sporty spice

So, I only like writing a blog entry when I have something of potential interest to impart to my following of voluntary readers. Since my last rather melancholy, transitional post, I have been happily shifting into regular life here and waiting for "blog-worthy" experiences to occur. But of course blogging requires much more than simply the occurrence of events worthy of recording... it also necessitates the correct writing environment.

Now on this beautifully poetic rainy Saturday morning of monochromatic, indecipherable skies and rain drops invisible to the ear and eye until heard and seen dancing off the railing of my open window... accompanied with an appropriate rainy-day music selection of Tracy Chapman, the aroma of a tiny "mandarin-cranberry" Yankee candle, and the soothing effects of a pomegranate green tea... I have found the ideal circumstances for blog writing. Enjoy.

Like I said, I've been settling back into my daily Spanish routine with work (which has been wonderful), siestas, a Madonna concert, and spending time with friends (including a trip down to Málaga to visit Patri and Miriam). But looking at the not-so-common aspects of my life as of late... the theme would have to be "sporty."

A few weeks ago, I woke up to head to work and discovered my transportation (aka my bicycle) had a flat tire. Optimistically, I filled it up in hopes that the re-inflated tire would successfully carry me to work. It got me about half way there. But upon arriving to work, Leslie (my fabulous director/boss) informed me about a nearby bike repair shop and suggested I go immediately. (Yes, I realize my job is beyond-words amazing.) So I went, and for the small price of five euros I obtained a new tire and the knowledge of their bike club that organizes constant bike trips outside the city, the upcoming and most unique one being a night trip which they schedule for every full moon.

So, shaking off any and all fears of arriving and not knowing a soul (if I've learned one thing by living here for two years, I've learned to dominate the apprehension of situations where I know NO ONE... that's basically my life)... I arrived at the specified plaza and found out 40 people... only about FOUR of which are women.

We donned our helmets and bike lights and headed out of the city towards the country. It was such a singular experience riding on paths up massive hills, across fields, and through orange tree groves all bathed in the gentle glow of the moonlight. I think I spent most of the trip repeating "shut up, SHUT up, shut up, Lord, are you serious?" in my head. I was also able to meet some people (most of whom happened to be men, I mean, what do you expect from the percentages), all of whom , at the realization that I was from the United States, had the common tendency of recanting any and every travel they had ever made to North America... for instance "I've been to Montana." Hmmm... that's nice.

I was talking to one guy, and another decided to show off by zooming past in between up, but only succeeded in colliding into the dude with whom I was talking bringing them both to the ground in a heap of mountain bike and Spanish men in spandex. A lovely look, I assure you.

Also, the owner of a tetería, an Arabic style tea shop found all over southern Spain, also participated in the mini-trip and invited the whole group for free drinks afterwards. Yup, a Monday night I was out mountain biking and drinking a juice of exotic fruits till about 2am. Only in Spain. PS... I'm not in many of these pictures that I swiped from the store's website. But here in this last one I'm (clearly not in the foreground, but) in the background... riding with no hands, I might add.

My second sporty event was actually last night... Sevilla's annual night race around the Guadalquivir River. I had never been able to do it the past two years of being here, so I was pumped to sign up for this free event. Let's see... 10,000 participants (probably fair to say about the same ratio of women participating in this event... or even less... than in the bike trip... aka lots of dudes.)

I was most excited about running around Sevilla through the streets at night... there's something incredibly freeing about running down main thoroughfares that you've been on in cars of buses just with your own two legs... plus Sevilla is just beautiful at night.

However, I will say that I do not think that the main challenge was completing the 12 kilometers, but rather the avoiding of contact with the grotesquely sweaty men through the narrower routes of the race. These guys had NO problem brushing up against me with an entirely saturated appendage, it makes me ill just reflecting on it now... OH the humanity.

Let me also say how I thought the amount of "attention" given to the participators was slightly exaggerated at the end... massage therapists and podiatrists after 12 kilometers (roughly 7.5 miles). Come on people, this is no marathon... this is like a weekend run. Which also brings me back to the bizarre Spanish phenomenon of not only the presence of beer for sports PARTICIPANTS (not just spectators), but also the HEALTH BENEFITS of said beer. I don't think I will ever come to understand that... somehow every required health class I ever had in high school and college in the US missed that apparently obvious fact. But I'm not complaining... at the end of the race, I received an apple, a cheesy medal with a rainbow ribbon, and a t-shirt that resembles the color of a highlighter. Yoohoo.

Don't worry... my sportiness doesn't end here. Next week, I'm participating with Leslie, Mercedes, and some students in a short Sunday morning 5k "women's race" sponsored by the city to benefit breast cancer research all around the Plaza de España and Parque María Luisa. What can I say? I like to be active, and I like to be outside. Except on rainy days like today... these are perfect inside days.

Today is a day for baking cookies... watching movies... and maybe (if the rain allows) a trip to Starbucks which I have pending. (You see... Starbucks is so ungodly expensive here that it is a true treat and only allowed when "Spain" does something so frustrating to you that a trip to a ridiculously expensive American franchise is not only deserved, but is also pretty much the only thing that will keep you from collapsing to the ground in a pile of defeat. I have one of those saved up from this past week.... yesssssssss.