from the north

Since we still have to be careful of distances, a lot of places encourage take-out and delivery still.  That includes bars.  While some bars back home are prepared to just can away and send off their product, there aren't that many bars or brew pubs in Madrid that picked that up.  The only one I know that cans is Fábrica Maravillas, and they don't can for you from their taps as far as I know.  Several bars started giving out growlers as soon as they were allowed to reopen their doors, keeping up contact with the clientele.  Welcome it was, and a little hampered by space restrictions, they've kept doing it.  Cervecería Drakkar is a small space to begin with, in a corner of Mercado Vallehermoso.  It's a place to keep in mind if you're looking for a good black beer, since they commonly have Scandinavian or Baltic stuff on their taps.  There was only one this time, a Norwegian porter, Dark Orbit.  One's enough for me though!

It might have been jostled a little on the way home, so the head was extra thick, but there was no spray or explosion.  No waste!  The aroma is a mix of nutty and smoky, with a touch of sweetness.  The taste has a lot of smoke, however, ranging into the barbecue buddy beer.  No nutty flavor, but there is a small hint of sugary aftertaste.  It's remarkably light for the strong flavor, no syrupy bogging down at all.  It's one of those porters that doesn't go so nicely with a sweeter snack, though, I would want something saltier.  Might bring out a little nuttiness then, more complexity.  While fine for sipping and movie watching, it's also workable for keeping conversation animated.  A beer much more to my taste than the last one.

cheating and consequences

It's the end of August and now we're just in lazy, lazy days.  It's not too hot, which is definitely a good thing, but there's not a lot of call to go out and about.  Even to go browse some beer shelves.  Lucky for me, there's some beer hanging around my house that fits the bill, something a little different and representative of what good beer should be.  I have in my fridge now Adnams Ghost Ship, a citrus pale ale.  Not a shandy, mind you, just a beer with bright and shiny hops.  Like a good many modern ales.

It has a striking citrusy smell for a simple pale ale, but there is that touch of citrus that's supposed to be in there.  There's also a layer of pepper or other exotic spices underneath, giving the aroma a nice depth.  It doesn't look very fizzy, so a nice smooth drink will probably be forthcoming.  The head isn't very bubbly, but it does hang around for a while.  But that first sip - wow, I'm disappointed.  I was expecting a snap of flavor, a bitter kick or even sour rasp of lemon on the palate, but there really isn't anything.  It's smoothly bitter, with only a hint of citrus flavor.  It's fairly clean and goes down without any weird aftertaste hanging around, but there just isn't much else there.  It's not a bad beer, it would be a very good drink with snacks and conversation, not drawing any attention to itself, but alone it's just not very interesting.  Shoulda taken a trip after all.

look forward to winter

Back to my black beers!  And this one is a more special example.  Pohjala, like many northern breweries, is pretty damn good with stouts and porters, and Must Kuld does not look like it should disappoint.  It's one of those porters with something extra, chilli and chocolate.  It might not beat The Mayan, but I don't think I'll be sorry about picking it up.

There's the lightest of portery aromas when the cap comes off, and the beer is rich and chocolatey looking.  Not too much head, although a fine cap of dark beige suds remains on top.  A good sniff reveals a little smoky chilli, and perhaps a hint of black beer earthiness.  It has a touch of sour in the taste, like a lighter style of chocolate might, and no chilli up front.  It takes a while for a slight burn to rise up from the end of the swallow.  It's not overwhelming or in your face, like some chilli beers that rely a little too much on the feel than on the taste.  It's only a mild warmth that doesn't really interfere with the somewhat chocolatey flavor of the beginning.  The chocolate part is fortunately not too sweet and stays light and easy, no syrupiness.  Perhaps not a popular choice for a summer beer, but quite the treat for me.

Supplier: Be Hoppy

Price: €4.55

"Transit"

I think this film might have been in a past Film Festival, but I didn't see it then.  Flashier titles or bad timing, I suppose.  Anyway, it's available to me now, and I do like those suspense, war-time films.  I was under the impression that it was the story of German dissidents escaping before or at the beginning of World War II, and the very first scenes did have that look.  The guy is in that '30s/'40s collared shirt and plain jacket, they sneak onto a train, he uses some kind of clunky looking morphine shots to calm his friend's pain after an apparent leg amputation.  But, when they reach their destination the police searching the train are on very modern uniforms.  The cars are modern cars.  The riot cops are also wearing perfectly modern gear.  Most people are also dressed in modern fashions, with just a few in sort of retro styles.  Some of the people in this French port city are from North African or Middle Eastern backgrounds, another modern touch.  The poor guy ends up impersonating a writer whose documents he stole from a hotel just so he can get a transit visa to the US, which will allow him to go to Mexico.  He falls for this writer's estranged wife, who is trying to reunite with him before leaving the country, and who has failed to leave at least once when she had the chance.  The impersonator manages to get another visa for her, as his supposed wife, but he gives his ticket to a doctor who is also on his way to Mexico, out of guilt perhaps.  The next day he sees the woman come in and out of the café he's sitting around miserably in, and he rushes to the port to make sure she didn't jump ship again.  The agent assures him she was on the manifest, so on the ship - but the ship hit a mine and went down with no survivors.  The fascists are about to take the city, and while he could conceivably hike across the Pyrenees, he decides to just wait to see his "wife" again.

I wasn't sure if the modern setting was deliberate or not.  Like, the director was trying to make a connection between the refugees of the 1930s and '40s and those of today.  The movie is based on a novel from 1944, so the original story was certainly more focused on one time frame.  It seems the director had originally thought to make a period piece, but when he was scouting out Marseille he decided that the atmosphere of the modern city would add something necessary to the story he was trying to tell.  Sadly, refugees have a timeless story.

blue dice #2

 dragon/stormcloud/angel-fairy/mushroom/lute/apple

I had a full heart as I left Madame Guiol's that day, and a head full of dreams.  Nothing could stop me know.  The wonderous vision that would be the light of my life forever was just around the corner, although perhaps only metaphorically.  I sought the confirmation eagerly in each face I came across, but there was no recognition in my soul of any of them.  They were as ghosts, fleeting shadows that meant nothing to me.  Some appeared to look with scorn or anger as I examined them, but they were of no matter.  If they only understood, they would have blessed me for giving them the tiniest chance to be my queen, be at my side, where only the worthiest of women could sit.

I began to feel an emptiness inside.  This time it was not my weary soul, it was my worldly stomach.  Fortunately, the market was close by, for I had ambled my way through many streets.  I went immediately to the produce.  Gifts of the earth.  And it was there my angel did appear.

She did not notice me at first.  She was carefully weighing packages of mushrooms.  Oh yes, a careful woman.  That was what I needed.  One who would tend to my needs with such attention and be pleased with my accomplishments as with her own.  I cleared my throat politely.  I waited with grace and good manners for her notice.  When finally she did turn, her face filled my heart with all the joy of a thousand lives.  And yet, that joy was not reflected back at me.  My soul twisted at this, but then I realized - she was under some spell of another.  I explained that I had been promised this alliance, but she would have none of it.  The evil magic covered her eyes and made her flee from her rightful lord.  I had no fear.  I would slay any dragon to save my lady for myself.  Even a metaphorical one.

I did not pursue her, as the rash might have done.  It was promised and made by fate.  There was no need for me to act unwisely.  But act I must.  Only in calmness.  I returned home, having purchased good greens, full of iron, and good fruits, full of vitamins.  Only the healthy knight prevails.  I began to compose my songs of love even before reaching the checkout.  If there is anything that reveals the soft and squeezable matter of a woman's heart and soul, it is a fine love song.  So yes, a song I must have for her.

She would be mine as it was promised.

The dragon at the doors blew a useless puff of smoke at me as I passed.  He might be easier to defeat than I had thought.

redeye

This is very much the summer of the introvert.  All the encouragement to stay home, have as little contact with others as possible, lots of people feeling lost and upset without their human stimulation...and I feel perfectly happy to sit at home with my beer.  Oh, don't get me wrong, I like to go out for beer too.  But there's no hardship in watching a movie on the couch and maybe having a chat or Zoom convo about it later.  As long as I'm treating myself, I might as well get something special.  Alpha Delta's Hybris certainly looks special; a cherry vanilla Imperial Berliner with perhaps a pair of guardian aliens on the front.

It's a strange kind of orangey red color, like a mix of various fruit drinks.  There's a wave of pink head at first, but it dissipates quickly.  Not especially aromatic, just a hint of sour and raw weisse.  The taste is much fruitier, with a clear berry sweetness, and barely any sour at all.  Even the aftertaste maintains a level sweet to it, kind of a blend of fruit flavors.  It's certainly not the typical Berliner Weisse.  Maybe even those with the syrup added aren't as evenly sweetened, and that dryness might still come through.  This is akin to other fruit beers and sours being made, with a summery natural soda-like taste and hardly even a hint of alcohol.  Not what I would have chosen in the past, but I guess beer fashions can grow on me.

Supplier: Be Hoppy

Price: €7.45

"Die Kinder der Toten"

It's summer and people need entertainment!  Enter the city with free outdoor cinema!  It's remarkably pleasant to go, even with all the cement around Matadero, since they start the films at 10:30pm, and they're right off Madrid Río and the river.  There's often a pleasant breeze for movie goers to enjoy.

I saw an Austrian film, tauted as examining Austria's history of racism, and there is certainly some fun poked at xenophobia.  They have some joking misunderstandings between "Syrian" and "Styrian".  The Austrian's are depicted as typical folk of their region, with the traditional dress, although maybe not exactly the traditional attitude.  Several people are staying at a guesthouse, including a mother-daughter pair, which doesn't seem to be too harmonious.  The mother is constantly jabbing at the daughter about what a disappointment she is.  They all go off on a bus tour, passing by a factory once owned by a local Nazi, and closed off to the public by his widow.  Then, they have an accident.  The daughter dies, but as her spirit walks through the mountain wilderness she realizes that she isn't alone.  Her doppelganger is following her.  Or she is following the doppelganger, it's never really clear.  She ends up in the factory, where the widow is having a sort of seance through film. People see memories of their loved ones and try to communicate with them, and this time the not-quite-dead daughter can pass into that world beyond the screen and bring them back.  She goes through the film, like a background character in other people's movies, but aware of the film.  She stares at each scene's main characters with a mixture of interest and disgust.  Finally, she manages to tear open the screen - and all the memories pour out as Halloween style zombies.

They don't go on a brain-eating rampage, but instead pile into the guest house restaurant and have a party with the living.  The Syrians have also turned into zombies apparently, clawing to get onto the Dutch tour bus that caused the traffic accident towards the beginning.  But, they get shoved off and have to go back to the guest house, where they invade the kitchen and start cooking up typical Syrian dishes.  The living and the zombies seem to find a way to celebrate together, although I don't know if this means they will live together on normal days.  Maybe every day will have to be a holiday now.

Like any good art film, there has to be something weird or difficult, and this film is silent.  It's in color, but with intertitles.  And like the old silent films, there are some weird close-ups of the characters as they're talking.  There's a soundtrack, of course, but not memorable at all.  I can't even recall what kind of music it was.  At least it wasn't distracting.

It's one of those movies that I don't regret seeing, but mostly because it was free.  If I had to pay for my ticket at a festical, I might be more willing to complain.

black dice #2

 monster/ghost/spiderweb/witch triangle

It's hard to see the evil inside other people sometimes, maybe because we don't really want to believe it's there.  I don't know if it's harder or easier to ignore our own evil.  Our spirits can speak to each other through the ether, if we let them.  The reason is that we are all connected.  We are a human network, we cover the earth.  Cells of a greater body.  Yeah, sometimes a little clarity is only possible with some outside help, a little bump up from another body, a body of softness and resilience.  The green body.  Witches knew what they were doing with their cauldrons, man, all those roots and leaves and berries.  And sometimes the fire too.  Green cells respond well to fire.  Better than ours.  I have to tell Anna about this, and let her know I'm on her side.  She's more about taking the green cells into the meat body than turning them into air, but I think I can explain it all to her.  Just hope nobody in her neighborhood is uncool.  I might have to commune with some of the green network to get to her house.

and not even october

Although we had a very very nice day of storms and rain, it's still August and the temps are going to go back up.  It's just a fact.  I guess a lighter, fruitier beer would be nice after all.  And there aren't many fruitier than those Belgian lambics, despite my guarded appreciation for them.  This is Lindeman's though, and I have been rather pleased before.  I can see a nice apple beer being a calming beverage on a cooler night than many.

It's surprisingly standard looking, although quite aromatic.  At a distance the scent is like apple perfume or apple scent additives, but up close it's a stronger cider sour.  Pretty resistant, clean white head.  Plenty of happy little bubbles dance their way to the surface.  It's a very active looking beer.  The apple flavor is a little strong.  This is more like apple juice and something like champagne than an apple flavored beer, although it's true that most of the fruit lambics are rather heavily weighed down with taste.  And with substance.  It's not a light and bubbly session style or crisp cider, there's definitely some stickiness.

                              

Supplier: Más Que Cervezas

Price: €1.68

A question answered

It's Kamala Harris for Veep.  As everybody says, it's a big deal of firsts.  She represents several marginalized groups in the US - women; people of color from a couple of groups.  Naturally, there are snipes from Republicans, and probably a number of people remember the criticisms she faced when she was running for the presidential candidacy.  She was a prosecutor in California, and according to some was responsible for a number of cases not being reexamined when new evidence came to light, or even outright suppressing evidence to get convictions.

But really, isn't that what a lot of people want right now?  A law and order candidate, a true law and order candidate, who will actually get the job done.  I was surprised she didn't get more traction during her campaign for that very reason.  We're in a difficult time and we're seeing lots of smoke, but no fire in the oven.  People want to see real action being taken, even if it doesn't necessarily help them.

I don't have much against Biden, beyond his being another sloppy speaker, and being far too mushy moderate for my taste.  But I guess when I vote, if I am allowed to vote ever again, I'll really be voting for the Veep.

white dice #2

 footprints/bird/"bang"/lightning/flame/key

 

"Heel, boy, heel!"

It was a good thing that dog had been well-trained, it could have jumped right on top of me before I could even think to get out of the way.  It did stop, although giving me a look like it was ready to pounce again at any second.  A young man came running up behind the dog, a little out of breath, but still calling out, "Sorry, he gets really excited to be out in the woods.  He thinks he'll bring down a bear or something."

I smiled, trying to look unperturbed.  The guy was cute.  I could even deal with a big dog for him, maybe.

"Well, no harm done.  I was just heading home.  It's nice enough out here, but everybody has to go back to civilization."

"Right," he scratched his head sheepishly, "But you do have to have your keys to your little piece of civilization if you want to get back into it."

"Oh, I saw some keys just down there, towards the creek!  I wasn't sure if I should pick them up or not, I thought somebody might be back soon for them so I didn't want to take them all the way to the police."

The young man's smile was intensely bright, like not even actors could have teeth so shiny.  He did look genuinely happy though.  "Thanks a lot!  We went that way, I bet those are my keys!  Have a safe trip home!"  He went off with a good deal more energy, whistling to the dog and breaking my heart.  OK, not really, but who knows what could have been if I'd been quicker to ask him out for coffee.  Oh, well, life goes on.

And little annoyances too.  When I got home, I saw the neighbor kids were running around in their driveway, setting off those shitty little firecrackers that don't have any color or smoke.  They just make a loud, stupid noise.  I went inside, planning to break out my heaviest metal to blast through my headphones.

I decided to do some old classmate snooping while I boiled up a pot of macaroni.  I might not have been able to finish shopping, but I still had some stuff lying around the kitchen.  Might as well use up the cheese before it goes bad.

Hot bowl in hand, I sat down to see what my old friends and enemies were up to, and was more than a little shocked to see obituaries come up for no less than three old classmates.  We weren't that old, how could there be that many at once?  OK, not at once exactly, over the last two years, but still.  All cancer, too.  Maybe those kooks who go on about the chemtrails are actually onto something.  And I haven't been to the doctor for a couple of years, maybe I should go just in case...

With these thoughts of mortality in mind, it's not the best moment for a surprise.  But, that's what I got when a large bird smacked into my living room window.  I guess it was disoriented by the firecrackers still going off next door.  I was musing about the fleeting existence we humans lead when in the last glowing fingers of sunset, I saw the winged animal collide with a hollow crack and slide down to the grass, just like in the cartoons.  It looked like maybe a crow.  I yanked off my headphones, only realizing then that there hadn't been any music playing for several minutes.  How else could I have heard the bird hit.  But was I so absorbed in thoughts of death and dying that I didn't notice the lack of Pantera?  Weird.  It had been a weird day all around.

So, I went out to check on the probable new death in my life.  The kids regrouped closer to their house, hopefully not organizing bigger and better explosions for the night.  I expected a still and shiny corpse to be lying on the grass underneath my window, but there was nothing there at all.  Not even a feather.  Well.  I guess the bird was just stunned, but for some reason I felt uneasy about not seeing anything there at all.  I looked around, just in case the poor thing had hobbled and hopped off to die under a bush or something, and I almost felt my heart pop up out of my mouth when I saw Basi standing by the corner of my house.

"Hey, Ranna," he said, "Got a light?"

to the hope of brighter days

There was some rain earlier today, and the evening hasn't been as ungodly hot as the last few weeks have been.  It's still alright for a lighter beer, though, something tingly and fruity.  Thornbridge has a nice IPA that might just do the trick, and it's an Imperial Mango, so there's a little experimentation in there to enjoy.  Let's see if Mango Halcyon makes the day brighter.

It's a very light color for an IPA, straw yellow, like a witbier.  The head is white and fluffy, pretty resistant.  The aroma is very IPA, snappy and citrusy, with a swirl of caramel deep inside it.  The mango comes out strongly in the flavor, drowning out any orangey aleness.  It leaves almost a melon taste behind.  It packs a little punch, something rough and spicy, so it's not a quiet summer layabout.  In spite of the spikiness, there's also a noticeable smooth vanilla flavor, leaving a nice coating on the end of the swallow.  There's a lot of energy and pep in the beer, and it's a different kind of fruitiness than a lot of ales and IPAs have, so it's a pleasant change from the typical stuff.  Funnily enough, the can insists the beer is vegan, but says it goes well with "juicy pork chops".  If only I had a barbecue at hand, it could have been a nice idea.

Supplier: Más Que Cervezas

Price:€4.60

nothing real

 When we first got wind of COVID-19 as any sort of serious thing, it was probably too late to do anything about it.  Nobody I knew was taking it seriously at all until late February, and even then the attitude that it was just a "bad flu" was pretty common.  Then, in the middle of March we had sort of a shut down.  Everyone was encouraged to stay at home, the majority of businesses were locked up, only "essentials" were allowed to keep working.  We got through our lockdown with stories of makeshift hospitals and morgues, hundreds and thousands of infected and dead, and now we are trying to open up to our new normal.

Spain has the highest number of infections in Western Europe, even more than Italy and the UK, major centers of viral activity in their own right.  The number of deaths doesn't put the country at the top of the list, although some calculations give a number of around 45,000, very close to the UK's leading 46,498. Many people blame the poor management of care facilities for the elderly, where apparently we still don't know how many were infected or how many died of the virus versus some other cause (lack of care because of lack of material and human resources, for instance).

Although the majority of people wear their little masks when they wander out onto the street, there is a lot of movement, socialization and contact between people.  It's not a surprise, and it's not an unreasonable way to behave; however, it doesn't keep a virus at bay or drive it out of the population.  I'm pretty lax about sterilization after being outside myself, relying on a good hand washing.

The problem can probably come down to the government not wanting to be a Chinese-style hardass.  There were fines issued to people outside their homes in the center of town, but a lot of others were out walking their (new?) dogs or exercising unmolested.  The shutdown was very gradual, keeping children home first, then waffling about stay-at-home orders, then fudging around with hours of permitted street access.  Also, people moved around all over the country when there was no national system in place to track infections or deaths - and there still isn't.

To be honest, I don't know if I'll ever take the virus seriously.  I haven't gotten it (as far as I know) and nobody I know has gotten it.  Somebody in my building was infected, but there were no reports of anybody else after that.  I hear about second hand cases, but nobody I know personally, so it doesn't have the same impact.  Despite the stories of beds packed into IFEMA, there was no visible transportation of patients, so the whole things seemed unreal and continues to seem so.  Sadly, I think it's the same for a lot of people.  We don't mind curtailing our activities a little, but because there doesn't seem to be any effect directly upon us, it's difficult to maintain our resolve.

The future just seems unreal.

blue dice #1

castle/thunder cloud/crown/fish/apple/witch

 

I knew it would be a good day, in spite of the coming storm.  I knew the time was coming for my fulfillment.  Of course, I am no psychic, so I had to get the help of a professional.  My mother swore by Madame Arguiol, so that was good enough for me.

She had her little shop on the main square, like the cheesiest of TV show psychics, and I think she even chose her decorations to give that effect.  But for the special customers, there was another space in her magical wonderland where real wonders took place.  It didn't have the colorful tapestries and beads of the "commercial" part, it was a back room, like a storeroom, dark and a little musty.  The bricks in the walls were large, almost like stones in a dungeon.  She never turned on the light; maybe there wasn't even a light in the room.  She always led her special customers in with a large candle.  The table was a folding card table and the chairs old wooden stools.  It was the least like a medium's seeing room as it could be.  I'm sure that was also on purpose, not that she had run out of money for decorating.  Surely, she wanted her powers to be clear and her customers undistracted by baubles.

On that great morning I went to visit Madame Arguiol.  There was no rain, but there were grumbles of thunder and electricity was in the air.  It was a day to start something grand.  The Madame welcomed me inside and ushered me past the carnival style room, with it's thick and brightly dyed carpets and cloths, and into the darkness of the back room, the true seeing room.  We sat on the stools and the Madame stared into the flame of the candle intently.  There was no sound but a distant dripping of a leaky pipe somewhere in the walls.  I didn't even hear her breathing or mine.  After some time, she spoke.

"You don't have to do this, you know."

"What are you referring to, Madame?"

"This grand plan you have.  This person you seek.  None of it is necessary."

She wasn't putting on any strange voice for my benefit, it was her normal speaking voice, perhaps a little breathier as she put her energy into reading the fire.

"It is a very important goal for me, Madame.  I know it can be done.  I know I am the one to do it."

"Yes, you know a lot, it seems.  You already have the crown on your head when you look in the mirror.  You should listen more to what others tell you when they look at you, instead of only paying attention to your own voice."

I couldn't take it as an insult, it was just a standard warning anyone could give.  There are dangers in shooting for the stars, and people who fear those who try.  The Madame glared with more intensity at the flame and rubbed her mouth with one hand.

"Well, now, it seems you have several roads you can take.  I think you will take the worst one.  But I want you to remember that there are others.  They aren't as appealing, they might look like harder roads.  But in the end they will serve you better than that poisoned prize you seek.  You are about to bite into something you won't be able to swallow."

I waited patiently for her to tell me the key to my plan.  To confirm it, really, I was already sure of what I would find on this glorious day.  Finally Madame Arguiol sat back and cleared her throat, saying in a calm voice, "What you want you can find among the leaves and the roots, where the water flows but little.  There is your...princess, I suppose."  She waved her hand dismissively at the last part, but I knew she just didn't want to show her awe at the grandeur to come.  Surely she could see it.  She was a psychic, after all.

The Madame rose from the table and gestured for me to do the same.  We walked out to the street door and I pulled out my wallet to pay.  The Madame stopped me.  "Your mother already paid for you the last time she was here, she thinks you need to hear what I have to tell you."

"Oh yes, she's very right.  My mother is always right about everything," I smiled.  How well my dear mother knew me.

The Madame stared at me for a few seconds, trying to glean some other evidence of my coming greatness or uncover some weakness even I had ignored.  Then she opened the door for me and said, "Good luck to you.  You don't know how much you'll need if you keep chasing that one fish in the sea."

I smiled brightly and took my leave.  Now I had to figure out where exactly there were leaves and roots and water for a princess to wait for me.

any excuse

 It turns out it's International Beer Day!  How these little holidays slip up on us.  Rather than a date, it's the first Friday of August, so always ready for a weekend.  Naturally, its origins are in California, home of Anchor and Sierra Nevada, staples of modern brewing.  I did not pick up a beer from either one of those breweries, however.  They were around, but just didn't have the celebratory snap that I thought I should be looking for.  Instead, I have Amundsen's Dessert In A Can, raspberry, caramel, cheesecake version.  That sounds like a party beer to me!

                                    

It's thick looking, although not a lot of head.  Dark brown rather than black, and a definite syrup aroma.  It's a good mouthful, although there isn't a lot of stickiness at first.  Goes right down clean.  The raspberry manages to stay noticeable, riding high on the layers of flavor, over a cool wave of chocolate.  It has a chocolate ice cream sensation to it, refreshing and soothing despite the body and high alcohol content (10.5%).  It would be a fine thing to have on a nocturnal picnic, or an evening backyard barbecue, although with dessert for sure.  A little apple pie, some vanilla ice cream, even just some nice fresh fruit would go right along with this liquid pastry.

                                    

Supplier: Más Que Cervezas

Price: €6.30

A couple of fucks

I have been teaching English to Spanish speakers (and others) for a good few years, plus having a couple years of language study behind me too.  It's pretty clear that not every sound is easy or even doable once you get settled in a certain set of phonemes.  It's also clear that people like to borrow words from other languages; it gives them an air of worldliness, education, sophistication.  Right now, English is the language that gives that worldliness, being the common speech of business and science.  It's also the main language of pop music, especially with a more American accent.  Speaking of American English, Hollywood churns out a huge number of series and movies every year, many of them even produced with an eye to the foreign market as much as or more than domestic.  (When I say "Hollywood", I really mean the whole industry.  It's not just those California studios anymore).

One set of vocabulary that doesn't transfer itself very is profanity.  The main reason, to my thinking, is the emotional impact that swear words have on native speakers.  It's not only the language, it's also the culture - a variety of reactions can be seen to the same words in different countries when we are working with "big" languages like English or Spanish.  Still, the great number of media influence leaves English swear words in a position of attractiveness, so they do crop up, especially in language with a close relationship to English, like the rest of the Germanic family.  It never seemed to me that Spanish speakers could quite get their mouths around "fuck", though, not like Germans can.  First there's the vowel /ə/, which Spanish speakers can in fact produce, but it's not one of their meaningful sounds.  Then, the final consonant sound doesn't work well for them either.  Spanish speakers, particularly in Spain, don't care to end their words with plosives.

Imagine my surprise, then, when I was watching Don't Fall Asleep, Motherfucker, a horror short on the Screamfest Youtube channel.  The short was made in Puerto Rico, in Spanish, but a couple of f-bombs pop out at the beginning:

fucking lógica
fucking noche

I guess it's less /ə/ than /ɔ/ but it still felt as natural and right for the line as in any Tarantino film.  Better maybe, because of the careful measuring out of fucks.  They were also "fucking", not just "fuck", so the voiceless velar plosive isn't such a problem.  Despite the rounding of the vowel, they were better attempts than most peninsular Spanish, which ends up being a much more nasal /'fɑk in/.

Anyway, I'm rather pleasantly surprised that a harsh Anglo-Saxon swear can blend right into a soft Latin American Spanish.  I suppose the fact that it's Puerto Rico makes the most sense.

Black dice #1

mummy/coffin/broom/witch's boot

Oh, sad I was to lose my beloved.  So sad I thought my world had gone away forever.  I would have no joy again.  But when I found the old book in the attic, I discovered that there are many ways of keeping those you want with you.  Now, sometimes they get lost and you have to remind them.  You have to be patient with the dead in their new lives.  There's trauma in getting a new life, you know.

I studied that book with all my might, and absorbed all I could of what it had to offer.  There was so much wisdom.  I thought I could never take it all in.  I think I haven't gotten it all, really.  But I do think I have more than any of those so-called experts that tried to give me guidance when my beloved left me.

I did try to bring the body back home, to preserve it, to call her back into it.  That was a mistake.  Only fools believe that the old body can last forever, I know that now.  It was also trying to return the body, falling into crumbly little pieces, when the police caught me breaking into the cemetery.  After a hearing, I was released to the custody of my nephew, which was a relief, but also a pain.  Everybody thought I had just lost all my marbles.  Nobody would take me seriously about anything.  Fortunately, my nephew doesn't care that much about keeping tabs on me, and let me go back home by myself.  I do have to check in with some kind of care worker every week.  I always say my nephew calls me every day.  He never calls.  I don't know if the worker talks to him too.  Anyway, when I found the book I forgot all about those old wives' tales.

The book tells me how to see old souls in new bodies.  They never lose that certain glow they have, they are always the same soul.  Even with the new body and the new memories, they are the same.  I see lots of old souls when I watch people go by in the street in front of the supermarket.  And one day, my prayers were answered.  I saw her.

It was a new body, a much different body than her old one, but healthy looking.  Nice hair, good build.  Not the kind of clothes I like to see on a woman, but these are new times.  I had to follow her around a little to be sure.  In the produce section I was sure, the way she held the melons up was exactly like my darling had done.  I went home that day with the lightest heart in many, many months.  Maybe ever.  I had to take careful steps now.  Like I said, the souls have new memories in their new bodies, and the old memories don't always come out when you want them to.  You have to remind them very carefully.  Not only could you get in trouble for "bothering strangers", but you could cause some distress to the soul you want to reach.  I, for one, would never want to distress my beloved.

I returned to the book, pouring over the most important pages, looking for all the details to be sure I had them right.  I did, but I had to make sure.  The rituals had to be performed to "wake" the old soul's memories, and I had to establish contact with the new body.  I have an attention grabbing look, but really most people don't remember very much about me when I'm not right in front of them.  I don't think I'm very threatening.  This will work well for me.

I spent a few months coincidentally running into my beloved's soul around town, acting the fool a bit, building a feeling of trust.  I might be odd, but I'm no danger.  In the meantime, I performed my rituals at night, trying to strengthen the power of the old soul.  It didn't seem to be working very well.  I read over the whole book again, and finally noticed a small paragraph that talked about interference from others.  Sometimes some witch or magician or something tries to pull an old soul to them for power, even though they had no connection to them in the last life.  That makes it harder for a loved one to make contact, especially when they are amateurs like me.  I couldn't be sure, but that might be what was happening.  I would have to keep my ears and eyes open about town.  I would have to try to warn my beloved somehow.

pinkish

The heat of August is suffocating, and sometimes even a cold beer doesn't quite seem like the thing.  Even though you might actually lose heat as the alcohol dilates your blood vessels towards the surface of your skin, it's not a very comfortable way to cool off.  Still want that buzz, though, so maybe something a little bit lighter.  A cider?  That sounds nice about now!  There are national ciders in the British style, not just the dry Asturian ones, but I only saw Kopparberg at La Buena Pinta.  It's a trustworthy drink, I'll take it.  They had the mixed fruit one, which is more my style than plain apple, so home it went.

Lightly tinted, thin but white head, and a dazzling fruity aroma.  It's a bit like lip gloss or perfumed things for children, so sweet is it, but I have hopes that the cider won't be cloying.  At first sip anyway, it's only a mild sweetness, with a little kick of bitter at the very end.  It's a fun tickly drink with the carbonation, feeling kind of like a "natural" soda more than an alcoholic beverage.  It's not perfectly clean, there's a bit that remains at the back of the tongue, although there are certainly stickier beers out there.

Supplier: La Buena Pinta
Price: €2.70

Opportunities And Hating Life

So I'm living in a country that has seen a huge drop in its GDP in the past couple of months.  The problem is, Spain relies on outside money coming in, tourists mainly, and right now there are simply not enough tourists to go around.  Even if they wanted to, they might not be allowed to travel as they wish.  As a language teacher, I don't have tourists as my base of funding, but when money slows down, it slows down for everybody.

During the last recession, I didn't suffer too much for work.  A lot of people wanted to improve their English and with that, their chances of employment, or so they thought.  Some of them were all set to leave the country, pinning their hopes on the US, the UK, or Scandinavia.  That's not how things are going to go this time.  Certainly, people will still dream of a study program or an internship abroad, but it's going to be tougher to get it.

One of the opportunities we have now is the greater connectivity around the world.  I was able to keep about half of my classes through online platforms when all unnecessary interaction was banned in March.  Online, you can meet with students anywhere, in their homes, in their offices, on the other side of the world if it comes to that.  And, people are getting more and more comfortable with those sorts of meetings and classes.

My problem is marketing.  Potential students can't choose you if they don't know you're there.  In the past, you could put an ad in a local magazine or newspaper, and the calls would come in.  Just like for a lot of businesses.  Recently, however, it hasn't been that simple to collect students with those ads.  People aren't sure that they want to spend money on classes when they can play games online (hey, I do it myself).  There are possibilities of international students, but you have to find those advertising outlets.

One thing that has been suggested to me, which I have really never wanted to do, is to make videos.  I could post short little things on Youtube and try to generate a following.  I would really prefer not to do that.  I have no interest in that kind of content creation.  It seems like it is a lot more work for a lot less reward than is acceptable to me.  Still, sometimes we have to shovel some shit to get something to grow.  I also have to be more proactive with telling people about things that exist.  Again, I do not like that.  But there doesn't seem to be any other choice.

white dice #1

tree/feet/car/fish/flame/key

There's nothing like running through a forest on your own.  The peacefulness, the breeze, the power of air that hasn't been filtered through fifty cars' engines.  Of course, when you're potentially running for your life, it's not quite as positive an experience.

It started in the supermarket, of all places.  I guess I'd heard a lot of stories about women being picked up at the supermarket, but nothing like that had ever happened to me, not even close.  So I kind of never thought about it.  I didn't notice the tall man hovering behind me, I didn't pay attention when he sidled right up to me at the frozen food case, I didn't think twice about answering his "Nice day," with "Yep, sure is."  Who the hell expects flirting in front of a freezer of filleted fish?  He started asking me about my dinner choices, which was a little weird I admit, and I hemmed and hawed, not out of self-preservation but because I am a shitty decision-maker.  Can't for the life of me make plans and follow through on them.  He kept asking questions, though, and trying to pin me down on something - a favorite food, a favorite restaurant, something like that.  I hadn't even looked him in the face.  Finally it dawned on me that this guy was really trying to have some kind of conversation, not just randomly-passing-people-in-public-small-talk, and I turned to see who I was actually supposed to be speaking to.  He was totally unremarkable, except for his height.  Some older guy, black-rimmed glasses, short-sleeved button-up shirt.  Weird shit-eating smile.  Closed mouth smile, too.  I don't know why, but that's always bothered me.

"Look, do I know you?" I finally asked.

"Not like I want you to," he said.

"Seriously, do I know you at all?"

Weirdly, this question seemed to please him greatly.  He smiled more broadly, still lips together, and tilted his head back to look down on me with one of the smuggest expression I've ever seen.  I was bothered by that too, since there doesn't seem to be anything to be smug about, harassing somebody who's never seen you before.  Then he said, gleefully it seemed to me, "I knew I would have my chance with you.  Madame Arguiol said so.  She knows you."

This had to be a joke.  "No, I don't know any 'Madame' Argo.  Is some fortune teller taking your money to tell you how to pick up girls?  Just go on Tinder or something."  He was older, but there are lots of older people on the internet these days.  He shook his head and actually clucked at me.  What BS is this?

"Madame Arguiol has seen you and she knows you.  She knows all of us better than we know ourselves.  She told me you would come to me with the salmon."  He pointed triumphantly at some packages of frozen fish.  The specific type of fish made it even creepier to me, even though I couldn't tell if any of the plastic wrappers said "salmon" on them.  The frost made them all illegible.  I was getting chills down my spine by now from the discomfort of the situation.

"Look, dude, I don't know you or your fortune teller and I don't think I want to continue this conversation."  I couldn't finish my shopping now, it was just too weird.  If I had to go pay for and pack up all my stuff, he could just follow me and keep bothering me easily.  I left the cart abruptly and walked away.  When I turned down one aisle I trotted ahead and zipped around the corner of the next one, hoping I was fast enough that he hadn't seen me.  Maybe he wasn't even following me, I didn't hear any footsteps.  My heart was pounding though.  I had never really thought of myself as an anxious person, but this situation was making me rethink it.  It was a quiet time in the supermarket, hardly any other customers, and the employees weren't bustling around the aisles restocking much either.  After a few minutes I decided to just leave the store.  I could come back tomorrow.  When I went out the doors I heard my name.  It was Basi, a sort of homeless by choice hippie who wandered around town.

"You have a good day, kid!" he called.  He lit his pipe with a tie-dye lighter and took a toke.  Then he flashed me a thumb's up and croaked, "Just watch out for the weirdos.  I heard there's one around here looking for you."

I stared at him for a second.  "Where the fuck did you hear that?"

Basi slowly released some smoke from his nose and seemed to be trying to remember.  He gestured vaguely with the pipe towards the town square.  "You hear things on the street, but you don't always know what's really important.  There was something I heard when I was on my way here, but I didn't put it together until I saw you come out the door all shaky."

"I look all shaky?"

Basi shrugged, "Not so much look, but I can feel it, ya know?"

I wanted to ask Basi for more details, but it suddenly occurred to me that the "weirdo" might be about to come out of the supermarket.  "Well, look, I gotta get home now but I'll see you around.  Take care."

Basi waved cheerfully as I strode off across the parking lot.  Basi said a lot of things to people.  Pot wasn't the only drug he indulged in, even if it seemed to be his regular thing to do.  He had warned me about things in the past that had never turned out, like bee attacks or getting caught in the rain.  He once told me to stock up on aftersun cream before a vacation, swearing I was going to get the sunburn of my life.  That week was the rainiest of the year and I never even got to the beach.  This could just be a coincidence.  Yeah, that's it.  There are all kinds of stories about creepers at the supermarket, or the bus, or the coffee place.  I was still walking pretty fast down the street.  And then I was going past Forest Park.

Forest Park is just what it sounds like, a forest that has been taken as a park by the city.  They don't do a lot of landscaping, just clearing fallen branches and trunks from the faint trails.  The trails aren't very clear because they chose not to mark them out, but let people decide where the best ways to go were, and since the park was pretty new, just over a year old, the best ways hadn't been collectively decided yet.  The trees made an inviting space for me, feeling paranoid about being followed or spied on.  I went through the gate and straight into the greenish shade.

After a couple of minutes trudging over the stunted grass and crackly fallen twigs, I was feeling much calmer.  I guess here is when people will say I should have known better.  "Hey, you!" came an angry voice behind me.  I looked.  There was a man charging through the wood, looking awfully pissed off.  It wasn't the guy from the supermarket.  But, shit, I wasn't going to just stand there and wait patiently for him to come tear my head off.  I sprinted away, taking a less worn down path.  He was a heavier sort, and didn't look all that agile.  I could hear him still coming after me, though, crushing leaves and branches underfoot, but at least he was huffing and puffing a little.  I had panic adrenaline and maybe I could find some other nature lovers to shield myself with.  I moved like a deer, so I thought, and popped out into a more open area near the creek.  It was low and narrow these days, and I zoomed over the open land and jumped to the opposite bank.  There was a drop just behind it and I went down, burrowing into the dirt like a rabbit (so many spirit animals).  I heard him come up to the drop but stop.  He was panting noisily and I could imagine him with his hands on his knees, looking crankily out at the empty woods.  "Fuck this, man," he coughed to himself, terrifyingly close to my hiding spot, and he stomped away, deeper into the park.  I waited several minutes before venturing out and climbing back up to the creek bank.  Nobody in sight.  I sighed and started back for the entrance.  Just at the edge of the clearing, something was shining on the ground, something metallic.  It was a key.  I quickly checked my pockets, relieved to find that my keys had not fallen out, and I thought it must belong to coughin', runnin' man.  I considered picking it up, that would serve him right, but then I thought it might have been somebody else's.  I could take them to the police or something, but that might be a big pain in the ass for somebody to go to the station.  Even if it was that guy who lost his key, no need to poke the bear that is the universe.  I was almost at the entrance gate, feeling pretty good about myself, when I saw the dog coming right for me.  And all I could think was that I had to run.

starting off a month of content

Although it's still the roasting hot summer, there are ways to get your mind off it.  Fans, dark places, cooled spaces, and even some mental tricks.  Like drinking a winter ale.  That should help, right?  It was a chance find on the shelves, over by the Belgian Christmas beers.  But, as soon as I saw that "winter" in the label I knew it had to make the trip to my refrigerator.  Pixkanaka from Boga Garagardoa was produced for (with?) a Basque magazine, Pikara.  The word pixkanaka seems to mean little by little, referring to the progress made in egalitarian circles I guess.  The label says "To drink little by little", which is surely better than being the winter ale of our discontent.

It's a nice, dark caramel color, just a light layer of off-white head.  The aroma is a little more sour than I expected, although mostly it's a full whiff of grain.  The taste follows the scent closely, malty, bready, a tiny bit of tang.  It does have a wintery sort of feeling to it, the toasty part and a light hint of orange.  There's some other bits of fruit too, but not the heavy tropical kind of IPAs, something lighter and frostier.  I can imagine snow-covered fruit baskets, apples, oranges and grapes.  There is some weight to it, so it would be a good choice on a colder evening, but it's not too heavy even in the dead of summer.

Supplier: La Buena Pinta
Price: €3