5 years.

I had a dream last month where JM appeared. He appears in my dreams every 6 weeks or so.

The usual scenario is that he is suddenly alive and back in my life. I’m surprised because I know he is dead, so obviously I am rather unprepared for such an event. I always have to choose between my current life and my former life, between our marriage and my current relationship. The dream ends with me feeling trapped.

This last dream, however, ended differently. In it, I was angry at him for something–probably for suddenly returning in my life after being dead–but instead of being rather nonchalant about my anger, he embraced me. It was the most vivid experience I can ever remember dreaming. I could feel exactly how tall he was by where my face fit into his chest, and how long his arms wrapping around me were. I felt safe and calm in this warm hug. I woke up smelling him and still feeling that embrace.

Brain drain in Spain

A friend in the US asked me today “so what have you been up to?” and I immediately panicked because I did not have an exciting answer. I am always conscious of how my life looks to the outside, as if that mattered in any way. And I am reassured that I am living a worthwhile life if I have plenty to report on, and even more reassured if it sounds exciting, though I rarely feel excited about the “exciting” things I do, more often I am bothered by the amount of time and effort it will take to prepare for and to get somewhere. Either that or I am terrified of the task ahead. Doesn’t it sound fun to be me?

So of course, having nothing to report off the top of my head had me reviewing my activities of the last month, which at first depressed me because 1) It’s winter and I’m always depressed when it is cold and dark out, and 2) the majority of my activities have been focused around working (from home), bottomless spending on a property I bought in Rhode Island, locating receipts for taxes…you get the idea. Stuff that make you want to curl into a ball and weep.

But then I had to acknowledge a couple of interesting outings I’ve had thus far this year. First, I’ve been hitting the dirt track every other week at the old Kenny Roberts Ranch at Montmelo. This is adjacent to the Catalunya circuit and is specifically for small displacement dirt tracking. There are races ranging from 4 hour “endurance” team challenges to shorter sprint races most weekends. I hardly qualify as a dirt tracker, but it is pretty good fun and all the pros come out to play too.

GP hand builds pipes, and he made one for my bike. This pipe has saved me a lot of embarrassment on the track because it makes the bike so fast. Of course, the pros took notice and wanted to it for themselves, thus we have Aleix Espargaro preparing to mount my steed:

And then a line up including Ferran Cardus, Ricky Cardus, and Luis Costa (the girl is Costa’s girlfriend and we might ride together for a team challenge).

Needless to say…GP sold a couple of pipes that day.

The other thing I have been doing is trying to forge some new friendships. Motorcycling helps, of course, but I need other expats and people with similar life experiences I can relate to. In the last year and half  so many of my expat friends–and even native countrymen who have lived outside Spain–have left the country because of the economic situation here. And it seems like every time I meet someone new with whom I can have an intelligent conversation, I learn that they, too, are leaving in the near future.

The economic situation doesn’t affect me because my clients are in North America. I’d like to stay, but I’m feeling ever more isolated because it seems like something familiar is happening. There is a “thing” that happens in Hawaii. The locals call it brain drain. It is a phenomena where all of the intelligent and motivated people leave to find opportunity and education, because, as you can imagine, Hawaii has a dearth of prospects when it comes to careers when compared to other states. So the people who remain are…well, you get the idea. I hate to say it, but it appears that a brain drain is happening in this city.

This isn’t happy news, because it makes living here far less enjoyable. Thus I find myself at a crossroads again. Do I want to stay? Where do I want to go?

Expat Interview

Here is an expat centric interview I did to a little while ago: Expat Blog interview. I’m also up for an award for best Spain centric blog on their site (not this blog), which will get me exactly nothing if I win! Yay me!

Some racing around town

There is a famous 24 hour race that happens just outside of Barcelona in a village called Lliça D’Amunt. This race has been going on for 32 years and it has put this little village on the map. I’ve been meaning to check this race out for four years. This year, I finally went.

What’s unique about this 24 hour race is that it is an offroad race on 50cc MX bikes, primarily single speed two strokes though a few with gears and 4Ts thrown in, and a course is built every year because there is no track in the town. Teams of four riders begin the race at 7pm on Saturday and end at 7pm on Sunday and are required to switch riders every hour. It’s approached as a “fun” race, and indeed the atmosphere is that of a big party and there is lots of drinking and live music…hence the Saturday evening start. But what happens in between is pretty heavy duty stuff.

Racing is taken pretty seriously here. Sure they have a lot of fun and there is the camaraderie you find in any paddock, but it’s always full of professionals and teams who put it all on the line. This race is no exception, and for as lighthearted and crazy as the race sounds, it is seriously tough. There were 41 teams from all over Europe and a few heavy hitters in the ranks, including  the Spanish MX Championship multi, times champion Javi Garcia Vico, MotoGP (and Gabri’s former) rider Aleix Espargaró and other famous Catalan Motocross and Enduro riders. There was a conspicuous lack of media, (what I thought to be a news helicopter circling at the start was in fact present to give helicopter rides to attendees) which could be explained by saying that a race like this is unique but racing events like this are common.

I did nothing more than spectate, but that in itself was an experience. Here is a little pictorial for you all, enjoy.

A quarter of the pit lane.

GP’s rider Aleix from last year was raced it for the first time. And probably the last. He could barely speak on Sunday at the finish.

Team Italia’s camp.

 

Team Italia crew and riders. They quit at noon on Sunday due to fatigue.

Some of the team camp area.

View of the course from the pits. This is normally a flat field and part of a park.

Riders waiting for the start

Did I mention it was a Le Mans start?

First lap.

First lap mud pit.

Long shadows in the first hour.

Hay bale tree bumpers.

Some announcements

I’d like to announce the re-opening of Little Big Racing Services. This is something I have been working on for the past three months and we finally have all the logistics figured out, the agreements signed, and the website done (by me, so if you find anything lame, let me know).

My partner has been doing engineering, testing and development for Microtec for the past 7 or so years. You might know Microtec if you have or have had a Ducati or MV – the best Plug&Play ECUs are from them and make a big difference in performance. Well, all of the 2 stroke ECUs, along with Moto3 pipes, were engineered and developed by my partner and have been used in MotoGP World Championship. We are currently testing and developing Moto3 ECU kits, pipes, and Accossato parts for use in the World and Spanish Championships and also for sale on the website, along with every product that Microtec makes!

Currently we are testing and developing Plug&Play ECUs for Kawasaki, Yamaha, and Suzuki 600s, to be released ASAP (though Yamaha will likely take a while). Please check out the site and spread the word to your riding brethren. In keeping up with all that is contemporary  we have a facebook page too.

Another project is Ciclo Italiano–Vintage Italian bicycles and parts. Lots of new old stock Campagnolo and Italian racers from the 70s and 80s. I have much but not all of our stock online as I am taking all the photos and doing all of the parts and bike research (not to mention building the ecommerce site), plus I am always sourcing new old stock Campy parts and worthy bicycles. There is of course a facebook page to support this site too.

And finally, I am spending my blogging time over at Spain Expat Blog when I am not working on these site/businesses or working on instructional design/elearning contracts to support myself.

OK that’s the end of the self promotion! I’ll still  keep this blog for personal and non-Spain stuff and I promise I won’t turn this blog into a spammy website pusher.

Cats on a plane

I took my cat with me to Italy for ten days. Don’t judge me, I have my reasons. Anyway, you can carry your little pet in the cabin of the plane here, provided that there is no more than one other animal coming aboard as hand luggage and that the case they are in is sufficiently tiny. Tiny enough to fit under the seat of a Vueling flight, which has notoriously little legroom as compared to a coach seat on a normal size airplane. So kitty hopped unknowingly into her soft case with three mesh windows and I carried her out of my apartment building on a Monday morning and off to the airport.

But first came the metro ride, which in retrospect wasn’t such a smart choice. The metro is so much more bumpy and loud than a human who tunes out with ipod earphones jammed into her ear canals whenever facing public places would notice. Kitty’s stress level was pretty high after her first metro ride that also included a train change and several stair cases, escalators and tunneled walkways. A walk through the heart of the city surrounded by people and cars to catch the airport bus was next, so by the time we got onto the bus, Kitty was not a happy camper.

At the airport, things were quieter and Kitty seemed almost content to hang out in her little bag. We went through ticketing just fine, where no mention of a CAT PASSPORT was made, which evidently is the last of the requirements needed for Fuzzy to fly the friendly skies. But we are in Spain, and the girl at the ticket counter in Barcelona never asked for anything regarding the cat, not even permission to stick her hand into my kitty carrier to scratch Kitty’s head to receive a bite in return.

Going through security was also easy. You have to remove your pet from their carrier and put the carrier through xray while you tote your pet in your arms through the metal detector. Kitty was happy to get back in the bag and was calm boarding the plane. It wasn’t until take off that I heard sounds coming from my cat that I never knew were possible. She was in the carrier at my feet and we were crammed next to the window in a full row so I couldnt see her. All I could see was the bag deforming and thrashing around on its own while Kitty wailed like a human baby. Fortunately, there were no fewer than three screaming children on the plane, so Kitty went (sort of) unnoticed.

Once we landed in Milan and were in the car, she was exhausted and dozed until we got home, only waking to meow pathetically to let us know she wanted out soon. At home, she was happy to eat and play like nothing happened.

Returning to Spain however, was not so pain free. Day of the flight, we drove carefully to the airport and she arrived quite calm. So when the lady at the ticket counter asked for her passport as well as mine (remember the cat passport?), it was ·I· who panicked and thrashed like I was in a flexible little  carrier under an airline seat.

So Yeah. I had to leave my fricken’ cat in Italy. What’s more, the bitch at the ticket counter argued with me about the fact that I brought my cat from Spain on the plane to Italy without a passport in the first place. “Impossible” was her constant reply. That and “no, you didn’t” when I explained that I flew with the cat on her stupid airline 10 days earlier.  It’s not the first time an airline ticketer in Italy has called me a liar and/or treated me like shit, and I’m sure it won’t be the last. That’s Italy for you.

So I went back to Spain and Kitty stayed with GP’s parents for four days until I could arrange a cat passport, which, this being Spain, was ridiculously easy. i just paid the vet and he backed dated and stamped the kitty passport and I was set.

Then I had to spend 250 Euros and an entire Friday flying to Italy, waiting for the cat delivery, and flying back to Spain. I don’t know if it was that Kitty knew what she was in for or if GP’s father’s driving really is that bad, but Kitty arrived at the airport practically traumatized. She had peed in her carrier, which she had never done before, and was crying incessantly. Even her fur was all rumpled like she had been wrestling with another cat. And there were still more than five hours to go before we would be home.

We checked through ticketing with her new passport just fine and made it through security without too much drama (though I do have a few new scratches to show for it). I had a couple of hours of waiting in the airport to do and was able to calm Kitty down before the worst part of the trip came. I was so grateful to have the only row on the entire plane to myself thanks to a noisy, kicking child seated behind my row. The guy assigned next to me opted to move to the row in front of me, even before I arrived with a meowing cat in a bag.

What followed next was the longest flight of my life, despite it lasting only an hour and a half. I don’t know if the pilot was lost or what, but we taxied around that bumpy airfield for about 25 minutes, which was a good setup for the bouncy takeoff and turbulent climb wherein Kitty went bananas. Then, of course, the entire flight was marked with sudden dips and drops as the plane surged through the clouds to its final delayed landing, which called for more bumpy circulating before the pilot finally figured out where he was. Poor kitty peed in her case again at some point during the flight, between her bouts of pitiful mewling and frantic caterwauling.

I have to add that the entire flight I was trying to calm her down by petting and talking to her through her case. There is no question that the guy who moved seats made the right move not sitting next to the crazy cat lady who smelled like pee. If he hadn’t moved before I sat down, I’m sure he would have moved after.

By the time we landed, I had decided not to even deal with the bus and took a taxi straight home for 24 Euros. Taxi guy made me put he case on the floor after I refused to put her in the trunk of the taxi, but thankfully he drove pretty smoothly and there was no traffic so we got home quick.

Once inside the door to my apartment, I put the case on the floor and opened it up. I was ready for a drink and a nap and wondered if Kitty was going to be stressed, disoriented, desperate for her litterbox or what after her ordeal. I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised when Kitty trotted happily out, went straight to her dish for a snack, then attacked her toy mouse with gusto, tossing it into the air and chasing it where it landed as if nothing had ever happened.

I’m thinking that maybe I won’t skip the bus next time. Or at least I’ll consider putting her in the trunk when I elect to take a taxi home.

 

Four years and a day…

Whenever the end of April rolls around, I start feeling uneasy and wonder why. Then May hits and I remember and I dread the passing of May 10.

I am a day late here in recognizing that four years ago yesterday we lost John-Mark. I wanted to write yesterday, but I got as far as posting a photo and a note on Facebook before being taken down by a virus that made it hurt to even lay down. He got a lot of love on that FB post, so I don’t feel quite so bad for not getting this up in time. Thank you everyone for recognizing him on FB.

It’s hard to think that another year has passed, technology has developed,and things have happened in the world that JM would have loved to have witnessed. The US killing Osama Bin Laden springs to mind-man that would have made him happy. Or the creation of the iPad, or BMW entering World Superbike with his friend heading the team, or a million other things to do with his friends.

I was going to write some self indulgent things here but I’ll leave them. This here is for you John-Mark. Miss you and your humor, your talent, your towering height, your ultra-stubbornness, your fierce loyalty, your love for animals, your naivety that you hid so well because you were so smart, your curiosity, your love of knowledge, your power of debate, your charm and how comfortable you made the people around you feel.