music in the air

One last new place to see, before another one disappears or another one opens.  This one is down south, a little out of my way, but when the metro opens back up almost right outside a stop.  Rather convenient.  As usual, there's a wall of national and local beers, as there probably should be, and Naparbier was there, also as usual.  This time it's a pilsner, Symphony No. 10.  I have not always been pleased with Spanish pilsners, but maybe a northern one will be a little more like its eastern brethren.

Violin, not guitar

It's a perfectly standard color, with good head and a slightly tingly smell.  The beer is on the salty side in taste, sharp, mildly fruity.  There's kind of a whisper of bitterness hiding under the surface that never quite comes out fully, but it's just noticeable enough.   A sort of plumminess develops after a few minutes of sitting, making the flavor rounder and also a little sweeter.  Although not the piercing bitter of central European pilsners, this symphony doesn't rely as heavily on sweetness as other Spanish offerings.  I can see it as a pleasant drink in the fall, giving just a little fruitiness to make yo think of harvest, but still light enough that those who have the tendency won't fall into dark season melancholy.

Supplier: Heneket
Price: €3.28

bleached

My second acquisition from Be Hoppy was, of course, a stout.  Not your typical stout, however, a white stout.  You might think Crema would come from a Spanish speaking country by the name, but it's English, from Siren Craft Brew.  Just looking at the liquid in the bottle tells you it isn't your normal stout, not being black, but we'll see just how white it is in the glass.  I did have a white chocolate stout months and months ago, and it was definitely lighter than normal.  Kind of like Spatenbock, as I recall.  Crema does have cacao nibs and vanilla, so I expect something more sweet than bitter.

I get a whiff of chocolate, although that might just be the memory of the white chocolate stout of the past.  It is remarkably light to be a stout, but still cloudy.  Nice head, although it does fade quickly.  It's a little bit syrupy, with a heavy sweet taste, nothing like the normal stout bitter.  It is like a good many coffee or chocolate stouts, though.  If I pay close attention, I can pick up a little bit of bitter background in the flavor, just for a moment as the swallow starts.  It barely sticks around, and is easily ignored if you're not into that.  I think it's a little lighter than the white chocolate stout, actually, a tiny bit fruitier.  It's still a beer of weight and note, good for me at any time or place.

Supplier: Be Hoppy
Price: ~€3.50

dice exercise #11

elephant/burger/lightning/banana/fire/cell phone
 
It was a grand scheme, you know.  Nobody had yet considered the obvious profit in elephant burgers. Of course, certain calculations were necessary to prevent waste.  You don't want to make a thousand patties to feed ten people.  Well, we did have that good industrial freezer, big enough to fit the animal in before it was processed, but it just didn't feel right to have an elephant dragged, skin and tusks and all, into your place of business.  That's right, we even got 'em with tusks on.  I'm surprised, actually, that they didn't sell that ivory off first, or kill for the ivory and give us the leftovers.  I mean, I know that's illegal and all, but I know the black market is lucrative.  I mean, I don't know, but I've heard.

Anyway, we got our first shipment to the processor out by the old highway and got everything ground up and packaged.  They took the tusks back with them, along with a few bones, acting like they were surprised that we didn't want them, but they could do us the favor of taking them off our hands (after we had paid for them with the meat still on, mind you!).  We got things divided into three pound packs and boxed up and stacked up in the freezer before the night was out.  It was looking pretty good, if I do say so myself.  Something about that wild meat looks so healthy, even when it's just a mass of ground up flesh.  Even dead it looks like it'll kick you in the face if it can, or something.  We were ready for our grand opening that evening.

We had a pretty good turnout, but not much in the register at the end, what with all the giveaways, brand building and that.  We didn't serve as much as I'd hoped, but the freezer was going to keep everything fresh for us.  We had stock for the whole month, at least for burgers.  And maybe things would pick up if we got the health idea to spread around.  It's funny how positive rumors never have as much traction as negative ones.

The first week was alright, although I'd hoped for a little more in the customer department.  Still, it was just the first week, and we were still within the projected range of profit/loss and product usage.  Then the disaster happened.  Was it a short circuit?  A bad freezer?  Sabotage?  Who knows?  Al I can say is that one morning I was coming in and got hit with the stink of rot from three blocks away.  I couldn't believe things had gone bad so fast, when just a half a day ago everything was fine.  Maybe things were already going off and I spent too much time in there to notice any subtle odors.  Maybe elephant burgers have a safe time of three hours unfrozen and uncooked.  The fact is, we had to figure out what to do, now that we had an industrial freezer full of bleeding, stinking, zombie-looking eleburgers.  Steve was just staring at the leaking doors, calmly eating a banana.  It made him look more like a gorilla than his hulking frame and unfortunate body hair already did.

Naturally, we didn't open that day.  I took advantage of the lack of eyes around me to sprinkle the gasoline and drop the spark (no matches, just in case.  Those Youtube survival videos sure came in handy for starting a fire, though).  Then I drove west until I couldn't keep my eyes open.  Fortunately, there was a motel just at the exit after I almost drifted into the ditch, a lonely looking cheap motel.  Wasn't even a McDonald's next door.  So now I'm on the bed filling out the insurance forms and getting distracted by that infernal buzz.  Is there a fly in here?  Oh no, it's my phone.  It's Mr. Ran.  I bet he has another great idea for me...

funny secrets

There's a beer store hiding near Atocha that's been there for years, and I never knew until just recently.  Always surprises.  Be Hoppy has "special beers" and they sure are priced like they're special.  Very appetizing names and ingredients, but a little pricey for my summer pockets.  There are more regular bottles and prices too, so all is well.  They wrap multiple bottles so they don't clink around in the bag, which is a nice touch.  First, I have La Pirata Purple Secret, a session IPA.  I'm amused by the story on the side, and we'll see if it actually is died purple.

It's not purple.  I'm a little disappointed.  It has a clear citrus smell, but an odd green color.  If the head didn't die down so quickly I'd worry there was some dish soap left in the glass.  The beer has a light grapefruit bitterness, like a grapefruit soda, not heavy like most IPAs; it is a session after all.   There's some hops lurking in the bottom, ready to perform a little chemistry, mixing with green beer to make something...well, almost purple.  It's alarmingly sludgy in appearance, but there's no overwhelming attack of hops bitterness.  I think it mostly settles pretty quickly.  It's a nice light beer, nothing frightening, except for the sludgy color, but I would go for something heavier if it were up to me, as a woman in craft beer.  Craft beer drinking, anyway.

Yeah, not quite purple

Supplier: Be Hoppy
Price: ~€3.50

Intellect And Emotion

(I wanted to be more thinky this month, but I haven't been as disciplined as I wanted to be.  Even the rants don't quite fill in as much as they could.  I'll do better next year, I guess.)

Some time ago an acquaintance told me I should be more in touch with my emotions and less intellectual.  Now, more in touch with my emotions might be a valid criticism, but less intellectual?  Are we really going down the path of anti-intellectualism?  Is it really necessary to choose between awareness and analysis and awareness and feeling?  The very idea is offensive to me on two fronts.

One, to say that a person should reject the inclination to analysis implies that it is wrong or dangerous to do so.  Analysis is the way we find things out as human beings, unfortunately.  We have to gather information and assimilate it, preparing to predict consequences, in order to function in the world.  There is the possibility of overthinking things, but that is not being intellectual and should not be confused with it.  The intellectual view takes an abstract and objective stance, as much as possible, and seeks to understand.  Where there are problems, it seeks to solve them.  It is not especially sensible to tell somebody to reject problem solving.  That might be the connection to the next point, however.

I am a woman and this acquaintance is a man.  Women have the reputation for being more emotional than intellectual, so it is sometimes the case that an intellectual woman is a bizarre and uncomfortable thing.  At least, that is the argument that I hear.  The suggestion now becomes not "be less intellectual" but "be more like a typical female".  I do not have the right to thought or analysis because my physical form is not the "correct" one.  Whether this was the conscious idea or not is immaterial, it is the message that was transmitted.  This person happens to hold a few rather romantic ideas about gender and society, so if it was meant, he certainly believes that it is a compliment.  Perhaps I am not truly intellectual enough to fathom why being told that I am not allowed to use my powers of critical thought is, in fact, a compliment.  I should stop trying for my own good, I suppose.

The other problem is the assumption that I am not in touch with my emotions.  I do not share my emotions regularly because they are almost without exception negative.  I am not a positive person.  I do not have a secret soul filled with sweetness and light.  I do not share my emotions because they are not welcome to be shared, and I am not such a good actress as to create a joyful persona to please people.  I have the impression that my acquaintance believes everybody is really angelic within and we should simply open the doors to our inner selves, but that is simply ridiculous.  Some people have nothing but darkness inside them.  Some of them give in to it and some of them hide it.  Those who hide it have varying levels of success.  It is insulting and demeaning to be told that my decisions about what I share are mistaken because I do not actually know what I am.  I am quite perfectly aware of what I am, and that is why you do not know.  Believe me, you should be thanking me.  You do not really need to know how much people can hide themselves for the sake of getting along.

summer harvest

We're coming to the end of August, and temperatures are somewhat...flexible.  It's still hot, I'm still not very happy on the street, but there are cool breezes and cool nights to sleep in.  Anyway, I have a nice pale ale, Adnams Mosaic Pale Ale to be precise, to calm my frayed and roasting nerves.

It's not very odorous, with just a slight hint of citrusy ale.  It's also on the dark side for a pale ale, tending towards orange more than yellow.  The taste is fruity at first, quite sweet, but the aftertaste is mildly bitter.  It's very subtle and highly drinkable, smooth and calm in the background, but ready to be examined in the limelight.  Dissecting the fruit, there's the expected citrus, breaking down into sweeter mandarin and bitter grapefruit.  There is a sort of tropical undertone, maybe mango as they say many IPAs have picked up.  Very refreshing and light, a very good summer beer, but maybe a little too light for the winter.  Of course, my preference is always for the black beer, but in an overheated bar in December, Mosaic would be welcome.

Supplier: Espuma
Price: €3.25

secret recipe

Something a little lighter today, after stouts and heavy ales.  A cider normally makes me think of fall, but a red fruit cider has summer written all over it.  Bulmers has visited my table before, but Sabores del Mundo has a cider selection like I haven't seen elsewhere.  Not only regular apple and pear, but all kinds of fruit blends.  I do like those red fruits, cherry, strawberry, etc., crushed red berries fit the bill.  I'm a little irked that they don't specify what berries anywhere, but I guess they're the regular ones.

It's rosy ruby red and fizzy, like cherry and raspberry lambics, but the smell is much sweeter.  There's just a touch of lime in the scent, adding a slightly sour balance.  Like many ciders, it starts out sweet and moves down into a pleasant sour flavor, although there's a sort of bubble gum taste in there too.  Fortunately, it stays more sharp than gummy, a refreshing bite in the heat of the August afternoon.  It may be the hot pink color, but it seems to me that a kind of cinnamon scent develops with a little time and warming.  It's not quite Kopparberg's Strawberry and Lime, but it's light and summery.  A fine drink for the shade and to keep a heated conversation cool.

Supplier: Sabores del Mundo
Price: €4.70

next reincarnation

The Beer Garden used to have a bunch of Scandinavian and some Polish beers, that I don't often see in other places.  Well, the Scandinavians have spread out some by now.  Cerevisia seems to have inherited the old stock, since among the shelves, standing proudly, was Polish Doctor Brew's Strawberry Ale.  Gotta balance out those stouts with something perhaps more desserty.  But healthy dessert.  Light and nutritious.

There's a very slight reddish tinge, I expected more, but there's something there regardless.  There's also a sharp fruity smell, although I don't think I would be able to identify it as strawberry right off the bat.  The taste is quite bitter, very ale-y.  Going by that, I would have guessed grapefruit as the fruit additive, rather than a berry.  It's nice in that it isn't going to get syrupy on a hot evening.  As it starts to warm up, the beer takes on a tartness that is refreshing, much like the original bitterness.

Supplier: Cerevisia
Price: €4.20

dice exercise #10

(I'm trying to be less literal with the dice.  I still feel like I took the easy way, though.  Oh well, it was five minutes.)

fire

So that's the way it is, huh?  Leaving me so far away, with no outlet for my feelings.  If only you had given me some contact, some form of technology, then maybe I could have been more at ease.  But no, you just waved me into the airport (didn't even come in with me!) and left me to check in and board all alone.  I should have told you everything, this cosmic connection I feel.  I tell myself that if it's meant to be it'll turn out all right, but opportunity after opportunity goes by and you're never in my daily life.  I ache for you every night in my narrow bed.  I scan the news pages of your town, looking for your name.  I know you'll see my worth if you look.  I know we'll be happy if you make an effort.  I know it, I feel it.  I just need to make you feel it too.  I see plane tickets east are cheap now...

opener

Time marches on, and so do beer stores.  Cervezorama closed, reopened in a new location, closed again.  La Zurbanita appeared and disappeared before I could properly get to know it.  The Beer Garden and Prost Chamberí have moved into barring more than bottle retail, and The Beer Garden has a shiny new location.  In its stead, is a shiny new beer store, Cerevisia.  The inside is much the same, although the outside has a new color scheme, and it seems a little more inviting for sitting with a caña from their taps at the cute little tables.  Anyway, bottled beer covers the walls as it did in The Beer Garden, and the label of L57 Pale Ale kind of winked at me.

Who's the patron saint of beer?  St. Fermentina?

Actually, there's a bunch.

There's kind of an apple-y scent, not the sharper citrus as many IPAs have.  It's a pretty golden color, too, very classical.  Head is pure white, although not especially frothy.  I expect to get more bitterness out of it, but it's very close to German helles, nothing exactly sweet, but with a rise in the bitter flavor as the swallow begins.  Then there's a mildly grassy aftertaste.  It's fairly simple, not relying and any complex tricks of flavor mixing, just the standard beeriness.  A very nice, relaxing summer beer, all I need now is a beer garden at my door.

Not one of those saints is named Fermentina!  Can you believe it?

Supplier: Cerevisia
Price: €2.70

Schadenfreude

There is a certain amount of shame in feeling happy about somebody else's pains and problems, and there should be.  We know that in order to function as a society there has to be empathy and acknowledgement of other people's feelings, not to mention sympathy and understanding when there are disagreements.  The problem is, some people take advantage of our attempts to be open and interested in their well-being and project their own desires on that behavior.  This is especially common from men to women, as a great number of social commentators have pointed out.

I am having my own shameful pain enjoyment fest, having recently been told that an enemy has finally faced consequences for his bad behavior.  This is an enemy because of his continuous harassment of me personally, not merely because of some philosophical disagreement.  For years, seven or eight I would say, he sent periodic invitations for drinks, sexual comments, apologies for "rudeness".  But it was never the end, not until I left the discussion group that we ran into each other in.  First they were only phone messages, but eventually he started leaving his dribblings on the blog and whining during discussion, seemingly in an attempt to get attention, even if that attention was negative.  His portrayed himself as a worse and worse person, insisting that he had no interest in points of view from people who are not like him, e.g. women, gays, minorities, etc.  He threw small tantrums several times.  Even after people agreed with him he weirdly kept insisting that they had to agree.  The continual whining, which sometimes stretched for more than 20 minutes, became more of a hassle than is worth it, especially because there was simply nobody else to listen to.  The other attendees came to "improve" their English, but did not participate in any meaningful way.  So, I left.

Bizarre and vaguely sexual messages continued to pop up for months, finally stopping at the end of last year, nine months after I left.  Apparently, he found a new target with somebody who started attending a few months ago.  He interrupted this person non-stop in the final confrontation, to the point that he was physically attacked, or almost.  I am not sure if there was actual physical contact or not, but it was made clear that the intention to swing some fists and mash some noses was there.  I felt nothing but glee.  I wish there had been a beating.  I wish bones had been broken, particularly jaw bones.

I wish I did not feel that way.  I wish people would not expect miracles from others when they insist on being garbage.  I wish I did not feel justified in calling people garbage.  Schadenfreude.

dice exercise #9

bird/plane/lightning/question mark/key/bang

Hope is a thing with feathers, they say.  It sings like a bird, it soars and sees the world from on high.  Maybe that's why I've always felt hopeless, the fact that I can't imagine looking down on the world.  My soul has always been a despairing one, peering up from the lowest ground to gaze upon a higher authority.  You'd think, somebody as well-traveled as I would have a downward perspective.  How many plane rides have I taken?  Plenty.  But, as luck would have it, I always fly at night and I sleep, or it's too dark to see the ground.  I've traveled by plane a lot, yes, and by car and bus and train too.  Traveled everywhere in this here land.  There's another quote for you.  This land and more than one or two more.  I can't quite explain why I move so much; I'm not just traveling, I'm moving.  Changing house and home.  It's a split second decision too - one day I'm perfectly happy and the next I'm aching to get somewhere else.  I guess I'm looking for something.  That sounds cliché, doesn't it?  But I think it's true.  I always feel like I'll find some missing piece and I'll finally take root and really settle down.  I'll be the one to hand out wisdom on a plate, in bite-size pieces, whether you want it or not.  And if I never find that perch?  That place in the sun, that garden of dreams.  I guess there's always a way out.  Maybe I have some hope after all, another thing that flies and sings as it whizzes past you, crows and roars in a thunderous voice.  But no feathers.  My hope is as smooth as apple cider whiskey and leaves you just as flat on the floor.

berry nice

Ah, there's no escaping from my stouts.  As I was browsing the shelves, I thought to myself, I should get some pale ale or blonde beer, to balance all the dark and heavy ones.  But then I saw Nómada's Imperial Raspberry Stout and said, "Forget that!"  Nómada has a good record of fruit tinged beers, and stouts can be chocolately, which goes well with raspberries...enough with the justifications!

There's definitely a fruity smell, but you kind of have to stick your nose in to get it.  The beer is richly colored and lightly headed, a robust stout on sight.  The label just says "raspberry aroma", so I'm not sure what to expect from the taste, and it turns out to be surprising.  First there's a mild sweetness, not as heavy as many raspberry flavored things are, but then the bitter rises up and takes over completely.  Not only is it stout bitter, it's earthy and smoky, veering into rauchbier territory.  Finally, things mellow out and finish of dark chocolate rounds the drink out.  It goes back to bitter, but with just a touch of sweetness, and the very tail kicks back a little berry sweet/sour. 

Supplier: La Buena Pinta
Price: €4.50

Fisk A Stranger's Comment - On Traffic Lights

The original opinion piece is in Spanish, here.

The City Hall of Madrid has changed a few crossing lights to give them a more inclusive, integrated, and egalitarian bent.  They are so kind, those humanized lights, that they would even carry us across, as if we were fording a river and they didn't want us to wet our socks.  Such lights could mediate traffic disputes to end with hugs.  Lights with proper feelings about public morality.  So no naked people?  Nobody openly drunk?  Even though the garden-topped buses failed, isn't this the best of all possible cities that could have emerged for The People to frolic in in a state of Rousseaunian grace in the paradise of New Politics?  No snide exaggeration there, nosiree.

On seeing the new figures, I was reminded of the solitary dignity of that Ampelmännchen of East Germany, who insisted on wearing a hat, when only nostalgic characters created by Garci did anymore.  Its creator, Karl Peglau, thought the East German authorities would not permit it, since the hat was a bourgeois attribute of dress.  But the Little Man stayed, fearing deportation, Fucking really, deportation is the worst you can think of? until Reunification made him one of Ostalgia's favorite memories, the German homestead.  I think I've seen little men in hats on the lights in Santander, and I shouldn't be surprised.  A city with that sense of elegance, and that rain, easily makes the standard description of its citizens one with an Italina fedora, or at least a rain hat.  Sooo, is it cool for the lights to represent a figure apart from the people in the city or not?  Now you're saying that it's perfectly normal for crossing lights to reflect the people on the street.

The new figures on Madrid's crossing lights are fruit of City Hall's attempt to take on all positive values, as if they were the province of Podemos alone.  But in trying to be inclusive they have created a sticky problem.  We had taken for granted that the old figure represented us all and that we were all invited to cross in safety when it turned green.  Now things have changed.  Uh, damn right things have changed.  We took straight white religious men to be the default human in the past and now we're trying to make everybody equally human.  If you can't see a reflection of yourself in a symbolic representation of a possible human then - YOU DON'T THINK IT IS HUMAN.  That is the problem.  That's what people are working to change.  Not creating little balls of snowflakes, but a blizzard of varied humanity.  Now you have to be personally invited, like homosexual couples.  Actually there are heterosexual couples too.  And if there's discrimination or confusion for anybody, it's single people who don't have a hand to hold.  Is that your real problem, it reminds you of having to walk in pairs as a schoolboy and you always had to hold hands with the weird kid?  And why the fuck do you have a problem with inviting different people to make sure they feel welcome?  Is it actually true that you just want to keep your he-man woman hater gay basher xenophobe club?  Does a fat man have to wait until the silhouette of Alfred Hitchcock turns green before he crosses?  Are fat people not people?  Because if two ladies in skirts appear, how does he know he's allowed to cross?  How did ladies in skirts know before, you ass?  Especially ladies who liked to walk hand in hand.  They were pretty clear about the fact that they weren't welcome to cross, or be anywhere on the street really.  Does the punk have to wait until he sees a light with a mohawk?  What do I do if I go to cross with my children and the light doesn't have an adult man surrounded by little people?  What if the light isn't for a large family?  I don't know, what did mothers do before?  Oh, right, nothing they could have to say is nearly as important as your ego stroked by being reflected on every single crossing light in the city.  Am I only allowed to cross holding the hand of the man next to me and leaving my offspring behind?  Well, they can hold hands with each other.  Unless you have an odd number of kids, then somebody's screwed.  You say the lights are inclusive, but I don't see a fat gay punk family guy light anywhere.  You sure have a tame picture for a fat gay punk family guy.  Must be an old one.  Or one for a fishmonger.  Or a jogger.  Or a horse rider.  Or a guy with a beard.  Or a misanthrope.  Or somebody pissing themselves.  Or wearing a tie.  Or an old man with a cane.  Or...  Like I said before, the problem is you think you really are the only real human because you've been the default for so long.  You expect others to see their humanity reflected in you but you won't take even a second to find yours in them.  You are a lazy, fearful, arrogant basket of rotten rats' assholes.  But I bet you think your picture should still signal all humans, except the ones your behavior shoves out as soon as they show up.  The most mind boggling thing about arguments like this is that people think they are actually saying something intelligent!  It's simply incredible.  They mewl about the most insignificant and meaningless problems, only to turn around and say that the other side is too sensitive.  Oh, the problems of the top dog.  Should we put that on a street light for you?  Or do you not want to be bothered by reading?  If we just put words on the crossing lights we could do away with all the symbolism you so fear, but then everybody would have to be literate, and really you need something to help you imagine how much better you are than the dregs, right?  The dregs that can't even recognize that you represent every human being on earth while they represent only themselves.

dice exercise #8

book/rain/night/eye/phone/banana

"It was a dark and stormy night," the girl read, before her sister stopped her.

"Are you reading 'Peanuts' again?  That old shit?"

"It's a classic!  It went on for like 50 years!"

"So many better comics didn't last.  'Calvin and Hobbes' isn't classic?  'The Far Side'?"

"I didn't say those weren't good, but 'Peanuts' spanned a whole, like, century."

"Ugh!" grumped the older sister, tossing her head and stomping out of the room.  She was never very good at maintaining a good argument.  It felt good to win, of course, but sometimes the girl wished she had a little more of a challenge.   

She returned to her book, lovingly feeling the pages with their edges fuzzy from fingers turning them.  She loved the simplicity of the lines, the easily identifiable characters, the basic storylines.  Other comics had more action and more patter, that was true.  But, there was something so close in this one, so much a part of daily life without exaggerating and creating fantasy worlds.  Well, except for that dog.  He was the girl's least favorite character, surprisingly for many.  He just wasn't very realistic.  At least he didn't actually talk like in that one with the dumb dog and the mean cat.  Whatever it was called.  Now she hugged the book to her chest and looked up at the towering bookcase, full of comics.  She stood up, replaced the book and slowly studied the shelves for another.  Maybe a more complete family now.  With adults and everything.  She pulled the book out and went to find her sister, ready to bore her with tales of growing up in a comics page.  Absent-mindedly, the girl picked up her phone as she left the room.

As she wandered into the kitchen, she saw the disaster about to happen.  It was the most comic cliché of them all.  The banana peel.  The inattentive pedestrian.  The fall.  And the modern phone to record it all.

"That was better than any 'Peanuts' strip!" the girl shrieked as she ran out to the back yard, smarting-bummed sister in hot pursuit.

just an idea

Despite the high temperatures, and sleepless early mornings they cause, I can't stay away from my stouts.  This one looked especially interesting, with an addition of hazelnut and cocoa.  This is a collaboration between Mad Brewing and Guinea, champions of beer making, so the prospects are good with this brew.

There's a pretty strong, heavy sweet hazelnut aroma.  It's similar to a lot of stouts with vanilla or similar flavorings.  The beer is a good, opaque color, probably more brown than black.  Not very foamy.  Stouty at first, but tempered with the sweetness of the hazelnut.  That's actually a little bit sharp, like you find with some sweet drinks.  More than merely sweet, there's a sourness that sneaks around, tending to hang out until the aftertaste.  It's a very subtle flavor, though, and quite nice in a drink that could have gone syrupy and heavy.  The beer itself feels substantial in the mouth, although it's very easy to swallow, with no drag or stickiness.  I might go so far as to say creamy.  This is practically liquid Nutella.

Got them some cosmic nuts, there

Supplier: La Buena Pinta
Price: €3.50

Parks of Madrid - Felipe VI

Valdebebas/Felipe VI is a fairly new park in Madrid, being developed from the late 1990s.  The park opened to the public in 2015 as Valdebebas, was quickly renamed Felipe VI, and almost returned to Valdebebas after a referendum.  However, that vote represented about 2% of the population of the district alone, so in the end nothing was changed.  There's a great deal of emptiness in the area, being newly built up.  There aren't even any bars.  That's probably why there aren't many people hanging out at the park.

Empty, dried up space, like the American Southwest.

Several streams run through the park territory, but we are recommended not to swim, drink, or allow dogs to do so.

You know it's not a park for tourists when everything is in Spanish

Those damn Argentinian parrots are here too, eating whatever they want and screaming at you if you look at them wrong.  I think they're bolder up here than in Parque del Oeste and Casa de Campo.

There's an area of pond and stream with a lot of greenery and this little hut for sitting and relaxing.

Kind of odd to see a lone turtle, with the crowds at Atocha and Retiro

 

There's a lookout tower more or less in the middle of the park, not too high to climb up, and with a nice, sloping ramp so it's accessible to pretty much everybody.  There is a palm tree growing the middle, protected from scorching sun, but who knows if it will want a little more light at some point.

Looking down

Looking away

Last but nor least is the lake, or Concrete Beach as we called it.  Again, the "recommendation" is not to swim or let dogs swim, but there was one couple with a dog kind of splashing at the edge.  It's a little disappointing to jump down to that sandy looking area, only to find that it's hard, unforgiving concrete.

There are some water birds, and it doesn't look like it's actually very deep.  Despite the general ripply surface, some areas are smooth, like there's something just underneath.

It gets shady pretty fast on the lake, since it's in a sort of depression in the land.  The concrete keeps everything nice and warm, though.

one from wiley

Everyone knows there are frost giants and trolls in the mountains, but the existence of trolls in caves isn't such common knowledge these days.  And they can be as bad as mountain trolls, let me tell you.  Here's a story to show you what I mean.

The Cave Trolls of the East were tired of living in darkness.  Caves don't have windows, after all.  Of course, being trolls, they couldn't go out in the sun anyway, but they were envious of the other creatures of the wild, who could see or sleep as they pleased, with bright colors in summer and glowing snow in winter to greet them.  The cleverest group of trolls, they were three as these groups often are, came up with a plan.  They would bring the flying stars of the forest to their cave and have lights around them all day.  The colors would have to be figured out later.

A group of trolls trooped out of the cave, after sunset, when it was safe.  They started to catch the flying stars, and they had so much fun, and the stars were so beautiful, that they didn't stop until they had caught every one in the forest.  Then they returned to their caves with their prize.  It didn't take long for everyone to notice the stars were gone.  Not sure what to do, some people made a sacrifice to Odin to ask him for wisdom.  Odin had to ask his friend Mimir what had happened (the gods were celebrating a good crop of barley, if you know what I mean) and when he was told, Odin was not pleased.  He took his form as an old man in a dark cloak and he went to the trolls' cave.  He knocked at the door just as dusk was falling and several pairs of eyes lit up in the dark.  "Hello!" Odin called, "Can somebody help an old man in need of shelter for the night?"

Now, we think that trolls are hateful and selfish, but that's because we normally meet them in the mountains where they are poor and have nothing.  Cave trolls often live comfortably, except for the darkness, and they are generous to travelers, up until they eat them.

These trolls were happy to invite Odin in, not recognizing him.  They gave him mead and bread and stewed eagle eggs.  Then they asked him if he wanted to see the treasure.  In the past, they just took their guests to a dark corner of the cave, knocked them on the head, and dumped them in the stew pot.  But now, they really had a treasure and they wanted to show it off.  The cavern was full of stars, bright and shining, and all the trolls gazed at them in wonder.  Odin felt a little sorry that he had to take the stars away, but take them he must.

He began by complimenting the trolls on their skills at capturing the stars and the trolls felt flattered that a strange man would be so kind.  They all drank more mead and made themselves merry, and finally Odin proposed a game.  "You have been good at star catching," he said, "But the stars are innocent.  A man, on the other hand, is wily.  Do you think you could catch me if I hid in your caves?"  The trolls grasped their sides and gruffawed.  Of course they could find him.  These were their caves, after all.  And they were used to roaming around in the dark.  They all closed their eyes to give the man a sporting chance, and when they weren't looking, Odin took out his great sack and gathered all the stars inside.  Then he fled the cave with them, just making it out when the howls began.

Now it was dark, so the trolls could give chase.  Odin could not rest a moment that night.  In the morning the trolls had to hide in gullies and burrows and Odin tried to continue.  As a man he was weak, and he couldn't recover his godly form as the mead of the trolls blocked his powers.  Finally he could go no further and he sank down under a tree to rest.  Soon, he was asleep.

Even gods in human form are not aware of everything, and Odin had not noticed the two children playing among the trees.  Neither did he notice his crows, Hugin and Munin, come to guide him home to Asgard.  The crows screeched until the children looked over and then they noticed the sack.  Cautiously, the children came closer.  They took the sack and peered inside, and were enchanted to see the stars glowing happily.  In an instant they forgot about the old man napping against a tree in the forest and they ran home with a sack of stars.

Although the village folk were awed by the stars, they did not know what to do with them.  They could not start fires and people are so used to light that they are not impressed by stars in their homes, like the trolls were in their cave.  Nobody paid much mind to the children and the sack, until that night when a storm arose.  "'Tis the trolls of the caves!" some said, and they told the children to throw the sack of stars to the forest to show the trolls the way home.  The children refused, and with a crash of thunder, the door to the big house flew open.  Odin was beginning to feel his godliness again, and even though he was still an old man, he was larger than most and had a feel of electricity about him.  He stomped into the house and snatched the sack from the children gruffly.  But, before he went back into the storm, he turned and said to them, "You have kept the stars safe, and your village I will keep safe from now on."  Then the door slammed behind him.

Odin knew that if he let the stars free in the forest the trolls would just catch them all again, so he told the stars to fly higher than they had ever flown and opened the sack.  The stars rose, quickly to the tree tops, slowing down as the rain swished over them, then fast again as they reached the roof of the sky.  The stars stuck to the sky and were out of the reach of the trolls forever.  But they gave them light in the forest, and that was enough.

devil-iveries

Although I was looking more for stouts, I couldn't resist the label in this Belgian ale.  Too bad it's not closer to Halloween, but if I can have stout every day of the year, I can have devils on my label too.  Triporteur From Hell is a dark ale from B. O. M. Brewery, claimed on the label as the oldest brewery in the world.  Given how much creativity there is in craft beers and Belgian beers, I don't really know what to expect from an infernal special delivery.

I like how approving the angel is back there

A nice, dark brown beer pours out, topped with a beige head that is suitably fluffy.  It's not especially strong-smelling, just a hint of that Belgian tang.  The taste is just what you expect, slightly sweet at first then growing to a stronger, woody sort of flavor.  There are perhaps honey-like notes in it, popping up between the slats of the barrel-aged memories.  It's not as sour as many a Belgian I've had in the past, although those who like that flavor won't be disappointed.  It's still definitely a Belgian beer.  It starts to get a little bit bitter in the aftertaste, just enough to keep it interesting.

Supplier: La Maison Belge
Price: ~€3.40

The Color Of Evolution

So, many months ago I had more time to spend in late-night discussion groups...OK, it's not the time at night now, it's that I have had to get up early in the morning that's curtailed that.  The thing is, in one group somebody mentioned the emergence of the words for the color blue.  Humans didn't always distinguish this color from others.  Some languages still don't quite distinguish blue from green in all cases (when comparing with an English speaker's perception, of course).  My problem is that this person said that humans "evolved" to see blue.

"Evolved"?  So the sky was literally a different color before that?  Bluebirds were, what - greenbirds?  Or were they yellow?  I think what this person meant to say was that our perception was refined, rather than that we evolved.  We began to make distinctions between different parts of the color spectrum that we didn't before.  It may be that pigments and dyes were more available to reproduce these particular colors than before.  Blues are not especially common in cave paintings, for example.

We still create terms for different shades of color, especially when some means of reproducing that shade becomes available.  Paint or crayon colors are examples of this.  The fact that cerulean blue was not a term before the 19th century does not mean that nobody perceived that shade of color before, it only means that it was worthwhile to name at that time and not before.

If we consider multiple names for color to indicate advancement in evolution, should we consider Russian speakers to be the most evolved humans, since they have separate colors for light and dark blue?  Are we saying that most human beings are actually incapable of seeing the difference in those hues?

We did NOT evolve to see blue in the last thousand years.  We only developed the technologies to reproduce it.  Let's use language precisely.  For fuck's sake.