Day 29. Slices of music #SOL2020 Challenge #SOLSC

slice-of-life_individual

Today, March 29th, 2020, I’m participating in Two Writing Teachers’ Slice of Life Story Challenge.

 

 

Thank you to all my fellow writers for your best wishes and desires that my migraine disappears soon. Health and science are crucial to our well being, and the current events are a brutal testimony of that.

Music can’t cure Covid-19 but definitely can help us cope with quarantine. Today I saw in Instagram a 20 songs challenge, and I decided to take it. Basically, it asked you to answer 20 questions related to music . I was impressed of how each question put me in a path of remembering or making efforts to decide what to say. At the end, each question encapsulated a little story that I couldn’t convey in my Instagram’s stories.

Music itself has a story, and each piece hides behind a slice of our lives.

1. My favorite song. Heartbeats by Jose Gonzalez. Two years ago I discovered this artist, and I don’t know why I became obsess with his songs to the point that it was the artist I listened the most in Spotify in 2018.

2. A song I hate. I couldn’t find any song I really dislike to the point that I hate. The closest is #11 in this list but I actually like the song, I just dislike in what it became. Hate is a strong word and I can’t hate music.

3. A song that makes me sad. The Well-Tempered Clavier: Book 1, 1.Prelude in C Major, BWV 846 by J.S. Bach. Every time I hear this piece, I remember my mom and when she was fighting cancer. I wrote a slice about it last year.

4. A song that reminds me of someone. Buckin Up Song and Bed Intruder . These two songs are part of my kids’ childhood. When they came up, we were amazed at the creativity that people have. It was one of the first stages of something becoming viral. When I listen to them I can see my children laughing and enjoying the twist. Now these two songs are part of our family repertoire.

5. A song that makes me happy. Bicycle race by Queen. Anybody that knows me, knows that this song combines my love for biking and Queen.

6. A song that reminds me of a specific moment. Bachata rosa by Juan Luis Guerra. When I met my husband in New York, this song was en vogue. We went to the Madison Square Garden together to listen to Juan Luis Guerra. It was really fun. Everybody started to dance everywhere. We even thought of playing the song in our wedding but we couldn’t find anybody who knew or wanted to sing it. I gave Steve a cassette with all the songs and left it in his apartment. The story of what happen with that tape is another story.

7. A song that I know by heart. Alle Vogel sind shon da. I attended a school run by German nuns in Chile. We learned this song at an early age and we have to sing it every year. All my classmates, even the one that didn’t learn too much German know the song by heart.

8. A song that makes you dance. Madre tierra (Oye) by Chayanne. I didn’t know this song until I went to Spain, and I got introduced to a fun way of dancing it when the swimming pool on my town organized an Aquadance. It was hilarious. From that day on, every time I listen to the song, I stop everything and start dancing. Last September, I introduced the song, lyrics and dance movements to all my classes from 3rd to 5th grade as part of celebrating National Hispanic Heritage Month. It was the third or four weeks of school and the kids barely knew me. Probably they thought I was crazy.

9. A song that helps me sleep. Arroró mi niño by  Maria Lopez. I put this a little bit as a joke since I can’t sleep with music. I prefer to sleep with no sounds that distract my brain from resting. This song though is a song that my mom sang to me and I sang to my kids. While searching for it in YouTube. I learned it was featured in the soundtrack of a horror movie called The curse of La Llorona. It was not very successful as you can see in Rotten Tomatoes.

10. A song that I secretly love. Wake me up by Avicii. When Avicci took his life in 2018, I didn’t have the foggiest idea who he was, let alone knew his songs. I started to read about him, and watched a documentary about his rapid success and all the pressure he received. I usually don’t like the trendy music, but Wake me up touched me, and since then I secretly love it, especially knowing the tragedy behind his creator.

11. A song that I used to love and now I hate. Libre by Nino Bravo. This song was beautiful until the Pinochet regime in Chile took it as its unofficial anthem.

12. A song from my favorite album. Piano man by Billy Joel. I have many favorite albums but Billy Joel has a special place in my heart. I first heard Piano man in a party when I was in 8th grade and a boy invited me to dance when it was playing. Later,in 1979, when I went to Germany as an exchange student, I went to my fist pop concert in Hamburg, and it was of Billy Joel. It was an eye opener. I thought I was going to see just a guy with his piano and his harmonica. When I saw all the equipment and display, and performance that he put on, I started to understand what a real concert meant.

13. A song that I know how to play with an instrument. Los pollitos dicen. I can’t play any instrument. This is a very popular and simple Latinamerican children song that I can play barely with a flute.

14. A song that I sing in public. La Bamba by Rickie Valens. Curiously this song is universal and can be danced and sung by anybody. I sang it in an intercultural camp I attended in Thailand in 2015, where only I and a boy from Cataluña spoke Spanish. Everybody loved it. More recently I sang it in my first Karaoke appearance at the last Holiday party of my new school.

15. A song I like to listen to while driving Aria (Cantilena) of Bachianas brasileiras No.5f or Soprano and Cellos, W.389 by Heitor Villa-lobos sang by Kiri Te Kanawa. I find this Aria very inspiring. When I was in my thirties, I participated in Chile in a group that we called Cucópolis which was the fantasy city that appeared in the play The Birds by ancient Greek play writer. Aristophanes. We met to discuss things that we were passionate about. By turn we gave a lecture or explanation to the rest of the group of something that was prowling on our minds. My cousin Paula, the same of song #18 sang in a choir and was very gifted. She gave us a presentation of music and how the same piece could be interpreted very different depending of the singer or the director. One of the examples she gave was with this Aria and Kiri Te Kanawa. Since then, I love to listen to this piece, and if it’s in the car at its maximum volume, while driving in the countryside on a summer day with the windows open, the better.

16. A song from my childhood. Salta, salta pequeña langosta by Los Cinco Musicales and danced by Chilean Música libre show from the early seventies. When I was 11 or 12 this song became very famous by a TV show where a group of young people danced and dubbed the top hits. One of the girls in the group was Mera. She had very long hair and wore long socks just above the knees. It was the maximum. I just loved the show and waited anxiously every day to 6 pm to dance barefoot along with Mera.

17. A song that nobody expect I would like. Bailar by Deorro. My daughter introduced me to Deorro in January of 2018 when I needed to direct one of the act of a play by Spanish dramatist, Ramón María del Valle-Inclán. I wanted to give a modern twist to this beginning of the 20th century play. I wanted to set my scene in a Spanish discoteque, so I messaged my daughter and asked her what music could I play, and she sent me Deorro. I enjoyed so much directing the scene, and coming up with an original idea, that started to listen to Deorro more than I thought I would, until I found the perfect song for my scene, and I actually like it.

18. A song that I would like to be played in my wedding. It was already played in my weeding and it was Amazing Grace interpreted by my lovely cousin Paula Siles (in the link is a version by Ella Jenkins). She told me she wanted to sing in our wedding but she told us that she wanted to surprise us what she was going to sing. After our vows she start singing with her beautiful voice. It was magical. She also sang the Ave Maria by Schubert.

19. A song that I would like to be played in my funeral. El derecho de vicir en paz (The right to live in peace) by an ensemble of several Chilean musicians. It was inspired by Victor Jara’s original song that he composed in 1971 to protest against the Vietnam War and the US intervention. The song was widely sung during the 2019  Chilean protests that started in Oct 25, 2019. The lyrics are very powerful, and somehow are resonating all over the world. They should be sound loud and clear.

20. A song that I am currently listening. The Night we met by Lord Huron. This was the first song that Spotify started to play when I clicked on the playlist I follow, Bike Ride Tunes by Christina Waddle. I like to play this list when I work in my computer not when I bike ride. When I bike ride I like to listen to the wind, the birds, and my wheels crunching on the gravel.

MySpotifyWrapped2018 EN
My 2018 Spotify

 

Day 28. Moving Slowly #SOLSC20 #SOL

Today, March 28th, 2020, I’m participating in Two Writing Teachers’ Slice of Life Story Challenge

 

 

 

 

 

Moving slowly today

I can’t write too much

Gigantic circles spin next to my left eye

Retreat, retreat, stay in bed today

Amazed I have to obey

Indulge yourself, no need to ask for a sick day.

Numb yourself, sleep. As everything, it will pass

Elation will come when I regain strength and can write, and read again.

Day 27. Stages of grief #SOL2020 Challenge #SOLSC

slice-of-life_individual

Today, March 27th, 2020, I’m participating in Two Writing Teachers’ Slice of Life Story Challenge.

 

 

Since my Coronavirus quarantine started 14 days ago, I have thought a lot about the five stages of grief by Elizabeth Kubler-Ross. A friend of mine recommended me her memoir The Wheel of Life when my mom was dying of cancer in 2011. Since then, I always recommend it to people that are going through something similar. During the current crisis I feel that I am participating in a global grief: people are dying, and my own behavior can affect other people’s lives.

The five stages of grief are denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. I think I have been through the five of them already.

 

 

 

 

Day 26. Between the lines #SOL2020 Challenge #SOLSC

slice-of-life_individual

Today, March 26th, 2020, I’m participating in Two Writing Teachers’ Slice of Life Story Challenge. Today is also my daughter’s birthday. I remember with so much longing last year when I was with her, on her 23rd birthday. Love you so much hija!!!

 

Today I participated as a surprise guest in the 2nd Online Thursday of my Spanish friends’ Thursday’s Foam writing workshop meeting (via Whatsapp). Maria, the fantastic person who runs the workshops, receives all the stories ahead of time, and also an audio of each participants reading their story. By 6:30 pm Spanish time, the workshop starts via Whatsapp. Maria sends all the stories in an email and in alphabetical order we read and hear every story. At every time, we comment and Maria makes the most important points and analyses of the story just read/heard through an audio recorded in real time. I am so impressed of her quick grasps of each story, and how she can see (or not) immediately the elements of the homework she had given the group the last week. This time they needed to include 4 elements that drove the actions of the character: Lies-Motivation – Needs – Ghosts.

I spent almost 4 hours listening and reading ten amazing stories, and reading to witty and funny comments that were scrolling fast on my feed.

This morning, at 9 am, I was in the chopping block since I haven’t written in so long in Spanish. The workshop was about to start and my screen page was in blank.  Since my brain can’t write two pieces in one day, let along in different languages, I am going to put here what I wrote in Spanish, and give my best in translating it into English.

Entre líneas

9 am. ¡Mierda! ¡Solo tengo media hora para sacar algo de mi cabeza, escribirlo, grabarlo con mi sexi voz y enviársela a María por whatsapp! Ayer abrí los 1818 mensajes que tenía guardados del chat de la Espuma de los Jueves. Me he pasado siete meses buscando palabras en español. Mentiría si dijera que lo he intentado. La única vez que lo hice fue el  sábado 11 de enero cuando organicé el drive de los jueves. Mientras creaba la carpeta de cada uno de los participantes, y en ella sus relatos, me los fui imaginando en cuerpo presente, cada una de las voces que conocía y la de los nuevos, inventándomelas como si ya las conociera. Me daba tanta envidia que los jueves tuvieran nuevos amores. Ceci, Carmen, Pedro, Maite y que mi propia espuma ya no desbordara del tazón.  No ser parte de esas risas, y esos juegos. Que mi piel no sintiera el sol sevillano, ni que pudiera subir la cuesta de Guzmán con 40 grados de calor, o llegar a saludar a Chema y entrar a un aula blanca, austera, fría que solo los días jueves a las seis y media de la tarde se llenaba de ilusiones, donde éramos capaces de matar la soledad y enfrentar a nuestros propios fantasmas. Esa sola vez, miré con envidia los relatos que iba insertando en cada carpeta. Tan buenos, tan prolíficos, tan agobiantes. Cuando creé mi carpeta, me armé de valor y abrí un nuevo documento. Lo titulé Retomando la pluma. Permanecí diez minutos mirando la blancura de la pantalla. No tenía nada que transmitir. Me había convertido en un café expreso amargo.

Al mes siguiente, lo volví a abrir. Esta vez lo titulé Tinta invisible, y de mi teclado solo salió una frase. Si no vez nada, es porque se te han acabado los poderes de leerme entrelíneas.

9:24 am hora de Oregon del jueves 26 de marzo 2020. Cumpleaños de mi hija Matilde. 18:24 en la provincia de Sevilla.

Fe de erratas: Calculé mal la diferencia horaria entre España y Oregon. Me había adelantado una hora. Sin embargo, la presión me ha hecho romper el hielo y escribir. La espuma de los jueves es mi motivación y necesidad.


Between the lines

9 am. Shit! I only have half an hour to get something out of my head, write it down, record it with my sexy voice and send it to Maria via WhatsApp! Yesterday, I opened the 1818 messages I had saved from the Thursday’s Foam chat. I have spent seven months looking for words in Spanish. I would be lying if I said I tried. The only time I did it was on Saturday, January 11, when I organized the drive of the Thursdays’ Writing Workshop. While creating the folder of each of the participants, and placing in it their stories, I imagined them face to face, listening to each one of the voices I knew, and creating the one of the new participants as if I already knew them. I was so envious that on Thursdays they had new lovers. Ceci, Carmen, Pedro, Maite and that my own foam no longer overflowed from the bowl. Not being part of those laughs, and those playful days. That my skin did not feel the Sevillian sun, or that I could bike up the Guzmán slope with 40 degrees C of heat, or get to greet Chema and enter to the white, austere, cold classroom that only on Thursdays at six-thirty pm was filled with illusions, where we were able to kill loneliness and face our own ghosts.

That one time, I looked enviously at the stories I was inserting into each folder. So good, so prolific, so overwhelming. When I created my folder, I plucked up my courage and opened a new document. I titled it Taking Up the Pen again. I spent ten minutes looking at the whiteness of the screen. I had nothing to convey. It had turned me into a bitter espresso.

The following month, I reopened it. This time I titled it Invisible Ink, and only one sentence came out of my keyboard. If you don’t see anything, it’s because you have run out of powers to read me between the lines.

9:24 am Oregon time, on Thursday, March 26, 2020. My daughter Matilde’s birthday. 18:24 in the province of Seville.

Errata: I miscalculated the time difference between Spain and Oregon. I was an hour ahead of time. However, the pressure made me break the ice and write. The Foam on Thursdays is my motivation and need.

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Thursday’s Foam – My Spanish Writing Workshop Chat

 

Day 8. Women’s voices #SOL2020 Challenge #SOLSC

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Today, March 8th, 2020, I’m participating in Two Writing Teachers’ Slice of Life Story Challenge. Also, today I am marching in the cyberspace to keep the good fight for women’s rights and gender equality, to get my words out, and never, ever give up.

I am Generation Equality: Realizing Women’s Rights”.

I am so disappointed that in the US people don’t march for International Women’s Day like the rest of the world. The month of March is women’s history month, but today is not an important day like in the rest of the planet. History is relevant if we can bring it to the present.

Same thing happen with Labor Day. It’s a day to remember here but in September, and not May 1st. It seems like here we don’t want to remember anything that’s negative (or attached to anything that is associated with a socialist past as Kristen R. Ghodsee points out in an interview with Penn Today, University of Pennsylvania). Or women’s day will be celebrated from now on the day prior Inauguration Day?

Interesting enough, both, International Women’s Day and Labor Day started due to events that happen in the US (New York 1909, and Chicago, 1886, respectively). It’s like we have to sugar coat everything. It has to have a happy ending, like a Hollywood movie. But there are things that haven’t ended yet. If we don’t make them visual we don’t see them. It’s like stories. If we don’t write them, they don’t exist.

Through my Sunday email of the Conversation Canada, I found a really interesting gender gap tracker in the media. It’s only based in Canada, but I found it very relevant today. It measures the ratio of female to male sources quoted in online news coverage across some of Canada’s most influential national news media. It was developed with the premises of helping the public and journalists to amplify women’s voices. If you check the tracker there are still overwhelmingly more male than women voices on 7 Canadian media outlets (roughly 2/3 to 1/3). The tracker’s website also provides journalists with a database of informed, qualified women willing to give their opinion on certain issues.

Last year, I was marching with my fellow Spaniards on the street of Sevilla. Today I am alone, afraid of the coronavirus, and bummed that wipes are sold out in Amazon. Not!!!

 

Day 31. Saying goodbye is like dying a little #sol19

slice-of-life_individualMarch 31st

Partir, c’est mourir un peu,
Partir es morir un poco
Parting is dying a little

Edmond Haraucourt

Goodbye Virginia, welcome Oregon

Goodbye daughter, welcome son

Goodbye Winter, welcome Spring

Goodbye March, welcome April

Goodbye English, welcome Spanish

Goodbye parties, welcome solitude

Goodbye Richmond, welcome Redmond

Goodbye James river, welcome Deschutes

Goodbye weekend, welcome new working week

Goodbye full house, welcome empty home

Goodbye cold days, welcome warm and flowers

Goodbye warm days, welcome still cold and snow

Goodbye refrigerator full of food of different people’s taste, welcome abandoned refrigerator with nothing

Goodbye Mati’s thrifty red car, welcome gas eater white  pickup

Goodbye writer’s block, welcome inspiration

Goodbye faithful commentators, welcome random visitors

Goodbye welcome wagon volunteers, welcome me to the cart

Goodbye Slice of Life story challenge, welcome Classroom SOLSC

Goodbye Slice of Life story challenge, it has been a pleasure, welcome in search for a job challenge, it will be exciting

Parting is dying a little, arriving insufflates life.

I did it! Thanks for stopping by.

 

 

 

Day 30. Tiredness is a good feeling #sol19 #solsc

slice-of-life_individualMarch 30th

Only 2 days…the Slice of Story challenge is winding down, many people are on Spring break trying to squeeze the last minutes of relaxation to the max, slices are shorter and comments on my own blog are skimpier. It seems that everybody is tired. Some teachers are also preparing for April’s classroom Slice of Story challenge. Wow. That’s really commendable.

I am not the exception. I am tired but in a good way. It’s like when I go for a long bike ride and all my muscles ache and I am worn out to the point that I can’t rest. Suddenly, the whole body gives up and collapsescollapses . But feels good.

Now it´s almost 1 am of March 30th. I will have a busy day. My daughter of 23 years old decided to celebrate her birthday as she was 5. We went biking together to the supermarket, bought candies for the piñata, hot-dogs, ice-cream, and some goodies. I am making a hand made piñata remembering the ones I made when she and her brother were little. I just made a cake that tomorrow I have to put layers of strawberry jam and dulce de leche that I still need to find somewhere. And the frosting, and finishing the piñata. Oh, and we are going to raft the James river in the morning. And is almost 1 am. And I am tired, but it´s a good tiredness, the kind that leaves you feeling good..

Day 29. Spanglish brain #sol19 #SOLSC

slice-of-life_individualMarch 29th

I can’t believe there are only three days left for the Slice of Life Story Challenge. I might have a postpartum depression. In April I will continue the challenge in Spanish. I feel I have abandoned my native language during this month. I have written very sloppy stories for my writing workshop. It seems as my neurons can’t switch so fast. Sometimes it’ s hard in both languages. Random sloppiness, sloppy randomness, Spanglish brain. There are some Chilean words in Spanish that I can’t express in English and viceversa


 

Regalona. I will never find a word like this in any other  Spanish country or in the English language. It’s being spoiled, mimada, but in a positive way. It’s a person who loves to cuddle, to give and receive kisses, it’s being spoiled, and loved all at the same time.

Upset. The brevity  of this word compared with the intense feelings that express has always amazed me.

Gorgeous. I heard this word for the first time when I arrived in the US. I find it so cacophonous. I have mix-feeling when I use it. In fact, I don’t think I can use it. Only in writing.

Awesome. This word has been overused but I think is just because combines so many things at the same time that other words can’t convey.

Guatona. Literally this is having a big belly but in my family is an expression of deep affection that I can’t express in other ways. It’s a family secret code.

Chanchada. When you eat something really good but you know you are sinning. This happen a lot in my family.

Pan con palta. Wait. Bread with avocado, avocado toast. Nope. Nothing compares to a pan con palta. It evokes my childhood, my children’s childhood, the very essence of health, simplicity, and feeling lucky for being able to afford it.

Hot-dog. An American hot-dog is expensive, aseptic, dry and boring. A Chilean hot-dog or Completo is juicy, full of colors and very cheap. Maybe Cotsco hot–dogs are the exemption to the rule.

McCannudos. Our chat, our family last name can be awesome in Spanish.

Excruciating. It has some onomatopoeic sounds. It’s like the sound of being crucified.

Quinn or Queen? I never knew the difference.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Day 28. The kitchen table #sol19 #solsc

slice-of-life_individualMarch 28th:

I sit down on one of the two wooden hard chairs probably that have been picked up at the lawn of somebody´s house. I find a corner where I can place my computer on the kitchen table. The table is filled with things that might tell you a little bit of the inhabitants of this house.

There is a hard plastic Halloween bowl with one orange, three bananas (that I bought), a belt, some garlic cloves and a cell phone cord. On top is a book of Villalobos Solo Guitar music. Behind the bowl, in one of the corners, is a huge plastic container with cheese balls. Next to it is an open box of Honey Graham crackers with one package inside. Then there are two plastic packages of chopped dates, and two of dry cherries and blueberries respectively.

A sort of Cuisinart blender lies next. In between is an iron dark blue basket with the remaining parts of the blender and its instructions. It looks that hasn´t been used too much. Five cans of Kroger´s kidney beans are balancing on one of the other corners like if they were part of a fair stand. A black nail polish is hidden between the blender and the bean cans. I paint my thumb nail with it.

An unopened package of 7 rolls of dog poop bags rests next to my computer. My daughter´s very dirty fanny bag with a roll of quarters is in front of the blender. Besides it´s a Cotsco Kirkland container with one fifth of whole fancy cashews. I grab a couple with some concern that they might not be my daughter´s but from one of her roommates. There is an almost gone toilet paper, a wrapped set of earplugs,  and a plugin for USB cables that looks dangerous. It´s been repaired with scotch tape.

An also almost gone roll of paper towels is stuck on a wooden stick holder. An unopened Tortuga Jamaica Blue Mountain coffee rum cake is inside a fancy box. I wonder when it´s the expiration date. I couldn´t find it. A bottle of prescribed antibiotic to treat urinary tract infections dated March 19th, 2019 rests casually next to the cashews. A blue long rectangular box with Japanese letters is under the cheese balls. I open it. A very nice and fancy Japanese knife is waiting to be used.

A set of computer speaker, six birthday glitter candles, a Delta napkin-spoon set (my contribution), a plastic round container half filled with change, and an unknown man´s ID card make up the rest of the table.

I am impressed of how many things can fit on a table.

Tell me what do you have on your kitchen table and I’ll tell you who you are.

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Day 27. The traveling queen #sol19 #solsc

slice-of-life_individual

March 27th

I smile to the woman who was at the counter. She looks at me cheerfully.

—May I help you?

I give her my passport.

—Any suitcase?

—Yes, one.

—Do you want it all the way to your final destination?

—Yes, I don’t want to see it again!…Well, what I meant to say is that I don’t want to see it in between. Only when I arrive in DC.

I cross my fingers that it didn’t weight more than 23 kilos. The scale shows 24.5. As I usually do when I am nervous, I start to talk non-stop just if my words could distract the flight attendant from looking at the scale.

—Celeste, that’s a pretty name. I am visiting my daughter in the US. I am very excited. Tomorrow is her birthday.

My husband, sensing this was going to be a long chat, decides to step aside and checks his emails on his phone.

— Here are your boarding cards, and the ticket for your luggage.

I glance my suitcase while she sticks the tag around the handle.

—Wait. It doesn’t say DCA on the tag. That’s my final destination, and I don’t see it on my suitcase.

—Oh. Ok. I will check again.

I watch painfully as the attendant punches the computer, and prints a new tag.

—Now. Here is your tag.

—But it’s only to Detroit.

—The thing is that the system is not letting me check your suitcase all the way to DCA. You might have to collect it in Detroit and check it in again.

—No, no, no. I am not. You should try to check it in all the way to DCA, please.

—I am new. This is my first day.

She whispers the last sentence as she is confiding me a great secret, and waves to her supervisor.

—Wow. Congratulation!

I smile genuinely happy that she has a new job but damning my bad luck. A sixty something man shows up on the counter and starts swearing in front of the computer, in a way that only Spaniards can swear that makes you smile.

Este vuelo de los cojones me tiene harto. Qué mañanita llevamos. Excuse my language, but we are having a hard time this morning.

—Don´t worry. Take your time. Breathe in, breathe out. As long as you can send my suitcase to my final destination, I am OK.

I give my best cheerful encouragement. The new girl observes from behind her boss´shoulders with a beatific smile.

—I am very lucky to have such an understanding supervisor— she confides me while understanding supervisor was having a personal war with the system. Pretty soon there are four people staring at the computer. Login out, login in, shaking it, unplugging it, whisper on the screen, throw some magic powder, special spell, praying hard, sweating, jumping…

No sé que coños pasa. Excuse me again. I will have to do it manually.

—Ok. Thanks…

I even surprised myself on how good I handle the stress. I wave to my husband giving him the thumbs up.

I rush into security after giving solid hug and kiss to my husband who waits for me to pass the gate. I am surprised. He is the type of guy that as soon as the good byes are given turns his back and return to his car.

I unload all my gadgets in three different trays. Only two of them made it. Where is my carry-on?

They opened it. Two of the heaviest Harry Potter books show up. They were the only books my daughter wanted me to bring her from all the things she has left behind in Spain. Then the security guard pulls out something that looks like a long blue snake.

—What is this?

—Oh, no! My bicycle lock!

—Señora, you can´t travel with this on the plane.

—Oh shit! I thought about it, but it was so heavy, I didn´t want to check it in my already heavy bag…

—Was anybody with you at the airport? We can give it to him. Otherwise, what you can do is go outside, tie the lock on a pole, and then when you come back, you can retrieve it.

—Really? Do you think I can do that? But where do I lock it? Maybe, juts let me call my husband and see if he is still here…
Steve? Are you still at the airport? Can you keep my lock?

I watch the guard giving my husband the chain. I move my lips to say thank you and blow him a kiss.

—Well, I really appreciate your understanding and the fact you gave me some options. Have a great day!

I enter in the waiting room at my gate searching for a sit. Not even five minutes later, I hear on the speaker that the weather in Amsterdam is really bad, and we won´t be able to take off until 2:20 pm. I looked at my watch. It´s 10:30 am. I check at my Amsterdam connection. I approach the counter.

—Excuse me, sir. I have a connection at 3:30 pm in Amsterdam. I will miss it!

—Yes, you will!

No more help whatsoever. I won´t arrive on time to my daughter´s birthday. I start crying and all my politeness is gone.

—————

Two days later…

—Thank you for calling Delta Airlines Baggage Claim Service. We are sorry you didn´t receive your luggage. Please say your claim code…

I hate this taped help. The machine doesn´t understand my accent. I need to get a real person.

—Hello. My name is Wilbur. What can I do for you today?

—Yes, could you please check if it´s any news about my suitcase? It never make it to the final destination last Monday.

—May I have your claim number?

—Yes, T as an David, C as in California, T as an dog, B as an Vincent, eight, four, three, one.

I am almost sure that these is how it sounds. I hate to spell in English.

—Good news, mam. Your suitcase is in Detroit, and tomorrow it will be drop off at the address you provided when you submitted the claim.

—Thank you!!!

I was a little tired to wear my daughter´s underwear.

socks (Small)
When your luggage doesn’t make it, you develop a new style. The only thing I don´t like about my daughter clothes are her underwear. Too small for my taste. I like old granny undies.