and no history means nothing to jump off of, or fall back onto. it's funny, but the present can be taken from us (or at least given), while the past never can. that being said, i hope i never offer up the present for the opportunity to go back to the past...

the game

arial shots

random bits of barcelona

cold feet and hot water

Suddenly it hit me that I have been using a hot water bottle for the last month and I haven't even given it a mention here!

The use of a hot water bottle certainly deserves a mention. Matter of fact, it should get it's own post. Which of course, is what this is. It's an entire posting devoted to the hot water bottle. I would post a picture of it, but I've so many pics up at the moment with more coming, that I think I'll just describe it.

It's a normal size for a hot water bottle, nothing more nothing less. The actual bottle itself is of the typical pink rubbery substance that hot water bottles generally consist of. However, like a mitten, a green cloth of terry substance covers it nicely. Every night I boil some hot water and fill the bottle, seal it up, and lay it where my feet generally rest in the icebox I sleep in. Also known as my bed.

I'll have you know that it is probably a top quality, premium made, water bottle. That's because however many hours later when I wake up in the morning, its still lukewarm. Which is better than ice. As I write this sentence, it lies behind me, under the covers, gently thawing out my sheets, preparing them for me.

I'll tell you, life hasn't been the same since I got it. I sleep better now. I wake up warmer, which in turn means I am warmer throughout the day. That means I am a happier person. Which means I sleep better. It's a wonderful cycle. So if you suffer from a cold bed at night, I recommend that you too, get yourself, a premium, top of the line, green terry covered cloth water bottle. It will change your life.

A few photos from high up in my city.

the briefest of updates

My oh my que frío hace! A cold wave has swept down from England and Germany to freeze the fingertips off all the Spaniards. Not that it wasn't cold before, just that now it's freezing. Okay, so just a degree or two above where I live, but considering the houses sit only about 5 degrees warmer than the wind chill outside, its cold!

Well I suppose this should be an about about me. Updates on my life for those who find themselves interested.

I'm currently making my own greatest hits album by Mana while I type this. It's going to be good, let me tell you! I've got to cut one song to fit it on the disk though, its like choosing between your own children.

I continue to stick my hair up in the morning with this sticky stuff and shave every other day. Though with the cold, the odds on a beard are going up if you are on your way to the local bookie.

Recently finished the best novel I have read in the last four years. Easily. It's called the shadow in the wind by a guy called Zafon. A fat book but it cut late into my nights and early into my mornings so it didn't take long to finish. My top three novels (in no particular order) are now: The Shadow of the Wind, The Brother's Karamazov and maybe the Lord of the Ring's Trilogy. Cept that's three books. As for what book just got booted out, ahh I dunno. Before I just had a top 2.

Go Bears.
Go Barça.

It's that that is all I can think of to say about myself without getting too deep into things. I'm short on time so it'll have to do for now. Maybe a more worthy post will come along in a few days, I'm off to Barcelona for a couple of days.

If I were the owner of an ancient, mysterious house...

If I were the owner of an ancient and mysterious house I would make sure it had lots of windows. But it would not be a house of glass, for these are times in which one must be careful not to be too fragile. The windows would let lots of light in, both sunlight and lightning, and not to mention the sound of the rain. And towards the center of all those eyes, there would be a large door. One that opened up very wide, to accomodate many people, coming and going.


But there would be small doors too, in various and secret places. Ones where one must stoop to walk through. Ones that would hold lots of secrets and even more stories.


There would be windows even in the corners where they were difficult to place. There would be windows, for it would cause young children to let their imaginations run wild with the shadows that were glimpsed beyond them.

Around the library I would consider having remembrances of some of the writers whose works were held inside that library. It would be to pique the children's interest in the world of books. I would have to carefully consider that however, as the heads may simply scare the children instead of inspiring wonder and fascination.


But perhaps high above the ground I would allow pets to roam, and they would guard roof terraces and keep an eye on what was happening below, in case someone would get lost in the maze that they oversaw.





A wall would surround the maze, with only a small hidden gate to let one in. The gate too, would have many stories and a few secrets.


Somewhere, a small street would run through the property, with a walkway over the top, where one could sit and read, occasionally lifting up ones eyes to watch the paserbys hurrying underneath to get out of the rain. The rain that was lashing against the many windows.



And somewhere, amidst old garden sheds, trees that are older than history, surrounded by stone walls would be a tall tower. It would stretch above everything else, overlooking what was to be overlooked. It would not have many windows. And every so often, the sound of a bell being rung would steal over the house, and it would cause all to stop what they were doing and listen. It would go on for a minute and then slowly die away in the evening light. Only every so often, with not much regularity. However the tower would only have one entrance, and that entrance would always be barred and locked. No one would know who had the key, and it would make stories rise up in the children's hearts. Stories of past deeds, past loves, past losses... Stories mixed with intrigue and wonder and perhaps a small amount of fear only if they happened to be looking at the tower as the last gleams of light dissapeared to the west.

hair

haircuts are funny things. i spent the last week planning on getting a haircut, only to wake up each morning and decide that either 1. i was having a good hairday so why get it cut, or 2. i was poor and should save the money, thus deciding each day that i would not get a haircut.

this morning i woke up and decided neither were true. so i went and got scalped.

a survey of sorts

I would like to put a few questions to those who will see this. Please respond in the comments box, even if you don't feel qualified. To any or to all of the questions. And remember, only honest responses are valid, I don't want citations from apologetic commentaries.

Do you believe in hell, and if so what is it and why/how does it exist?

What is the criterium for spending eternity with God?

What do the words grace and choice mean to you?

2005,2006,2007

Of note:

Café en España now stretches over three years. Numberwise anyways, starting in late 2005 and now having reached early 2007, there are three years to navigate! Thought it should be commemorated. Thanks for the faithfuls who have been here from the start. And for those who haven't because I suppose that is what grace is all about.

random shots of the motherland

some disrespected sign. the view from the toilet (impressive isn't it?). juli and i outside a quality door. a fence with heads on it. you can figure out which caption goes with which picture.

a pub once frequented...

Ahh the joys of Oxford. Here at the Eagle and Child I washed down a pint in honor of two fellows whose writing I much admire. One CS Lewis and another JRR Tolkien used to frequent this joint to have a pint and talk about whatever they happened to be writing about. Quite a few decades later I joined them. But sadly they had long since gone. So I enjoyed a pleasant steak and ale pie and toasted to their health which had long since given up... May they rest in peace and make lots of posthumuous royalties.

recuerdos de inglaterra

hi from the land of rain and darkness. okay so its a harsh way to start out, but we've been here 5 days and 4 and a half of them have been filled with dreary clouds and dripping rain. other than that i have had a splendid time.
england = no sun

a few english experiences that have been had that have been (nice run of h words there followed by beens) crumpets (being the american i am i smothered them with peanutbutter and jelly) tea (i've had three cups, in the previous year i drank 4 cups total) fish and chips (now that's niiiice) followed by the inevitable skinning in the exchange rate between the pound and the dollar. since when should the english pound be worth more than the dollar? you could fit like 12 englands in the US. bigger country = stronger money

thats my take anyway. and now that ive alienated my british readers... i should say that i really do like your country. BUT tell your customs officials to be a bit nicer to me when i come to visit! nice american = easy time in customs

my good friend juli from spain came with me. he's got good english, but maybe not as good as mine. well he walked right through customs. im not bitter, i just think that better english = easier time in customs when entering an english speaking country. why don't the english understand this concept?

throwaway comment to the english: if i really disliked your country i wouldn't have bothered to come.

maybe i should name some things i like about england....
.
.
.
.

well im just glad good quality humo(u)r is never lost on a tru brit.
brit = good laugh

i will probably wrap this up now. when we reach the sunny land again i will write something perhaps slightly more worth reading... CHEERS!

tasty

chompin on some churros. i walked 15 minutes in driving rain for them! so they had better be good!

día 25

well we are fast approaching Christmas. fast approaching the time of year that i seem to enjoy more each time i experience it. my appreciation for the time of year and the cold weather (its really the only time i won't complain about my numb hands and frostbitten ears) is slowly and steadily growing. now don't take this to mean that i now like christmas films or those stupid glowing santas. i despise them more than ever. i think because both are entirely false. what i do have is a soft spot for 'O Holy Night' which i could listen to on repeat without problem for the good part of a december night.

perhaps i am stopping more then ever. and just being. being aware of being. i have a lot to be thankful for. i am blessed because i have two families. one where i live and one in indiana. yesterday i suddenly realized that i am missing my family. i am missing being able to spend christmas with them. to stop with them and just be. to eat with them and laugh and experience those moments where only until afterwards does one actually realize they were happening. i am able to do that with one family but not the other right now. being away is making me more away of what i actually have. acutely aware in fact of how i am blessed beyond measure (to have family wherever i go). is there anything else one could ask for?

have a blessed Christmas.

and to my family: miss you all and looking forward to the next Christmas i get to spend with you!

My favorite song. And it's been a long time since I've been able to name my favorite. So it's called Manda una Señal by Maná.

I would apologize for it being in Spanish but I like it in Spanish so I'm not going to.

This is some random kid drumming it with the song in the background. So you don't see the band but hey, I enjoyed it so I'm posting it!