The Fantastic Mr. Fox

One of the weird things about being down here this time of this year is that I am physically removed from the US Presidential campaign. However, the internet has been doing a fine job of maintaining my connection to the issues at hand, both real and fabricated. Things are pretty serious now, and we've come a long way from the days when we can joke about The Big Lebowski or professional wrestling.

Back in March, I was discussing with my former boss that this had become the most fascinating and entertaining election any of us had ever seen. Things have only continued down that path, powering right through the conventions and beyond. If there weren't so much at stake, it'd be a barrel of monkeys. Or maybe that's why it's all the more interesting. During said conventions, I received some enlightment about our country and how we've come to this particular point in our history. I had my set tuned for the festivities in Denver and Minneapolis like a ton of Americans. Only, I didn't have a choice in my broadcast network. The only place I could watch all the speeches and balloons was on Fox News.

My goodness. I had no idea what a bunch of clowns these people are. Sitting through seven days of Fox News over the course of two weeks is enough to make someone go legally insane. OK, we all know that they call themselves "Fair and Balanced," and that's nothing more than a big smokescreen, but I really didn't understand the degree to which they are propagandists. And it's especially apparent when you sit through the coverage day after day. They are relentless. I could point to all kinds of instances, but I will highlight merely one. After Michelle Obama gave her opening night speech, they revert back to their "Fox News Contributor Panel," moderated by that beacon of impartiality, Brit Hume. I don't know if you saw Mrs. Obama's speech, but here's a video of it. It was pretty kickass and did all the things that the campaign needed it to do. When they get to Bill Kristol (yes, you may remember Kristol from that time he helped sell the American public on a war in Iraq), he says, "Wahhhhhh." (He always starts this way.) "I was unhappy that she didn't mention her alma mater and mine - Harvard. Wahh." The panel continued to go around, complaining in their "reality is irrelevant" manner. When Kristol got his second chance to address the viewing audience, he went with, "Wahhhhhh. I just didn't like it." That's an exact quote.

I swear he always looks just like this

When it came to Obama, they all complained that there was not enough policy in his speech. (Though to be fair, amazingly, Kristol said, "Wahhhhh. I thought it was a great speech.") That the Republicans were delayed due to Gustav was certainly not a problem. The only thing that beats blatant bias is the chance to sensationalize a national disaster. Of course, when the convention finally began, the same panel spoke glowingly of every speaker, regardless of untruths and a serious lack of policy content. They of course went bonkers for Sarah Palin. One can't help but wonder what would have been the reaction had she been a Democrat. When Bill O'Reilly is your network's voice of reason, fair and balanced, you are not. In going through this ordeal, I realize two things. First, I'm more of a glutton for punishment than I thought. And two, no wonder Bushy got a second term.

Try to get yourself a bargain son; Don't be fooled by the very first one

As I said the other day, I want out of the Hotel Regal Pacific, nice as it may be. The company set me up with an agency that is supposed to help me locate a place. They seem to know what they're doing, but we hadn't been looking as actively as we needed to. I only have a limited time in the hotel. Dolores was my town-wide apartment tour guide during this process. With boundless enthusiasm and a knack for quickly figuring out when I was going to hate a place, it made our visits efficient. But despite all the looking we didn't find any good options.

Finally, last week we loaded up with seven appointments. Surely one of them would work out. Here's Dolo and some (supposedly) famous actor who owned one of the units we looked at:
The place had an absolutely amazing view, but was just way too small for my needs. But here's that view (click on it and it should get bigger):

After kissing so many frogs, the prince was finally found. We're in negotiations now, but I have every belief that it'll work out. Fingers crossed. Here's one shot of the place in action. OK, it's empty, but it's ready for action...

When Dolo was describing the fact that the major roads converge a somewhat in the area near one of the apartments, she couldn't think of the english word. So she put her hands to her sides above her hips and said, "You know, it's like a waist." That's the easiest way I can sum up that people just aren't anywhere near as fat here as they are in the States. I think I've seen maybe one acutal overweight person since I've been here. Yet the meals are all gigantic (more on this in a posting soon!). Go figure.

I got my first crack at being a tour guide when Dhvani and friends came to town. Not really knowing anything yet, I relied on a co-worker for some help and he got us out to a milonga. Milongas are clubs where people go to dance the tango. More procedural art than a sock hop, the dancers are extremely intent on what they're doing. Also, they woudn't let us get out there without a lesson. I wanted to try, but after watching for a bit, I understood. You can't just go tango. Still, we had fun watching. It's interesting to note that all the tango music is from the 1940s and 50s. That is likely a bit part of the reason it's not very popular with the kids here today. Out of the 20 people on my team, only one of them has really even tried it. I plan to give it a shot when someone visits who wants to take a lesson. Any takers???

As I said before, my Spanish is sucky, but improving sucky. I've had more than a few language gaffes. The first one occurred over e-mail when I meant to tell some of my team to let me know that if they needed more advice to let me know. Advice in Spanish is consejo. I left out the s which made the word conejo - rabbit.

Más conejo

Other botched translations include when I tried to ask someone about local customs worth checking out. Only I used the word for customs at the airport and he was all, "Why the hell would you want to do that?" And finally, as I said I have grown accustomed to this whole kissing-as-a-greeting thing. I told my frined Nico that I have been kissing the guys in the office. Of course, there's a different word for kissing as a greeting than kissing kissing. Now I know (and thank goodness he was there the first time I made that error). More to come...

I Always Wanted to Be a Tenenbaum

I knew I'd be out of my comfort zone and in a new, sometimes strange environment. But I didn't expect to be at this hotel for as long as I have been. Living in a hotel seems like a really fun thing to do until you actually try it. After the first week, it's a really dispiriting existence. You come back to your room which is designed to be a comfortable place. It's not designed to feel like home, and none of the stuff there is yours. The situation is made all the worse by the fact that I'm unsure of exactly how long I'm going to be here. If I'd known right off the bat that it would be a four week stint, I may have approached things differently. Nice though it may be, this is not a home:
The entire staff now gives me a knowing smile, but we don't really chat. Hotel life is not something I look forward to repeating. Even worse, because I forgot to extend the reservation, I was nearly kicked out on the street yesterday. Thankfully they either had a cancellation or otherwise found a way to keep me on. So I remain the longest tenured guest at the Hotel Regal Pacific. It's the same breakfast spread every day which always, always consists of no less than two medialunes con jamon y queso (ham and cheese croissants - they're really freaking good). I have no scale here, so I don't know how much weight I've gained, but I reckon I'm eating healthier than I did last September, though that's really not saying much.

Work has been the most positive thing to this point. I have this kickass view...
...from my actual office with a door that closes and everything. Eat your heart out, Les Nessman. The team is doing great so far, way ahead of schedule in many respects and they're a lot of fun to be around. My Spanish remains kind of sucky, but it's improving sucky which means I'll continue to integrate better as time goes along.

There's a dramatic cultural difference in the way one starts the work day. It doesn't really begin until 9 AM, and even then, there is a greeting / social interaction portion of the day. I'm the weird guy who goes straight to his e-mails. It probably doesn't help that everyone's speaking Spanish. It's always harder in the mornings because I'm out of practice from a night of sleeping. Maybe if I could force myself to dream en español... One thing I've gotten the hang of is how people greet one another. With women, it's almost always a kiss on the right cheek and a hand on the left shoulder. Greeting men, a handshake until you get to know them better. Then it's the same kissing procedure. Being American, I found the practice uncomfortable. But after a week or so, I not only got used to it, I think it's a far more human way to interract, even for guys. Maybe if I return to the states, it's something I can bring back with me. Kisses for everyone! Just on the cheek - no biggie. A quick side note: to any former girlfriends who may be reading this, I apologize for all those days I didn't shave. I now understand.

Everyone here is bundled up in parkas and scarves. I trek the three blocks to work every day sans jacket and people look at me like I'm a freak. Summer will be a different story. I fear it greatly.

More updates to come - ¡muy pronto!

A Single Step Starts With Tying One's Shoelaces

Was I really doing this? I surely wasn't ready. There was no turning back anymore. A great sendoff bash at Piece on Friday night lasted well into Saturday morning. It was the last time I would see a heckuva a lot of people for a heckuva long time. So it probably made sense to keep it rolling until we were finally booted from Estelle's at 5am.

The last ones standing

This set up a week of scrambling that rivaled any complex task I've previously undertaken. Issues with obtaining a visa were probably inevitable, but of course turned out to be a much bigger mess than I could have reasonably anticipated. Instructions from the far-too-thinly stretched HR department at my company probably should have been double-checked by me, but obviously things have been rather busy. I took certain things on faith that I probably never should have. I think I walked about fifteen miles back and forth across the loop in just a few days. By Friday, I was picking up my visa. Other problems included an inability to find my car's title, my will, and probably sixteen other important things that are still escaping my memory. Just try and catch me, lawyers! I'm out of the continent!

Still, with so much rigmarole I was waaaaay behind on packing and cleaning. I went with my brother for one last dinner at Green Zebra and told him that I could use a little help that night. When we walked in the door to my place after eating, he flashed a foreboding grin. What he saw was an utter disaster waiting to happen. But really it wasn't so bad because the movers would pack up anything left in a proper pile. I proceeded to apportion documents and objects to storage, sea shipping, air shipping or the trash. He removed the beginnings of what turned out to be about 40 loaded garbage bags before all was said and done. Then he went about cleaning bathrooms, the kitchen and generally saving my sorry ass. My two hours of sleep, coming on the heels of three the previous night, didn't set me up for a successful move day.

But my 20 winks rejuvenated me enough to press on before the movers arrived. When they showed up to get started, things were relatively in order. That one of them grew up in Buenos Aires I took as a positive omen. These dudes were capable and efficient. They did a fantastic job, packing quickly and getting the whole apartment cleared out by 4:30. As they toiled, I cleaned the rest of the joint - vacuuming everywhere, finishing with bathrooms and desperately trying not to forget anything crucial. It was at this point that I realized I was putting away ten years worth of stuff. There were items belonging to exes, papers long thought to be missing, old photos, and junk I never should have brought home in the first place. When we were finished, the empty apartment was a shock to the system. There was literally nothing left. Quite suddenly, this was the home of a ghost. The slightest sounds reverberated off the naked walls. I finally took a breath - for the first time in a week. Only now did this move seem real.

Bye-bye house

It being a hot August day in Chicago, I had no choice but to take a shower once the movers left. I had about a half-hour before I had to hail a cab to O'Hare. Of course, everything was either packed or in the garbage. Why hadn't I kept just one towel? It was OK. I had just enough time to air-dry and put my sweaty clothes back on. In the hectic day, I'd eaten hardly anything. However, Joyce, my neighbor from upstairs (and cheerfully described by one of the movers as short and very cute) had brought me down a plate of leftovers from the wedding shower she hosted in the morning. This was one of the greatest meals I've had in my life. I'm sure the situation - starving, exhausted, and drip-drying in my kitchen - had something do with it, but I know I'll never eat a quiche that tasty again. I don't even really like quiche, by my goodness was this delicious.

My cab driver was a fellow writer (another positive omen?) who grew up in Wicker Park. We talked about craft, and he gave me a few really good ideas during my last face-to-face Chicago conversation. Well, face to plexiglass anyway. O'Hare was almost as emtpy as my place and I was able to snag three seats together on the plane which helped facilitate a few hours of snoozing. I landed in my new home, the only one wearing shorts and ready for a loooong nap. I don't think I've ever been so tired in all my life. I had a couple groggy recovery days before work would commence. And that's where we'll pick things up next time...

Eventually, I'll start posting here

For now, I'll just say that I'm doing my best to get it all together. In the meanwhile, here's what I have to look forward to: