Flashback

Since I did nothing of note today, I’ll regale you with a flashback.

When I was about 10 years old and living in Beavercreek, I found a baby robin on our back patio that had fallen out of the tree. Most will not believe this because I do not to show it (and because it would seem to clash with some of my views) but deep inside I have the heart of a pansy, tree-hugging liberal.

I couldn’t leave it there. So I picked it up and took it to my parents. They looked at me holding this baby robin that couldn’t have been more than a week old and knew it was as good as dead.

But they were good parents. They called the Aullwood Audobon Society http://www.audubon.org/local/sanctuary/aullwood/ that was across town to see if they would take it. They said they wouldn’t unless it was at least a certain number of weeks old. So we had to take care of it to make him last.

I named him Tweety. It’s a terribly unoriginal name but it seemed perfect for obvious reasons…he was a bird. Tweety barely had any feathers or down or whatever baby robins have. He wasn’t particularly attractive at all. He was basically two ounces of skin, legs, little wings, a beak and goofy eyes. We kept him in the garage in a shoebox, with a hot water-bottle and some washcloths to keep him warm. And during the night I’d have to get up about every couple hours to feed him.

The Audobon society gave us pointers on what and when to feed him and how to care for him. We would feed him small pieces of bread dipped in milk or water. That little bugger could eat. He was loud, too.

Now, I doubt I was always the one getting up to feed up overnight but I did a fair share of it. I would come home from school and he’d be the first thing I checked on. I really developed an attachment to Tweety. He was loud, ate a lot, interrupted my sleep and pooped a lot (a byproduct of the eating, no doubt). But I loved him.

And he lived. He made it the few weeks we had to take care of him. I remember driving him to the Audobon society and giving him to them. I knew he was in much better hands at that point but it was still difficult. I remember repeatedly telling them his name so they would know what to call him…so he would feel comfortable. I was also really proud at what we’d been able to do for him. I could have left him there to die. But I couldn’t leave him there. My parents could have been unsupportive. But my parents were great.

I know Tweety has long since passed to dust and while many of the details of that experience have faded over the past 20 years, I still remember how I cared for that little guy. And my heart still breaks when I’m washing my car at one of those self-wash places and I see the remains of a tiny little bird that has fallen out of a nest above.

However it reminds me of Tweety and how I learned at age 10 how I could help make a small difference. And sometimes I feel ashamed at how I don’t always take that lesson I learned and apply it to myself in my life today.

Thanksgiving. Or as they say in Spain...Thanksgiving

As most of you can probably figure out, the Spanish don’t celebrate Thanksgiving. There were a couple of small things going on on-base but I didn’t feel too much like participating in them. The two other times I have been overseas for Thanksgiving, my close friends on that base and I got together and did our own dinner. It was more fun and had more of a home feeling than eating together at the chow hall. Something about doing it ourselves made the holiday ours.

Well, the were no opportunities here to make our own food. While our dorms aren’t bad enough to complain about, they also don’t allow us to make our own food.

So 4 of us decided to go off base. This was the night I was planning to pull an all-nighter. But the other 3 had been out all night the night before and weren’t feeling good enough to do it again the 2nd night in a row. Apparently, mass quantities of alcohol were consumed.

Before I go any further, the roster. First up is Pat. I work with Pat. We’re on different shifts but on my first two days of work, we worked together. He’s about 22, from the Guard unit in Louisville (pronounced Loo-uh-vil, not Loo-eee-vil) and a good guy.

Next is Eric. Yes. Another Eric. I’ve never liked other people around me having the same name. Eric is a common enough name but not so common that I have to deal w/ someone else having it. He came in Wed and is my roommate, too. He’s 28 and from a Guard unit in Minnesota. He says the word “bag” properly, too, (for those of you in on this joke), further evidence that one of my friends does indeed have a speech impediment.

Last, and to make things even more complex is a gal named Erica. No, I’m not kidding. She’s 23 and active duty. She’s here TDY from Tinker AFB in Oklahoma. She’s a guy’s gal. The kind that can hang out with the guys just fine and doesn’t whine about stupid stuff. Obviously, any gal is invited out with us. But one who doesn’t complain, doesn’t demand the attention be on her all the time and is able to carry on a conversation ranks even further up on the scale for me.

So Eric, Eric, Erica and Pat all left last night to go to Sevilla for our Thanksgiving. If we ever wanted to get together and start our own business and wanted to use our first initials to come up with the company name we’d be left with…that’s right…PEEE. Obviously, I don’t feel or act 30 yet.

We were going to take the base shuttle. While we were waiting at the bus stop on base, a Spanish guy, Manuel, who worked with Erica, pulled over and asked Erica if she needed a ride. She said that the 3 of us were going, too. So we all piled in the car and got a free, and faster, ride into Sevilla. Another advantage to having a woman out with us is displayed.

He dropped us off in front of the beer factory I talked about in my last post. We walked towards the Cathedral area. On the way, Pat had us stop at the Bar Europe for a beer. He’d been here before and we all ordered a German beer that I forget the name of. We sat out in front and discussed the fun of people watching and the negative repercussions of introducing a foreign species into an otherwise stable ecosystem.

We’d been there about 30 minutes when this girl comes up, stops next to Eric (the other one). She takes out her lighter and says something in Spanish. Other Eric, as he will be referred to from now on, looked confused so I told him she wanted one of his cigarettes. He politely took one out and gave it to her. She then asked if we spoke English. Knowing our ruse as native Spaniards was up (3 really white guys with short haircuts and a really white girl with blonde hair), we said yes. She then proceeded to ask us for money to help her baby.

Now this was a very pretty girl. After she asked us for money, the first thing I noticed was the new sweat pants and nice shirt she was wearing. I then noticed the nice shirt and her blonde hair. Not to assume the people who read this are stupid but 99.9% of the Spanish are dark-haired and it was obvious, anyway, that her hair was dyed. We could see the dark roots. So, she’s got nice clothing (also nice shoes) and had money to dye her hair recently. We politely told her no and she walked off with a horrified look on her face. She eventually walked into the bar and hit up every guy in the bar. I’m not sure how successful she was.

My basic position on this was, even if she did need the money and needed it for her baby, there was about a 1 in 1000 chance that baby would see it. I pointed it out to the others and they mentioned they hadn’t paid much attention to how she looked and that they were surprised I picked up on that. I thought it was obvious but I have friends who marvel at my ability to notice the small, usually inane and useless, things.

We walked some more. We came to a part of the town that still had the old Roman aqueducts, in about 25 foot sections, in the middle of the road, dividing the lanes. It looked a bit like this but imagine it in a city and two levels high.

We eventually caught a cab and went to the area of town near the Cathedral. There we went into a small restaurant for a small snack/meal. I ended up getting a dish with small shrimp, crab meat and onions and peppers mixed in. I don’t know what it was called but I enjoyed it a lot more than I expected to, given the large number of onions and peppers mixed in. But those onions and peppers reminded me of the mild sauce at Chipotle. Mmmmmm…Chipotle…Aaaaaggghhh. But I digress. Those of you that chuckle at how I almost always eat the same things when I go out would be proud of me. Erica and I finished by splitting some chocolate. We both love chocolate but are trying to cut back on it. So it made sense to order one and split.

Then we went to a bar aimed at Americans, called TexMex, and watched the Lions get beat up by the Colts and played some pool. We met some folks from Indiana University there (they were the ones boisterously rooting for the Colts, so they stood out). It was about 2000 (8 PM) at this time so we went to eat our regular meal. We stopped at a place called Robles. It was a very nice restaurant that served mostly seafood. We ordered a couple of bottles of wine (I only know it was red), most of it drank by Other Eric and Pat while Erica and I talked about life at the other end of the table. For dinner, I got what was basically a sampler platter of hake, cod and swordfish, all fried. Erica and Pat each got salmon and Other Eric got some veal. We created our own little “community plate” where would each put parts of our own dish for others to try, so we all got a good taste. The food was just great. The cod and hake were beyond great. Erica and I finished by ordering more chocolate. Other Eric and Pat finished by finishing off the 2nd bottle of wine.

It was getting close to 2300 (11PM), which is when the last shuttle heads back to base, so we caught a cab outside the Starbucks. Before that, Erica and I went in for some coffee and hot chocolate. She ordered first and they asked her her name, so they could call it out when it was ready. I ordered next and they asked me my name. I said “Eric” and he looked up at me, then her and said “Eric y Erica! HA!” I was secretly happy Other Eric wasn’t jonesing for some coffee right then, too.

We got our cab and made it over to the bus stop in front of the beer factory. Pat, maybe feeling the effects of the 12 gallons of wine and beer he’d had, had to go to the bathroom really bad. In this part of town, everything was closed. So he walked down one of the empty side streets and took a leak. So I picked up some rocks and threw them at him while he was going. Obviously, I don’t feel or act 30 yet.

We all napped on the ride back to base. Once on base, we went over to the club, which was open until 0100 (1AM). We played some darts and drank a beer before it closed.

Erica, who works for base Services (formerly MWR. They are in charge of the club, theater, fitness center etc), offered to open up the theater for us so we could watch some movies. That’s a heck of an offer but we decided not that night when we found out the movie being shown at the time was Catwoman. Though I know we’ll take her up on it later.

It was late and she called it a night. The 3 of us guys each took a turn calling home for Thanksgiving. Then we went to Pat’s room and played Playstation (we had a strong urge to blow crap up) and watched my DVD of Chapelle’s Show until the chow hall opened at 5 AM.

That was our Thanksgiving. While we were eating our dinner at Robles, I asked everyone to come up with one thing we were thankful for and share it. Erica, who’s been to Kazakhstan, Afghanistan, Qatar and a few other places ending in “stan” was thankful for the men and women deployed to places where they weren’t as lucky as we were to be able to go out for a good dinner. This girl has a good head on her shoulders. Other Eric and Pat were each thankful that we’d all found 3 others that we enjoyed and were spending Thanksgiving with. I was thankful for the wonderful family and friends who God has blessed me with…who I don’t deserve.

But as I close, remember what Erica was thankful for. Some of you have mentioned how you imagined it was going to be difficult to be away from family and friends for Thanksgiving and Christmas. And it is. But it’s nothing. There are others being shot at by bad guys and shooting the bad guys so I can celebrate Thanksgiving, even if I’m not physically with my family. On Thanksgiving and this Christmas holiday season, remember and pray for them and their families. They are the ones truly sacrificing.

So if you are sending me something for the holidays, don’t make it anything more than a letter, please. Take that energy and love you are showing on my behalf give it to others serving downline. Here is a good foundation that my sis found and has donated to: http://www.armedforcesfoundation.org

They help service-members and their families and 91% of what you donate goes directly to those they serve. If you’re familiar with charities, that’s an extremely high percentage.

God Bless

Sevilla pt 2

After leaving the Cathedral, I wandered the streets around it for a little while. I stopped into Starbucks and made my contribution to the local economy. Once I got my hot chocolate, I sat outside and watched people walk by. People-watching is an interesting thing to do and I don’t do it enough. It’s fun to watch people interact with each other.

My next stop wasn’t planned. I pretty much stumbled on it. It’s only a block away from the Cathedral and it is called the Alcazar. Here is another site. The first picture is the entrance I went in.

I think this is a popular field trip stop. There were a number large groups of students being given tours. It was only 5 Euros for a tour and an extra 3 to get a little device that would explain to me in English what I was looking at. I spent about an hour here. It really is beautiful. The gardens were the best. The second link above has a picture of the gardens.

I left the Alcazar and started my way back to where I was dropped off. By this time I’d been awake close to 24 hours straight and it was starting to wear me down. I walked through the university on the way back and through a nice park. I was surprised at the number of parks in the area. I ended up looking for De Plaza De Espana.

This was much better than I thought it might be. It really is beautiful. It is also the 2nd time I was hit up by a gypsy woman. Heck, even after telling her I wasn’t interested, she wouldn’t let go of my hand. So I let her finish her thing about wishing me joy and good fortune ( I understood that much) and told her I wasn’t going to give her any money. Come on. Spain, as is most of Europe, is pretty much socialist. It shouldn’t be *that* hard to find a job. Sure, at least she’s trying to do something but even the squeegie guy in NY City gives you a worthwhile service.

Other than how pretty the Plaza was, the main thing I noticed is the large number of flies in this area. Not sure why. The place didn’t smell bad. Of course, maybe they’d been following me around all day and they finally caught up to me here. More likely, the wind had carried them down from France.

I was pretty hungry so I stopped at a small café called La Hosteria. It was a nice little café with indoor and outdoor seating on a corner. The Spanish waitress wouldn’t slow down when talking so I had a hard time ordering. I basically understood carne y tomato (beef and tomato) and said yes. I figured “What the heck, it’s probably something new.” It was good. It is roast beef served in a warm tomato sauce. It is served with bread, for dipping in the sauce. I cleaned that plate up. The people around me were staring at me, probably wondering why I was holding the plate up to my face licking up the last bit of sauce and making slurping noises. With this wonderful tomato sauce on my nose, chin and eyebrow I looked at them and said “Esta bueno! (It is good!)

OK, that last part is false. I didn’t have any sauce on my eyebrow. I’m not a pig.

Before they brought me my meal, I heard the two gals at the table next to me speaking English so I asked them where they were from. I was thinking it’s always nice to meet someone from your own country while wandering a foreign land. One was from Colorado and the other was from Arizona, I think. They asked where I was from and I told them Ohio. Then they turned away and didn’t say another word to me. I don’t think it had anything to do with where they were from. If they were from Michigan, I could understand considering the prison shower room beating the Bucks put on the Wolverines this past weekend. I was just surprised at how rude they were. Or maybe I’ve just become really creepy and don’t know it.

A guy at another table came over and said he overheard me talking. He was American and said his name was Stephen. He sat down and we ate together. He asked a lot of questions about what I was doing there. I gave him the basic idea but couldn’t reveal too much. It’s not that anything I do is Top Secret but we’ve been trained not to give out too much information because the bad guys can piece together enough general information to make it useful to them. We finished eating and said our goodbyes.

The sheet of paper I’d brought with me showed me the pickup times for the shuttle and where to be. I had to be in front of the Cruzcampo Beer Factory by 1500 (3 PM, for my military ignorant friends). It was almost 1400 (2 PM). I wanted to be there in plenty of time so I hailed a cab and told him where I wanted to go.

I’ve come to believe that it is probably a pretty useless move to try to speak to locals in Spanish, attempting to use the proper accent as well. I can speak decent Spanish. I can ask all the questions I need and can understand a fair amount of what is being said…*if* the other person doesn’t speak too fast. Well, the Spanish aren’t any different from Mexicans or any others from Central America speaking Spanish. They speak it at about 850 words a minute. My listening comprehension in Spanish is about…20 words a minute.

On the ride to the beer factory, I asked him much an apartment in Sevilla typically runs. It was broken Spanish but close enough that he understood what I was asking. He then spends the next 10 minutes of the ride speaking 850 words a minute about something. I heard the following words: perro, dinero, gatto, zapato, pezon, luhca, refrigerador, donde, alfombra, homicida, professor, vino…though not necessarily in that order. So, from what I could understand and piece together he said: “The dog and cat were fighting over where to put the refrigerator on the carpet. The dog got mad and attacked my nipple so I was forced to use my shoe to murder a teacher. I then drank wine.” I didn’t ask anymore questions.

He stopped in front of the factory and I got out as quickly as possible while throwing a handful of Euros into his car. The shuttle would pick up in front of the Bar Antonio at 1500 (3 PM). It was about 1415(2:15 PM) so I started waiting. I really didn’t want to miss this shuttle since the next one didn’t show until 2300 (11 PM). I had also been awake for about 26 hours straight at this point. That combined with walking about 8 miles in a few hours had tired me out a bit. I really did not want to wait until 2300 (11 PM). I mean REALLY did not want to. So I waited. It wasn’t that bad. A lot of good-looking Spanish women walked by so it wasn’t exactly time wasted. Since the company is mixed on my blog, and my mom reads this, any of the guys can Email me and I’ll tell you the good things I’ve noticed about Spanish women.

So I waited…and waited…and waited. It was now 1520 (3:20 PM). Now I was pretty worried. All of those doubts were running through my head. “Is this the right place?” “Did I miss it?” “What’s the best way to call the base to find out?” “What if they weren’t expecting some stupid looking, short and t-shirt wearing guy with tomato sauce on his chin and nose to be waiting here?”

So then I started to rationalize. “Oh, maybe God is testing me. He wants me to show trust in Him. OK. I’ll trust Him.” I then found myself looking even further up the road to see if I could see the shuttle. How’s that for trust? I’m such an idiot.

I then thought, “C’mon God. You could have at least sent by a shuttle or bus that *looked* like mine just to tease me a bit.” I kid you not, no more than 5 minutes had passed and I saw my shuttle. It was getting closer. It changed lanes to go from the left lane to the middle one. It changed lanes again to go from the middle to the right lane. Right where it needed to be to pick me up. It got closer and closer…and then farther and farther as it passed me right by.

Thinking once again (however incorrectly) that I had figured out the cosmic relationship between man and God, I then thought “C’mon God. You could at least send the *real* shuttle to stop right in front of me in the next 60 seconds.” I think you know where that went

At 1530 (3:30 PM) I walked across the street to the Bar Antonio and asked to use the phone. As I was about to attempt to dial the base, the bartender looked at me and asked “Moron?” Now, this meant one of two things, both of which were right. Yes, I was a moron (MO-ron). But he was asking if I was from Moron (mo-RON, long O sound) Air Base. I nodded yes and he put up four fingers on his left hand and said quatro. I said “Quatro?” He nodded yes.

It turns out my paperwork was wrong, I guess. But I was happy. So I ordered up a Cruzcampo beer (they were made right across the street), tipped the bartender heavily. I asked him his name and he said “Joaquin.” That’s two Joaquin’s I’d met in one day who were very helpful. I pulled out my camera, had him stand next to me at the bar and had the other bartender take our picture. He got a chuckle out of that. I waited and drank my beer. It was ok but much lighter than American beer.
A lady walked in and the bartender and pointed at her and said “Moron.” Since she was wearing a wedding band (they wear them on the right hand here), I figured he wasn’t calling her a moron, thinking we’d be a perfect match. He meant she was also going to Moron Air Base. So I basically turned into her shadow and never let her get out of my sight.

The shuttle finally showed up at 1600 (4 PM) and I got on and napped a bit on the way back. We got back to the base about 1700 (5 PM) and were dropped off at the chow hall. I went straight home and fell into bed.

That’s two times in the past week I’ve been up for more than 24 hours straight and it wasn’t really bad at all. I guess I was just wired from getting to see so many new things. Thursday night, I’ll be pulling another all-nighter in Sevilla. A guy I work with and I are going down at about 4 PM to an American hangout for Thanksgiving. There are a lot of exchange students here so I guess we’ll be hanging out with them. After that, we’ll be experiencing the Sevilla nightlife that is rumored to last until about 6 or 7 AM. Then we’ll take the 10 AM shuttle back to base.

Just an epilogue about the other night when I got home and fell into bed. The reason I went to Sevilla that day is I had that night off to recover. At 10 PM, MSgt Harris knocks on my door to wake me up saying I did have to work that night, even though the schedule didn’t show it. At least I got 5 hours. That’s not too bad.

Sevilla y de Cathedral

Today I got off work around 6 AM. I went home and changed into shorts and a t-shirt. It was pretty cool out but the high was supposed to reach the 70’s. I decided I wanted to take the day to go visit Sevilla since I didn’t have to work tonight. Keep in mind, I’d been up since approx 3 PM on Monday.

There is a shuttle that runs back and forth between the base and Sevilla multiple times a day. I caught the 8 AM shuttle into Sevilla and got there around 9 AM. A guy on the bus named Joaquin gave me some pointers on how to get to the Cathedral and other good sites during the day.

My first destination was the Cathedral. Walking down the streets to it, I was reminded, in a lot of ways, of American cities on the East Coast. The buildings are built up anywhere between 5-8 stories on the left and right, blocking out the sun and keeping it cool until midday. Most of the streets are paved but many of the side streets are some sort of cobblestone but well-maintained. The people walk quickly, especially since it was about the time they were starting work. But Sevilla is a large city so there are always many people walking around. And it was noisy with the sounds of car engines and horns constant.

I could tell I stood out like a sore thumb. The people in the city dress like people in large cities in the US, usually in dark clothes. Also, since 50 degrees is cold to them, no one else was wearing anything as light as I was. I would get looks from people as I walked past. My guess is they were thinking something along the lines of “Let’s see, I have to get to work, finish that proposal and HOLY COW! That guy is almost naked!” That would probably explain the disgusted looks on their faces.

On the way to the Cathedral I passed a few fountains. It seems about every block in this town has a traffic circle and a fountain. I imagine one of their first politicians ran on the fountain platform. “We need to separate Sevilla from the other cities in Europe. Forget museums, parks, art galleries or anything else. We’ll use fountains!” And who would vote against fountains? A vote against fountains would be like voting for the Freaky Burger King Dude.

After the fountains was the university. There was some noise, chanting and banging drums. I just stood and watched a little protest just inside the gate to the university. I took a picture of their signs and banners in the hopes of figuring out what they were demonstrating about. Of course, if Spanish college students are anything like American college students, I will translate the signs and still have no idea what they are protesting. But it was nice to see people can complain about something no matter where they are in the world! Freedom rocks.

It took me about 40 minutes to get to the Cathedral. You can see a handful of pictures here. I took my own pictures but it may take a while to get them developed. The Cathedral is the 3rd largest in the entire world behind one in Rome and one in England. Spain was once controlled by the Moors(Muslims, if I recall my history well enough) and they built a Mosque on this site. Well, after they drove the Moors out, the Catholics pretty much built the Cathedral on and around the Mosque leaving only the part with the dome.

The architecture is really impressive. Makes me wish I’d spent more time paying attention in my senior year Humanities class. I remembered the term Flying Buttresses and this cathedral has them. They make it look like it is under repair. The outside is pretty weathered, which I’d expect for a church over twice the age of our own country. Walking around the outside took about 20-25 minutes. Maybe less if I hadn’t been interrupted by a Spanish Gypsy.

There was a group evenly spread out among one of the side streets. They were crouched, ready to pounce on any unsuspecting fool who ventured down. I was walking down and she politely walked up, gave me a small 3” branch from some bush. She then grabbed my hand and proceeded to tell my fortune and wish nice things to me. She finished and I said thank you. My first impression was that they were just nice people. Yes, I still have many stupid moments. She then stuck out her hand and asked for dinero. I told her no. She insisted. I’m sure she said something to the effect of “but I gave you a twig! And then touched each of your hands and told you good things would happen to you!” But it was said so quickly in Spanish I stopped trying to understand and told her “No” again. She turned around and walked off. To be honest, if she’d told my fortune and said “You will live only 3 more months and you will spend that time with a constant migraine, rotten teeth and a terrible rash,” I might have given her some money. Would have shown some creativity and moxie.

I went inside the Cathedral next and it is enormous. Here are some good pictures of the inside.

I walked in from the southeast corner and set back in all of the walls on the north and south sides are, for lack of a better term, indentations, of anywhere between 10-20 feet, where the wall is painted or there is stain glass. I walked to the left, towards the north side. It seems the main worship area was in the middle. There were a bunch of priests getting ready for a procession that would later go around inside the entire Cathedral. The ceilings have to be almost 200-225 feet high. Since it’s a medieval cathedral it is poorly lit but it was lit well enough. I read that Christopher Columbus is rumored to be buried here. Apparently they are doing a DNA test on a body in one of the tombs to see if it is true.

The area around the Cathedral is mainly shops, including, of course, a Starbucks. The 3rd largest cathedral in the world, over 5 centuries old…a Holy site, once the home of a mosque and now home to one of the biggest places of worship in the world…and there’s a Starbucks not more than 20 feet from it. Nice touch.

I’m hoping to set up an online photo album for when I get the pictures developed. Let me know if you have any sites you recommend. Hopefully, tomorrow, I’ll get to talk about the Alcazar of Sevilla.

Espana

OK. I’m here in Spain. Some of you probably knew I was going. Some didn’t. That’s part of the reason I haven’t blogged much lately. That and work has blocked the blog sites now.

Anyway, I got here last Thursday and have been working since then. I haven’t had much time to get out to see anything off-base. The base is pretty small and owned by the Spanish. They are very nice people, too.

Tomorrow I get my first day off and am planning on visiting Sevilla. It’s about an hour away and someone here said it was one of the most beautiful cities in Europe. I’m sure I’ll be visiting it plenty.

I also plan on taking plenty of pictures and I’ll see about setting up a site like my sis has where you can look at them.

I wish I’d gotten a picture of tonight’s sunset. It was pretty cool.

More later!

More to come!

Stay tuned. I should have some time now to blog. Hopefully I'll have some interesting stories to pass on!