Summer in the City

The last week has been a whirlwind of new places, new people, and heat!

On Wednesday I went into DC to visit a friend. She couldn’t take the day off, but she arranged it so that I could get into her apartment earlier in the day, leave my car there, then Metro to the sights. I went to DC once when I was in 7th grade but hadn’t been back since. While I know not much of the city changed (by way of monuments, museums and sights), I have changed. And I am more into photography now. So I wanted to do “The Mall” again. RB, my DC friend, was so great and organized. She left me maps, a metro pass, detailed instructions on where to go and what to do. I didn't have to think at all, and I loved every minute of it. This is what greeted me when I entered her apartment. It was so detailed and thorough, I had to take a picture of it.






The day went well and everything went smoothly. I walked around the monuments for about 3 hours. Then it was too hot to do more. I found a Starbucks near the White House and cooled off for a bit with some iced coffee. After that, I met RB here for happy hour and dinner at the Sky Terrace. During the summer months they open the rooftop patio. There are stunning views of the city, the monuments and the White House. I think you can actually see the Oval Office too. The view looks like this:












Seeing everything in DC this time ended up being really different from before. Everything meant more. Maybe because I know/appreciate more about our history.

Thursday night was the happy hour I organized for the people in my program (via the accepted student online forum). I don’t know much about the “cool” bars in B’more, so I just picked this Irish Pub right on the water in the inner harbor. The bar was fun, there was a good turnout, and I really liked some of the girls right away. In fact, we made plans to get together again the next night.

This is the inner harbor, by the way.










Which brings me to Friday. On Friday I finished painting these for my bedroom:

I did do the painting freehand, but it wasn’t hard at all since it is a pretty simple design. And it was even less hard because I didn’t come up with the concept. I was "inspired" by this artist, courtesy of KA. Painting was fun--it was great to have a creative outlet--but I used a color that ended up being slightly too green. Which meant another trip to the store and another coat of paint. Of course that presented new challenges: Will the new color be right once it’s dry? Will the new color, even if it is right, look right on top of the old color?? In trying to cover the old green color and keep the edges smooth and sharp, I ended up taking more width away from everything. So it’s all kind of wrong. But in the end, I still kind of like them.

Later on Friday I met up with about 6 girls for a night of partying in Fell’s Point, a cobblestone-street, water-front neighborhood full of bars. We did a good job of hitting up lots of different places. Unfortunately, most of the girls were a year or two younger then me. They liked doing sweet shots. Lots of them. Of all different kinds of alcohol. And because it was my first night really out on the town I joined in. That was a good idea until the next morning. I wasn’t really hung over…but I wasn’t really right either. And if I didn’t have any plans I easily could have wasted the day away sitting on the couch. Instead, I rallied, as there were things to do and places to go! And…more beer to drink (woe was me).

RB came up on Saturday to visit this lovely little metropolis. She has never really seen it so we planned a couple of days full of B’more fun. We met up with some of my new friends at Brew in the Zoo, a fundraising, beer and wine tasting event at the Maryland Zoo. We thought it sounded fun...and so did everyone else. It took 1 hour and 45 min to get a parking spot and tickets. Right as we were buying our tickets, after we had been in line for an hour, they put out “Sold Out” signs. People in the line behind us were not happy. Inside the events were more long lines, but at least there was free stuff at the end of them. And at least there was shade and grass to sit under and on. I had been dying in line from the heat, and I was still a little not right from my partial hangover. Getting to sit down in the shade and eat a cheeseburger was the highlight of my afternoon.

Later that night we grabbed a fabulous seafood dinner on the inner harbor, then met up with a group of RB’s friends, and then with some people we met at Brew in the Zoo. It was tough being out again, but I connected with the Irish in me and pulled through. It helped that I drank much less and was home much earlier.

Today, RB and I went to the farmers market where I did most of my produce shopping for the week. Then we grabbed brunch at a great little place near moi. When RB left I decided it was time to hit up the pool! It was fun. Hot, but fun. I only lasted a couple of hours.

For the rest of the day, I am going to sit inside, in the air conditioning, on my couch. No new people, no alcohol, no fatty food, no talking (my voice is a little raspy from the two nights out).

Today is for resting because there is more summer to come. The summer calendar issue of the local city paper just came out. It has pages and pages of events, festivals, movies-in-the-park, etc. I was really overwhelmed. Next weekend is a Polish Festival. Later in the month there is a gay pride parade. There are art fairs to stroll through and rivers to inner tube down. Apparently there's a great Jamaican shindig hitting up a near-by park later in the summer. Tomorrow Hopkins plays Duke in the Lacrosse Finals. I might get talked into going to any and all of these things. But I won’t make any decisions about any of all that until later.

Observations

So I keep putting off writing in here. It’s not that I don’t have the time—I have stuff going on but very little structure to my days. I could easily find time to write in here if I wanted to. It’s not that I don’t have the material. Actually, it’s quite the opposite. I have TOO much I want to say. And I think maybe that might be the very problem. I have too much to say, and it makes me feel overwhelmed. And then this blog becomes a big chore. I think there’s just so much “new” in my life right now that it is exhausting to write about it. Sometimes, I don’t even want to talk about it. It’s too much work to have to re-tell the stuff worth telling. But maybe I’m just feeling all this because of all the changes my life has gone through recently. Everything around me is new and nothing is easy (because it’s all new). I think that is more exhausting than I think.

But now, in writing even the above paragraph, I’m in “writing mode” and feel like saying more. So here goes…

Here are some observations on life my in Baltimore so far:

• The roads here are in the worse shape ever. There are bumps and potholes and ditches and dips everywhere. I am certain my car will need new shocks soon.
• Steam comes out of the manholes here. I’ve never seen that before except as dramatic context in dark, thriller, murder-mystery films. I’m sure it has something to do with the inner workings of the city and perhaps temperature/humidity, but maybe Baltimore is full of mystery.
• I saw a sign on a bus today that promoted marriage. Seriously. It said something to the effect of “Marriage is good and it costs less then being single.”
• I have seen several signs talking about how “virgin” isn’t a bad word. I think it is good to teach young teens to abstain until they’re older (or smarter), but I think it’s funny that someone is spending a lot of money on billboards like this. This billboard, along with the “pro-marriage” one, makes me wonder what kinds of things the Maryland teens are up to these days…
• Baltimore is not a very bike-friendly city. This CA girl will not be riding her beach cruiser on the streets of B’more any time soon. Fortunately, there are many parks and forests and shorefront places to ride. And since MD experiences a real winter, summer is like a constant party. Everyone wants to be outside doing stuff in the sun. It’s sweet.
• The pool on the roof of my apartment opens this weekend. I was shocked to find that out because it never occurred to me that it would be closed. Sure, I didn’t expect people to use it in the winter, but the idea of closing a pool? Well…I guess those thoughts just make it obvious that I come from a warmer place. I still chuckle when I see signs in all the elevators announcing the big opening day. With the 85 degree weather and 60% humidity we’ve experienced since my arrival here, that pool should have opened already!
• Having a whole apartment to oneself is interesting. Now I pretty much only use my room to sleep in. All other living is done elsewhere.

Here are some observations about other states from the cross country journey:

• You know how our weather is sometimes broken into the temperature in the morning and at night? Sometimes we even have a mid-day high/low forecast? Well in Texas they break it down by meal. So the temperatures are given for Breakfast, Lunch and Dinner.
• BBQ is a very important thing to many states. And each once claims that its BBQ is different (and better) than the other types out there. But you know what? It’s all kind of the same. It’s all about meat that is cooked in some kind of tomato-based sauce. It’s all good, but it’s not all that different.
• The trucking community is one that I never wish to be a part of. It is, however, a good sub-culture to find a husband in. Not necessarily a good husband, but if you want a man, any trucking gas station off highway 40 is the place to go. Especially if they have a country buffet restaurant attached. You can eat some fried chicken and cheesy grits there, but then take the dessert to go.
• New Orleans is very seedy. Or at least Bourbon Street is. It’s like a Frat Party mixed with Tijuana bars geared towards 18 years olds who only want to drink anything that is sweet, frozen, and blended. The rest of the French Quarter is lovely and full of charm. The area around the French Quarter is still riddled with Katrina-related devastation. That part was sad.

Okay…see? One little paragraph above led to all this. I was tricked into writing!!!!

Believing in the Underdog

I survived the cross-country trip and am now settled in Baltimore. So far I really love the city! It’s got so much history and fun little neighborhoods to explore. Prior to coming here I got lots of comments along the lines of, “Despite what you hear about it, Baltimore is great!” and “I was surprised how much I really liked it.” All the comments were full of affection but qualified as though they expected their opinions to be challenged. Or as though one might not believe how great the city is. I think I’m going to love this place in the same way that I loved Long Beach. It’s sort of like the underdog. It’s got some rough patches, but the rough paired with the good makes it all the more lovable.

Plus, I’ve only seen good things so far. The weather has been nice. I’m in love with my neighborhood and apartment (my actual space and the building). There are cute boys who invite me to parties in the elevator. The Inner Harbor is stunning in the way that only big cities on water can be (a cross between Sydney and San Francisco, in my opinion). There are lots of Indian places that deliver. Nothing is far away. I already have friends within a two block radius of my place (thanks to Laura!). The pool is on the 20th floor and is open for use starting this weekend. There’s a big mall about a mile away with all the important stores in it. There’s lots of coastline and water front areas to explore. What more could a girl want?

Baltimore is sometimes shortened to B’more. “Be More.” I like that philosophy. There seems to be some sort of campaign going on around the city with signs that say “Believe” everywhere. Kind of like this:
















Be More. Believe. This is my kind of place.

My parents left yesterday and I was really sad. I’d gotten used to being with them 24-7 and while that did drive me crazy at times, I felt sad without them initially. I think the problem with driving cross-country is that the distance is really felt. Flying for 6 hours from coast to coast is obviously the same distance, and sure, it’s a long day in the air. But when you travel all those miles by road…well….it just makes you feel that much further. You really get that you’re on one side of this great big country while everyone you love is way across on the other. I didn’t feel lonely, but I felt far, far away.

Last night I had dinner with my friend SC (from the year I lived in England) in Washington DC. It was great catching up with her but wow was it hard to drive out of that city! I got lost. It was dark. I was tired. I ended up taking the long way around only to stumble across a major traffic jam at 11:30 PM.

Today I went to the Baltimore Farmer’s Market with my new friend LK. I bought strawberries, asparagus and a rosemary plant. I avoided looking at the crepes, sausage sandwiches, and various pastries. But I knew they were there. Lurking in my periphery and calling me to feast.

After that, I went to a “Wine in the Woods” festival where they provided “ample tasting” for a small price. It was all green grass and big trees, sunshine and jazz, laughter and fair food, and lots and lots of Maryland vino. Did you know Maryland has many wineries? I did not. Some of it is really good. Although, after some ample tasting, what isn’t?

A 300 Page Paperback

I've been in a book club for about 4.5 years now. It's been so much fun, and I've read so many great books I wouldn't have read otherwise. Some of those books, in fact, I would now call favorites,

Tonight was my last official (in-person) book club meeting. I'm going to try and keep it up from the left coast via Skype (an internet conferiencing program). Hopefully it will work out, but I fear finding the time to keep up with the reading will be tough.

I have sort of been acting as the historian of the book club. My official responsibilities meant keeping a list of all the books we've read. Miss J asked that I post it somewhere online, so here it is. It's quite a list, and it spans all kinds of different authors, generations, experiences. In a sense I feel like I've lived each of these books. Sharing them with the other book club members has only added to the experience, and I'm thankful for it all.

(I am too lazy to italicize and link each title. Sorry. Search for it manually on Amazon if you're interested. The list begins with the book most recently read and goes backwards. Some books were fantastic. Others, not so much. If you have questions about which ones we liked and didn't, email me.)

The Namesake, Jhumpa Lahiri
A Blessed Event, John Reynolds Page
The Memory Keepers Daughter, Kim Edwards
Lamb, Christopher Moore
Paint it Black, Janet Fitch
100 Years of Solitude, Gabriel Garcia Marquez
The Devil in the White City, Erik Larsen
Shantaram, Gregory David Roberts
On Beauty, Zadie Smith
The Kite Runner, Khaled Hosseini
The Dogs of Babel, Carolyn Parkhurst
The Magician's Nephew (Book 4, Chronicles of Narnia), C.S. Lewis
Identity, Milan Kundera
Scarlett Pimpernel, Baroness Orczy
Reading Lolita in Tehran, Azar Nafisi
The Known World, Edward P Jones
The Orchid Thief, Susan Orlean
The Instance of the Fingerpost, Iain Pears
The Time Traveler's Wife, Audrey Niffenegger
Love Monkey, Kyle Smith
Unless, Carol Sheilds
The Confessions Max Tivoli, Andrew Sean Greer
Sula, Toni Morrison
A Moveable Feast, Ernest Hemingway
The Five People You Meet in Heaven, Mitch Albom
The Things They Carried, Tim O'Connor
East of Eden, John Steinbeck
Bel Canto, Ann Patchett
The Curious Incident of the Dog at Midnight, Mark Haddon
Book of Illusions, Peter Auster
A Fine Balance, Rohinton Mistry
When They Were Orphans, Kazuo Ishiguro
Five Quarters of the Orange, Joanne Harris
Auntie Mame, Patrick Dennis
Crimson Petal and the White, Michel Faber
The Corrections, Jonathan Franzen
The Virgin Suicides, Jeffrey Eugenides
Sister of My Heart, Chitra Divakaruni
Man and Boy, Tony Parsons

More Pictures from Spain

Some of my favorite pictures from Spain are now posted here.

I've only gone through about 1/3 of the photos so I'm sure more favorites will come.

When everything is done, I'll upload all of them to a Kodak Gallery to share.

Spain, the Finale

So there you have it. The previous nine entries give the highlights of my trip to Northern Spain. There is more to tell, and maybe one day I will. Many of the other smaller details will unfold when I finally get around to putting up pictures. I hope to start that later today, actually. There are 1500 to go through so it is a daunting task.

I posted seven times today, and I realize that is a lot to read. Between you and me, it was a hell of a lot to write! My goal in talking about the Spain trip in installments hasn’t really been practical with my life recently. It’s been a crazy couple of weeks, and when I have had the time to sit and write, I haven’t had the mental energy to do so. Since coming back I’ve been sick twice, had a yard sale, moved out of my apartment, moved back into my parents house, went to San Francisco and ate out way too much.

[BTW, I’ve decided that leaving = fattening. But dinners and lunches are the perfect way to meet and say good-bye with friends. And since I’m often going to places I won’t be eating at for awhile, it provides the perfect justification for thoughts like this: “You won’t be here again for a long time…you definitely need to get that dessert.” “There isn’t a lot of (good) Mexican food on the east coast, you need that burrito!” ]

I won’t be able to blog regularly again for the next two weeks, so if you are one of the 3 people who read this blog, read a little at a time. Read it at work when you need a break! I tried to make it interesting and worth your while, and I’ve included pictures where possible.

I can’t believe I only have two full more days in So Cal. Before, I thought this week would be sad. Instead it all just feels a little surreal. I don’t really feel like I’m leaving. I feel like I’m just at my parent’s house for something like Christmas. I know that once I hit the road, the truth of it all my hit me as well. But until then, I’m going to keep eating Mexican food, reading in the sun, and sleeping in each day.

Sand and Snow

Spain, the Miniseries part 9

During one of our days on the trip, we spent the morning exploring sunny beaches. We were dressed in tank tops, skirts, and sandals. After exploring the coast we headed inland to drive through a long, steep and winding gorge in the Picos de Europa National park. We planned to take a gondola ride up 6000’ to the top. What we didn’t plan on was snow. We were shocked to see snow at the base and even more surprised to see that the top was covered in thick white powder! We had jackets, but our bare feet were not prepared. It was funny...until my big toes started to lose feeling.

Museum Mondays and France

Spain, the Miniseries part 8

When planning the trip, I forgot that many museums aren’t open on Monday. This included Bilboa’s Guggenheim. We definitely wanted to see the museum, but when we couldn't it was okay for three reasons: 1) The main attraction of this museum is the building itself, and while the inside was closed, the outside was there ready for us to see. It really is stunning and I’m so glad we went. 2) Because the museum was closed the town was so much easier to drive through and park in, and the area around the building was very empty. It made everything more enjoyable. 3) Because we weren’t going to the museum, we had time to do something else with our day. So instead, we went to France!

I have been to France several times and have always enjoyed it. But driving over the border on this trip for a quick, bonus visit made me realize how much I truly do love it. And, in a sense, I miss it. I love the language, I love the culture, I even love the Parisians. I was pleased about how much of the language I still remember, and how quickly my mind switches to saying things in French. (It was actually hard in Spain not to default to French during difficult communication times!)

So yeah, I loved being en France again. I don’t mean to sound overly dramatic, but the sun seemed to shine brighter on the French side of the border. I felt at home and I wanted to just keep driving in further.

I have heard people from all over the world rave about Spain. Many people I know talk about how fabulous the Spanish culture and lifestyle are. I get it. I really do. I like the small meals, the siesta schedules, the outlook on life, the colorful music. I feel even more strongly about all that after this past trip. But those couple of hours spent exploring the French coast and St Jean de Luz made me understand how much I adore France. The French culture resonates with me more.

Tastes Just Like....Pulvo

Spain, the Miniseries part 7

Towards the end of the trip we decided to hop over to Portugal for dinner one night. The town was a sleepy one and without a guide book, suggestions from locals, or knowledge of the Portuguese language, it was challenging finding a place to eat. When we finally did we had no idea what was on the menu. We used KA’s Spanish and my French to figure out a few items, and ended up ordering a couple of pulvo dishes. “Chicken” in Spanish is pollo and it's poulet in French. Thus it could follow that “chicken” in Portuguese, another Latin-based romance language bordering the Mediterranean, might be something like pulvo. Well it turns out that pulvo actually meant octopus. Octopus covered in slimy purple skin and tentacles. One of the pulvo dishes was gross (according to KA, as I wouldn’t eat it). The other one wasn’t so bad (after KA told me it was safe to eat). Yes, that meal was definitely something of a dining adventure.

The Western Edge

Spain, the Miniseries part 6

For most of my life I’ve lived on the west coast of the US. The year I lived in England, I was in the North West, about a half hour from the coast. My favorite place in Ireland is the coast around Galway, near the Cliffs of Moher. It happens to be on the western edge of the island. I adore Baja California (on the west) and loved exploring the Italian Rivera (also on the west). Prior to coming to Spain, I knew I had a weakness for the western edges of things. Our visit to Spain, and specifically Galicia, was another example of this. There’s something about the western edge of things that I like. It could be because of the whole “frontier” philosophy associated with this direction. Maybe some of the ideology that paired exploration and adventure with all things “west” is passed along in genetic memory, and exists somewhere in my psyche. But I don’t think that’s why. I think it has to do more with the sun. When I am on on east coasts, it seems wrong that the sky over the water is dark as the day ends. It feels better to bid the day adieu as bright orangey light sinks into water.

Whatever the reason, western edges are my favorite. Maybe that is why I loved the Galicia region of Spain best.

Maybe my opinion on East Coasts will change when I move to the MD at the end of the week!

Boo!

Spain, the Miniseries part 5

I don’t know how I feel about ghosts, but we were in two distinct places on this trip that felt haunted. One night we stayed in a Medieval castle in a town that was still walled-in and cobblestone. The town was in the middle of the country and no cars could drive through the center (to protect the cobblestones). The whole thing felt like a flashback to middle age living. Our castle/hotel had thick stone walls, high open-beamed ceilings, large windows with big swinging wooden shutters, and creaky wooden floors. Our room was on the top floor at the end of a long hallway. The castle/hotel was quiet and the town was completely silent at night. Everything felt really empty. I couldn’t help but think about all the people, lives and events that had passed through those walls prior to us being there. I don’t know if ghosts were there per se, but the place felt haunted by history. And with the quiet isolation and the creaky wood, both KA and I were too afraid to get up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom. It didn’t help that I was reading a book about vmpires in Europe at the time. I went to sleep after KA, and I was too afraid to turn off the TV. I watched the Spanish version of what I think was Dancing with the Stars until I felt distanced enough from any lingering haunting feelings.

A couple of days later, we took a steep, desolate, pin-turn winding drive up over a mountain to visit a small village. Santo Andres de Teixido is nestled into rugged, green cliffs on the north-west corner of the European continent. There was a church there that had been involved in pilgrimages for many years. Prior to that, it had been a Celtic village and our guide book told of some interesting traditions involving potions, an annual orgy and beliefs about reincarnation into reptiles. The place felt desolate, old and steeped in history. The old people who lived there gave us dirty looks as we drove in. The church was dark and empty, and it felt scary. So much that KA and I didn’t even want to walk in. We didn’t feel comfortable in the village in general, and we left as soon as we snapped a couple of pictures and figured out how to get out there (there was a little issue with the map...)

(This picture doesn't necessarily have to do with either of the haunted places, but it is a scary gargoyle.)

Tapas y Vino

Spain, the Miniseries part 4

Spanish food, in general, seemed a little bland to me; bland in the sense that there wasn't a lot of seasoning and bland in the sense that it was a lot of the same thing all the time. They really love seafood and ham. I mean REALLY love it. They love ham so much, in fact, that there is a chain of stores called Museo de Jamon (Museum of Ham) where they sell various types of ham butcher-style, along with wine and beer to encourage good spirits and a jovial atmostphere while shopping. Everyone Museo de Jamon we passed was super crowded. By the end of the trip we were craving any other kind of food and inhaled burritos and Chinese during our layover on the way home.

The Spanish don’t really eat breakfast, as we know it. When they eat out they consume most of their meals in these café-bar concoctions that sell coffee, fresh squeezed OJ, liquor, beer, strange meat dishes, churros and the occasional sandwich from a bar. The Spanish eat small amounts all day and the “tapas” type meal is a very big part of the routine. It took awhile for KA and I to get into the pattern, to know what to order, when to order it, and where to get it. In the end we got our Spanish food-groove on and had our favorite dishes. For breakfast we ordered tostas (toast), zumo de naranja natural (fresh OJ) and café con leche (the nectar of the gods, in my opinion). For lunch we’d usually get bocadillos (sandwiches) or tortillas.

[Spainish tortillas are round, thick potato omelet things that are sliced into quiche-sized pieces. When we order we’d say, “Dos tortillas, por favor.” Then the server would look at us blankly. So we would say “tortillas” again, emphasizing a more Spanish style accent. And finally they would get what we were saying, and say “Ah…..tor-TIL-las!” We never thought we said it much differently than they did, but what do we know?]

Dinner was usually more adventurous but generally more of the same kind of thing (ham, seafood, tapas). One night I ordered vegetarian pasta at a touristy restaurant. The menu and the waiter confirmed that the dish had “no carne!” I ended up with a bowl of penne and shrimp floating in salt water. Yum.

Another thing to add about the Spanish dining experience: Tapas bars were kind of intimidating. People generally stand around near the bar, yelling what they want and throwing their trash on the floor. It’s hard to get space and hard to get attention from the servers. When you do get their attention, it’s scary to try and order something correctly with the limited time they give you. We were better about them in the end, but it took several days before we were brave enough to go in there and order with some authority.

While we got a bit tired of the some Spanish food, there are some really good things about their cuisine and the way they eat. I already mentioned we like tortillas. The café con leches are fantastic (the best one ever was in Bilbao). The availability of fresh OJ EVERYWHERE is something I could get used to. Seriously—every bar/café thing had a juicer and a big bowl of oranges next to it. They squeezed it when you ordered, and I made sure to drink the zumo every day. The arroz con leche (rice pudding) was great when we could find it. Same thing with paella. We went to a restaurant known for its paella on the last night and it was fantastic. I really liked the idea of eating small meals throughout the day. It’s good for the metabolism and it meant I rarely felt stuffed the way I do after an American meal out.

Another great thing about Spanish dining and food? The vino. Spanish wine is fan-freakin’-tastic. I never had a bad glass, even when it was just the house vino tinto (red wine). We tasted and bought a few bottles from an adorably passionate Galician man. He kept stumbling on his English and apologizing with the kind of drama I typically attribute to Italians. Spain is the third largest exporter of wine in the world, and according to the passionate Galician wine seller, Spanish wine is sold mature and ready to drink. Unlike French wine it doesn’t necessarily need to be stored prior to drinking. Others have since contested this idea saying that storage times depend on the bottle and grape, but I like the idea of it being ready for consumption right away. It seems appropriate, culturally, that Spanish wine is ready immediately while French wine needs to sit and wait awhile.

Baile, Baile!

Spain, the Miniseries, part 3

We went out only a few nights during the trip. Most nights we were either too tired or were in towns too small for a night scene. When we did go out, we had fun meeting some of the locals and hearing some of the music. The Spanish really seem to love to dance. When a good song came on, the whole bar would move with it. Like most European countries they play a wide variety of their own music and those of other places including songs from the US. We heard a lot of Shania Twain, Avril Lavigne and Mika’s Grace Kelly. We discovered a Spanish Pop song we loved (Siete Horas, by Bebe) and even tried to find out who sang it. That meant singing the few lines we knew to a couple of different bewildered music store clerks. We met an adorable drunk Spanish girl one night who went up to us in the taxi queue and said, “Chicas! Te ke te ke te ke te ke!” When I yelled back to her, “Baile, baile!” she started to dance, and then I started to dance. It was funny and fun.