A Christmas Carol...

Since ages, I had promised to tell this story, so I am finally trying to do so… This happened to me some time ago, while I was living in Madrid and when I was not so skilled with the car (I do not claim to be Lewis Hamilton now for sure, but when I started with the car… well, let’s put it this way… I had certain difficulties)…

El Corte Inglés is the biggest department store in Spain and, in the capital city, Castellana is the biggest and the reference shop meaning that it is always fully packed! Well, to park in Castellana is always difficult, but when you try to do so during the Christmas period… then, any other thing you may want to do in this world is for sure easier! There is a parking space close to the entrance of the store where you can leave your car and actually pay a fortune for just a few minutes, but you accept it the way it is, and just pay! I tried to do so once during Christmas: organised and squared as I am, I had EVERYTHING planned in advance… getting there, parking in this place so close to the entrance and doing what I needed in just a very short time… all should have been perfect according to my scheme and planning… but it never is! Somehow, I missed the entrance of the parking and I entered in what I thought was actually the parking plot, to discover that I was in fact imprisoned in a one-car and one-way lane for taxis from which I could not escape! It is a kind of route of only one car width meant for taxis; taxis patiently follow it and advance a little bit averytime the taxi that is passing just in front of the store door collects a “victim” (or passenger). Who knows how I managed to enter this lane and miss the entrance for the parking???? Honestly, I have no clue!! It would have been much easier to meet Bruce Springsteen in an airport God knows where (something I would not mind at all, by the way), but the fact is that I finally ended up being caught in the middle of that queue from which I could not possibly escape! And really, now that I think about it, I have some problem with taxis, as most of my funny stories have happened with taxis in one way or the other… ok, I will not go into details as these will be posted sooner or later, I guess…

So, I was really disappointed on one side, but of course, I must admit I am quite used to these kind of situations, as my life seems to have been taken from a book (here, you should read “from a comic book”, of the “Bridget Jones Diary” or the like)… So, at this point, I evaluated my options: 1/ I start a career as a taxi driver in Madrid? Well, not really so attracted by that, I have to admit; 2/ I can get out of the car, do what I need in the shop, and quickly get back to the car? As long as the car moved with the queue, option 2/ seemed great to me (you have to admit it, it was a great idea at that moment)... And then I thought: why not asking someone to move the car meanwhile? Honestly, when I think of what I did in that specific moment, I doubt if I had either drunk something really strong or if I had smoked something of double strength, but I guess the answer is none of the two, the idea just came to me in my "normal and conscious state" (which can even be more worrying)… But, honestly, it simply came into my mind as most of the things do, just without thinking… that’s it… exactly without thinking (because if you think even for a second, any sensible person in this world would already discard the idea…. but not me….specially not me…).

So, just like that, with the option number 2/ in my head, I got out of the car, and went to speak to the taxi driver just behind me, patiently following the lane: “Would you mind moving my car while you move yours in the lane, and meanwhile, I will go into the shop and quickly finish something I need to do, please? It will only be a question of two minutes, and I will be back very, very soon, with plenty of time before you pass in front of the door to get your passenger, for sure….” No words can possibly do justice to the face that the poor taxi driver had when I explained to him “my plan corresponding to the option 2/”… He was just about to collapse or maybe to phone the mental hospital and ask whether someone was missing… But (maybe because it was Christmas? I do not think so, but in all films people are doing good things in this period, so why not?) the reality is that he was maybe too shocked to even be able to articulate anything that was not an “ok…??!!” and I gave him my car keys and ran into the store without waiting too long for him to react… I could finally shop what I needed and really the taxi driver needs to be happy that I was really rushing to get all done in the shortest possible time ever… And really admitting that I had plenty of “distractions” attracting my voluble resolution when it comes to being quick in a shop and focussing on an objective… So, really, he needs to be thankful and happy after all for what I did… Et voilà! I was back and my car was even two cars after the taxi that was at that moment in front of the door getting the next passenger… So proud and so happy to be there on time…

Even if not conventional at all, do you now understand that this post is titled A Christmas Carol?

So, so sweet, isn’t it?? I really love Christmas… Such a wonderful period…

Swiss yoga...

First post of the year after a long break, and in a new language! Not to follow by this that I am not in love with the language of Cervantes, but being an expat means to change in so many different ways that I somehow realized I needed to do this in English now... For those who know me well this just reassures you that I am as chaotic as I've always been!

To start with, I love yoga: I know, when somebody asks me which sports I practise and then I reply "golf and yoga" honestly this does not put me very high in sportive rankings... Still, I am not lying and these actually represent up to where my "sport level" can go... Believe it or not, risking to become highly impopular, I do not like sports, it's a fact...

But let me just start from yoga and from the beginning... I have been practising yoga for something like eight years now, starting in Madrid and now in Switzerland for over nine months. When I arrived to my first Swiss yoga class everybody started at the beginning to kiss each other: good, I thought, this is exactly like in Madrid... But here you kiss three times instead of two, a bit more tiresome but still ok... The main principle in yoga is that everyone loves everyone, so you just kiss everyone as if you knew that person forever... Being Spanish this would not create such a big issue, but to be honest, people here kiss at all times, much more than we do in Spain, no matter what you are told about that... and when it comes to yoga.. you kiss more...and each time you do a 50% more... so, in the end, you are quite tired of kissing...

Anyway, class begings: same principle, lots of candles, music with low Shanti and yoga mats prepared... Quite the same, I think... Your teacher comes (gorgeous woman probably ageing 60 and looking 40, when you are 40 looking ...let's not be cruel... 50) ... Still everything is the same as in Spain... After initial meditation opening your chakras (honestly, I have strong doubts that I have ever opened a chakra, I have no clue where these are located... I cannot find anything in my handbag, so how am I going to find and open something that, in case I find, I do not even know what to do with?), you start with the yoga postures, nothing new here either, so it should be a child's game you think... Life has now shown me that whenever you think that, you are getting into trouble, and this is just one more example. You start well: "jambe gauche" (here I use a mnemotechnic rule, "droite" with a d for "derecha", right, and the other one for what is not right, thus left) so "left leg"...good, left leg on top of "genou droit" ("droit" derecha) thus you put your left leg on top of your right knee...not an issue... but the cycle continues, and while you have your left leg on top of your right knee, you now have to put your "brat droit" (you can still think, even when you have your right leg over your left knee, or was it the left knee over the right leg? not to panic, just keep as you are and follow the instructions) so... "Brat droit" (droit, with d from derecha, right in english) so your right arm over your "brat gauche" (gauche no d, so left, which is not derecha, which is right in Spanish)... I follow, no problem, all is clear... Now, you add another variant, and you turn all your body "gauche" (gauche, no d, so izquierda, left in English) but your head is turned "droite" ( droite, d from derecha, right in English) ...ufffff. This is getting hard.... And of course while you are there, in such a confortable posture, you have to remember to open the chakras and to smile and the funny thing comes when you take a look at the other people in the class (after the mnemothecnic rules you could only concentrate on how to position yourself but you were completely away from anything else) to realize that you are doing some posture which has absolutely nothing to do with everyone else's posture... It is exactly the same as when you follow instructions when you buy something from ikea (yes, and you are a woman, because even if I have problems to admit it, men have something in their genes to allow them to mount anything easily while you struggle to follow instructions and get something close to reality) ... So you accept it, you are looking in a stupid way (if you have not tried yoga yet, I can tell you there are plenty of mirrors in any yoga class, just to remind you how hilarious you look), your posture is the ikea assembly of a woman (even better, of a woman in "one of those days") but you still have to smile, open your chakras (only seven, so what do you worry about?), empty your mind (for sure, this is something women do just as easy as that) and smile, always smile....

What I said... everything is the same as in Madrid...