The Apple Doesn't Fall Far From the Tree

Tomorrow is my daddy's big day. The day, as he and I say, that he gets a second chance at living double. The promise that his heart will beat stronger, he'll last longer, he'll contine to climb trees with me, we'll meet in Brazil and act as if we were ten again, he'll hold his grandaughter until she doesn't let him and not because he can't. I can't begin to express the love I have for this man. He has tended to me since the day I was born, he showed me love, pure love the kind that makes you courageous and strong, the kind that lets you dream and make those dreams come true. Even now, when he is about to face a frightening moment, he laughs out loud and proves to me once again that he is one of the bravest people I know, with his handsome smile and words of wisdom he manages to ease me and to remind me to continue living, living those dreams he wanted himself.









The funny thing is that he doesn't realize he has accomplished his dreams, the problem is he has so many and continues to have so many he doesn't feel he has finished. How inspiring is that? And this is my inspiration a man who doesn't stop dreaming. My father came from a family of 15 children, where there wasn't enough love to go around for everyone, much less time, especially when you had to tend to a farm, animals, feeding the countless hungry. He decided he would not raise his own family like that. When he was old enough, he went to the nearest large town and became an apprentice with the town watchmaker where he learned his trade. In this family, he witnessed what would later change my life, that loving your children, caressing them, whispering to them, holding them tight could move mountains and so he promised that the day he would have his own children he would give them all the love in the world. And he did.


He then dreamt about going North to the United States. He signed himself up to the only school in town, a man of 20 something surrounded by 8 year olds. He learned how to read and write, how to speak Portuguese (his home language was German), later learning French as well. In time, he became an amazing watchmaker and soon enough he heard they were giving visas out to watchmakers in the U.S. He applied and packed his bags, dream completed. In time, he taught in a language school, opened his own business and met the woman of his life, my mother. He learned English through survival and Spanish for love (in order to understand my mom). Although they have an 18 year age difference, my father gave my mother all the love she never received as a child. They got married soon after and TA-DA!! I was born. My parents struggled from having boxes as furniture to a safe home. They both worked hard to give us only the necessary but sacrificied everything to give us love, a good education, and a happy childhood.





Growing up, my daddy and I had a special relationship, one I hope to some day share with my own child. He would take me to cafes on Fridays after school, buy me books I wanted as a prize for being good, lay on the driveway with me to stare at stars and wonder about the world, support my endless addictions with music instruments, drive me to all my practices and shows, carry my saxophone, go camping, Disneyland once a year and later when I was older we travelled three times to Brazil together, where, yes, we fought but bonded more than ever. When I decided to come to Spain, he was the first one to tell me to go and to not look back. He has always been the first one to say that I can do anything. He has always trusted me, believed in me and guided me. And most importantly, the first one to say he is proud of me.



Even now, he reminds me to dream. There isn't enough time. He has never stopped me from loving, dreaming, travelling, or speaking my mind, even if we don't agree. He is humble. He will share his last piece of bread with you. He is wise, his words never fail. He is honest, one of the most honest people I know. A hardworker. Gentle, even at his worst times, he has never screamed at us, hit us, or said something that has somehow damaged us. His weakness is my mother, his dogs, his grandaughter, and sitting in the sun. He wears converse, he flirts with women only to make them feel special, he smiles, genuinely and he quotes the Beatles to reflect his current situation. He came from literally the point of the world to be awarded the best employee of the city he eventually worked for in Los Angeles. He has retired and looks forward to travelling with me, to seeing his grandchildren and to help the needy. He graduated in Theology a few years ago and began a small church group. He raised me. And I hope that being the apple that I am, I haven't fallen too from from his roots because I hope to follow those brave footsteps of his and to smile in the face of fate. I love you daddy.

Clashing Festivities

It's Carnival in Barcelona! This week I finally got a chance at celebrating the Halloween I missed out on last year and although the Catalanes don't seem to be as enthusiastic about it as I was hoping, I managed to gather a few good people and celebrate. In all honesty, it has no comparison to what I imagine Brazil's Carnival would be like or even a Halloween in San Francisco, but I still got to be an imaginary characeter for a few hours, laugh at the simple extravegance of others, witness a Chinese New Year's mini parade with firecrackers and dancing dragons right next to my house and host a friend of a friend from Brazil that currently lives in Portugal. In the end it was yet another fun filled weekend and this time with a mixture of culture, languages, and adventures in a city that always has room for one more.

On Friday, Jordi and I attacked the packed costume stores of Barcelona, trying to look for the perfect costume. We started off wanting to go as Little Red Riding Hood, Jordi would have been the wolf and his friend Albert the grandmother. Since we didn't come up with the idea until 7pm that evening, when everything was already sold out, we opted for a Flapper's dress for me, a Venetian mask for Jordi, and a Sexy Cow for Albert. I have to admit we were the winning team that night. Jordi knew of a shop that sold masks, magic tricks, and much more in the heart of El Gotico. We were the last ones trying on costume and even after the doors had closed the woman in charge sat in a chair and helped tailor Jordi's mask. We went home thrilled to have something and ready to go out and about decked out in character.

Unfortunately, people didn't seem to be as prepared on Friday and we were some of the few that were dressed up, but it didn't matter because we managed to have an amazing time...to the point where we considered ourselves as the three musketeers. Albert ended up being the winner of the night, women loving his courage to dress up as a sexy cow and the men impressed with his "packaging". Albert managed to take his costume to full character which is exactly what you should do on Carnival.

The following night, Jordi and I decided to have a small cocktail/costume party at our house. When we went down to get what we would need to last through the night, we ran into the magic of our neighborhood, Chinese New Year. Next door there is a fancy Chinese restaurant that put on a small parade with firecrackers, dancing dragons, and drums in celebration of the year of the Golden pig. I loved the fact that we had a little piece of another culture right next door to us and both Jordi and I agreed that we happen to live in one of the best neighborhoods. Only on Buenos Aires can you witness a Chinese New Year parade on your way home from the market. There is no better way to spend a weekend dressing up for Carnival as you celebrate the beginning of a new year, all in February...It was Halloween and New years for the second time in a span of 4 months...

talk about globalization.

On Sunday, I invited a friend visiting from Portugal to go watch Barca play against Valencia with Alex and some of his friends. Sadly enough, Barca played a pathetic game, but that gave us enough reason to go find some food and chat. We found a Mexican restaurant not too far from our house and I realized that suddenly I was sitting in an International setting. On the table you could hear Spanish, Portuguese, Catalan, English and if Alexandre would've wanted to talk in German, German while eating Mexican food. After I was done with my enchiladas, I got a phone call from San Francisco...none other than Alex and Eugenia to add a little more spice to the cultural event. I was thrilled and realized that I am not only fortunate enough to be surrounded by amazing people, but people that make up the world and open enough to make it come together. Although we all have different identities and backgrounds, if we leave our stereotypes and fear of differences behind, we can get along and have a great time. Just the way Barcelona can host a mini carnival and chinese new year all on one block, where the only thing that clashes are the cymbals of the Chinese woman leading the parade. Happy New Years! and may you have an infinite amount of fortune this year...

All You Need is Love and meatloaf and gadgets...

Today is that very special day when you get to tell people how much you love them, how grateful you are to have them in your lives, to wear red, to buy horribly gaudy boxes of chocolates, over priced roses, ahhh commercialism...no, it's simply another day in the year with an extra touch to it. Luckily, in Catalunya it has yet to become a 'normal' holiday so as the foreigner, I am reminding all those I love that I love them. Yes, that means you! I was awoken by my beautiful friend Carolina's voice this morning telling me how much she loved me. It felt like my birthday. In a way it is, a rebirth of love. I've been walking around all day humming, "All you need is love" by the Beatles, a song dedicated to me by the Puccini and Pinetti gang before I left San Francisco.

Last week for our weekly Tuesday dinner, Alex impressed us all with his meatloaf, okay, really it's a Spanish dish, but I swear it looked like meatloaf, only better. We cooked mashed potatoes mixed with squash and ate Tiramisu ice cream. Jordi invited the neighbor and we got the 15 Buenos Aires gossip and got to know one more person. I have to admit that Alex's cooking skills have improved dramatically. I knew these boys had it in them the first time I laid eyes on them and now they are flourishing. Because all you need is a little love and inspiration and you can become the next Ferran Adrian (a famous chef here).

And then I was invited to an all exclusive girls only taper sex party that same week. It's not what you think mom! The girls decided it would be fun to host a tupperware party, only this one was made up of fun sex gadgets, oils, tricks and advice. I have to say it was very educational and hysterical. It took us all a while to warm up to the idea of using something other than our own creativity, but we, as mature ladies that we are listened, learned and ended the night with wine in our blood and a world of knowledge. In the end we all walked out with discreet bags containg the necessary to survive. Some gadgets were out of this world...I mean, I never realized the variety of intimidating gadgets that are out there. The host talked about them as if she couldn't live without them while we laughed, turned red and tried imagining how on earth you could wear chinese balls while cooking...don't ask.

The winners had to be the Sex in the city swirling pearl vibrator and the double duty strap on that you're supposed to wear when your honey comes home to give him a taste of something different. Yeah right! Imagine how you would react...Mine had to be the remote control one, the one you wear to Christmas dinner and hand the control to your loved one and say, "Tonight you are in control" Whooo...unfortunately it was way out of my budget...but I'm an optimist. The greatest part was being surrounded by lovely women, two who happened to be pregnant and in need of a little material loving...who said women don't have needs?

And there you have it folks, yet another learning experience abroad...I highly recommend crossing borders in order to learn something new...and we aren't talking foreign languages.

Happy Valentines to all of you and remember, "all you need is love tan tantumtum...all you need is love sweet love..."

Where the Streets Have No Name

(Bear with me, this is a long story but worth reading, believe me)
Sometimes, life plays little tricks on you. A night begins. You think it'll be just like any other night and then suddenly it takes a wild turn and life unfolds before your eyes. A single choice quickly leads you into a new direction and if you're lucky it's a good direction, the kind that smacks reality into you and you're grateful for being alive and hopeful that good people still really exist. U2 put it perfectly, to go where the streets have no name, where you feel sunlight on your face, where you reach out and touch the flame.

Last Friday was one of those nights. I was invited to a party. It began with that, a friend of a friend told me I should come and I did. The party was for a guy who was moving back to Germany and who apparently I had met before. It was a great suprise to see him again and to bid him goodbye. After the house party, they were going to continue on to a discotheque which I agreed to go to with my roommate Jordi and my friend Courtney. The night was going fantastic. We danced and danced and for a few hours I felt young, you know that foolish freedom you get from dancing on the dance floor to your favorite songs with your hands in the air and your eyes closed.
SCENE 1: The night was ending, Courtney comes up to me, extremely upset, telling me that someone has stolen her phone, but in her hand she has a cellphone. I ask her whose cellphone that is and she tells me she found it where her cellphone should've been. I felt bad for her, but didn't know what to do, so with that foolish freedom I was feeling, I continued dancing. She told me she was going home and I wished her good luck.
SCENE 2: The German wanted to continue the night and I tell him sure, I'll go too...foolish foolish freedom. I go to grab my jacket which I had carelessly left on a couch with my phone, wallet and keys. And of course, the jacket, THE leather jacket I had wanted so badly in the middle of summer, was missing. I was shocked. I had never had anything stolen from me before. All I could think was of all the numbers I had in my phone that I might never get back, the bank card with my small but essential savings, my id, my privacy, my leather jacket!
SCENE 3: Courtney comes back into the picture, apparently never having left. I explain to her what just happened and she brilliantly tells me to call my phone with the newfound phone in her hands. I do and someone picks up. He says he has my jacket, which he found on the street and which he will immediately take back for me. I meet him at the door and he hands me the jacket and phone. I search the pockets and find to my dismay that my wallet and keys are gone. My heart drops and I look him straight in the eyes and ask him if he was the one that took it. He swears he didn't and I could search him if I wanted to. I tell him it's not necessary, there was nothing else to do, but take his word for it. I put on my jacket and decide to go home. The night should've ended hours ago. Jordi comes out and suddenly Courtney is talking to the guy who has her phone on the borrowed phone she found. They seem to be having communication problems and I tell Jordi to get on the phone with him to work things out. After half an hour of promising the stranger we don't think he's a robber or bad guy, we agree to meet him the next day to get the phone back and to buy him a beer in appreciation.
SCENE 4: I'm freezing, but oddly calm about having my stuff taken. Grateful that Courtney would get her phone back and that I had my leather jacket. Suddenly, the other phone starts ringing. Jordi talks yet again to another freaked out stranger. He had lost his phone at the club. He had left the club with a friend who had drank too much and had gotten into a horrible car accident. They were both okay, in the hospital, but okay and he of course needed his phone since he didn't have his mother and girlfriend's phone memorized (how do you not know your mother's number???) Jordi agrees to take it to him. I tell him he's crazy and he reminds me that both Courtney and I had gotten our stuff back and it was our duty as citizens of the world to give this guy his phone. We bid Courtney goodbye and make our long way to the hospital. We get lost. But we manage to eat pudding and laugh our heads off at the events that just won't end.
SCENE 5: We finally get to the hospital after the poor guy has called 4 times asking where we are at. Did I mention his ringtone was Madonna and it's driving me crazy? What is up with these ringtones??? We find him at the entrance of Emergency with his x-rays in hand and tears in his eyes. He tells us his story and I remind him that at least he's alive. In the end we are all still alive. He invites us to come and eat at his house some day and hands us 40euros. Jordi and I refuse, but he gives it to us anyways. Jordi gives me 20 and says that at least I get the money back that I had lost. As we are walking back to the car, the guy looks at Jordi and matter of factly tells him: "I know you. I slept with your ex-girlfriend." Jordi and I laugh, jordi guesses the girl correctly and I can't believe that this night still hasn't ended. The guy reminds us that we'll have to come and eat at his house and we say, "sure buddy".
SCENE 6: we of course get lost in the hospital, spend half an hour going in circles through restricted areas until someone shows us the way out.
SCENE 7: I get home and call the bank immediately. Cancel my cards, put an alert on any accounts I might have pending, and call my mom. For some reason, mom always saves the day. She tells me she'll keep an eye out for my things and adds that they have finally given my daddy the date he will get operated (He has heart problems). In an instant, my world crashes and i realize that I would be willing to get my entire life stolen as long my dad made it through this. I hang up, silent, watching the sunrise and finally go to bed. All I want is to sleep and feel sunlight on my face.
SCENE 8: (I told you this was long) My mother calls the next day and tells me, "Heidi, you aren't going to believe this. I just got a call from a girl in Barcelona, studying, who's from Texas and she found your wallet with everything in it, money, cards, id, everything. Call her immediately." I do and she promises to return it to me as soon as possible. She tells me she found it on the street and I realize I wasn't robbed, somebody had foolishly mistaken my jacket for theirs, realized it wasn't theirs and left it on the street. Foolish foolish foolish freedom...
SCENE 9: We go to meet the guy who has Courtney's phone and he doesn't show up. But he finally meets up with Courtney the next day and she gets her phone back.
SCENE 10: I don't get my wallet back until Monday but it's okay. I'm alive. The guy from Germany calls me back in hopes that I got my stuff back and that I am okay. We wish the best of luck to each other and laugh at the madness of the night.

And then you piece all of this together and what do you get? A world, a few human beings, strangers with no names, that still take the time to pick up someone's belongings, to give them back, to stop for a few seconds and think in the good of others. So I can't help but think that there are still some really good people in this world, who expect nothing other than a thank you. And so I'm asking you to help me pick up some pieces...on February 9th please stop for a moment and send my daddy some good energy, he needs all he can get for that little ticker of his and in return I will supply you with a lifetime thank you.