intelligently incompetant

I astonish myself sometimes when hear the things that come out of my mouth without my prior in-brain planning or consent.

I got a call just now from a man who I contacted via e-mail this morning for an article i'm writing about the CEO Roundtable discussions he organizes in the area. I didn't expect him to get back to me, so I didn't bother writing any questions out or really thouroughly researching the program online as I normally would. Well, he called, and from a blank piece of paper and a blank brain I concocted brilliantly worded questions on the spot, surprising myself at the words that popped into my mouth and out into the telephone. I think the best quality of a journalist is the ability to sound like an expert in any field, or simply the ability to ask stupid questions that are masked into sounding smart. Well, I think I sounded pretty stupid... but perhaps I used enough big words and concepts to trick him into sounding like I really know at least a little something about business in the area, or at least charmed him with my friendliness so it didn't matter. Of course, giving out my e-mail address as intern@newspaper.com I imagine really shatters whatever credibility I had and makes the person i'm speaking to wonder why the article about their super-important program is being handled by an intern.

I scream for myscreen

I currently have no screen on my window, and it's a big window, dirty and ancient with bent black metal frames, offering views of my next-door neighbors and the stunning I.V. coastline. It's a considerably better view than I had out of my cubby hole window in Spain, a view that was monopolized by the mammoth apartment building exactly like mine next door and the neighbors that never closed their windows in the summer heat. In Spain I dealt with the bugs that used to come through the window by shrugging, "It's Spain, and it's a little backward sometimes." Now, back in frontward Santa Barbara, I scratch my bug bites and curse my landlord for not giving the screen guy who came yesterday a work order for my window and for thinking it's ok to leave me screenless for much longer. It's funny the things I expect from the "civilized" U.S. of A., but I forget that the bracket of college students without much money, soon to graduate and have less money, shouldn't expect anything. Especially in the United States that's really only civilized to those who can afford it.

But I guess freedom of speech is pretty important.

It's 2:49 p.m. on my perpetually slow office computer clock

That's high time for a siesta in Spain and i'm tired. I used to complain about siestas all the time because a three-hour break in the normal business day does not leave much room for getting things done... but now that I work 9 'til 5 i've learned that there is ample time to get things done during any one of the long hours before 2:00 and the high mid-afternoon after 2:00 is nothing but sleepy and dragging. But Americans don't know how to rest, thus my newspaper's office is still open, all the cars are still zooming by the streets of downtown Santa Barbara, and I am expected to work. And, being the good, diligent employee I am, I do. But i'm still tired, and I sit here in a highly air-conditioned office in temperate Santa Barbara wondering what it's like to work in hot-as-hell Sevilla.

eww

Yes.

I'm home safely, and now that i'm safely home the horrors of my trip home are slowly being erased. But that doesn't stop me from marveling at the fact that everything that could have gone wrong, did, and I did it all on the three hours of sleep I got in the Barcelona airport.

I arrived at the Seville airport to a blinking red "retrasado" printed next to my flight. Delayed. Well at least I had until 7:30 the next morning to make it to Barç. I checked in and was told my luggage could only be checked through to London and that it was 30 kilos over the weight limit so I would have to pay 400€ to transport it. I got off on that throught a loophole in the system (the luck loophole I suppose), told the woman my luggage needed to be checked to LAX, and set off to wait the extra hour my flight was delayed.

And hour came and went and the airline, being Iberia and being Spanish, didn't bother to tell anyone what was going on. After overhearing talk of technical problems, an announcement moved all of us waiting to the next gate where they were boarding another flight to Barç. After much yelling and confusion in Spanish, they managed to get everyone who didn't have luggage on the flight, which left about 15 of us still waiting. After following an Iberia woman all over the airport like a line of angry ducks we were all checked onto the next SpanAir flight. I was told that my name had been called earlier because my luggage was loaded onto the earlier flight, and that I should ask about it in Barç.

When I got to Barcelona three hours after I was supposed to they of course had no idea what I was talking about with my luggage or the cancelled flight and that it was checked through to LA so that's where it'd be. The Iberia info man was well intentioned, though, and he told me if I was going to stay in the airport overnight I should use my London boarding pass to get to the area by the gates because there are a lot of "ratones" hanging around the main area at night. I had dinner, and hung out by the TVs watching the World Cup and Grey's Anatomy dubbed until I fell asleep.

A couple of hours of sleep later and I was tired but relieved to continue on my way, confident that my trip already had its share of screw ups and it was smooth sailing to LA. I handed my boarding pass to the attendent at the gate and got ready to board my plane to London.

I was asked to step aside and wait while they punched numbers into the computer and made phone calls. They told me that I had been unexplicably dropped from the flight in Seville an hour and a half after I was given my boarding pass and that there was absolutely no more room for me on the flight. No London. No LA. I was sent downstairs. Iberia told me to talk to British Airlines, and British sent me back to Iberia who sent me back to British. I stopped playing their games and the woman at British who understood the problem called Iberia and sent me back over there. No one at Iberia had taken the call and they didn't know what I was talking about, so I was accused of missing my flight until they decided to talk to the British woman in person. After an hour of back and forth I was booked to London on a flight that left in a half hour, and booked to LAXon a flight that arrived six hours later than planned. My luggage, I was told, was checked through to LAX so it would get there.

My flight to London was an hour and a half late in boarding but when we finally landed I had plenty of time to wait in the airport. With a ten hour flight ahead of me and a five-hour layover, I just wanted to GO HOME. My transatlantic was also late in boarding but I was finally on the flight that would take me home.

Of course, as expected, my luggage didn't make it, and I finally stumbled into the arms of my family two hours behind schedule, dirty, exhausted, but amused at the complete and utter chaos that is the airline system. Especially Iberia. Let's not forget that they lost my luggage on the way to Spain as well, and the flight was unbalanced in take off so they sent five people to the back, as if that would make the problem better. Yes, but as with most things, the hell that was my trip home is now a little funny, and i'm enjoying the little comforts of living again in the US. It might be funnier when they find my luggage.

To my lovely loyal travel companions:

I'm on my way home...

A couple suitcases to pack, a couple goodbyes to say, and i'll be on my way.

Despite the long, gentle slope I've walked in preparation for my departure (the past two weeks since i've been back from my trip or the past six months, however you want to think about it) it feels abrupt. Like I haven't enjoyed myself enough yet, like I still can't say "euro" and therefore haven't mastered bilinguity, like I still haven't been to Ronda and Merida and Portugal even though I wanted to go... of course there will always been things left undone, which I guess gives me all the more reason to return. Coming home, of course, facilitates a return, finishing my major and preparing myself to get a job and make money so I have that option. In any case, after the long preparation i'm looking foward to leaving already and getting my summer going!

I'm also looking foward to seeing most of you soon! And of course, my travels don't end here. Reimmersing myself back into American culture, I can imagine, will be an adventure in itself. Until then... un besito.