Madrid, cont.

During my quick trip to Madrid, I only had my iPhone camera. Luckily, Art and Rebecca brought their fancy Canon everywhere we went, and got some great photos (which I got my little claws on!).  And I just realized, Art is not in any of these.  He was there, I promise.

Walking around city park

Gilly face

Pumped for churros 

Talking about something very serious (but probably not)

Bringing it in for a hug

Choosing tapas- no easy task 

Discussing food, or so I'm guessing, because my finger claws are out.

Yes, I really got to eat this. 

Isn't she a beauty?  Seriously.

Hijinks in front of the palace

Like the moment in "The Sound of Music" when Maria leans against the gate and says, "Oh help!"

A story to make you gasp, cringe, and laugh

We took a trip to Europe last October! It was a Graduation gift/"Congrats on surviving the Bar"/"Let's do something fun before the real world starts" kind of a trip. We'd been planning on it for years, and there would never be a better time to go.

I have been meaning to blog about it and relive it, but the whole process of getting to Europe was such a completely insane experience, I had to give it it's own post. It's a lengthy one, but I didn't want to forget a single hilarious/excruciating detail.

Back in May, we decided a Mediterranean cruise would be perfect, and we set about booking the best one we could get. We'd made a strict financial plan that accounted for all the worst case scenarios between graduation and January 2013, and figured out if we were careful, we could definitely save up for it. We chose a Royal Carribbean 12 day cruise that left out of Barcelona, and traveled to southern France, down the coast of Italy, and made a stop in Croatia (in a town called Split, not Dubrovnik or Kotor, like the map says) and Venice before turning around and coming back.

We also managed to work our flights so that we could have a 24 hour layover in Madrid and spend time with Rebecca and Art, who have been living there for almost a year. These cats.

Needless to say, this was going to be perfect.

The months slowly ticked by. Harry graduated, survived (and PASSED! WEEEE!) the Bar, we moved to Las Vegas, attended many a wedding, and had a wonderful time working part time and hanging out with family. I'm so grateful for those months where we lived at Hotel Reynolds with lots of siblings/nieces. It was a unique blip in time, and we really enjoyed it.

Then, the plot thickened. Or, as Harry might say, the thick plottened.

When there are 12 people living in the same house, both love and germs abound. And somehow, a 24 hour stomach virus of the worst kind wound up at the house, and began circulating through everyone's system. It was the kind of bug that no amount of Clorox or Windex wipe-downs can eradicate. Everyone began dropping like flies. The strange thing was, weeks went by, and the bug circulated the family twice, but Harry and I never got sick. I kept assuming it would hit me (I had surely been exposed to it) but I remained healthy, even after one of my nieces vomited all over me one night. She's so cute I just started laughing uncontrollably. In her defense, she was 9 months old, and didn't even cry, and I had volunteered to hold her.

Then, the day before Harry and I were to fly to Madrid, I woke up at 4:00 am and knew. I had the flu. I just remember waking up in a dark bedroom and muttering, "Ohhhhhh nooooooooo." I spent the next 24 hours in absolute misery. After 6 hours of violent illness, chills and aches covered my whole body and I just lay perfectly still on my bed, realizing I couldn't remember what it felt like to just feel good. I didn't get any packing done that night, and just prayed I'd feel well enough in the morning to do it.  Harry worked all day and I forced him to keep his distance.  I went to bed praying I'd feel better in the morning.

When we woke up at 7:00 am the next morning, we had two hours to get it together and get to the airport.

And, of course, Harry woke up with the flu.

That morning really is a blur to me. I began throwing things into a suitcase and trying to pack for him, too. He finally said, "Sarah, I can't get on a plane. I can't fly like this." I knew firsthand that was true. It would have been impossible to even consider leaving the house in that condition.

He got on the phone with the airline to see what we could do, and I, the picture of strength and maturity, burst into tears. I was still exhausted and hadn't eaten anything in 36 hours. I didn't even have the energy to eat, put make up on, or brush or dry my hair, so it remained in a long wet braid. I could see our careful (and expensive!) plans falling apart.

Harry miraculously found a solution with the airline; for a small fee they would reschedule his flight and get him straight to Barcelona the next day, in time to get on the ship, but he would have to completely miss Art and Rebecca in Madrid. They made me the same offer, and I almost took it, but I just knew if I missed seeing Rebecca I would regret it forever. I thought about it for two seconds, and said no, I'll stick with our itinerary, and meet you in Barcelona in two days. And within twenty more minutes, I was packed, and my mother-in-law was driving me to the airport.

I was a complete mess of adrenaline and fear. I've flown internationally by myself before, but never to a country where I'm not fluent in the language. Also, we'd arranged for Harry's phone and credit card to work overseas, but not mine, and I realized at the last second that I had to call our bank/AT&T and make arrangements pronto, before I got to Spain. Things had deteriorated so quickly that morning, these changes hadn't occurred to me.

There was no time at the Las Vegas airport to make those calls, and I prayed I'd have time during my layover in Dallas. Unfortunately, I had to literally sprint through the Dallas airport and I barely made it onto my connection during final boarding. I was on a plane to Spain (where the rain stays mainly in the plain), and had absolutely no money and no working phone. Womp womp.

Strangely, I felt really calm. Becca and I had talked in detail about the airport metro station where she would meet me, and I felt confident that I could find her without mishap. We landed in Madrid and I successfully got my bag and headed to the Metro.

Unfortunately, when I got there, I found out that a new gate had recently been installed, and it required a ticket to even get into the actual Metro station from the airport. I waited for Becca outside the new gate, hoping she'd know where I was, and that she'd somehow know I couldn't pay for a Metro ticket. When she didn't appear, I felt horrible, sleep-deprived, post-flu anxiety creep into my stomach. I tried to use my credit card for a payphone to no avail. I tried the ATM and was denied. I tried to find a wifi signal unsuccessfully. And I started praying, rapid-fire style, that I'd be able to find her.

I thought, "I am in a foreign country, completely and utterly alone with no money and no phone. If I don't find Becca, I am sleeping here tonight and boarding my flight for Barcelona tomorrow, and will not have anything to eat for yet another day." In my exhausted and sick state, I started crying, and I really missed Harry.  On top of it all, I felt really stupid. How does an adult let this happen?

I went up to information desks saying, "Lo siento, ¿hablas ingles?" and asking if there was any way I could please get through the gate to the Metro station, my cousin is waiting for me, my credit card doesn't work, I have no money, no phone. I felt like the prototypical annoying American; unprepared, emotional, and demanding. I didn't know what else to do.

While a man and woman behind the desk were trying to tell me in broken English that they wouldn't let me through the new gate, all of a sudden I looked up, and there was Becca, standing on the other side of the new gate, scanning the room.

I shouted, "Never mind!" and ran to the gate and we hugged and jumped up and down like six year olds. I'll never forget the feeling of utter relief that flooded my being! She loaned me some euros, I purchased a metro pass, and we were off to Becca's apartment, where I emailed with Harry about where exactly we would meet in the Barcelona airport.

The next 10 hours were a dream. Rebecca and I took off on foot and explored all of Madrid. My one regret is that I couldn't stay in Madrid longer. It is one of the coolest cities I've ever visited. The people are laid back and beautiful, and the city is built in a mixture of modern and historical. Like a lot of Europe, there are beautiful cathedrals and churches everywhere, and in Madrid, it's all intermixed with new, funky buildings with experimental color schemes and designs.

We walked through the city park, and it puts Hyde Park to shame. There were giant lakes and historical marble fountains, people paddle boating and walking their dogs, paths that veered off in every direction, and stunning gardens around every corner. We got churros con chocolate, and met up with Art for more exploring. Sadly, with my body clock completely off, and some flu left over, my appetite was completely gone, so I wasn't able to eat more than a few bites that day. And Becca had splurged and bought me a box of Spanish pastries from an amazing bakery! I also brought a pound of Bridge Mix from See's.

Last minute hair curling before going out on the town

Churros con chocolate

Attempt #1

Better

Spanish palace at night

We talked and walked all day. She showed me all her favorite sights, old palaces, the city center, beautiful neighborhoods, and everything in between. That night we all walked down to an old train station that had been converted into a farmers market/restaurant area and shared some fresh shrimp paella. I'd never had it before and it changed my life! It was amazing and I'm going to make it myself someday. We got tapas with quail sausage and herbs and soft white cheeses I couldn't even pronounce.

And then suddenly, around 6:30 pm Madrid time, I hit a wall, and stammered that I think I needed to lie down, and we walked back to the apartment where I crashed and fell asleep. I remember Becca had asked if I wanted to watch "French Kiss" on her laptop, and she snuggled with me on the couch bed, and then, I was out like a light.

The next morning at 5:00 am, Becca walked me to the bus stop and I rode the bus back to the airport, successfully boarding my flight to Barcelona where I'd meet Harry. Becca gave me an apple to eat for breakfast and I had to snap some pictures of the ceiling-- Barajas Airport really is so beautiful.

The flight was short and when I got there, I hung out at baggage claim, keeping an eye on the marquee that announced when flights were arriving. Harry's flight was delayed, so I waited in baggage claim for four hours, trying desperately not to fall asleep, and reading "The Poisonwood Bible," which was fantastic, by the way.

When Harry's flight arrived, I planted myself right next to his baggage carousel with all my stuff, and scanned the incoming crowd for his face. When I finally saw him, we had one of those slow motion running scenes, where the theme to "Chariots of Fire" is playing in the background.

We hugged and laughed really hard at how tired and worn out and sick we still looked, and snapped a picture.

Then we hopped in a taxi to our cruise ship.

Now I can laugh looking back at this, remembering how silly I must have looked, sniffling as I wheeled my suitcase around the Madrid airport, trying to use a useless credit card and waving my phone around looking for wifi. I'm so thrilled I got to spend time with Becca and Art in such a great city!  The rest of our trip was completely wonderful. More on that to come.

To be continued...

It's been a while.

Here's what has happened lately.

Harry graduated and took the California bar.

Both sets of parents came out for the ceremony

Hail the conquering graduate (name that movie)!

It was about 95 degrees that day and I felt so bad for him in his suit and velvet robes. 

So happy and so so so sweaty!

Then, we moved away from Palo Alto. It was very hard/depressing/difficult.

I keep the melancholy feelings at bay by trying not to think about it. To this day.

We drove away from our little apartment after my buff, awesome, not-so-little brother and some of our amazing (and I mean uh-MAZ-ing) friends helped us pack, move, play tetris with our boxes so that they all fit in the three cars, and, despite our protests, SCRUBBED OUR APARTMENT CLEAN. If service like that doesn't guarantee exaltation I don't know what does.

Final Palo Alto run with Cameron

Friends worthy of gold medals for helping us out (husbands not pictured)!

Harry, Cameron and I drove to Irvine, caravan-style. I kept reciting mantras aloud as I drove to keep from melting down- things like, "It's okay!" / "This is just another adventure!" / "Don't be sad it's over, be glad it happened!" We had fun hanging with my folks for about 15 hours, and the next day we moved our myriad boxes of stuff to Vegas.

I am loving being here. We are working part time, cooking a lot, and best of all, chilling with people we really, really, really, really like chilling with.

Then shortly after our move, my SIL Sarah got married. It was glorious. Travis is the bee's knees and we couldn't be happier that he's in our family. I cried during the ceremony, we ate tacos at the reception, we danced all night, I drank an obscene amount of fresh watermelon juice.

Then four days later, my brother got married. It was glorious. Katelyn is the cat's pajamas and we couldn't be happier that she's in our family. I cried during the ceremony, we ate tacos at the reception, we danced all night, I ate lots of See's chocolates.

Below is a post that I wrote back in June about my 26th birthday, but I never posted it. It makes me laugh to read it now, over three months later, but here it is anyway.

I enjoyed turning 26 so much this year that I wish I could do it over again.

My actual birthday landed in the middle of Harry's finals week, and was the day before a gigantic quarterly meeting at work, so Harry assured me the celebrating would take place over the weekend, and offered almost no additional details. He’s nice and cryptic like that.

My birthday fell on a Thursday this year, and that day Harry hopped over to work in the early afternoon, and we split a hot chocolate and a Hot Lips raspberry soda at Coupa Café near my office. We ate In-N-Out for dinner, because birthday girls do not cook.

Friday was insane, but in a good way. For the first time, I was going to have the bulk of the responsibility for the quarterly meeting since the other more experienced assistant who usually handles everything was taking the day off. I got to work at 7:30 am, and thankfully the meeting went off without any (major) hitches. I was on my feet nearly all day, and as a result, the day whizzed by in a flash. I was so grateful that it went well, and at 4:00 pm, I headed home, thoroughly thrashed and exhausted.

I got home, and tried to decompress from work. Sometimes it’s difficult on a Friday afternoon to leave the stress at the office. I often come home feeling really anxious and jittery on Fridays, and it’s a very hard feeling to shake.

Harry had told me he wanted to take me out to dinner in San Francisco. As I sat very still on the couch, trying to capture a zen “weekend” feeling, Harry said, “Is all this driving going to be too much for you right now?” I said, “No, I don’t think so.” He then said, “Well, maybe we should just stay in San Francisco tonight then.”

Then there was a pause.

Then there was a, “What?!” from me.

Minutes later, we packed our bags and hit the road for San Francisco.

Harry had made hotel reservations at this really neat hotel literally right on the border of Chinatown. The two girls at the front desk handed me two cupcakes and a small box of chocolates and wished me a happy birthday. We threw our bags in our room and headed out for birthday destination #1: Caffé BaoNecci. Since we were staying so close to everything we wanted to do, we didn’t use the car once from the time we got to the city until we left Sunday morning. The restaurant was a short walk away, through the heart of China town.

Caffé BaoNecci is run by an Italian family, and all the waiters have the same hipster haircut, and the light, thin crust pizza with minimal fuss and the most fresh tomato sauce I've ever tasted plus this dreamy imported Italian ginger ale was exactly what I wanted.

Walking back through Chinatown

For dessert, we came back to the hotel and munched some chocolates and watched “Tron” on TV. Man, is cable awesome or what?!

The next morning, we scrambled to make it out the door so we could eat at Dottie’s True Blue Café. We ate there a few years ago. It’s worth the 1.5 hour long line every time.

Finally made it to the front of the line!

My Dottie's Date

Bakery menu

Harry got the cornmeal blueberry pancakes, and I got pumpkin chocolate chip pecan French toast, because with a name like that, how can you not?

The places we walked to for the rest of the day included:

1) Blick’s Art Supply. Last Christmas my secret santa at work had given me a gift card for it, so we meandered around and bought some graphite and charcoal pencils and sketch pads.

2) We saw two opera singers in a random alleyway and stopped to listen.

3) The mall on Market street, where we wandered around and almost got roped into buying sea salt body scrub by an enthusiastic salesman, who, everytime his pitches were rebuffed by Harry, would said, "Stop it, business man!" with a wry smile and in an almost coquettish way.

4) Britex fabric store. I wanted to buy some material for a skirt at Britex. The problem is, after spending time in the LA Fabric District, everything else is always so overpriced that I couldn’t bring myself to spend any money there. Ah well.

5) The Ferry Building and farmer’s market. We split a meyer lemon donut, bought some chocolate and drinks, and walked around by the ocean.

Ferry Building

Ocean view

6) A crème brulee cart (yes, this is real).

7) 7-Eleven for some water because we were dying.

8) For dinner, we went to The House. It was a really great Asian fusion restaurant. Normally when the words “Asian” and “fusion” are used together to describe a restaurant, I’m not a big fan, but this place will forever be the exception.

9) And of course, we had to hit up Double Rainbow ice cream on the way home.

I think I’ve hit my processed sugar limit for the next year.

Now Harry is studying for the Bar. What! Is! Happening!

The next 6 months are going to be totally topsy turvy, in the best way. Big changes make me nervous, and moving away from our friends here will be so difficult that I’m not even letting myself think about it. Instead, I think about how I’m so pumped to live closer to family and to see Harry’s years of hard work start to pay off. He’s the most wonderful, kind, patient man and the best person to have a birthday weekend with.

Here's to turning 26 again next year!

That's all for now.  Coming soon: Sarison hits the Mediterranean!  We just have to go there first.

Good night.

Mom.

This past weekend, my Mom came to town, and we promptly set about painting it red.

She was coming into town for her annual “Sisters-In-Law Retreat,” and this year the destination of choice was Palo Alto!  I got to see some aunts and cousins, and we all attended my cousin Erin’s concert.  She is the world’s most fantastic Soprano, and soon to be a PhD in Vocal Performance.  It doesn’t get much more legit than that, I’m afraid.  And as if that weren’t enough, she has a sense of humor that has everyone in any room in constant stitches.

On Sunday, I wowed my Mom by showing her the world of Pinterest.  I'm afraid she has now caught the bug.  She's one of the most creative women I know, and so adding Pinterest to the mix could be combustible.  We also  went for a stroll and saw a guinea fowl running wildly through the apartment complex.  I chased it down to get a shot.

On Monday morning, we went for a three hour morning walk.  It poured rain the whole time.  We walked all through the neighborhood she was raised in and laughed so hard I’m sure we were disturbing the peace.  My Mom was born and raised here, and it’s so fun to see her in her old stomping grounds.  Every few seconds a memory would pop into her head and she’d have us go down a random side street where she’d say things like,

“Oh, this is where I used to ride my bike with so-and-so sitting on the handle bars.”

“You see that house?  So-and-so lived there.  She was this really brainy girl in my Latin class.”

“So-and-so’s Dad planted that tree and now look at it!”

“I used to come here with my Mom and we’d get a few treats and then go to the ballet.”

“I remember when I’d save up some money and come here for lunch in High School and get a roast beef sandwich on egg bread with original spread and pickles, and it was like living in the lap of luxury.”

“See what this person did with their house colors?  What they really should have done is made that white trim a creamier color so that you don’t feel like your eyes are being assaulted by all that baking-soda white.”

“Let’s move to the other side of the street so we don’t get whacked by all those agapanthus leaves.”

“Oh I love what this person did with that winding brick walkway.  It just looks so romantic.”

We ate Cheese House sandwiches, bought See’s chocolates, walked around the local fabric store, and then came home, grabbed some blankets, and watched (what else?) “Downton Abbey.”

I rarely get so much wonderful one-on-one time with my Mom, and it was a perfect weekend.

I’ve never been so sad to drive someone to the airport.

Thanks for such a golden weekend, Mom.