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Gala Guiba

Fisty 50

Embracing and loving what half a century of bouncing around has taught me.

Don't bounce too hard, too fast,too slow and whatever I do, I do at my own rhythm.

old blog 10

2010 blogs Posted on Tue, August 19, 2014 20:46:44

Blog Stats
D’oh!Posted by Gala
Wed, July 21, 2010 05:41:57

Every
now and then I check the statistics in my blog: how many visits, amount
of mac users, search engines, for no other reason than to see what my
hosting service has to offer and… yes, it is always nice to know that
somebody might read me.

I have no way of knowing who it is
exactly, of course and I know that many of those visits might be search
referrals of random words which appear in mu blog “Vietnam” “Hanoi”
“chocolate” and other popular hits out there; I am sure using the word
s*x got me several dubious visitors who surely left terribly
disappointed.

One thing surprised me though, and that is the
search by country. I do see countries like Mexico, Germany, USA and
Spain being there as I have good friends and family scattered, but
others are just… weird!

Denmark has the highest number of
people… DENMARK! I know but 1 person there and I am pretty darned sure
he has NOT visited my blog 64 times in july (and 79 in June), specially
considering we have not met since 2006…
Isle of Man?? Syria?? Afghanistan??? ok, those might be shots lost in Google, but 30 people form China???

Have you ever wondered who might be looking at your blog, Facebook, Linked-in, etc?

Got a spooky Big Brother’s watching feeling…

In a twisted way it’s kinda cool, though.

Danish visitors: MANIFEST THY-SELVES, please!

STATS FOR GALAGUIBA.COM
20 of 20 from Countries
# Hits % Visits Country
1 98 23.67 64 Denmark
2 91 21.98 67 United States
3 51 12.32 19 Thailand
4 38 9.18 18 Germany
5 34 8.21 30 China
6 32 7.73 4 Unresolved
7 22 5.31 12 Spain
8 9 2.17 3 France
9 8 1.93 4 Mexico
10 8 1.93 3 Great Britain (UK)
11 8 1.93 3 Viet Nam
12 4 0.97 2 Isle of Man
13 2 0.48 1 Greece
14 2 0.48 1 Iran
15 2 0.48 1 Malaysia
16 1 0.24 1 Russian Federation
17 1 0.24 1 Syria
18 1 0.24 1 Australia
19 1 0.24 1 Ukraine
20 1 0.24 1 Afghanistan

7 Social Sins
Mushy Stuff / Mariconadas
Posted by Gala Thu, July 15, 2010 10:03:50

Politics without principles.
Pleasure without conscience.
Wealth without work.
Knowledge without character.
Commerce without morality.
Science without Humanity.
Worship without sacrifice.

Mahatma Ghandi

Magazines
D’oh!Posted by Gala
Tue, July 13, 2010 03:13:03

I
don’t really buy magazines, they take up too much space and they are
heavy, so I get all my glossy/gossip reading from waiting rooms and
mani-pedicure mini SPA’s, so depending on the place, I could be reading 7
year old magazines, but hey! It is still news to me! the only problem
is that I am not up to date at all on… anything really! Celebrities
marry and divorce at such rampant speed it is hard to keep track are
Brangelina together or not? Is Amy W bingeing or rehabbing? Is Justin
Beaver a boy or a girl and IS IT true that Mickey Rourke is hot again???
Wait, what?!!
I n terms of women’s magazines, I haven’t quite found
the publication for me, there the Cosmo types which seem to be switching
target audience to younger (and younger still) audiences of ambitious,
bitchy, men-hunting girls with shopping addictions, which is all fine,
it just isn’t me, my time for those has passed like 21 year and 37 kilos
ago, not to mention 12 less –than-Cosmo-Girl jobs and a fair share of
not-so-hot-men.
Then you have the “middle aged” female audience and
gawd! Those mags are just depressing me! Granted that age wise that
would be me, but I really do not need yet another meatloaf recipe, how
to make my own ornaments or “6 Sexy Secrets to Surprise your
Middle-aged, pot-bellied Husband of 15 years –of marriage- ; which
include, and brace yourself for ultimate kinkiness, Woman on Top. Nope,
aprons and family reunions with crispy “crispy fried cotton fish with
green mango salad, palm sugar and fish sauce dressing” and lubricant
recommendations are not my thing either.
I like to travel, see the
word, but unfortunately Travel Magazines are way out of my league; as
exciting as it sounds, I will not drive a 4 by 4, local bus circa 1952
original ford, and ox pulled cart, a camel followed by a donkey and
finally walk 152 miles at 3 am to get me to the mountain top of that
tiny village lost to civilization In the remotes southwest tip of
Bukiliwinitsk to witness the most amazing sunrise; nor will I dish out
90,000 dollars a night to be pampered in Brunei’s most exclusive resort,
with bunny milk luscious baths and mother of pearl obtained from the
sacred waters of the Burmese sea caves nail polish pedicure treatment…
err… no thanks.
Too political, too economical, too serious, too technical, too specific, too stupid, too boring.

None for me, thanks.

Men’s Magazines
D’oh!Posted by Gala
Tue, July 13, 2010 03:05:19

Following
the previous post, I have found that Men’s magazines are the best
source of information and entertainment, and I am not talking about
–only- naughty magazines at all, I am talking about health &
lifestyle publications, gossipy (bearing in mind that according to men
they don’t gossip.. they share information… yeah, right!) they are SO
cool! I totally love them.
Take for instance the diet articles,
unlike those destined to women, they stem from the fact that humans need
to eat and humans get hungry, so they are realistic, portions are
generous and any recipe will be given assuming men don’t have the
faintest idea on how to cook, so they are REALLY easy
And delicious;
not “25grs of non fat, cholesterol free, low sodium cottage cheese and a
leaf of lettuce dinner” crap you find in those girly ones.
The
articles tend to be short and to the point, I pin this down the manly
memory span not unlike that of a goldfish, so one does not read
paragraphs and paragraphs before getting to the point. Wham! Bam! Thank
you Ma’m; gotta love it.
The advice… my goodness the advice is probably the most entertain part of it all, specially in the Q&A bits!
Q:
What should I bring to a weekend rendez-vous with my hook up friend?.
A: A big box of condoms and text her naughty messages the whole day
before meeting, you don’t love her right? So the pressure is off, man!
Enjoy it!
Q: Can Wii video games make me loose weight? A: if you
choose tennis or football and really play like a pro is a good way to
burn calories.
Q: How can I pick up cute girls at the beach? A: A six
pack of Corona and a puppy dog, what?! Are you new at this?! If you
don’t have a dog, start building a sand castle and watch all these babes
come running to help.
Priceless!
Women magazines have all sorts
of articles about “How to Top your Bitch Boss with her own Game” or “
Your boss: is she Jealous of your Tight Butt and Perky Boobs?” I am not
sure where they get their information from really; being part of the
work force I have never seen so many “she” bosses to be honest, -sadly
most high positions are held by men- and 30 year old women are most
certainly not OLD witches contrary to Cosmo’s beliefs; I have never seen
anybody get a promotion based on the right shade of lipstick or nail a
presentation thanks to Manolo’s peep toe shoes… So yeah.
The girls
featured in advertisements, illustrations or pictorials are barely over
20 –the old ones- white, blond, straight hair, twig like skinny, no
boobs or MASSIVE balloon like ones, perfect airbrushed skin, skimpy clad
perched on impossible high heels and a nasty attitude… there is NOTHING
further away from my reality!
Why on earth would I want to see
hundreds of these girls in publication when I can grab me a Men’s Health
mag and look at beautifully muscled up guys, many in their 40’s or 50’s
(not to mention those sinful 30’s), perfectly tanned and toned with
bright big smiles and healthy looking lifestyles?
Let me see… should
I choose a glossy with starved looking 20 year olds who look oh so very
angry (I think it’s cause they are hungry), all dressed up in a $10k
dress, balancing for dear life in ridiculous poses over suicidal 12inch
stilettos or should I go for this other magazine, with a sinfully
handsome 45 year old guy who is happily drying off is six-pack abs from a
swim in his amazing boat, getting ready to dig into the best display of
yummylicious of food EVER… yeah, that’s one, the man with the
perfectly inviting smile and dripping wet, messy hair?…
What can I say?

Babies no more
Mushy Stuff / Mariconadas
Posted by Gala Tue, July 06, 2010 23:41:36

Kids grow up just way too fast.
I
have a friend who has teenage kids and they live with their father; do
know that these are NOT my own children… you see, it would be a gross
infringement on their privacy If I wrote about them; however, being this
an unrelated story from A Friend, then I can freely post it here as
there are no names named (my Friend is gorgeous, by the way… extremely
smart to and with a Fabulous butt).
So her kids are now 16, good
looking –despite the long shabby hair of one of them- excellent
students, responsible, healthy, keeping away –gott sei danke- from
booze, tobacco and drugs and keeping close to girls, which is quite
normal for kids their age. Their Mom and Father have always had a very
open relationship with them and feel there should be no “taboo” subjects
as it is much preferable that kids have they questions answered by the
dinner table than in a back alley with a girlie magazine and it is
better for parents to know to an extent what kids are up to: living in
oblivion is just too risky now a days.

So my friend is somewhat
cool about it, seeing how hormones were raging and how popular her kids
seemed to be with girls and how incredibly slutty these girls were, she
took the precaution of going with them to buy condoms, thus making sure
they were prepared when the time came and the Boys had no embarrassment
about going to the drugstore or making the easy mistake of buying the
novelty prophylactics which are just not going endure a battle,
regardless of the “glow in the dark” powers they might have. They boys
were OK with this, specially since she was paying.
Kids grow up, it
is all normal, part of life and nature, blah, blah, blah, but there is a
MASSIVE difference between preparing “just in case” and knowing for a
FACT that the purchase has been duly utilized… and they need more.
As
it turns out, the Father is quite an open minded (when it suits)
European man who feels perfectly comfortable with the kids spending the
night, several nights… seemingly EVERY freaking weekend night at a
girl’s place –she lives alone. Now, it is quite clear that the children
live with him at the moment because he is the best parental option
through their teenage years and their Mom tends to treat them like
babies, no argument there, but… geez!
The mom NEEDS somebody to blame!
I
am not sure why my friend is silently freaking out about this one… she
is not a narrow minded person at all! she could in fact be described as
quite liberal and understanding; she remembers all too well when she was
that age, but it just seems different when it pertains to her kids…her
Babies!
Those skanks! Those little hussies! Young whores in the making taking advantage of her sweet little angels!
Perhaps
she feels disturbed because now she knows that what ever she is doing
they are doing? (God, please NO!) it just seems… wrong that she is not
seeing any… err..” action” at all and that the one thing that she knew
exactly what she was talking about now is common knowledge?! She sees
them sitting there and she KNOWS what they do… no mystery at all… they
are no longer her little boys, her “Hijitos”, they are… well… men, I
suppose, like all the rest of the men… which is kind of sad.
Seeing
it from a more selfish AND disturbing point of view, perhaps she is
freaking also because this means that there is an actual possibility
that she will be a grandmother before her time?? I don’t quite think so
as she doesn’t care at all about her age, but you never know…

Le Toilette
D’oh!Posted by Gala
Sun, July 04, 2010 04:36:52

One
of the sensitive issues –for me- whilst travelling are the bathrooms
specially being used to the “western” flushable ceramic bowls and
luscious toilet paper. I had encountered before those “squatting”
toilets but avoided them at all costs… until I got to Asia.
Picture this:
You
are carrying a 14k back pack, a long scarf to cover all your naughty
parts –such as neck and shoulders- a smaller bag crossed over in front
of you for easy access containing your laptop, passport, wallet and all
valuables so you REALLY o not want to let go of it or for it to get wet
in any way. Chances are you have a big bottle of water in your right
hand and travel guide on your left; sun glasses over your head. You are
wearing loose pants and, most importantly, you are a girl, so what ever
you need to do must be done squatting, not standing.
Imagine if you
will, a much reduced space about the size of a low cost Arline washroom
but with the sturdiness of a cereal box. In Muslim countries you can
expect the floors to be somewhat flooded as it is customary to wash with
a small hand shower which is normally hanging on the right of the
toilet, if it is not a Muslim country you can expect the floor to be
somewhat flooded anyway. I do not recommend the use of the shower head
thing as it rarely hits the spot you are aiming for and you are likely
to get tour back soaking wet.
There is no toilet paper and the latch
of the door tends to be broken most of the times. There is no place
available (dry or clean) to leave your stuff and you cannot leave it
outside as there is a big possibility you will not see your bag ever
again and in any case it would be so much work to try and ask somebody
to please watch over your things that by the time you are done you have
missed your spot on the line, so you go into the little stall “fully
equipped” and tissues at hand.
OBJECTIVE: Nothing, I repeat NOTHING is to touch the floor.
You
adjust the guide book in your front bag, the bottle of water under your
left armpit (this is important), the toilet paper hanging from your
teeth; tie your scarf several times around your neck so it doesn’t touch
the floor; attach the sunglasses somewhere with the scarf; if you are
wearing a raincoat/poncho over your backpack you can put it over your
head, it means that you will be covered like one from the Ku-Kux Klan
and have null visibility unless you fix it behind your ears, like a
nun’s veil.
Roll the legs of your pants up to your knees so they
don’t get wet as you pull them down but when you do, make sure your legs
are parted wide enough so the trousers do not fall on the floor, but
not so much that you overstretch your undies 3 sizes up.
After
having made the shoulder strap shorter tuck your front bag under your
LEFT armpit, exactly under the big bottle of water; if you leave it
dangling in front of you there is a risk that it may swing back between
your legs in the most inconvenient of moments…
At this point you
should still have your right arm free, so you step over the hole on the
floor (remember to keep those knees wide apart so the pants don fall on
the yucky stuff!) try to find your balance without touching anything –if
you MUST, use the free hand for a second to get a steady position-
squat, aim as best you can and with your free hand hold the door closed
as people normally just push it open; you must go as low as you possibly
can, otherwise it all splatters around your legs and sandals as it is
more a not-so-deep-basin rather than an orifice on the ground.
When
finished, be really fast at taking the tissue from your teeth and doing
all things necessary as the door is now unguarded and people on the
other side are surely impatient by now and might swing the door open,
you are very vulnerable at this moment! If you have bad knees, brace
yourself for getting up is quite a challenge: those 14k are going to
pull you back as you stand up and you have no hand to aid you! The right
is holding water and valuables, the left is frantically pulling the
pants –and underpants- up, which is not easy at all with only one hand;
the ground is slippery so your legs need to be as far apart as possible
to keep your balance, so you will need to stand up by the strength of
your abs and quadriceps alone.
Once you are outside, wash your hands
with the dirtier than mud soap you might find –if you are really
lucky-; I advise against using that gray towel for, if you look closely,
you will realize it used to be white. This is a great time to readjust
all your clothes as there is a good chance you have half of your
underwear sticking out and probably you are suffering from a brutal self
inflicted wedgie. Promise yourself you will never drink a drop of water
again, unless you are in your hotel room.
Last Toilet Tip?
Do
NOT, under ANY circumstances, regardless of the urgency, go into the
toilet right after anybody who might be gesticulating as if they are
about to deliver triplets whilst rubbing her huge (non pregnant, just
fat) belly and doing a funny “dance”.
No matter how badly you may
need to use it, it is just not worth it, change queue and wait for the
next available stall… trust me on this one…


Ok, so how much…

D’oh!Posted by Gala Wed, June 16, 2010 05:24:35

Bargaining: the national sport in every Asian country… and I suck at it.
There
is a skill –if not a gene- required to be a successful Bargain Master,
as I travel it has become obvious that I absolutely lack it; I have
gotten better in some things, though: tuk-tuk drivers in Bangkok now
fear me, but for all the rest? Rubbish! Absolute rubbish!
I
understand that people need to make a living and the fluctuating tourism
industry can be a bit of a bitch, I am sensitive to the fact that I am
in a privileged position always and more so compared to the working
class in these parts of the world; I agree that I should pay higher
rates than locals when it comes to entertainment such as museums, sites,
landmarks, theatres, etc. after all, it is their country and they
should have feasible access to their own culture.
I don’t mind if
things are more expensive for me as a traveller, not at all! At the end
of it I have the choice to either take it or leave it; what drives me
absolutely mad is been (being?) taken for a fool, seriousy anger me! And
bargaining certainly lends itself to abuse.
There has to be some
common sense to it! I know it is a different mentality and all, but COME
ON PLEOPLE!!! You can’t possibly expect to pay off the mortgage from
that single cab ride with the Swedish tourist! Have some morals for
goodness sake!
I am sure there are some International Unwritten
Haggle Rules or Code of Hustling Ethics, SOMETHING!!! Even Pirates had a
code of honour! Well, if there is one it and certainly has not gotten
to Asia.
It is sensible to hike up a price, don’t know… 50% maybe?
Vendor offers 20, costumer 10, both agree on 15. I think this is pretty
reasonable.
What is NOT reasonable is to pimp it up to 500% for crying out loud!!!
Went
to buy some fruit at the local market; the faces of the vendors
literally illuminate when they see me approaching their stalls and I can
assure you it is not my shinny personality; they frantically wave and
shout “Hello?! Hello?!? Want apple? Want mango? Come buy me, Mister!!
(not a good start if they are already calling me butchy dike…) so I take
a look at some bananas, safe enough fruit I don’t need to wash and
requires n preparation other than peeling it;
I point at 3 teeny puny little bananas and the woman, clearing her throat and looking me dead in the eye says:
“15 thousand”
I stare back thinking “she HAS GOT to be kidding me”
“Excuse me?” I say, slightly squinting my eyes in what is the beginning of an evil look.
“15 thousand rupee” fruitlady repeats
I
leave the bananas and just walk way, almost offended that she would
think me that stupid, al the while she is calling me back “ok! Ok! How
much you want to pay?!”
While I’m cursing away under my breath I see a
taxi driver buying some fruit and paying 75cents for 1k of bananas.
Unbelievable. He offers to drive me which feels like a great idea as I
am fuming both from the Banana Incident and the unbearable humid heat; I
am just not quite sure how far the hostal is:
“perhaps I can walk there?” I ask him; he points out that it is not far but it is so hot I should just jump into the cab.
“how much?” says I
“30,000” responds my driver
“Oh… that seems a bit much… is it that far away? better use the taximeter”
“No, not use meter! It will mark only 5,000”

Couldn’t believe it!
“so you want to charge me 25,000 more just like that?!”
He laughs
I shut the door and walk away all the while I hear him
“Ok! Ok! How much you want to pay Mister?!”

Vegeteri.whaaaat??
D’oh!Posted by Gala
Sun, June 06, 2010 07:43:30

Still
trying to keep the vegetarian front strong, what a challenge this is in
the Eastern world! oddly enough I thought that it would be a walk in
the park to get veggies everywhere as in most countries meat is a pricey
food than not everybody can afford, BIG FAT mistake that was, they
sprinkle beef, chicken, pork, fish seafood on just about everything,
including desserts.

I have accepted the fact that I am a weird
eater… no pasta, potatoes or rice and I stay clear of fried stuff as
much as possible, I keep it healthy and keep it fresh. In Asia they have
3 elements in their menu: animals, fried and rice/noodles; add to the
mix the fact that I am unable to communicate and it is quite a circus.

I
am ashamed to admit I do not learn any local words beyond “please” and ”
thank you”; I am -however- extremely fluent in sign language which can
get me pretty much anything: from a size 9 silvery pair of sandals to a
Brazilian bikini wax; I have learned that unfortunately this does not go
so smoothly when it comes to food.

Starving! I stop at a place
next to the guest house to have a much needed meal, I always favor
markets and street stands… I like to live on the edge; so the Guy has
all sorts of things on display: pig heads, ducks, teeny birds and chunks
of brownish beef serving as a buffet bar to several dozens of flies. He
also has those lovely baskets with Dim Sum (snacks, the local
equivalent of Tapas or Garnachas).
I embark on my Mime language and
point to some round shaped things asking what they were (by means of an
upward nod and raising shoulders and hands, palms up) and the Guy breaks
out into a lively monologue in –what I guessed was- Thai so I tell him I
want to eat (cupping one hand and simulating chop stick-feeding motion
with the other) and ask again, he obviously doesn’t understand me when a
BRILLIANT idea hits me; my guest house was literally 3 doors down, so I
motion the international sign of “wait a second” (thumb and index
finger a couple of inches apart) which unfortunately is often confused
with the “you got a really small willy” sign

I run to the
reception and ask the kid to write down in those Thai cute little
symbols: “I am a vegetarian, please give me dinner with no meat, thank
you”; he hands me the paper looking somewhat bewildered and I go back to
my Guy; he looks the note and looks back at me with a blank look on his
face and a pointy fork in his hand.
By now I am truly famished, so I
say: “NO MEAT” a bit loudly…perhaps speaking in a very high pitched
voice helps? but nada, so I start making noises and saying whilst I
shake my head:

(shake head) NO Muuuuuuuu!
(shake head) NO Quack, Quack!
(shake head) NO Oink Oink!…this one came out pretty well, snorting noises n’ all
(shake
head) NO Cluck, cluck cluck!… at this point I was doing the chicken
dance, walking in circles around his stall, knees bent and clucking with
my hands tucked under my armpits.

The Guy just stands there
looking at me like I had just grown a second head. I point to the paper
so he reads again and looked up a bit frustrated/// at that moment I saw
the the proverbial writing on the wall: ALL China-like decoration and
symbols… this was a Cantonese restaurant and the he only spoke
Chinese… not a word of Thai.

I took the little note from him,
folded it neatly and put it in the back pocket of my jeans, held my head
up saying ”Domo Arigato” (Japanese, I know, but it is the closest I
have to China) and walked away to get me dinner at the 7/11 next door.

Don’t worry, be happy
D’oh!Posted by Gala
Fri, June 04, 2010 13:48:31

Off to Indonesia tomorrow; all I have is a plane ticket and a bag packed full of lovely Asian style silky clothes.
No
map, no hotel, no plan, no guide book; got some tips from friends and
that’s about all I need, the rest is to be found out as I go.

I’m at the top of the world right now, so very happy and things are looking wonderful from where I’m standing.

To
the untrained eye I might appear as homeless, over 40, unemployed an so
single I have become nuveaux spinster (been single so long that I
actually am one, 15 years I believe it is all I need to get back into
the club… 3 years to go!);

Aaah! but appearances can be
deceiving! I am actually living a long cherished communal dream: that
one where we all want to say a big fact FU*K you! to the world, flick
the bird and leave it all behind, no remorse and go live in an exotic
place and travel the world? ya know? that fantasy we all cherish at one
point or another? well: that IS my life right now.

I am not unemployed: I simply don’t have a boss
I am not single: I am free AND LOVED
I am not homeless: I have a home AND A FRIEND wherever I put by bag down
I am not over 40: I have just been born into adulthood

My
intuition tells me I am in the right path and finishing a stage with a
BOOM! and starting another with a BANG!; I am certain that the big wink
lady Liberty gave me some months back will finally materialize and my
new found friend will soon be making travels to Asia and write another
chapter to our story.

This blog should not make sense to
anybody… heck! makes no sense to me but I am am feeling so bloody good
about myself right now, I just don’t care.

On the road to recovery
Mushy Stuff / Mariconadas
Posted by Gala Sun, May 30, 2010 09:30:54

I HAVE HAD AN EPIPHANY

I
met a really very nice fellow, German, actually… go figure! but he is
also Pisces, so I guess that sort of redeems him…One of his many
accomplishments (unbeknown to him) is having started the process of
restoring my faith in men… NOT mankind but actual men.

I
believe (now) that yes, there are still actual good guys out there who
don’t play games nor claim not to while they REALLY do (really,
really!); guys who are polite, well mannered, chivalrous and Oh!
SURPRISE!: straight.

I have learned that I can still find men
42years and older who have slim waist line, a full head of hair and a
body that puts any any 20year old athlete to shame (and everything that
goes with it… oh yes…).

I was reminded that going out is fun
and not a competition, that I don’t have to be at all times guarded so I
am not caught by surprise when he makes his “move; great to know that
not every guy want to get in a girls pants… not as a first or second
-even third!- intention anyway.

Best thing? WONDERFUL not having to decide or take charge, lovely to meet with a Man with a Plan.

It
was all so very nice and despite the fact that he is not the Guy for
me, I am delighted for these couple of weeks I got to know him; I am in
the road to recovery and at this very moment I can happily and
OFFICIALLY declare that after 12 years:

The Horrid Reign of The Cowardly Undecided Men is finally over.

No more flaky dudes for this Browny! (Aha, you Boys know who you are…)

So bring ’em on! those Real Men with tight tushes!

Make a wish… geez!
D’oh!Posted by Gala
Sun, May 30, 2010 08:55:21

When
I wished that my Ex-Husband Frank (AKA Horrible Dr. No) lived happily
ever after in a far, FAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAR away land, i did not mean for
him to take my Children along!

Geez! I need to be MUCH more specific when I tap into my magic powers…

Psyche Layers of S*x
Mushy Stuff / Mariconad
Posted by Gala Sat, May 29, 2010 01:30:09

This
morning at breakfast there was a table with about 6 Japanese women;
they must have been between 28-35, perhaps a bit younger, always so hard
to tell with Asians and their wonderfully taken care of skin; in any
case they were a lively bunch: loads of giggles ooohhhh!!!’s and
aaaahhhh!!!’s, hiding behind the napkin shyly and cutesy poses… in
short: the type of women I would like to -furiously- bitch slap around.
As
they were leaving a couple of them were actually doing bunny hops and
“Singing in the Rain” routines, looking up to the sky extended arms,
going in big happy circles and all…. it was not raining.

They
were all dressed in that seemingly careless way which leaves no detail
unattended; hair messed up with a loose pony tail tilted to the side
with a flowery hair band, handkerchief around the head, long beach
dresses kinda unwillingly see thru (not sluttish, mind you) the lovely
beaded sandal, a je ne sais quois tied around the hip; I am rubbish at
describing, but they did look lovely in an allegoric Tim Burton meets
Hello kitty sort of way.

Observing the girly -childish, really-
behaviour, I could not help but think how intensely popular these type
of ladies are with men, especially western men, gosh they DROOL around
them! putty in their kiddie hands! Aahhhh!! And the girls know it, the
know soooo well and the more one salivates the more baby like the other
becomes.

I came up with a twisted theory about this… normally
this girls are small in every way: somewhat short and tend to be flat
chested, take away the frills and the gloss and they are quite
androgynous looking… VERY difficult to tell men and women apart in the
way one cannot differentiate a pretty little boy from a little girl
except for the long hair and girlie clothes…. could it be that these
women satisfy the paedophile buried deep in the psyche of -almost- every
man?

Please do not misunderstand! I am dead against any sort of
abuse on children, I think it is despicable and abusers should be
castrated (and the female equivalent). I do find it a mental and social
disease which must be punishable, persecuted, eradicated, yet one thing
we cannot deny is that there is this primitive, animal dark side that we
all have and are mostly are unaware of. We might suppress it, ignore it
or simply be in utter ignorance of its existence, but it is there,
ooohh it lives there, in all of us.

I believe that quite often
our actions respond directly to that dark side; might catch us by
surprise and we might not understand where certain reactions come from
or it might manifest itself in more socially acceptable ways, such as
going for girlie girls.

What ever the case may be, and as much
attention and longing these woman/girl may generate, I would not like to
be that way, I do think they are lovely! Pretty, feminine in a
seriously ridiculous way; they know their stuff and use it to their
advantage: they get tons of presents, money, trips and a nice parade of
men running behind them carrying parcels; still I cannot be like that…
disregarding the fact that I am double their size and most probably
would scare the living s*it out of the guys who like girlie girls;

Except
for their ability to accessorize, I am not jealous of them at all.
There is something for everybody and I have my own public… oh yes!
another niche in the twisted psyche: the straight men who dig “amazonic”
women… which is polite for “she has balls the size of meteors and the
manly body that goes with them”…

Some other time I might explore the lure of the boyish hips and six pack abs… Because yes Darling… I got a pack o’ those…

Saigon
D’oh!Posted by Gala
Fri, May 14, 2010 03:34:18

I
did not have enough of Vietnam, need to go back and do Sapa, re-do
Hanoi and back to Hue; it is such a shame I have absolutely no concept
of time! I actually believed I could visit my 12 points of interest in
10 days… I guess this is my overwhelming female logic which also leads
me to believe that my (yummylicious) butt fits in a S size.

WONDERFUL
place Vietnam! all my preconceived notions -not that many, to be
honest- have come crashing down, particularly those regarding the
American war, known to me ALWAYS as the Vietnam war; being heavily
influenced by the USA, their history, mentality and society, to me
Vietnamese were just a faceless mass of people, and being the pacifist
anti-imperialist I am, I always thought that US involvement in conflict
was a horrible and senseless intervention but the thing is, it was the
young American soldiers who perished there who were in my thoughts and
to a lesser extend the Viet-cong casualties… my, oh my! was this trip
an eye opener! I will not go into detail of the museums, Cu Chi tunnels
(sin albur!), prisons, torture devices, jungle, diseases, the 3 million
Vietnamese who died or the 56,000 American boys who never got to see
their families again… no, I won’t get into that because it affected me
seriously and also because it is too darned boring, so I will just go
on with my lighter hearted posts and ask the very profound question:

WHAT
THE HECK IS UP WITH ASIAN MEN AND SPITTING?!! how can a tiny -teeny!-
little man produce such copious amounts of mucous and the force to spit
it -cannonball it is more accurate- MILES away?! It is not pleasant
waking up to a phlegmatic symphony and YOU KNOW I am not talking about
the emotionless disposition of the British when I say phlegmatic.. I am
actually talking about disgusting phlegm.

The other amazing
thing, specially in Saigon (now Ho Chi Min city) as every traveler will
tell you is crossing the street… road signs are decorative, traffic
regulations don’t even amount to romanticized guidelines; one must be a
true dare devil or city slicker to throw oneself onto the oncoming
traffic, oh yes! scooters (6 million of ‘em in the city) do not stop
even if their life depended on it… and sometimes it does!

The
trick is to make eye contact with the driver, let him know that YOU are
gonna walk through and you are ready to kill him and his first born if
he doesn’t let you go through, let him feel the rage and the hate and
then just throw yourself at his vehicle, chest pumped forward .Do be
sure you look both ways for those in a hurry who are riding on the wrong
side of the road invading not the second, but 3rd and 4th lanes.

Another
trick is to swing a bag like a traditional hooker: make BIG circles
with it so it becomes some sort of weapon, bicycles, tuc-tucs &
motorcycles respond really well to this technique. a word of advice:
ensure your purse is zipped and you don’t have loose objects on the side
pockets if using a rucksack or you will find yourself running between
cars to retrieve your items from the road…

Another personal
favourite is the Matador style: think of ’em cars as bulls and you are
in the middle of a Faena or better yet! the Pamplonada! one must show
courage, strength and focus while running across, a little red
handkerchief tied on your neck looks nice but not of the essence, I find
that shouting OLE!!! every time I pass a car gives me confidence.

Lastly,
those dance moves come in really handy! the swaying of the hips is
ideal for avoiding lusty or pick-pocketing hands, as well as knocking
over a cyclist, don’t be afraid to moonwalk between cars on a red light
and most certainly do the ballerina thing of putting your arms over your
head while you tip toe and hop among vehicles, f anything, they might
slow down a bit to take a better look at the crazed foreigner.
More unwanted advice coming your way soon.

Enjoy!

Delusional
Mushy Stuff / Mariconadas
Posted by Gala Tue, May 11, 2010 05:23:33

Delusional
delusion |diˈloō zh ən|
noun
an
idiosyncratic belief or impression that is firmly maintained despite
being contradicted by what is generally accepted as reality or rational
argument, typically a symptom of mental disorder.

I just
met up with a… friend. It is funny how we use the word so loosely…
it seems that any relationship that we are uncertain about gets thrown
it in the “friendship” bin be it somebody we know for 1 month or 10
years but never really keep in touch; one can sleep with somebody 30
times and be uncertain if we are friends and the truth of the matter is
that if push comes to shove, that person would probably be the last one
we would turn in case of need.

Luckily this day and age provides
us with a full coloring palette of terms: just friends, guyfriend,
galfriend, fuck friend, mate, homie, bonk fried, FWB (friend with
benefits), bro, bff/ bmf (best female/male friend) and the list goes on.

Still,
I’m unable to find the adequate term for this individual… in any case
it was just such a horrible encounter in almost every way possible;
man! what a disaster! I don’t think anything at all went well… what I
thought was a nice couple of hours turns out was awfully unpleasant for
him as I came across as an abrasive bulldozer in the attempt of giving
him a tour of the city.

Worst of all? I was completely
delusional! I walked into this thinking I would meet again with this
amazing “somebody” who has been occupying my thoughts for quite a while
and what I found was this complete stranger who seriously had not the
most remote interest in anything that had to do with me. Needless to
say, to him it was equally disappointing to meet with a hysterical
monster that I turned out to be, ah! but you see, I should consider
myself lucky as i got some hugs so I would not feel bad, as I later was
informed… pitiful affection, the nerve!!

My, my, my! how very
unpleasant and confusing it all was! what a mass of contradictions and
mixed signals! how badly I respond to uncertainty and contradictory
messages! How can anything go SO wrong in absolutely every way?!?!?

The
question that pesters me is: when we met last year and encountered pure
and absolute magic, was it all fake then? did I imagine it all?! how
can somebody be so incredibly different?! we are not talking a little I
mean, this was to the level of “show me your passport and birthmarks
cause I just do NOT believe you are the same person”; unfortunately my
reactions are utterly disproportionate (I curse myself) and i started
doubting everything and wanting to run away just to comeback again… it
was like being stuck in an episode of “the Twilight zone” where
everything appears normal but in reality nothing is what it seems…
VERY unsettling!

I think I am just not cut for this romance
thing; It makes me rethink my stand on arranged marriages: it is OBVIOUS
I am just crap at choosing for myself, I don’t think anybody else can
do a worse job.

Totally bummed out.

Vietnam
D’oh!Posted by Gala
Thu, April 29, 2010 22:33:59

In Nam at the moment, sooooo many blog entries to write I will need to take a full weekend to do so.

The
outstanding impression is the ability of people to drop a load off
anywhere on the street and set up a business, be it shoe repair, mini
restaurant (with hot broths, deep frying pans, fresh produce and dead
ducks & little porks), hair dresses, clothes, bags, pedi-mani or nit
picking central (se sacan piojos a veces, de veras!) after brushing off
the nits, you are received with a smile -or not- and offered a 5 course
meal… all on the sidewalk.

Live and learn!

Shopping in Asia
D’oh!Posted by Gala
Mon, April 19, 2010 11:29:32

Since
I became a minimalist, homeless, backpacker and airlines have this
totally ridiculous 20k policy, shopping is way down in my list of
priorities, nonetheless at times there are things that I actually NEED
to get; normally there is no problem finding anything in Asia, now
finding something that fits? well… that is something else.

I
got rid of 90% of my clothes and just kept what I needed, some of which
is not precisely backpacker style but it seemed silly to buy stuff just
to dress down, so I kept the very basic including underwear -of course-
which I now realize there was nothing basic about it: laces, sheers,
hearts, dots and all the styles you can imagine, but NOTHING fit to
rough it in South East Asia… you CANNOT be sitting in a bus 16 hours
wearing a frilled thong bikini.

So I go to a large store in Pnom Pheng, Cambodia to look for some Granny underwear.

I
always knew Asian girls were small, I just was not aware I was so
damned big! ALL bras had stuffing in them, I mean serious stuff! like a
turkey in Easter time! these ladies are flat as boards! and if I thought
my underwear was girlie the one I found made me think of whore houses
circa 1920 or what German woman would wear during WWII, no middle way.

I
finally find some sensible bottoms (gave up on the bras, when I told
the girl my size she open her eyes so wide I was afraid they would pop
out… so I have a broad back, so WHAT???) I took a disheartened look at
them and then reminded myself of my vow of celibacy and they did not
seem that bad, but they were “L” and looked rather big.
I come up to
the scared looking sales clerk and point out to the width of the
underpants and my hips and she shakes her head and says Ooohhh nooo, TOO
big! I agree with her as those nickers looked like a tent and wait
while she goes to the back office. Due to my boyish hips in the USA I
take a size M and it tends to be a on the very comfy side S being a bit
too small, so I was hoping the girl would find something smaller than L.

When
she came out she displayed a gross piece of material with a big fat
label XL for a big fat ass saying proudly “this good!” and -pointing to
my butt: “too big!”. It was the most indignant moment ever: she took
them out, stretched them and put them over my clothes like overbearing
embarrassing Moms do whilst saying all the while “gooood!!!”.

She
turned around and left, I did not understand what was going on, so I
followed a minute later just to find her at the register where the
cashier was already marking the items, it just seemed so complicated
trying to explain that there was a horrible mistake and that NO WAY was I
a size XL, so I said thank you and quietly paid, thinking I could leave
them behind in the Guest House and perhaps the owner would think it was
a new blanket I had kindly donated.

When I got home, just out of curiosity I tried them on, just to have a laugh…

They fit… they fit perfectly and snugly too… SO depressing!

Darned tiny, tiny Asians and their tainted sizes.

April 15
PhotosPosted by Gala
Thu, April 15, 2010 06:22:04

It is my Boys’ birthday and I am a bit melancholy.
I have not spend even half of their bdays with them.

I
am happy they are healthy, good hearted, responsible, reliable,
handsome, smart, genuinely good, focused, studious, intelligent and very
sweet. (also smart assed and messy, but who cares?!). VERY proud of my
children!

Today I miss them terribly.

They are turning 16.

I am too young to have such old kids!



Old blog 9

2010 blogs Posted on Tue, August 19, 2014 20:41:39

Costums
D’oh!Posted by Gala Mon,
September 06, 2010 09:07:07

Customs in India are quite unique, all the way around.

Starting at the airport

I
have never been so thoroughly checked for a short flight before, 12
people (count them TWELVE) stopped me at some point or another to check
my bag, take all items out, open any closed containers, one of them had
my breakfast, some fruits and I forbade the officer to touch it telling
him his hands were dirty and he would NOT be touching my food (he
didn’t).

My passport was read oh so many times it just got silly
(try pronouncing GALA GUIBA GUERRERO), and the frisking was… frisky,
that is more foreplay than anything else. I got touched everywhere by
the female officers… and I mean EVERYWHERE… lovers -if I remember
correctly- are not that detailed, I kid you not.

From those 12 people, 5 were posted from the boarding gate to the actual seat.

I think soon they will install a gynecologist to do help with the process.

You think that is bad? you guys will get a proctologist, mark my words!

Photos in Kathmandu
Mushy Stuff / Mariconadas
Posted by Gala Fri, August 27, 2010 11:15:08

I
am really crappy photographer; I have no instinct, technique, good eye,
quick reflexes and certainly not gutsy enough to make good shots: being
brave is of the essence! you gotta have a good pair to stick a camera
right on a Monk’s face while he’s having a smoke (some do!) or a bunch
of men having a “shower” on a busy street (seen it in Burma: soap and
all) or to capture the essence of a city via funky looking gurus smoking
pot by a temple (saw that in Kathmandu).

I don’t have any of
that, and it is a shame, really. I am too slow, too shy (laugh not!) and
my equipment is a teeny weenie camera with a faulty battery. Never the
less I try. Would never submit anybody to my hundreds of boring shots,
of course and have come to terms with my lack of photographic talent,
but today was different…

Kathmandu is a place like no other
even within the realms of “every place is unique”. I stay in the
backpacker district which caters to all non-trekking travelers’ romantic
notion of the town: exotic, crowed, literally hundreds of stores
selling all sorts of clothing, textiles, handcrafts all tucked away in
suspicious looking alleys; dozens rickshaws, holy cows (batman ha-ha!)
wandering around… seriously, they are cows and considered to be holy,
they stand in the middle of the street while MAD traffic respectfully
drive around them when no such respect is shown for human life:
pedestrians are no more than speed bumps to drivers.

People walk
shoulder to shoulder, elbowing and pushing and jumping out of the way of
crazy cabbies; little kids come and ask for money with heartbreaking
whimpers only to turn around and mess around laughing hysterically with
their mates. surprisingly men NEVER touch, whistle, stare, grab, pull or
are disrespectful to women; this is a place where a yellow sari clad
guy, with 2mt long dreadlocks, face ashed white and heavy red coloured
forehead or lips, not sure (not unlike Ronald Mc Donald only tantric)
comes to you and throws flowers on your head, put red stuff on your
forehead and dictates your as “blessed” .

I can take a thousand
pictures and it could never reflect the smells, a mix of incense and
rotting corps -the city has no garbage disposal system, so people choose
sites and dump their rubbish there, it rots thanks to the unbearable
heat and the stomping around of seemingly thousands of people, eaten by
dogs & cows… I have seen piles 1.5mts tall-.
Even if I was a
master with my little camera -which I am not- the constant honks of
cars, scooters and cleverly designed hoots bicycles use made out of
up-side down ketchup bottles could never ever be properly reflected on a
picture.

IF I take a shot of that I see, it appears to be only
another traffic jam, but it is Oh! so much more than that! it is a mind
blowing defiance of space and logic, it is impossible colors, shocking
scents, human misery and beauty all mixed in one. How can I convey the
impact of seeing a bleeping cow taking a nap in a busy intersection? it
would just be the picture of a cow, wouldn’t it?.

I am certain
that in some years photography will be multi-censorial experience, where
one can smell the smells, hear the sounds, feel the textures, taste the
tastes… this would certainly give a twist to those (boring!) honey
moon pictures in Mumbai…

Classics
Books & Flicks
Posted by Gala Sat, August 21, 2010 07:48:15

The Hunchback of Notre dame (Victor Hugo); just read it; so sad, heartbreaking really.
Took
me a bit to get into it as it is descriptive to a fault specially in
terms of architecture; reading it 180 years after it was written I am
bound to miss many of the back handed comments about government and
church, although most of it can be applied to politicians and bishops of
this day and age.
But I stuck to it, more like a chore than a
pleasure but then it happened, pure magic; the book “grabbed” me and I
couldn’t put it down.

When my Boys were little I used to tell
them there were some “magical” books, after reading a bit something
would come from its pages and take a hold of them, from that point on
everything will revolve about the story untill they finished it. I don’t
think they remember that now, but we use to define books as magical or
not.

The Hunchback of Notre Dame? Magical.

Wonderful to
read classics and dissipate all those misconceptions I might have, which
largely come from loosely based films, adaptations, side references and
the likes, which is all fine, of course, but the very cool thing is to
know the basis of it all and; I am sure most of you have already read
them, but for me it is new and little by little I nibble my way through,
with surprises and all:

Frankenstein (Mary Shelley) was a good,
tender hearted misunderstood creation (sans bolts on his forehead) there
wasn’t any plank, thunderbolts or “IT”S ALIIIIVEEEE” yell from Dr.
Frankenstein, in fact, he just abandoned the poor thing there and did
not come across it for YEARS until his creation caught up with him.
Another terribly sad story.
Dracula (Bram Stoker) has no allergy to
garlic; does not require an invitation to get into a house and does not
necessarily prefer hot young blond girls;

Gulliver (Jonathan
Swift) was quite the stubborn one and had NO sense of direction as he
goes for his travels on 4 separate occasions, getting lost every single
time. I knew the trip to Lilliput, but he visits many others, the last
being the Yahoo’s (horses dominating mankind and superior in every way)
and the most impressive -to me- to the land where people were
immortal… sounds like a good deal? well, not really: they kept getting
old and decrepit, despised by all. You see, it is only cool to be
immortal if you look like Brad Pitt in “Interview with a Vampire” that
is trim, sexy and not a day over 35; any other way living for ever would
seriously suck.

The weirdest thing ever, in my Robinson Crusoe
(DeFoe)book there was no mention of Friday, his companion (found much a
long while after he was stranded) was named Sunday for he found him “on
the day of the lord”, I might have quite a funky edition as I have done a
brief research and have found that the native is called “Friday”
everywhere else, which leaves me terribly confused.

I have never
seen the adaptation of the Hunchback in any of its forms, but now I am
curious to see the Disney version… there is NO way it could have kept
in line with the story and make it politically correct and safe for
children; there is torture, heartless treatment to handicaps, hookers
left and right, be-headings, abuse of justice, VERY naughty sexual
arousal and a priest looking behind a door how a girl is being
seduced… to put it politely (boobs fondled and all) the same priest
tries to rape Esmeralda, who by the way is 16.

HOW THE HELL did they manage to make this into a kiddy movie???

Err… exit please?
Mental notesPosted by Gala
Sun, August 15, 2010 09:52:39
Mental Note:
when
making a stupid face in the attempt to ruin a stranger’s picture (AKA
Photo-Bomb), make sure you are not trapped in a confined space such as a
bus, subway or restaurant; chances are they will check the photo, pass
the digital camera around and notice the weird brown woman sitting
behind them gesturing… they will look at you grudgingly or in the best
case, mock you mercilessly…

Burma
D’oh!Posted by Gala
Mon, August 09, 2010 03:00:44

I am now in Myanmar, Burma.
My travel guide, under ATM’s wrote: “Dream on”
Boy! they were not kidding!
The
very same day I left Singapore I read this and ran like mad to airport
ATM’s and currency exchange joints where I paid ridiculous fees just to
get some dollars. I wasn’t too concerned as I thought that things may
have changed here and AT LEAST I could go to a bank.
Nope, no banks, no debit nor credit cards, ATM do no exist, so this time I have to stick to a budget FOR REAL.
I exchanged 100 USD at my guest house and got about 2 or 3 inches of local money (Kyats) which I hope will suffice.
That
is another thing, they take only new notes, none of that old crumpled
stuff, they want ’em dollars fresh out of the press, 100 notes get extra
credit BUT there are certain serial numbers which are not favoured, so
those get rejected, no matter what: if it is a “bad” number you are
screwed…
Oh dear!

Singapore
D’oh!Posted by Gala
Sat, August 07, 2010 10:03:16

Just had such a fabulous week in Singapore, I am totally in love with the place.

Although
it is the biggest shopping mall in the world -seriously, I have never
seen so many shops and malls all connected- I still love the city, the
weather, sites, architecture, heritage; adore how everything works like
clockwork, it is clean, safe, fun, GREAT subway & bus system,
cinemas… I had a film watching orgy of 10 movies in 7 days: Despicable
me is the best movie ever! dazzled by Leo di Caprio (I know…) ,
experienced my first 3D with a very cheesy Hollywood flick, cried like a
fool with Toy Story 3, how could I not! Andy leaves Buzz & Woody
and the whole gang! (Mr. Potato Head rocks) On an unrelated side note:
little snotty children should be taught not make fun of their more
sensible elders in movie theaters.

My friends tell me I love it
so much here because it is totally western, I suppose they are right, I
just felt so… at home but in a bizarre, like the antipodes of home
(wherever that is) where it feels very real but in a Chinese version? I
even saw people who looked like friends of mine but with Asian
features… weird, man!

By the way, and this is not very PC, but I
had trouble following a couple of Chinese films I saw, the characters
looked all the same to me and I could barely keep up with the story as I
thought it was the same actor playing multiple roles or the same guy
chasing and being chased… very confusing! I have been told by local
acquaintances that they have the same problems with westerns: we all
look the same to them, do you think that when they watch a movie they
are not sure if that chick is Julia Roberts, Jolie or Sandra Bullock? or
that there are only 6 characters in Ocean 11?!!
I should ask.

It is the city’s 45th Birthday on August 9, many happy returns.

Fatunes
D’oh!Posted by Gala
Tue, July 27, 2010 02:52:46

My I-tunes library suffers from morbid obesity.
It
used to be lean and trim music machine way back when; then I started
feeding it just about everything: classical, pop, rap, rancheras, opera,
blues, rock, house, lounge, oldies, newbie’s, everything I could get my
hands on would go in, byte after byte.

Then it just got worse,
not only would I do this in the privacy of my home, but I started taking
my lap to my friend’s house and binging on a whole all new array of
flavours and styles, in a horrid display of musical gluttony.

I
got to the lowest point when I visited my kids, their dad has the most
amazing collection, so I would hide and stuff my poor I-tunes in the wee
hours while people were sleeping. Embarrassing.

At this point I
realized I had a problem, this had to stop! The hard disk was feeling
tight, it hardly fit anymore, not a single note could be added to my 80g
Ipod and it was constantly refluxing; the shuffle just popped and there
was no apendixectomy to save it; this depressed me so we went trough
the bulimic stage; downloading tons and tons of music over the internet
only to be deleted afterwards; the trash bin was constantly emptied.
Now we have stopped all of that… mainly because it is impossible to add so much as an album cover.
Now we have realized the consequences of our actions
Now we are too fat to move.
When
I open the Itunes application my poor, poor Mac cannot stand the weight
and collapses, the little colourful ball of doom spirals like crazy
whenever I attempt to upload my library and there is not a chance in
hell I can get it to stop.
As I work, I see it from the corner of my
eye… It just stays there, the little music note icon, staring
grudgingly at me, accusing me of its inability to perform, to even put a
B after an A while sorting, not to mention dealing with the Artist…
that just throws it into a pathetic fit.
I try to help, I really do; I
quit all other applications so it has a bit more room to manoeuvre;
entice it to exercise and flex those chubby genres, move ‘em flaccid
albums to the rhythm of the deceased King of Pop, but all to no avail.
It
is simply too podgy; all other applications are beginning to hate it as
it slows them down, at times there is a strike on the toolbar lead by a
defiant Firefox.
It is sad, really.
In a mad attempt to revive
it, I pressed the wrong key (repeatedly) and the library doubled,
quadrupled, whatever comes after hitting a button 10 times BAM! Just
like that it exploded into 168,324 songs!
It really breaks my heart
as now I fear I may have to pull the plug and wipe it all clean, kill
the poor bastard and start a whole new life with a leaner, cleaner,
younger version of it. Seems such an unfair betrayal.
No, I am not
ready to give up on my meaty creation. I shall find a cure! download a
program that guarantees to bring it back to life and whip it into shape,
to lypo-suck all the excess entries; I have found all this promising
Gurus online and I am hopeful.

Ah! the irony… almost 170,000 entries and I cannot listen to music.

Greed is a bad, BAD thing.

x-ray of an email
Mushy Stuff / Mariconadas
Posted by Gala Sat, July 24, 2010 07:34:46

Yesterday
I briefly emailed with this person I had met almost a year back. It was
all fun and games back then but unfortunately the last time we actually
met it was one hellish encounter, one of those we all keep in the
annals of infamy? yeah, like that only nastier.

The reason for
the contact was innocent enough, I had realized some applications I use
kept sending emails to my contacts (if you received them I apologize!)
which is annoying enough, problem was it kept using an old address book
which still had his contact details I had totally erased him, or so I
thought… bummer! the mere idea of him thinking I was desperately
trying to get in touch with him made my stomach turn, so I followed the
undeniable female logic and I contacted him to let him know I was not
trying to contact him…

Yeah, I know…

Polite as he
always is he replied nicely not to worry and the usual pleasantries came
back and forth in the next and final email.

All is fine, we are
civil and grown up but I could not help but to analyze what REALLY made
me want to email him. After our last redez-vous it is absolutely clear
to me, without any shadow of doubt (yet with certain melancholy) that he
is not a person I would want to be with at all, he is the OPPOSITE of
what I consider attractive in a man; really detested his behavior and he
was a great disappointment to me as a person. There is nothing that
would make me reconsider him as a romantic option and I am pretty damned
sure he feels the same way about me.

Then why the hell then did I contact him?

My
original reason was valid 100%, I was ticked off for this e-blunder…
we always have a good reason, don’t we? but if we go deeper we realize
there is always something else going on; perhaps we want to find a way
to say those things we couldn’t? maybe we need to tell people “hey, you
really hurt me… you SUCK!” or “I am sorry I behaved like an idiot (not
entirely my case, but there are some elements of my idiocy, no doubt).

Why do we go back to places we don’t want to be in?.

I
think in my case, it upsets me that I never really got the chance to be
me, he never got to know me and I still got crucified; in reality I can
live with that, it is a superficial reasoning.

The hard core
truth of it all, the X-ray result is that having been so utterly
mistaken for so long about this person makes me doubt myself and my
judgment and THAT I can’t live with, not with self doubt, I can’t… how
could I possible be SO dead wrong about somebody? am I totally unable
now to tell good from evil? am I so totally delusional? making up
stories and believing them? did I just imagine this perfect person?
because gawd knows that the nasty little troll I met a couple of months
ago had nothing to do with the man I had met a year back. AM I THAT
STUPID??

I guess what I want is to get to know the real person
-at a safe distance- and find peace of mind in the knowledge that I have
not lost my marbles just yet, that he behaved like an as*h*le (and I
reacted like a lunatic) and in reality it is simply a story that did not
work out, but the original character did in fact exist and was not a
fixture of my feverish -and lonely- imagination.

And this is the x-ray of a personal email, right to the bone.

Exam Answers
Quotes, jokes & BabosadasPosted by Gala Thu, July 22, 2010 09:36:32
Found these answers given by high school kids in various exams.
I am even MORE proud of my kids after reading this…

It’s a little long, but worth the time!
Q. Explain one of the processes by which water can be made safe to drink
A. Flirtation makes water safe to drink because it removes large pollutants like grit, sand, dead sheep and canoeists

Q. How is dew formed
A. The sun shines down on the leaves and makes them perspire

Q. What causes the tides in the oceans
A.
The tides are a fight between the earth and the moon. All water tends
to flow towards the moon, because there is no water on the moon, and
nature abhors a vacuum. I forget where the sun joins the fight.

Q. What guarantees may a mortgage company insist on
A. If you are buying a house they will insist that you are well endowed

Q. In a democratic society, how important are elections
A. Very important. Sex can only happen when a male gets an election

Q. What are steroids
A. Things for keeping carpets still on the stairs

Q. What happens to your body as you age
A. When you get old, so do your bowels and you get intercontinental

Q. What happens to a boy when he reaches puberty
A. He says goodbye to his boyhood and looks forward to his adultery
.
Q. Name a major disease associated with cigarettes
A. Premature death

Q. What is artificial insemination
A. When the farmer does it to the bull instead of the cow

Q. How can you delay milk turning sour
A. Keep it in the cow

Q. What is the fibula?
A. A small lie

Q. What is the most common form of birth control
A. Most people prevent contraception by wearing a condominium

Q. Give the meaning of the term ‘Caesarean section’
A. The caesarean section is a district in Rome

Q. What is a seizure?
A. A Roman Emperor.

Q. What is a terminal illness
A. When you are sick at the airport.

Q. What does the word ‘benign’ mean?
A. Benign is what you will be after you be eight

Q. What is a turbine?
A. Something an Arab or Shreik wears on his head



Old blog 8

2010 blogs Posted on Tue, August 19, 2014 20:39:10

Charades
D’oh!Posted by Gala
Sun, October 24, 2010 02:50:16

Being Understood
There is a massive difference between not understanding and not wanting to understand.
I
don’t speak Vietnamese or any Asian language, yet I am very willing to
make a total and utter fool of myself in order to communicate; posted
this before, but I have been known to moo, oink and clucked away doing
the chicken dance when trying to express my lack of desire to eat beef,
pork or chicken; I have mimicked boat raids, bicycles, trains and buses
(often mistaken by truck, but hey!). Not shy when it comes to looking
for underwear and have even managed to get a French manicure/pedicure + a
waxing job… I’ll grant you that the waxing was way more thorough than I
ever anticipated, but I got the job done… to the last detail… to the
last, hidden, painful, unexpected for such a prude society, tucked away
detail…
It was Hot wax. I will never forget it. As long as I live.
In
Vietnam it seems so darned difficult to communicate, though! People are
lovely, really nice yet unwilling to put their creative caps on and
have a guessing game; when I have tried to get things I come out either
being stared at like I just landed from Neptune or with something
completely different than was I was hoping to get, I mean not eve
REMOTELY close.
For instance, I wanted to light a candle in my room,
so I go to the reception of the nicest hotel in Con Dao, where I have
been staying for 3 weeks and ask for matches, not understood, I write
the word “matches” and it doesn’t ring a bell, fair enough, I should
really know the word in Vietnamese, so I start my little act: pretend to
hold a small box in my left hand, with the right hand I pretend to be
holding a match and in one and graceful, if I may say so myself- motion
(away from the body, always light a match away from the body) and
accompanied by a WHOOOOSH!!! sound I am holding an imaginary lit match
between my fingers, pretend to touch it, get burnt and finally blow it
out… it just didn’t work, the 4 little Vietnamese ladies (I think 1 was a
guy) were just looking at me, completely dumbfounded… perhaps matches
were not in use?
I had seen loads of people smoking and using
lighters, so do as if holding a cigarette between my lips and lighting
it (clicking thumb motion) took a big puff and all, GREAT!! Big nods and
signs of recognition! Oddly they didn’t give the lighter to me right
there, but instructed me to go back to my room, ignoring my protests: “5
minute, 5 minute!” they said.
True to their word, 5 minutes later a
knock on my door and the technician standing there, big ladder in one
hand, hammer on the other ready to fix the wifi in my room.
Seriously, and forgive my crudeness, but…WTF?!?
I was told that recently there was the recent release of the Vietnamese version of the the TV show “Charades”…
Cant wait tho see that… I would think it is the worst show on the planet and nobody wins. Ever.

Sharades 2
D’oh!Posted by Gala Sun,
October 24, 2010 02:44:29

I
think I have come to a solution for my eating disorder… by this I
mean the ability to communicate what I want to have for lunch.
I
realized that I could make drawings, the vegetarian diet has been quite
an issue as the concept is completely unknown and when explained frowned
upon, so I looked up tons of words for food in Vietnamese, jotted them
down and made some pretty neat illustrations (added below), so that has
been a life saver.
So: no shrimp, no lamb, no fish, no pork, no calamari, no chicken, no beef, no oysters.

This magnificent drawing clearly indicates I want none of that beef broth stuff..

Despite
the fact that my poor drawing normally gets me what I need, or close
enough, I was in a situation yesterday that was so silly I just had to
laugh. I had gone to this shop many times before and I know the family
well (on an unrelated note, beware of puddles when you are in the local
store of a small Vietnamese town where there are babies around, that big
pond you find in the middle of the shop is not to refresh your tired
bare feet…I have learned that little kids run around without diapers).
So
I come back to get some glasses, ugly as hell but nothing else
available; the shop owner had moved things around and I could not find
them, so I drew a picture of them, she showed me eeeeeeverything BUT:
plastic jugs, tequila shots (??) coffee makers, buckets; he pulled out
half of his store but no ugly-glasses; 20 minutes later I remembered I
had noted the price down, so I showed him 6,000 VD et voila! He knew
EXACTLY what I was talking about…. just with a number.
what? not dramatic?
Please see here my drawing and the print on the box and kindly explain it to me…

The Beast
Mushy Stuff / Mariconadas
Posted by Gala Sat, October 16, 2010 08:16:11

At
first glance, the traffic in Saigon (Ho Chi Min City) is a chaotic
illogical maddening mess; we foreigners feel we must run for our lives
as scooters do NOT yield for pedestrians, buses, cars or anything
really; nobody gives way and it all seems like a carnage of loud honks
and bright coloured helmets.
At a second glance one may notice a
whole new set of unwritten rules: at peak time it is perfectly
acceptable and expected for scooters to take the sidewalk as an extra
lane, so pedestrians need to squeeze to the wall or walk right between
sidewalk and pavement, jumping over gutters and countless spontaneous
eating stations. Cars and buses intuitively convert a 2 lanes into 3 and
all drivers -by means of some unspoken agreement- are entitled to
invade the opposite side of the road should there be the tiniest space
available to maneuver.
If you stay for a while in the city, there
comes a point in which you have to decide: either you fear or embrace
the beast; you run away or surrender to it, there is no in between. I
took the decision to relent and not fight it any longer: no more running
into traffic with my eyes closed, madly swinging a plastic bag to
intimidate drivers and enough with waiting for hours at the time to
cross the street.
Enough.
I jumped in the back of a scooter-taxi,
driven by a tiny, incredibly thin, 102 year old Vietnamese driver who
spoke not 1 word of English; we agreed on a price by pointing at the
speedometer (20kms = 20,000 Vietnamese dong 40kms = 40 dong, etc).
The
traffic was insane, rush hour of a Friday afternoon, people eager to
leave work, schools were finished and the weather is pleasant; Tiny guy
is negotiating the curves with blood chilling sharpness and avoiding
pedestrians by less than an inch; at that moment I decided to become one
with the city and let myself go, relaxed the crushing grip my knees had
subjected the poor driver to, opened my eyes and started to grasp how
it all works.
Saigon is a living breathing organism, I now understand
what the concept of pulsing city really means; every single person,
car, truck, van, pedestrian, scooter, barking dog, playful kid, cyclist,
rickshaw has a very specific behaviour, which seems to come naturally,
without the need of any explanation; everybody knows what to do and
smoothly (as by a miracle) move out of the way without so much as a
glance, as if they had eyes in the back of their heads; ridding on the
back of scooter I couldn’t help but to make the comparison of the city
with the perfect mechanism of a body, the traffic flow is not unlike a
rush of blood going through and animal’s veins, each organ has a purpose
and activity, everything happens at the same time in an almost
none-sensical synchrony and yet it all works perfectly, like clockwork;
the heart beats, brain sends electric pulses all around, the stomach
breaks food, lungs deal with breathing, hormones makes us do really
stupid things and so it all happens at the same time; should one single
organ stop it would all fail… same with traffic: should one pedestrian
panic and stop in the middle of the road it would create a commotion,
the flow would be interrupted and the system would collapse even if
briefly so.
Riding the scooter, the wind on my face, the pissing pot
they gave me as a helmet wobbling around, almost feeling the knees and
elbows of other scooter drivers… I was a part of the big animal, doing
my bit to keep the creature alive.
I loved it.

Get lost
D’oh!Posted by Gala
Mon, October 11, 2010 07:17:53

“Lost myself in the streets of Burma” might be a very romantic notion, but the reality of it is far less appealing.
There
is nothing new about me getting lost, whomever is acquainted with me or
has walked by my side for 10 minutes will testify that I have no sense
of direction what so ever. I had a lovely map with little pictures in it
indicating the most relevant of the whopping 4000 temples in the town
(FOUR thousand!) as well as the name of the 2 big roads clearly printed;
I needed nothing more so I rented my bicycle, got 2 bottles of water, a
card with the Guest House’s address and with a camera and enthusiasm
fully charged off I go on my merry way, how hard can it be, right?
WRONG.
One would think that with 4,000 temples I would be able to find a few, right? WRONG again, found NONE.
By
now it was now 2pm and the scorching sun is at its highest and not a
hint of clouds to relieve my sorry journey; finally I get on what I
thought was the right road and all I wanted was to get back to my
guesthouse and avoid the midday heat, I have been on the road for 3
straight hours and my butt is in sheer agony at this stage for I chose a
man’s bike with a tiny seat made of -what appeared to me- concrete and
way to low a handle bar, forcing me to hunch over.
My map makes no
sense at all, it only has the names of the 2 big roads and none of the
small streets, where as the street “signage” (kindly sponsored by a
local tea company) indicates only the names of the small streets but not
of the main roads, rendering the whole experience a royal mess.
I
kept asking people for directions, and they are all very nice and
vaguely pointed straight ahead (where else?! It is one single bleeping
road!) and asking me where I am from and if I wanted to buy paintings.
It has been now 4 hours, I have finished my 2 bottles of water,
positively cannot stand to put my (now raw) bum on the seat, feeling
angry, frustrated, hating Bagan, Burma, Asia, in fact the world with
each and every single person in it, hating myself for thinking I could
actually find my way and cursing all those who have a keen sense of
direction.
I have been going around in circles so often than
everything looks familiar now and the mental notes I had made to get me
back are now totally blurred: I recognize everything and know nothing.
The
little business card the hotel’s receptionist gave me was useless as it
was in English, I was useless at reading the map and the map was
useless because it was also in English and it seems people have no clue
about it; when shown, the locals would turn it in every possible
direction and seemed to be even more lost than I, and I fully understand
that! This town dates way back to the 10th century and it is very
likely that their ancestors build the place; generation after generation
are born and die in the same place, so they instinctively know every
square inch of town, it is encoded in their genetic composition for
sure, so who the hell needs a map? Who would need to know where the main
road is if it has been there for ever and ever? It is absurd to put it
in print when its id RIGHT THERE where it always has been.
If I was shown a blue print of my childhood home I would make little sense to me.
Needless
to say, this profound reasoning was nowhere to be found as I was
entering hour number 5 of my ordeal, almost breaking into tears I asked a
police man/soldier for directions, I had seen him just sitting in the
same spot all 9 times I went through that road and he arrogantly brushed
me off as a convoy with some generals was passing through and he needed
to salute them; I instinctively knew that A) he had NO clue and B)was
his one and only bleeping chore all day and I was cramping his style
when his boss was riding by… like he would notice him.
I was tempted
to just book another place to sleep, I grew convinced that the place had
just shut down while I was away and moved to another town, in my
–delirious- mind I could see my self going to the embassy, having to
deal with a new passport, ID, credit cards and explaining how I fell
into the “moving Guest House Scam” when it appeared like an oasis:
“Nyaung Pya Tieng Guesthouse, All visitors welcome”, the Four Seasons
Hotels never looked this good! like the pope, I jumped out of my bike
and kissed the ground and walked into the reception like I had just
dismounted a massive horse, walking with my legs wide apart, sweating
like a Swede in a summer Bombay market.
You see, there are people
who are wonderful at finding their way, you could drop them in the
middle of Siberia and they could get back to Palm Springs, there are
some who have no sense of direction and there are a few chosen ones who
were born with an ANTI internal compass; it goes well beyond not knowing
exactly were to go –if only- it is about taking absolutely every single
possible wrong turn there is to take. Even when we try to “cheat”
ourselves: if I would naturally tend to go left I might stop and think
that MUST be wrong, I am always wrong! so I should take the opposite of
what I think is correct, so I go left, which of course is the opposite
direction.
We Compass-less folks can’t trust our instincts and can’t
rely on the opposite either, it is futile, we just embrace it: you WILL
get lost… always…regardless, so simple plan ahead extra time. When
traveling it does get a little worse, specially in countries where the
“alphabet” (can we call it that?) is a collection of in-comprehensive
symbols, which just adds to the madness.
On a plus side, once we
have come to terms with this handicap, it is a wonderful way to explore a
town, this is the TRUE and honest meaning of “getting lost in an exotic
place”, when you really have no clue where you are or where you are
heading.
I have no doubt this compass-less syndrome is a condition
not yet recognized by the medical society, but we are fighting for it!
Only problem is that we have not managed to find the meeting place to
rally our cause… seems everybody keeps getting lost.

Truisms for adullts
Quotes, jokes & Babosadas
Posted by Gala Tue, October 05, 2010 04:51:05

1. I think part of a best friend’s job should be to immediately clear your computer history if you die.

2. Nothing sucks more than that moment during an argument when you realize you’re wrong.

3. I totally take back all those times I didn’t want to nap when I was younger.

4. There is great need for a sarcasm font.

5. How in the world are you supposed to fold a fitted sheet?

6. Was learning cursive really necessary?

7. Map Quest really needs to start their directions on # 5. I’m pretty sure I know how to get out of my neighborhood.

8. Obituaries would be a lot more interesting if they told you how the person died.

9. I can’t remember the last time I wasn’t at least kind of tired.

10. Bad decisions make good stories.

11. You never know when it will strike, but there comes
a moment at work when you know that you just aren’t going to do anything productive
for the rest of the day.

12. Can we all just agree to ignore whatever comes after Blue Ray? I don’t want to have to restart my collection.. .again.

13.
I’m always slightly terrified when I exit out of Word and it asks me if
I want to save any changes to my ten-page technical report that I swear
I did not make any changes to.

14. “Do not machine wash or tumble dry” means I will never wash this – ever.

15. I hate when I just miss a call by the last ring (Hello? Hello?), but when
I
immediately call back, it rings nine times and goes to voice mail. What
did you do after I didn’t answer? Drop the phone and run away?

16. I hate leaving my house confident and looking good and then not seeing anyone of importance the entire day. What a waste.

17. I keep some people’s phone numbers in my phone just so I know not to answer when they call.

18. I think the freezer deserves a light as well.

19. I disagree with Kay Jewelers. I would bet on any given Friday or Saturday night more kisses begin with Miller Lite than Kay.

20. I wish Google Maps had an “Avoid Ghetto” routing option.

21.
Sometimes, I’ll watch a movie that I watched when I was younger and
suddenly realize I had no idea what the heck was going on when I first
saw it.

22. I would rather try to carry 10 over-loaded plastic bags in each hand than take 2 trips to bring my groceries in.

23. I have a hard time deciphering the fine line between boredom and hunger.

24.
How many times is it appropriate to say “What?” before you just nod and
smile because you still didn’t hear or understand a word they said?

25.
I love the sense of camaraderie when an entire line of cars team up to
prevent a jerk from cutting in at the front. Stay strong, brothers and
sisters!

26. Shirts get dirty. Underwear gets dirty. Pants? Pants never get dirty, and you can wear them forever.

27. Is it just me or do high school kids get dumber & dumber every year?

28.
There’s no worse feeling than that millisecond you’re sure you are
going to die after leaning your chair back a little too far.

29.
As a driver I hate pedestrians, and as a pedestrian I hate drivers, but
no matter what the mode of transportation, I always hate bicyclists.

30. Sometimes I’ll look down at my watch 3 consecutive times and still not know what time it is.

31.
Even under ideal conditions people have trouble locating their car keys
in a pocket, finding their cell phone, and Pinning the Tail on the
Donkey
– but I’d bet you everyone can find and push the snooze button
from 3 feet away, in about 1.7 seconds, eyes closed, first time, every time!

32.
As you age, dark hair gets whiter and starts disappearing from where it
should be while strange darker hairs start appearing where they never
were and grow mightily.

33. It is a cruel injustice that you can still get zits as you wrinkle.

34. Sometimes one can envy the totally oblivious.

35. I miss the days when everything worked with just one ON and OFF switch.

36. I’m listing the federal government as a dependent on my taxes this year.

India
PhotosPosted by Gala
Mon, September 20, 2010 03:35:25

Again, apologies for the crummy pictures.

To
be on the safer and more comfortable side of exploring, I hired an
Agency “Savion Travels” NEVER use them! remember that name! sadly their
planning was uninspired and they choice of Hotels very poor, to say the
least. Not only that, after I complaint i have been getting non-stop
stupid emails with excuses and loads of BIG question marks at the end of
THEIR complaints. The concept of client, service recovery or plain old
good service seems to be complete unheard of and I am now demanded an
explanation with increasingly aggressive and idiotic emails. I guess now
it is part of the anecdote: the Harassing Shi*ty Travel Agency with the
Wounded Ego. (seriously: pass the word, and NEVER EVER use them! Savion
Travels).

The trip was to Agra, New Delhi, Jaipur, Amber,
Pushkar and loads of lil towns in between, taken around by a driver who
did NOT speak English (thanks to the briliiant service of Savion), he
pretended to be a silent discreet driver, but I know he just did not
understand a word I said; nice fellow, not a comment out of place from
him, that’s for sure

India…

Very dramatic places… in
every sense… richness of colours, poverty, generosity, filth, chaos;
gaiety; chamans running around totally stoned and half naked; people
sleeping on the sidewalks; an obscene amount of famished dogs and cats
with a funky attitude; public bathing in the holy river (where they also
wash clothes, dishes and use as public toilet…) flowers everywhere;
cows napping on the highway or munching away on the street; sunglasses
stealing monkeys; acrobatic children doing back flips for a few coins;
WONDERFUL food; cart pulling camels; cutesy squirrels stealing lunches;
incredibly dirty holes on the ground posing as toilets although
seemingly any place is good to alleviate any physiological need… why
hide behind a bush if you need to… err… defecate? the side of the
road at plain view is just as good!.

Did I mention dirty? yeah, well: dirty.

Saw
many men standing around buck naked… what can I say? India may be
cursed with natural disasters -and bad politics- but Mother Nature sure
compensated Indian fellows with a whole chunk a… well… you know
where this is going.

Finally: Taj Mahal… the most beautiful place I have ever seen in my life. The ultimate monument to love and despair.

Now I can die.

(don’t mean now, NOW die… I am being melodramatic, of course, after all I am Latina)

Bhutan
PhotosPosted by Gala
Thu, September 16, 2010 10:16:18

Here
are some pictures of Bhutan, as I have said before, I am a crappy
photographer and they don’t even come close to the beauty of the place.

(and yes, that is a massive d*ck painted on a house… apparently it brings protection and good luck.. who knew?!)

some jokes
Quotes, jokes & BabosadasPosted by Gala Mon, September 13, 2010 11:13:40
A
man and a woman were having dinner in a fine restaurant. Their
waitress, taking another order at a table a few paces away noticed that
the man was slowly sliding down his chair and under the table, with the
woman acting unconcerned.
The waitress watched as the man slid all
the way down his chair and out of sight under the table. Still, the
woman dining across from him appeared calm and unruffled, apparently
unaware that her dining companion had disappeared.
After the
waitress finished taking the order, she came over to the table and said
to the woman, ‘Pardon me, ma’am, but I think your husband just slid
under the table.’
The woman calmly looked up at her and replied firmly, ‘No he didn’t. He just walked in the door.’

*******

A linguistics professor was lecturing his class one day.
‘In
English’, he said, ‘A double negative forms a positive. In some
languages, though, such as Russian, a double negative is still a
negative. However, there is no language wherein a double positive can
form a negative.’
A loud voice from the back of the room piped up, ‘Yeah, right.’

*******

Two
blondes went to the pound where each adopted a puppy. The joy of their
new best friend was quickly overshadowed when they got home and the
first blonde said, “I think we’re in trouble, how are we going to tell
them apart?”
This lead to several hours of concentration until
finally, the second blonde said, “I’ve got an idea. We’ll tie a red bow
around my puppy and a blue bow around yours.”
The next day the first
blonde comes running up to the second when she got home, “Oh no, I
can’t tell whose puppy is whose. They’ve pulled the ribbons off while
they were playing.”
“OK, we need to find a better way to tell them
apart,” says the second blonde. After several more hours of
concentration, they came up with the bright idea of getting different
colored collars.
Again, the next day, the first blonde comes running
up to the second as soon as she gets home, “Oh no, I can’t tell whose
puppy is whose. They’ve pulled their collars off while they were
playing.”
“There’s got to be some way to tell them apart,” says the second blonde.
After
several more hours of concentration, the first blonde finally comes up
with another idea, “I know! Why don’t you take the black one and I’ll
take the white one!”

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Back to Vietnam
D’oh!Posted by Gala Sun, September 12, 2010 05:17:57
SO happy to be in Vietnam!
I
will be part of a super cool project in a gorgeous island and it could
not have come at a better time as I have 13 buck left for traveling,
close call!

After that is Abu Dhabi and after back to the West, yey!!!

I have been traveling for 8 months and have not had a home cooked meal in over 2 years (I did cook once in Germany).

Delighted with my trips yet happy to be on the very last stage of the Asian adventure.

Feeling good!
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Western Boys
D’oh!Posted by Gala Fri, September 10, 2010 08:57:07
Western Boys… so sorely missed!

Loving
Singapore, Vietnam, Thailand, Myanmar, Nepal; love the traveling,
spirituality, culture, learning, growing, seeing, investigating,
experiencing, self-educating and culturing.

Missing the know how,
the respect for vital space, the handshakes and Latin kisses on the
cheek; miss the non-spitting or urinating in public policy; miss blond
hair, blue eyes, men wearing pants (as opposed to sarongs & skirts);
miss holding hands.

Miss kissing and hugging; being kissed and being held.

Miss
understanding what people are saying; miss veggies and cheese (Asians
do not generally consume it as they lack a specific enzyme so they do
not digest it well). I miss knowing what goes on, high heels and
clubbing. Miss the opera, ballet and theater. Miss not being laught,
pointed or stared at.

Miss my children.

Miss my children SO much.

I believe I am reaching the end of my travels.
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Costums



Old blog 7

2010 blogs Posted on Tue, August 19, 2014 20:33:18

Cold trip
D’oh!Posted by Gala
Thu, November 18, 2010 22:28:47

Shanghai.

This
city turned out to be totally different than I anticipated, specially
after the wonderful Beijing & Xi’an experience. This crazy portal
city -once upon a time a cradle of vice and all things sinful, fun and
decadent- corresponded more to my notion of a modern Asian City.

It was cold, the type of cold that chills you to the bone and doesn’t allow you to enjoy a single thing?
In
all honesty, I’m not sure if it was actually the weather, the tall
snobbish buildings or the fact that I most unfortunately, sadly,
unpleasantly, shockingly, suddenly, and bunch more “ently’s” and
“adly’s” parted ways with my travel buddy.

Yes, I believe that’s what put a damp in my trip.

Seems
my hot and at times irrational temper, mixed with an absolute inability
to comprehensibly communicate when upset, renders me pretty much
useless when it comes to dealing with disagreeable situations.

I’m
rubbish when I’m angry, it doesn’t happen often for I have slowly
learned to control myself, but when it does… well, I might as well
pack up and go… which is what i always do.

I thought I had
improved, I’m terribly disappointed, not so much for the travel mate,
really -which is always a bummer- and there were some issues besides the
fact that I cannot stand flaky or insensitive people but the point is
that I let myself down.
I just KNOW so much better than that.

Can’t one be passionate ONLY with the fun parts?!

*sight*

China
D’oh!Posted by Gala Fri,
November 12, 2010 22:44:15

I
have so far spent 1 week in China, Xi’an & Beijing and find myself
absolutely in awe; never EVER did I expect this country to be like this!

For
some reason I had imagined chaos, dirt and madness and found impeccable
cities, very well organized, relatively easy to move around it,
beautiful place, mostly friendly people, modern, well structured and the
food… oh my god the food is spectacular! I probably should have know
this, but the food passed as Chinese around the world is as authentic as
Taco Bell posing as a Mexican restaurant… yes, so dramatic is the
difference.

This trip will generate several blog posts, starting
with the crotchless trousers toddlers wear in the process of being
toilet trained, but now I must run and try to catch a shrine to Mao,
where I hear he is kept in a freezer and put to defrost several times a
day for the benefit of tourists; rumor has it his ear fell off once and
was rapidly stitched back.

LOVE China.

oh-oh
Mushy Stuff / Mariconadas
Posted by Gala Thu, November 04, 2010 10:43:25

Today
I allow my imagination run wild for a bit, I know it is a BAD idea as
normally I end up desperately chasing it back to unpleasant realms of
reality and this exercise leaves me invariably breathless and exhausted
in many levels.
I have promised myself it is just for today… just a few hours of pipe dreaming.

Surely
you have tucked away in the back of your mind that laminated card of
the “Ideal” guy or girl? we all know it is never going to happen, of
course! but nevertheless there it is, in that dusty corner where we dump
all things romantic.

Well, I just had a lovely call which
prompted me to take a look at my own forgotten little card and despite
the fact that it has evolved with time -I no longer seek for Simon Le
Bon’s identical and hopefully more available twin and now it doesn’t
seem that important whether he is into dancing or owns a black leather
jacket- it is still embarrassing to admit to it.
I secretly wish for
a tall, well traveled, fit and cultured Guy; passionate, decisive, self
assured and if he had salt&pepper hair, made me laugh and that
particular accent which makes me weak at the knee, then I would declare
myself surrendered.

Oh dear… this had all of that and then some. It was SO accurate it border-lined on paranormal.

For
a few minutes my guard came crashing down like thunder and there was no
place to run for cover. I held myself with as much dignity as I
possibly could, praying that my meltdown did not pour over the line like
a sticky gooey mess.

I will need to work double shifts to get
myself back to the the sanctity of my impenetrable tower but in the mean
time, my wildly curled head is somewhere in the clouds between
Kathmandu and Chiang Mai.

Con Dao
PhotosPosted by Gala
Sat, October 30, 2010 02:10:17

Con Dao, Vietnam
It
is such a beautiful place, so much history! it used to be a prison in
the time of the French and the hideous tradition remained during the
American war (Vietnam war for the other side).
It is the location of
the infamous Tiger Cages and the stories are atrocious, blood curling.
20,000 people perished in these dungeons; the prisoners were mainly
political opponents, teachers, monks, women and even a few children,
most of them fled after the Liberation in 1975, yet some remained; in
fact there are 5 ex-prisoners still living in Con Son, 4 men and 1
woman.
The Islands of Con Dao are held dear to the Vietnamese; in
their history books children learn about the relentless spirit of the
people and incredible courage and temperance during war times; when you
walk around town, people are friendly and interested, quite wonderful to
feel that despite all the pain and suffering the spirit was never
broken.
I want this post to reflect the beauty of the place rather than its tragic history, so I thank Kevin for some amazing shots.
(the shi*ty ones are mine…)

Short stories
D’oh!Posted by Gala
Sat, October 30, 2010 01:03:37

I have written a few anecdotical short stories, which seem too damned long for a blog.

I posted one below, so if it feels like a punishment I just might trim it.
Feedback, anyone?

My name is Bond, Jane Bond
D’oh!Posted by Gala
Sat, October 30, 2010 01:01:17

Traveling
alone has very many advantages such as doing whatever the heck you
want, going where you please, change plans at the drop of a hat and
going back to the room at 6pm without the guilt and pressure of “we must
see it all and be on “discovery mode” 19 hours a day; despite the fact
that the positive greatly outweighs the negative, there are some less
than ideal situations in which a travel companion of any sort would come
In handy, specially a male one… please get your mind of the gutter and
work with me here.
Generalizations are not accurate but it would be
fair to say that in general terms in Asia –particularly away from big
cities- there is a culture where people seek the company of families and
friends for basically every little thing to be done, it is a place
where living spaces are cosily shared -putting it poetically- and where
going a few towns away calls for an entourage of at least 32 people to
tearfully bid farewell at the bus station. A western travelling alone is
cause of some wonder (why travel alone if you can do it with 14
others?) and In some places, a woman faring alone –believe it or not-
still raises some eyebrows.
I was advised to say I was married, some
girls go as far as having a fake wedding band to deter any lusty men
because, you see, men here believe that if you are alone you are single,
if single available and if available certainly groppable and hopefully
shaggable. I have always refused using the “idea” of a male to protect
me, I don’t need to make an imaginary boyfriend to keep safe, it is
insulting that men would think that he can’t have his way with me JUST
because there is some one else who already has dibs on me, NO WAY,.
“Let
me clear this up, you sorry attempt of a man: there is no way, no how
not ever a chance you will get anywhere near me. EVER; not in your
wildest dreams or my most terrifying nightmares; even if you were my
very last chance at a joy ride before I died I would not take it, got
it?!… sorry, what did you say?… (geez!!) it means NO, I DO NOT want to
try a romantic Indonesian boyfriend, thank you very much”
I am fully
aware that the fact that I tower over 97.8% of the male population
increases my already enviable self confidence, yet I am still a safety
first sort of person and don’t put myself at any unnecessary risk or
potentially dangerous situations; I don’t go bar hopping, partying,
socializing, I don’t drink or do drugs and like a sweet old grandma I go
back to my room and write postcards as soon as it gets dark. I live
enough at the edge by eating in street markets and riding taxi- scooters
with a pissing bowl for a helmet so I figure I need not risk it
further.
I had never had the need to resort to a husband to keep
safe, until recently; I asked the guys of the restaurant I had dinner in
to hail me a taxi and negotiate the price for me back to the bus
station, mainly so the driver knew I was not alone; I hopped in and sort
of avoided conversation, his beady eyes reflected in the rear view
mirror and gave me the creeps, but he insisted in talking to me; One
doesn’t want to be too friendly, but not rude either, not only because
it is not nice to be mean but also you never know how people might react
if they feel offended, so I gave the shortest possible answers I could,
trying not to reveal too much personal information (paranoid, anyone?).
I
had made the exact same route opposite direction so I had more or less
an idea of the location, so I when I saw that time and taximeter were
just flying and his questions more personal, I started to get nervous;
after the usual rap of where are you from. How long I was in town for,
where was I staying (I hate that one) it came to the boyfriend
question…. So I lied, I said that my boyfriend was waiting for me at the
bus station he was taking me to, all the while I had been fidgeting
with my mobile, I had no local calling card but I use it as an alarm
clock, so I was trying to make it ring some how; I activated the ‘select
a ring tone” application and proceeded to have a fake conversation with
my fake boyfriend, promising him I would be there in “how long till we
arrive?” I asked the driver “I’ll be there in 10 minutes, yes, I love
you too Honey, don’t worry, you can call me again if I am delayed” ( I
NEVER say “honey”).
The driver seemed a bit disappointed and went quiet for a bit after I “hung up” then he charged on, full force.
Driver – why isn’t he with you?
Me- because he just arrived to town
D: where was he?
Me: in Java
D: why?
Me; work
D: you said you don’t live in Indonesia
Me; I don’t
D: then your boyfriend is Indonesian (big hopeful smile)
Me: No, No, he is… Australian
D: why he work here?
Me: he has a special assignment because he… works with the police… International police… as a detective…

OK,
I may have overdone it, but he man was just firing away! I felt I was
being interrogated by the CIA and really did not want him to know I was
fearful of him and making up stories, so I just shot out the first thing
that would come to mind; thing is, I don’t lie… I might omit saying the
whole truth and might embellish some stories, but they always carry
truth, not so much because I might be so godarned honest but more to do
with my terrible memory, I just forget what fibs I made up and end up
either making a massive totally incoherent story or being exposed after
question number two.
Driver: The Indonesian police?? (the police in Java are notoriously ruthless)
He was obviously impressed;
Me: yes, it’s a special mission
D: what is it?
Me:
it is secret… top secret., I can’t tell you because it is very
dangerous; he is very good friends with the chief of police, he is with
him now, actually! He just called me from his office, yes… oh… I mean,
not from his office no because… of course he is waiting for me at the
bus station.
At this point I was really getting into the story, so I
volunteered tons of information, yes, he is from Australia, Melbourne
actually, but we live in Spain, in a lovely villa by the sea (we take
stinky buses in Indonesia just for fun) aha, He loves me very much and
is nice to me. Always. He is very tall, almost 2 meters! Quite blond
indeed, lovely blue eyes, the loveliest dimples when he similes (I was
picturing Jude Law) he likes to take walks in the beach and candle lit
dinners… Luckily I stopped myself once I realized I was describing an
add from a lonely hearts club website.
My story served its purpose,
he just stopped asking questions, surely because he was scared of my
connections in high and dangerous places, not because my story was so
outrageously stupid that he thought me a volatile schizophrenic .
The
10 minutes came and went, I was SURE he was taking me somewhere to chop
me up, so my Australian boyfriend called again, this time really
concerned and pressing to know EXACTLY where his little dove was. “we
are here” my driver said, so I hung up.
Turns out he took me to the
wrong bus station, which was a really big issue as my backpack was left
in the other place, the problem was that he did not believe this was the
wrong place, I kept showing him the ticket with the address the woman I
bought the ticket from had underlined and he insisted we were right
there, I insisted we weren’t and started to freak out a bit, which did
nothing but sustain his suspicions regarding my mental condition “I have
the number, please can you call the other station?… my boyfriend will
be SO worried!” he pointed at my mobile and said “you call them and I
talk to them, I have no phone”
RATS! lying really is always a bad thing, I couldn’t get out of that one.
“I have no credit!” I said… wow! I might actually be good at this making up on the go stuff!
He
walked towards his cab hoping to be rid of me and looking very annoyed,
I had very little time before the bus left and here I was, stuck in a
horrible town, probably lost my back pack and had nowhere to go. I
walked behind him saying “not here, not here, please” he talked to a bus
driver and something seemed to dawn on him, so he said “I know where”
and we drove off, 15 minutes later we were arriving at the actual
station, which turned out to be the garage where buses were kept.
Man!
was I grateful toward him! In precisely 15 min he went from potential
rapist and murderer to a an angel who was sent as my salvation; I gave
him a big tip and a hearty handshake, he was walking with me making sure
it was the right place
“it is here, yes, don’t worry!”
“are you sure? And where is your boyfriend?” he asked, looking around the absolutely deserted place,
“oh… he is… in the bathroom”
He
looked at me funny, I grabbed my mobile and proceeded to take a call
(my phone did not ring) while I walked away and waved bye to him
“Hi honey, I’m finally here!” I said very loudly… to my boyfriend… the Australian detective…

smells
D’oh!Posted by Gala Thu,
October 28, 2010 09:36:42

Have you ever noticed how different we smell in all different areas?
I am not just talking about those obvious hormone charged places in our body, but all of it.

Take
a sniff in the crease between our fore and upper arm, where nurses take
the pulse in movies (you might have to push your elbow towards your
face if you are over 30). now try the inside of your wrist, where we
ladies always (god knows why) spay/tap a few drops of perfume.
Smell the back of your hand, now the palm… it’s like 2 different countries, ain’t it?!

When
I was little I used to sit on the floor and clean my knees, I just
hated them being dirty; would sit there and smell them too, they had a
wood like scent… sound freaky, I know, but go on… try it next time,
it is totally different than the rest of your body.
We won’t even mention feet as there is a whole new menu of scents there.

If
your hair is long, grab a lock and take nose-full; we have established
-in previous posts- that boobs smell like sweet cream cheese.
If you are flexible enough to get a little close, you’ll be SO surprised when you stick your nose at the back of your knees.

Your fingers! have you tried those lately?!

It
is ALL different, isn’t it?!!! I’, sure there is a normal perfectly
logical explanation, but just right now, just for today I choose to go
with the warm, childish feeling of “WOW! Magic!!” that ignorance conveys
to such matters instead of searching for the noble truth in Google.

The most amazing thing? you are probably smelling yourself right now.

Magic, Baby, pure magic.

What’s in a name?
Mushy Stuff / Mariconadas
Posted by Gala Tue, October 26, 2010 01:04:18

Some
times a name makes the person; an Old Family pulling rank through many
generations of bankers, actors, manufacturers, royalty, inventors; many
of those beginnings were certainly more humble than those turned up
noses in the Hamptons or Pedralbes lead us to believe: immigrants with
relentless thirst for success, tireless workers, a lucky break, a
creative mind, and ingenious character, dubious morals is part of the
genesis of those big names.
Obscenely wealthy families have seen
their fortunes be born from actual piracy, other from having quite loose
morals and taking advantage of historic low points; you have the
amazing visionaries who stood their ground and set up shop, pursued
their inventions and as a result helped shape society as we know it. We
find unlawful land claimers who are now real state magnates; royal
families who are in the throne now after hostile takeovers, treachery
and murder; clans who started out selling tomato sauce from their back
yards or pharmaceutical emporiums which started out by putting a but of
cloth on tape an creating the first ever band-aid.
Carrying a name
like Astor, Windsor, Barrymore, Heinz or those archaic hyphened European
names indicating major or minor royalty: Los Borbon, Martinez de Irujo,
Los Duques de Alba; such names weigh as a heavy crown on the heads of
these people, no matter what they do, where they go or who they really
are they will ALWAYS be an Azcarraga, Oppenheimer or de Vedrines.
The
name MAKE the people. Can you imagine Paris Hilton been born as Patty
Harris in some hick mid western town? She wouldn’t be quite what she is
now, would she? probably would have been knocked up at 16, ran around on
her shot gun husband, had 4 kids by 22 and a bad case of cellulite.
There
are some other cases in which the people make the name, not only for
the obvious puns of Mr. Black, Ms White, Mrs Short and so on, but there
are times in which a name fits a trade like in the old days (Taylor,
Smith, Zapatero, Steiner) and other times in which it just fits their
personality; I have a girlfriend whose last name is Hidalgo, which
roughly translated would be “gentleman, nobleman” and nowadays, thanks
to Miguel de Cervantes, it has taken the meaning of a romantic figure
who stays true to his dreams and beliefs and will fight windmills for
the honour of his Dulcinea, who in reality is a hooker; it is a figure
strong in its convictions even if the world thinks he is mad. My friend
is like that, I have never told her so, but she is as inspiring as her
name; she has the sternness and poetry inherent to an Hidalgo, she will
fight for what she believes in regardless of anybody’s opinions and she
is a true romantic. The name suits her, even if it was originally her
father’s.
Alejandra Pasapera is my childhood friend, her name is out
of the ordinary, strong Spanish last name and a bit funny (literally
means pass pear) and that is exactly her, fun, beautiful, strong and she
is the type of woman men just want to grab a bite of, like a juicy pear
(she’d kill me if she read this!)
My last name is Guerrero, meaning
Warrior… oh dear! I have been told more times than I care to admit how
well it suits me and I had not quite realized this is true.
In the next post you’ll see why…

Is that a gun in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?
D’oh!Posted by Gala
Tue, October 26, 2010 00:57:30

Last
night, at midnight there were these loud knocks on my bedroom door, I
could see flash lights outside my window and I thought it was one of the
colleagues I share the house with; poked my head out and it turns out
there were Vietnamese soldiers, about 5 of them and spoke not a single
word of English, I told them to go away, shut the door, went back to bed
and 25 seconds later I actually woke up; they were still knocking on
the rest of the doors.
I quickly got dressed and went out to see what
was going on (none of my other 3 room mates had gone out) so I called
on the only Vietnamese roomy we have and asked him to come out -he was
NOT happy- and question these 5 soldiers as to what the hell where they
doing in OUR house at midnight making suck a racket; they talked for 5
minutes and my workmate looked somewhat scared and mumbled something
about them wanting some papers… then the Guerrero got to my head and
with big head shakes and hand gestures accompanied by a deeeeeep voice
that always comes out when I am seriously angry I said NO! pointing to
the entrance door, NOT NOW! I asked my Viet guy to tell them to leave
NOW, it was no time to come knocking and if they wanted something they
should come back at a decent hour, my workmate looked at me as if I was
mad and went pale, I repeated: TELL THEM TO LEAVE NOW, so he mumbled
something to that effect as I pointed to the gate with BIG arm motions
as I would use for herding cattle or directing traffic.
The soldiers
were caught off guard and didn’t quite know what to make of me, my hair
was scary too, almost afro and surely added at least 4 inches in height;
so I am walking beside them saying GO, GO, GO, looking really angry and
totally unfazed by their guns (either they were guns or those guys were
really excited to be there… couldn’t tell… it was dark).
One of
them was looking at me with that begrudging look of hurt manhood and
started walking slowly so I prompted him with little claps and saying
COME ON, COME ON, GO, Go, GO.
Slammed the gate behind them and told them TO STAY OUT and don’t comeback.
They
were standing outside our house, looking a little lost and no doubt
asking each other WHAT THE F*CK was that?!; They hovered around the gate
for a bit, surely pondering whether to get back in or not and luckily
(for them, jajaj!) decided not to.
I walked to the house, cursing
like a sailor with Roomy by my side, who all of a sudden was 2 inches
taller, puffed up and all bravery… now that they were gone.
Back in
my room I started thinking about the whole thing; it was a tad risky on
my part, after all, they ARE the army (The Island has a population of
6,000 and 3,000 are soldiers), this IS a communist country, I DO NOT
speak the language and I don’t even have my passport with me at the
moment, which holds only a tourist visa.
Last night I was a true Guerrero.
Last night I made my name and although it was a bit stupid, I felt good about myself.

Viva la Revolucion!!!



Old blogs 6

2010 blogs Posted on Tue, August 19, 2014 20:32:37

Worn out

Patagonia
D’oh!Posted by Gala Thu,
April 14, 2011 16:11:45

Just
bought my ticket to Patagonia!! I will be in Ushuaia, Tierra del fuego,
next weeks, that is the furthest point south in the continent.
I hear it is cold… luckily I got my little red cap & matching gloves bought at the Gap, so I reckon I´ll be alright..
Yey!

You know that…
You know that…
Posted by Gala T
ue, April 12, 2011 18:01:11

… you are old when you visit a museum and they have on exhibit the EXACT same type writer you used through high school…

Fairy Tales
Mushy Stuff / Mariconadas
Posted by Gala Wed,
April 06, 2011 10:53:32

I
met this very nice woman from very exotic (to me) Tasmania, just 3
years younger than I, she has also been traveling for many, many months
with no intention of returning to her homeland… till now.
As fate
would have it, her highschool sweetheart and on-off boyfriend during her
20´s has realized that she is the One and simply does not wan´t to go
on without her, he wants to share his life with her; from her side, he
has always had an irreplacible place in her heart and decided to give up
her semi-nomadic life and travels to go back home and start a life with
him, marriage and all.
Being the romantic dud that I am you can only
imagine how much I loved her story and I could not ask enough
questions, wanted all the details and raved about how it all had turned
out for her, beautiful stuff. Of course she will have to go and deal
with the reality of the relationship and I know it requires work and
all, but the point of the matter is the realization that life is too
short to be bullocking around and no matter how much fun single life is
(Oh, gawd, YES it IS FUN!!, love it, love it!) and how awesome it is to
travel and see the world, there comes a point in which one must stop for
a second and ponder if this is what one would want for ever and ever.
What got to me about her story, was the “Grand Gesture”.. pushing fears
aside and just going for it.
Many people have asked me what it is I
am running away from, I have always sustained I am running TOWARDS and I
will know towards what, once I find it. A friend of mine, who knows me
well and I hold very close to my heart tells me I am looking for the
“Man of my Life” (no to be confused with the “Man of my Dreams”, title
claimed by him and thus far I have not been able to challange that
proclamation).
He seems to be in the know… I sort of mask my own
nomadic life, unwillingness to commit, low tolerance, endless travels,
high standards and ridiculously picky notions of what I find acceptable
or attractive… heck! I even disregard men not based on nationality but
by CONTINENTS! don´t do Asia, Africa, anything even remotely close to
Arabs, Latin America… although fun to hang around, I´m terribly
reluctant towards Meditarrenean, and German (experience, experience)..
so… what is left?!!… ahhh!! curses! what is left is my fatal,
stupid, disheartening, disappointing and unexplicable attraction to
Brits.
This Tasmanian Girl and the “man of my Dreams” friend got me
thinking… besides my well known knack for gravitating towards guys who
seemingly are even more frightened than I am… could it be that they
are BOTH right and not only I am looking from Mr. Right but I might
actually get to meet him and finally have my own Fairy Tale story?!!!
Could I be so damned basic?!
Not sure I would be willing to give my
freedom up, however the thought of SHARING my freedom with somebody else
sounds quite alluring..


OD´d

D’oh!Posted by Gala
Thu, March 31, 2011 20:26:51
La Paz Bolivia.

10 hours walking.
9 Churches.
1 Cathedral.
6 Museums.
20 or more commemorative plaques.
5 Monuments.

Culture overdose
Brain overloaded.
Can´t.
Think
Anymore…

Now? 10 hour bus ride to the next town…

Machu Picchu
D’oh!Posted by Gala Tue,
March 22, 2011 16:55:01

How Exciting!
I want to share the fact that I have just closed the deal with a local tour company for the Inca trail.
The
first day will start a 5am (groan) and wil be spent going in an almost
vertical downhill on bicycles; day 2 and 3 walking in the rain through
muddy jungle like mountains (rainy season kinda sucks, but on the bright
side there are less tourists) and the final day is about walking
alongside a MASSIVE mountain on a 3 foot path and a 350mt drop to the
right side, no rails or anything… I was aked if I suffered from
vertigo…
The last stretch is uphill to Machu Picchu.
If you don´t read from me again, you know where to look for me…

Cuzco
D’oh!Posted by Gala
Tue, March 22, 2011 16:45:04

Im
currently in Cuzco, Peru. Such an absolutely gorgeous town with jaw
dropping colonial architecture, it feels me with waem fuzzy cultural
feelings.
I wanted to type a really intese note on this lovely place,
unfortunately, the dusty internet cafe I am in has such an old keyboard
(in Spanish) most of the letters have disappeared and my typing ability
is a few notches slower than my thinking speed, so I keep tripping on
the words and going back to erase. The music is not very inspiring
either, this techno chumba-chumba reggaeton is.. well… here are some
lyrics: muevete, muevete controla, shake it baby, oh yes, cintura
cintura cintura cintura (repeat 78 times in a row).
To make matters a
little worse, in the (ancient) PC next to mine I have a couple of
yougsters who smell like a burp from Bigfoot after eating rotten fish
from a putrid swamp… must be the hormones.. they are looking at
naughty pages and trying really hard to be discreet.
OMG this is so
funny!happening in real time: 2 policemen just came into the place and
the kids paniked and shut down their dirty websites, hahaha!! it took
them an AGE to upload and now they have to start again!
This is golden!

And she is gone!
Mushy Stuff / Mariconadas
Posted by Gala Fri, March 18, 2011 19:30:30

Leaving now to start a backpack adventure in South America, sans laptop, music or phone.

Ridiculously
excited! will see as much as I possibly can and hopefully will leave
behind all silly stories that get me no where, lighten the mental load,
so to speak.

Traveling is a great way of forgetting.

Free!!! I am so damned FREE!

Blyme..
Mushy Stuff / Mariconadas
Posted by Gala Wed,
March 16, 2011 10:01:25

Totally weak in the knee.
1 minute 40 seconds is all it took to crumble down a pretty nice guard I’d been working on for 2 weeks.

Curse you skype and your video conferencing system!!

Now I gotta start all over again.


Tongolele

Mushy Stuff / Mariconadas Posted
by Gala Mon, March 07, 2011 11:32:43

this glorious Thursday March the 10th I am turning 43 years of age.

Feeling
very extremely happy and comfortable in sexy middle age, no issues with
my wrinkles, body or spotty memory span and yet I find myself wrestling
over letting my numerous gray hairs show or covering them up; seems
terribly dishonest to dye them, it is only natural to be going gray at
this stage so doesn’t feel quite right hiding the evidence as I don’t
try to look younger than I am ,on the other hand I can’t help but feel
my cave-woman hair looks terribly unkempt with grays here and there…
looks dusty and messier than normal with those publicly whites sticking
out.

After many hours in front of the mirror attempting to
establish a pattern of growth, it seems as if I may have it everywhere
but with a big strand of gray coming out from the right side, doesn’t
look bad at all and could even pass as stylish; it is too soon to know
for sure but perhaps I give it a shot, with any luck it will be in a
modern Tongolele style.

If you are under 50 and were not raised
in any Latin American country, you could not possibly know who Tongolele
was: a gorgeous exotic dancer legitimized through films as an actress
in a too prude yet cheeky era when women had heart stopping curves and
naturally luscious lips.Deep green eyes shaded by massive fake eyelashes
and cleavages that invited wandering eyes to take a plunge.

She
was absolutely stunning and had a trademark mane of thick black curls
with a natural (or so she led us to believe) strand of silver hair. She
danced like the devil and her hips would move at lightening speed
stopping only to give her shoulders a violent shimmy shake which would
turn men wild.

I am no Tongolele, don’t have the curves, the
amazing eyes, out of this world set of knockers or sexy lips, despite
having a fair bootie shake I don’t think I could make a (legal) living
out of it as she did, still I may try to pay a small tribute allowing by
scrubby turf of gray hair see the light.

Or not.


Spain

Mushy Stuff / Mariconadas
Posted by Gala Thu, March 03, 2011 15:27:42

I
must have put on like 4 kilos, I have eaten non stop and the vegetarian
thing just went out the window, not to mention the no drinking policy..
it was already quite bad in Abu Dhabi, lost all shame in Oman and
Spain… it was murder, man!

I am soooooo lucky to have so many
friends, good ones too! so going out has been a blast; met with some
unexpected people (lovely-lovely) and ran into some others… Barcelona
is really a village, no matter what they say. Madrid was awesome,
wonderful had such a wonderful time, I’m a bit in love with the city.

And
now.. now I have knot in my tummy, soooo excited to see my Boys!
haven’t seen them in 1 year & 3 weeks! nothing could possibly better
that visiting my Children and seeing a new country all at once.

CAN’T WAIT, CAN’T WAIT, CANT WAIT, CANT WAIT.

Too much info

D’oh!Posted by Gala
Fri, February 25, 2011 05:45:56

Coming
back to Europe has been quite a shock in many levels, all of a sudden I
understand what people are saying around me and it is somewhat
disturbing; just some weeks back there was this background noise, a bit
more musical in some places than others (Thai sounds very lovely,
Chinese abrupt, Arab just angry) but to me they were nothing but noises,
I was always alone with my thoughts, being receptive of that massive
amount of information received by all my other senses: new smells,
colors, clothing, new tastes.
And now? now I understand the
soundtrack… and it is not always glamorous I found out that Merche
(the girl sitting 2 rows behind me in the bus) has a massive pimple in
her butt, it is itchy, it oozes some yellow stuff and despite the fact
that her poor friend, recipient of her very loud conversation did not
appear to be interested in the hideous details, Merche insisted in
describing the level of redness and the exact location of the pimple by
means of vigorous scratching.
Then there was this other woman, loudly
talking in her mobile to poor, poor Antonio, he had done an awesome
job, the girl was very impressed, his proposal was amazing, but still,
she had to fire him as the company was taking another turn.. I really
felt sorry for Antonio. The woman hung up and seemingly forgot the about
him in a matter of seconds as she engaged in a lively talk with her
travel companion.
Carme is fed up of her husband. Paco is hung over,
the chubby girl in the bus has a rash somewhere below her belly button
as she kept pointing towards that general area. The little boy in the
train did NOT want to go to school (and school food was as good as dog
poo, according to him) and I suspect that the flushed girl sitting in
front of me in the park is having an affair with the man by her side, as
she speaks of her husband while she holds his hands and gives him
little kisses.
I have no doubt the same conversations took place in
Luang Prabang or Shanghai, but I did not understand them. Now i find
myself as a silent participant of these people´s lives and it is…
bizarre.

I am an unwilling peeping Tom, a casual eaves dropper.


Friends

Mushy Stuff / Mariconadas
Posted by Gala Fri, February 18, 2011 03:28:44

Great to see people I love in Barcelona.
Today
I celebrate Friendship, the new and old; the “lunch” friends and “no
matter what Im there for you” friends; long lost ones and those freshly
made. Those to walk along memory lane with as well as the friends with
whom I travel new roads.
I am blessed to have so many out of the ordinary people in my life whom I love so dearly and who care about me as well.
My friends make me want to be a better person.

Man, what a great life i have!

Dates
Mushy Stuff / Mariconadas
Posted by Gala Thu, February 10, 2011 02:30:21

You
know when you have a date and it is so nice that you just don’t want it
to end and you feel you could and WOULD just sit there for hours on
end?
Yeah, those dates when you could be chatting and holding hands
till.. well, old age really; when you are smiling so much that face
muscles are sore the day after?
A date that actually saddens you when it is over?

Yep, had one of those yesterday.

It was awesome.

Feb 7 2011
D’oh!Posted by Gala Mon,
February 07, 2011 16:47:10

Just had a lovely date.
Really nice indeed.

Dear God: please don’t let him be a distasteful, cheap tacky person.
I think I have filled my quota in that for the next few years.

Secondary First Impressions
Mushy Stuff / Mariconadas
Posted by Gala Wed, January 19, 2011 10:36:09

Sometimes first impression are just the real thing, no need to look for any deep or profound meanings.

Sometimes its as easy as WYSiWYG
What you see is what you get.

Must trust my instincts and gut feeling! rarely ever fails me!

RIP Class
Mushy Stuff / Mariconadas
Posted by Gala Mon, January 17, 2011 10:41:27

Is it just me, o ha muerto el Glamour, la clase, good taste, buenos modales y el lustre en general?

Desde
cuando las servilletas de tela son una extravagancia, las porciones
sensibles una estafa o las cositas que hacen algo mas bonito de lo
normal un desperdicio?

Es de verdad de otro planeta taparse la
boca al bostezar, no hurgarse la nariz, llamar a la puerta antes de
entrar o considerar el lavabo como un sitio privado y cerrar la puerta
cuando se utiliza?

Soy realmente snob por no quereme llevar una
botella de agua de a litro a un restaurante mono, o cargar mi bolso de
cerveza de la tiendecita (a 1 km de distancia) para no pagar extra en el
chiringuito? es terrible de mi parte el llevar ropa interior combianada
y asegurarme de que mi vestido no este sucio o los zapatos combinen con
el bolso?

Soy clasista pq prefiero ir a un sitio donde la gente
no escupa, hable a gritos o se rasque constantemente la entrepierna? (Y
NO me refiero al los muslos…)

Soy ignorante por que elijo vivir
desinformada y no dejarme manipular por los medios informativos? si me
apasiona la historia, no es algo asi como escuchar noticias, solo
viejas, confirmadas y sin sensacionalismos?

Que quieres que te
diga… prefiero ser snob, elitista y… bueno, no realmente ignorante,
sencillamente informada a destiempo, pero eso si, siempre con un pelin
de glamour y buen gusto.

Ahhh if Cary Grant was a life in this day and age, he would pack up and leave.

The good, bad & ugly
Quotes, jokes & Babosadas
Posted by Gala Wed, January 05, 2011 20:21:43

The Good, the Bad and the Ugly.

For her:

The good: You are hugging a reeeaaaallly nice guy.
The bad: you realize he has a respectable set of Man Boobs
The ugly: they are nicer and perkier than yours.

For Him:

The good:You are hugging a reeeaaaallly nice girl.
The bad: you feel a huge erection.
The ugly: it’s not yours…

The horrible: it’s WAY bigger than yours…


Milagros

En Español, pa los Cuates
Posted by Gala Mon, December 27, 2010 18:14:43

Feliz noticia!

Nunca imagine que esto volviera a suceder y menos en este punto de mi vida, pero finalmente voy a ser Mama otra vez!

LOCA DE CONTENTA!!!

Con esto de que soy pro a mejorar la raza y no hay mejor manera de hace una raza superior que haciendo un cocktail de colores.

Mi
primer intento fue un éxito! a nivel personal Mexican-German fue un
potaje asqueroso, pero los chamaquitos que salieron son
IN-SU-PE-RA-BLES.

Esta vez toca el tema Papa Asiático, esperando q
su contribución sea por el lado industrioso y emprendedor de esta
gente, mas que por su cortísima estatura y perenne vergüenza de TODO.

No podría estar mas feliz! Esto es un verdadero milagro!!!

Es un milagro…

No solo porque ya estoy en unas edades en las que mas que embarazo, esto seria un “Santanazo”…
Santana… no me refiero al traidor de la patria Mexicana quien literalmente le regalo Texas a los gringos, Nooooo!
Tampoco
me refiero al súper musicote Mexicano (Carlos) Santana que compuso la
legendaria “oye como vaaa, el ritmooo bueno pa goza, mulaaataaa”
Santa
Ana era ese personaje bíblico, quien siendo una anciana por la gracia
de dios quedo embarazada como a los 90 años y (típico Biblia) sin la
ayuda de ningún hombre.
Es un milagro también porque he hecho cerrar la fabrica con precisión quirurgica e irreversible hace casi 10 años…

Es
un milagro porque este cuerpo serrano ha visto menos acción que las
Fuerzas Armadas del Vaticano… tan neutral como Suiza a quien NADIE le
pone una mano encima…. mas desperdiciado que os recursos naturales del
África Profunda… mas desatendido que el jardín botánico de Death
Valley… mas ignorado que los llamados de Paz del santo Papa…

Lo
mas milagroso de todo? que haya habido UN SOLO segundo en el que
realmente pensaras que podía yo estar embarazada… y de un Asiático!!
que no he hecho mas que despotricar de sus diminutos hombrecitos!!!

Aaaayyyyyy!!! inocente Palomita que te has dejado engañar, sabiendo que en este día, nada se debe prestar…

FELIZ DIA DE LOS INOCENTES!!
Diciembre 28


First Impressions

Mushy Stuff / Mariconadas
Posted by Gala Tue, December 21, 2010 04:31:15

I wonder if one ever recovers from a first impression, be it positive or negative.

If
you would meet a drunk girl in a bar, whoring around would she forever
be the “drunken slut”? what if you were to meet her in broad day light
and turns out she is like the Exec Manager of Nuns r Us and does
patchwork for the blind on her days off or something like that, would
that change anything or would you stick to the first impression?.

In
many scenarios we don’t get a second shot: if I go to apply for a job
and come in 2 hours late or unprepared the chances of being given a
second opportunity are very slim. Or if I am all bitchy and unbearable
in a date, Mr. Romeo won’t come back begging for more (if he does, he
certainly deserves what he gets).

Do we seriously reflect who we are in the first few hours after meeting somebody? do clothes really define us?
If
I arrive dressed like a Hoochie Mama and sex written all over my chosen
outfit, would the person I meet be entitled to think of me as an easy
ride?
If he shows up dressed like a queen may I assume he is gay?

I
have just been in a situation in which a first impression made me take a
very different road than I anticipated and I am not sure that was the
right thing to do at all. Seems ridiculously stupid and frivolous.
I find myself filled with doubt.

Is it REALLY fair to judge somebody based on their appearance alone?
Probably not, yet there are 2 undeniable factors:
1. “el amor entra por los ojos” it doesn’t quite translate, but “love at first sight” does have a reason to be.
2.
We pick our clothes to reflect our lifestyle choices and personality.
If one is a goth, a yuppie, a punk, dirty, posh, insecure, an emo,
conservative, thoughtless, careless or colorblind, chances are it will
reflect in our attire.

Does anybody have a right to tell anybody else what to do or what to wear?
Absolutely NOT! we are free and must be respectful of other people’s choices, right?!
But what if you really like the person but their choices seriously put you off and can’t get passed that? Might be too late.

I
just can’t tell somebody to rejuvenate their wardrobe and revisit their
fashion sense, seems wrong and disrespectful and who the hell do I
think I am??? the fashion police??? heck! it’s not even like have a
great sense of style.

My tendency -as always, and I fight it!- is to walk away and it just seems wrong this time.

Very wrong.

*sight*

Status
D’oh!Posted by Gala Wed, December 15, 2010 19:58:36
Ok, so what is the current Status?

Grand Opening of current Gig in 2 days
work 2 weeks behind schedule
Must be ready any way.
(I was ready!)

Dec 17: Much anticipated visit that has my tummy in a knot.
Seriously: normal people don’t do this type of thing… Aahhh! How cryptic is she?!

Leaving Vietnam, Con Dao in January
10 days traveling: don’t know where.
Must send all stuff to America, not sure where to.

Abu Dhabi here I come! 3 weeks of work.

Spain, Madre patria! Perhaps in Valentine’s day.
2 weeks of friends, tapas, beers and farewells.
Ticket; will be sorted for me (yey!)
Accommodation: All over the place!

Lima, Peru: to reclaim my kid’s affections; I may have been forgotten or worse yet! cast aside!
Accommodation: unknown.
Ticket: not finalized.
Goal: spend by b-day March 10 with my Boys.

There is talk with my sister to stick a trip to Chile or Uruguay here, but don’t think so.

Mexico
Lindo y Querido: a blast from the past! meeting friends from elementary
& high school. University buddies and best mates.
LOADS of taco eating.
Accommodation: no probs.
Ticket: not finalized.

Final destination USA
City: unknown
Date: not determined, sometime in March or beginning of April.
Job: not yet
Accommodation: will figure it out
Flight: not even close
Contacts: not really
Confidence level: 100% success

Just right now I am beginning to feel a liiiiiitle bit nervous…

Mixed feelings
Mushy Stuff / MariconadasPosted by Gala Mon, December 13, 2010 09:27:33
How to deal with this?
one
of the two persons I love the MOST in the world is just soooooo much
like the only person I truly dislike… with a vengeance… despise with
a passion… and from the bottom of my heart.

That is a tight spot!

Hard place to be in..


Mental note

Mental notesPosted by Gala Sat, November 27, 2010 06:09:58
Mental note

When somebody asks you if you have a new boyfriend, before you distractedly answer:

“Hell no! I live in Asia! have you seen the puny little men here?! they look like children!”

take
a moment to remember where you are, lift your eyes from your computer
and make sure you don’t blurt out your answer in your office… in
Vietnam… surrounded by 8 English Speaking Vietnamese men, who are
about 1.50mt tall….

Action flicks
D’oh!Posted by Gala
Tue, November 23, 2010 07:10:38

Just
watching an “action” flick, not very keen on those, really, unless I
have a guarantee that Mathew McConaughey will take his shirt off or Will
Smith will be wearing ONLY black leather pants and a cynical smile.

Today’s flick is an old one, featuring Charles Bronson as a tough old school vigilante.
How
have times changed! not just in terms of special effects and story
lines, but also in the treatment of violence; despite the fact that
films today may count a dead toll by the hundreds and censorship limits
it self to airbrushing nipples and hiding genitals, there is something
so much more raw and aggressive in old movies.

Here are some observations:

In old movies:
– People actually bled
– Bad guys didn’t have a foreign accent

It was ok for the leading man to be old, chubby, balding and strangely,
still sexy. (Takes a real man to be self assured with a less than
perfect body)
– All the girls seemed to have REALLY bad hair (70’s & 80’s specially!)
– People had better aim when shooting
– Bad guys did manage to land a punch every now and then
– Men were manly, girls were butch or slutty
– Nobody gave a rats’ ass about finger prints in crime scenes, or contaminating evidence
– Gold was much preferred by the baddies
– The baddies got shot on the legs (one needs a confession afterward, right?!)
– Explosions actually killed people, not just sent them flying and landing on top of a hot looking girl
– Guns didn’t necessarily need to reload (except to add suspense to a scene)
– Villains were caught without the need of high tech or even mobiles.
– Gagging people took nothing more than a scarf, which inexplicably always appeared out of no-where… even in Miami.

In New movies:
– A character can take 30 bullets and you don’t see a drop of blood

Good Guy never gets a stain or wrinkle in his clothes, no matter how
long or hard a mission or battle is, his shirt is impeccable and
trousers crisp; at times one might find strategically placed tears in
clothing, revealing rippling muscles or the top of a boob.
– Bad guys
have rubbish aim: they can have machine gun blizzard and throw dozens
of hand grenades , the hero? not even a scratch.
– The good guys can
take down a helicopter (engulfed in flames) with a bow and arrow (Rambo
2) or with a single bullet aim and shoot exactly at the gas tank of an
speeding car miles away, making it explode
– Good guys look like personal trainers/athletes. The girls look like Play Boy bunnies
– Everybody has PERFECT teeth, be it crack addicts, 14th century peasants or homeless serial killers
– Armani is much preferred by the baddies; Ray Ban by the goodies.
– Men look kind of gay (pictures below)

Good guys have the unfair advantage of slow motion: they can reload,
fidget with their hair, pull a gun and a knife, say a smart assed
comment and write a grocery list while a bullet is coming directly at
them.

What has not changed:
– Blonds are dumb. Always.

USA 1910
D’oh!Posted by Gala
Sun, November 21, 2010 06:51:54

My friend Glenn sent me this note and I found it SUPER interesting.

This is where the USA was at back in 1910.
What a difference 100 years make!

************
The average life expectancy for men was 47 years.

Fuel car fuel was sold in drug stores only.
There were only 8,000 cars and only 144 miles of paved roads.
The maximum speed limit in most cities was 10 mph.

Only 14 percent of the homes had a bathtub.
Only 8 percent of the homes had a telephone.

The tallest structure in the world was the Eiffel Tower.

The average US wage in 1910 was 22 cents per hour.
The average US worker made between $200 and $400 per year.
A competent accountant could expect to earn $2000 per year,
A dentist $2,500 per year, a veterinarian between $1,500 and $4,000 per year, and a mechanical engineer about $5,000 per year.

More than 95 percent of all births took place at HOME.
Ninety
percent of all Doctors had NO COLLEGE EDUCATION! Instead, they attended
so-called medical schools, many of which were condemned in the press
AND the government as ‘substandard.’

Sugar cost four cents a pound.
Eggs were fourteen cents a dozen.
Coffee was fifteen cents a pound.

Most women only washed their hair once a month, and used Borax or egg yolks for shampoo.

Canada passed a law that prohibited poor people from entering into their country for any reason.

The Five leading causes of death were:
1. Pneumonia and influenza
2.Tuberculosis
3. Diarrhea
4. Heart disease
5.Stroke

The American flag had 45 stars.
The population of Las Vegas, Nevada, was only 30!

Crossword puzzles, canned beer, and iced tea hadn’t been invented yet.
There was no Mother’s Day or Father’s Day.

Two out of every 10 adults couldn’t read or write and only 6 percent of all Americans had graduated from high school.

Marijuana,
heroin, and morphine were all available over the counter at the local
corner drugstores. Back then pharmacists said, ‘Heroin clears the
complexion, gives buoyancy to the mind,regulates the stomach and bowels,
and is, in fact, a perfect guardian of health’.

Eighteen percent of households had at least one full-time servant or domestic help.

There were about 230 reported murders in the ENTIRE U.S.A.

Try to imagine what it may be like in another 100 years.



Old blogs 4

2010 blogs Posted on Tue, August 19, 2014 20:00:49

My Bday

Mushy Stuff /
Mariconadas

Posted by Gala
Wed, March
17, 2010 17:21:14

I just turned 42 and had the most wonderful day ever! had everything: with
friends I really like, in an exotic location, loads of work I liked and made me
feel useful and good about myself; over 100 messages in all, considering that
people never know my whereabouts I think it is just extraordinary that those I
care about thought of me and took the time to post a note!

Got tons of flowers, all beautiful and one unexpected and very touching,
chocolate, a silver necklace, MORE fancy chocolate, a yummy-yummy bday cake
-cheesecake!- a very cool chocolate bouquet left in my room as a surprise..
told the whole WOLD it was my bday;

The Awards ceremony was on MY day and I sat by the side of one of my fav actors
for whom I have had this silly crush for years, British, of course.. what is it
with me and British men?? I don’t have a childish crush on anybody, really, so
all filled of bravado I went right up and chatted with him, flirted a bit (with
very good response) and then, true to my nature I clammed up again, but hey! at
least I did it… and I think I could have… or o I like to think!

Mmmhhmm… I wonder if I can get his email?

GREAT birthday!!

Make a wish…
geez!

D’oh!Posted by Gala

Sun, May 30, 2010 18:55:21

When I wished that my Ex-Husband Frank (AKA Horrible Dr. No) lived happily ever
after in a far, FAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAR
away land, i did not mean for him to take my Children along!

Geez! I need to be MUCH more specific when I tap into my magic powers…


Saigon

D’oh!Posted by Gala

Fri, May 14, 2010 13:34:18

I did not have enough of Vietnam, need to
go back and do Sapa, re-do Hanoi and back to Hue; it is such a shame I have
absolutely no concept of time! I actually believed I could visit my 12 points
of interest in 10 days… I guess this is my overwhelming female logic which
also leads me to believe that my (yummylicious) butt fits in a S size.

WONDERFUL place Vietnam! all my preconceived notions -not that many, to be
honest- have come crashing down, particularly those regarding the American war,
known to me ALWAYS as the Vietnam war; being heavily influenced by the USA,
their history, mentality and society, to me Vietnamese were just a faceless
mass of people, and being the pacifist anti-imperialist I am, I always thought
that US involvement in conflict was a horrible and senseless intervention but
the thing is, it was the young American soldiers who perished there who were in
my thoughts and to a lesser extend the Viet-cong casualties… my, oh my! was
this trip an eye opener! I will not go into detail of the museums, Chi Chi
tunnels (sin albur!), prisons, torture devices, jungle, diseases, the 3 million
Vietnamese who died or the 56,000 American boys who never got to see their
families again… no, I won’t get into that because it affected me seriously
and also because it is too darned boring, so I will just go on with my lighter
hearted posts and ask the very profound question:

WHAT THE HECK IS UP WITH ASIAN MEN AND SPITTING?!! how can a tiny -teeny!-
little man produce such copious amounts of mucous and the force to spit it
-cannonball it is more accurate- MILES away?! It is not pleasant waking up to a
phlegmatic symphony and YOU KNOW I am not talking about the emotionless
disposition of the British when I say phlegmatic.. I am actually talking about
disgusting phlegm.

The other amazing thing, specially in Saigon (now Ho Chi Min city) as every
traveller will tell you is crossing the street… road signs are decorative,
traffic regulations don’t even amount to romanticized guidelines; one must be a
true dare devil or city slicker to throw oneself onto the oncoming traffic, oh
yes! scooters (6 millon of ‘em in the city) do not stop even if their life
depended on it… and sometimes it does!

The trick is to make eye contact with the driver, let him know that YOU are
gonna walk through and you are ready to kill him and his first born if he
doesn’t let you go through, let him feel the rage and the hate and then just
throw yourself at his vehicle, chest pumped forward .Do be sure you look both
ways for those in a hurry who are riding on the wrong side of the road invading
not the second, but 3rd and 4th lanes.

Another trick is to swing a bag like a traditional hooker: make BIG circles
with it so it becomes some sort of weapon, bicycles, tuc-tucs & motorcycles
respond really well to this technique. a word of advice: ensure your purse is
zipped and you don’t have loose objects on the side pockets if using a rucksack
or you will find yourself running between cars to retrieve your items from the
road…

Another personal favourite is the Matador style: think of ’em cars as bulls and
you are in the middle of a Faena or better yet! the Pamplonada! one must show
courage, strength and focus while running across, a little red handkerchief
tied on your neck looks nice but not of the essence, I find that shouting
OLE!!! every time I pass a car gives me confidence.

Lastly, those dance moves come in really handy! the swaying of the hips is
ideal for avoiding lusty or pick-pocketing hands, as well as knocking over a
cyclist, don’t be afraid to moonwalk between cars on a red light and most
certainly do the ballerina thing of putting your arms over your head while you
tip toe and hop among vehicles, f anything, they might slow down a bit to take
a better look at the crazed foreigner.

More unwanted advice coming your way soon.

Enjoy!

Delusional

Mushy Stuff /
Mariconadas
Posted by Gala
Tue, May
11, 2010 15:23:33

Delusional
delusion |di
ˈloō
zh
ən|
noun
an idiosyncratic belief or impression that is firmly maintained despite being
contradicted by what is generally accepted as reality or rational argument,
typically a symptom of mental disorder.

I just met up with a… friend. It is funny how we use the word so loosely…
it seems that any relationship that we are uncertain about gets thrown it in
the “friendship” bin be it somebody we know for 1 month or 10 years
but never really keep in touch; one can sleep with somebody 30 times and be
uncertain if we are friends and the truth of the matter is that if push comes
to shove, that person would probably be the last one we would turn in case of
need.

Luckily this day and age provides us with a full coloring palette of terms:
just friends, guyfriend, galfriend, fuck friend, mate, homie, bonk fried, FWB
(friend with benefits), bro, bff/ bmf (best female/male friend) and the list
goes on.

Still, I’m unable to find the adequate term for this individual… in any case
it was just such a horrible encounter in almost every way possible; man! what a
disaster! I don’t think anything at all went well… what I thought was
a nice couple of hours turns out was awfully unpleasant for him as I came
across as an abrasive bulldozer in the attempt of giving him a tour of the
city.

Worst of all? I was completely delusional! I walked into this thinking I would
meet again with this amazing “somebody” who has been occupying my
thoughts for quite a while and what I found was this complete stranger who
seriously had not the most remote interest in anything that had to do with me.
Needless to say, to him it was equally disappointing to meet with a hysterical
monster that I turned out to be, ah! but you see, I should consider myself
lucky as i got some hugs so I would not feel bad, as I later was informed…
pitiful affection, the nerve!!

My, my, my! how very unpleasant and confusing it all was! what a mass of
contradictions and mixed signals! how badly I respond to uncertainty and
contradictory messages! How can anything go SO wrong in absolutely every
way?!?!?

The question that pesters me is: when we met last year and encountered pure and
absolute magic, was it all fake then? did I imagine it all?! how can somebody
be so incredibly different?! we are not talking a little I mean, this was to the level of “show me your
passport and birthmarks cause I just do NOT believe you are the same
person”; unfortunately my reactions are utterly disproportionate (I curse
myself) and i started doubting everything and wanting to run away just to
comeback again… it was like being stuck in an episode of “the Twilight
zone” where everything appears normal but in reality nothing is what it
seems… VERY unsettling!

I think I am just not cut for this romance thing; It makes me rethink my stand
on arranged marriages: it is OBVIOUS I am just crap at choosing for myself, I
don’t think anybody else can do a worse job.

Totally bummed out.

Psyche Layers of
S*x

Mushy Stuff /
Mariconadas

Posted by Gala
Sat, May
29, 2010 11:30:09

This morning at breakfast there was a
table with about 6 Japanese women; they must have been between 28-35, perhaps a
bit younger, always so hard to tell with Asians and their wonderfully taken
care of skin; in any case they were a lively bunch: loads of giggles
ooohhhh!!!’s and aaaahhhh!!!’s, hiding behind the napkin shyly and cutesy
poses… in short: the type of women I would like to -furiously- bitch slap
around.

As they were leaving a couple of them were
actually doing bunny hops and “Singing in the Rain” routines, looking
up to the sky extended arms, going in big happy circles and all…. it was not
raining.

They were all dressed in that seemingly careless way which leaves no detail
unattended; hair messed up with a loose pony tail tilted to the side with a
flowery hair band, handkerchief around the head, long beach dresses kinda
unwillingly see thru (not sluttish, mind you) the lovely beaded sandal, a je ne
sais quois tied around the hip; I am rubbish at describing, but they did look lovely
in an allegoric Tim Burton meets Hello kitty sort of way.

Observing the girly -childish, really- behaviour, I could not help but think
how intensely popular these type of ladies are with men, especially western
men, gosh they DROOL around them! putty in their kiddie hands! Aahhhh!! And the
girls know it, the know soooo well and the more one salivates the more baby
like the other becomes.

I came up with a twisted theory about this… normally this girls are small in
every way: somewhat short and tend to be flat chested, take away the frills and
the gloss and they are quite androgynous looking… VERY difficult to tell men
and women apart in the way one cannot differentiate a pretty little boy from a
little girl except for the long hair and girlie clothes…. could it be that
these women satisfy the paedophile buried deep in the psyche of -almost- every
man?

Please do not misunderstand! I am dead against any sort of abuse on children, I
think it is despicable and abusers should be castrated (and the female
equivalent). I do find it a mental and social disease which must be punishable,
persecuted, eradicated, yet one thing we cannot deny is that there is this
primitive, animal dark side that we all have and are mostly are unaware of. We
might suppress it, ignore it or simply be in utter ignorance of its existence,
but it is there, ooohh it lives there, in all of us.

I believe that quite often our actions respond directly to that dark side;
might catch us by surprise and we might not understand where certain reactions
come from or it might manifest itself in more socially acceptable ways, such as
going for girlie girls.

What ever the case may be, and as much attention and longing these woman/girl
may generate, I would not like to be that way, I do think they are lovely!
Pretty, feminine in a seriously ridiculous way; they know their stuff and use
it to their advantage: they get tons of presents, money, trips and a nice
parade of men running behind them carrying parcels; still I cannot be like
that… disregarding the fact that I am double their size and most probably
would scare the living s*it out of the guys who like girlie girls;

Except for their ability to accessorize, I am not jealous of them at all. There
is something for everybody and I have my own public… oh yes! another niche in
the twisted psyche: the straight men who dig “amazonic” women…
which is polite for “she has balls the size of meteors and the manly body
that goes with them”…

Some other time I might explore the lure of the boyish hips and six pack abs…
Because yes Darling… I got a pack o’ those…

On the road to
recovery

Mushy Stuff /
Mariconadas

Posted by Gala
Sun, May
30, 2010 19:30:54

I HAVE HAD AN EPIPHANY

I met a really very nice fellow, German, actually… go figure! but he is also
Pisces, so I guess that sort of redeems him…One of his many accomplishments
(unbeknown to him) is having started the process of restoring my faith in
men… NOT mankind but actual men.

I believe (now) that yes, there are still actual good guys out there who don’t
play games nor claim not to while they REALLY
do (really, really!)
; guys who are polite, well mannered, chivalrous and
Oh! SURPRISE!: straight.

I have learned that I can still find men 42years and older who have slim waist
line, a full head of hair and a body that puts any any 20year old athlete to
shame (and everything that goes with it… oh yes…).

I was reminded that going out is fun and not a competition, that I don’t have
to be at all times guarded so I am not caught by surprise when he makes his
“move; great to know that not every guy want to get in a girls pants…
not as a first or second -even third!- intention anyway.

Best thing? WONDERFUL not having to decide or take charge, lovely to meet with
a Man with a Plan.

It was all so very nice and despite the fact that he is not the Guy for me, I
am delighted for these couple of weeks I got to know him; I am in the road to
recovery and at this very moment I can happily and OFFICIALLY declare that
after 12 years:

The Horrid Reign of The Cowardly
Undecided Men is finally over.

No more flaky dudes for this Browny! (Aha, you Boys know who you are…)

So bring ’em on! those Real Men with tight tushes!

El Mundial

D’oh!Posted by Gala Wed,
June 23, 2010
09:53:39

World Cup

It is that time again, wonderful, exciting
bonding World Cup.

It is the time when Muslims, Christians,
Democrats, Republicans, Communists, Capitalists, Socialists, Anarchists and
Monarchists, gay & straight, lady-boys and butchy gals come together and
hate each other for refreshingly different reasons; it is the time when
historical grudges are revived, old war and economic wounds are re-opened and
about the only chance crappier countries might get to have a fair shot at those
more powerful; where else can you see Cameroon beating England? Or the Mexican
eagle having the French Cock served on a platter?… that came out wrong, but
you catch my drift.

I don’t follow sports at all, None except
one: The Blessed World Cup; I get ridiculously excited over it! Follow game by
game, keep a tidy calendar, suffer through the matches like a WAG* IF they
would understand the game. Even used to dress my Boys as tiny Mariachis and
taught them to make La Ola and all 3 of us would make The Wave (great Mexican
invention) like mad every time Mexico played.

And now El Mundial is happening, and I am
missing it!!!! It caught me totally by surprise in Indonesia where games take
place at 2am, I have no TV in the rooms I stay in and it is sheer torture; I
catch bits and pieces at airports, or some sports bars (it is not cool- nor
wise- for a woman alone to be bar hoping in the middle of the night in Muslim
Indonesia). So if I cannot get a hold of an internet Café I grab a news paper…
an Indonesian newspaper.

There are several difficulties about following
the Cup in a foreign country which in addition has no real football history.
First and foremost, the names of the countries can differ significantly in
Indonesian, some are real easy to guess, like Jerman , Spanyol, Cili (Chile?),
Jepang , Korea Utara or Meksiko (taxis are called taksis, so that also gave me
a pretty clear indication of the “x” thing) some other ones, however a tad more
complex: Alfsel (south Africa), Inggris (England) AS, Korsel, Yunani, Ajazair
all of which I have not figured out yet, but I am confident they will not make
it to the next round anyway.

I have realized the world Cup can be
highly educational as well: all teams had a little flag beside their in
comprehensive –to me- names and I knew only about half of them, rendering me
incredibly ignorant; so I took notes and checked them on the internet and came
to the conclusion that we are incredibly unimaginative when it comes to
designing national emblems.

I also learned about history, alliances
and animosities; I was surprised to see Indonesia supporting Holland in a game
against Japan and detracting from other matches of the orange team; turns out
that being a Dutch colony there is a healthy level of grudge against them but
nothing compared to the hatred for a certain Japanese invasion which was
unnecessarily cruel. Timor might love/hate Portugal for the same reasons and
people here have no clue about Mexico as some believe it is in Europe and those
better read believe it is an appendix of USA.

The first game I “saw”: Meksiko- Alfsel
1-1 and being it the opening game it was pretty clear it was South Africa (but
what the hell with the name?!) now the next days I read in the paper Meksiko 2-
Prancis 0 and THAT created an inordinate amount of confusion as the picture in
the paper had no flag and they were mostly black players; which African country
was in our Group?! I tried as hard as I could to recall all the teams and came
up with nothing; as it turns out Prancis was France and for some reason the
team is unusually dark this year… I thought the French despised all African
immigrants but that is The World Cup in all its beauty, reminds me of the
Christmas Season when we are all filled with love for all mankind.

Man,
I so love the World Cup.

*WAG; term coined by the
British to designate Wives and Girlfriends of the players, the Queen of all
would be Posh Spice –or whatever- the wife of David Beckham

more world cup

D’oh!Posted by Gala
Wed, June 23, 2010
10:29:54

A couple of days ago I had my head buried
deep in the newspaper, trying to find out how Mexico had done when this
Indonesian man approached me; normally I don’t socialize at all and to be on the
safe side I keep a distance from local people as my experiences in this
beautiful place have not been all pleasant, I have been swindled left and
right, groped, seems that everybody has something to sell and men make advances
which are totally uncalled for; people in smaller places get a bit nervous
around foreigners so they tend to point at me, giggle and laugh while the
braver ones might yell out a phrase they might know in English. After 3 weeks
it gets a bit tiring. So I mumbled a “hello” back to the guy and proceeded to
ignore him completely. He got up and I was happy to see he would leave when he
pulled out what seemed to be a big calendar, OH MY GOD! It was the schedule for
the Cup, all updated!

He did not speak but a few words of
English, which was double than my command of Indonesian, but we managed to
establish that Bola (soccer) rocks, that Inggris (England) was doing very badly
(by making pucking sounds as I pretended to put my finger down my troat)- and
that Mecsiko was awesome –this was me with both fists up un the air and yelling
“ME-XI-CO, Yeaaahhhh!!!”.

He refered to me with the word
“Fanatikst” several times, accompanied by a smile and a shake of the head.
Going through his calendar I saw his “pronokstike” and did NOT see Mexico
making it to the next round but Prancis, and he got a royal scolding, reminding
him that Meksiko 2 (showed 2 fingers) and Prancis 0 (showing a big fat zero
with my whole hand) and also informed him that they were almost out of the
group (making a cut throat sign).

For the Final Match his pronoskstike was
Brazil-Argentina which was met with great scepticism on my side (by means of
leaning way back from and looking at him sideways with squinting eyes),
vigorously shaking my head and my index finger I told him he was wrong: “maaf,
maaf” (sorry, sorry), so he asked “who then?” (raising eyebrows, shoulders and
hands, all at the same time while pointing at the final match); I thought long
and hard about this very difficult question. Why must it always be the same
ones? Germany, Italy, Argentina, Brazil? Last year was a great surprise with
Portugal, so why not for once give the underdog a chance?!

“Meksiko -Spanyol” says I. He just gets up
, shaking his head and mumbling “Fanatikst” , sitting two rows away from
me.

What does he know…

Ok, so how much…

D’oh!Posted by Gala Wed,
June 16, 2010
15:24:35

Bargaining: the national sport in every
Asian country… and I suck at it.

There is a skill –if not a gene- required
to be a successful Bargain Master, as I travel it has become obvious that I
absolutely lack it; I have gotten better in some things, though: tuk-tuk
drivers in Bangkok now fear me, but for all the rest? Rubbish! Absolute
rubbish!

I understand that people need to make a
living and the fluctuating tourism industry can be a bit of a bitch, I am
sensitive to the fact that I am in a privileged position always and more so
compared to the working class in these parts of the world; I agree that I
should pay higher rates than locals when it comes to entertainment such as
museums, sites, landmarks, theatres, etc. after all, it is their country and they should have feasible access to their own
culture.

I don’t mind if things are more expensive
for me as a traveller, not at all! At the end of it I have the choice to either
take it or leave it; what drives me absolutely mad is been (being?) taken for a
fool, seriousy anger me! And bargaining certainly lends itself to abuse.

There has
to be some common sense to it! I know it is a different mentality and all, but
COME ON PLEOPLE!!! You can’t possibly expect to pay off the mortgage from that
single cab ride with the Swedish tourist! Have some morals for goodness sake!

I am sure there are some International
Unwritten Haggle Rules or Code of Hustling Ethics, SOMETHING!!! Even Pirates
had a code of honour! Well, if there is one it and certainly has not gotten to
Asia.

It is sensible to hike up a price, don’t
know… 50% maybe? Vendor offers 20, costumer 10, both agree on 15. I think this
is pretty reasonable.

What is NOT reasonable is to pimp it up to
500% for crying out loud!!!

Went to buy some fruit at the local market;
the faces of the vendors literally illuminate when they see me approaching
their stalls and I can assure you it is not my shinny personality; they
frantically wave and shout “Hello?! Hello?!? Want apple? Want mango? Come buy
me, Mister!! (not a good start if they are already calling me butchy dike…) so
I take a look at some bananas, safe enough fruit I don’t need to wash and
requires n preparation other than peeling it;

I point at 3 teeny puny little bananas and
the woman, clearing her throat and looking me dead in the eye says:

“15 thousand”

I stare back thinking “she HAS GOT to be kidding me

“Excuse me?” I say, slightly squinting my
eyes in what is the beginning of an evil look.

“15 thousand rupee” fruitlady repeats

I leave the bananas and just walk way,
almost offended that she would think me that
stupid, al the while she is calling me back “ok! Ok! How much you want to
pay?!”

While I’m cursing away under my breath I
see a taxi driver buying some fruit and paying 75cents for 1k of
bananas. Unbelievable. He offers to drive me which feels like a great idea as I
am fuming both from the Banana Incident and the unbearable humid heat; I am
just not quite sure how far the hostal is:

“perhaps I can walk there?” I ask him; he
points out that it is not far but it is so hot I should just jump into the cab.

“how much?” says I

“30,000” responds my driver

“Oh… that seems a bit much… is it that far
away? better use the taximeter”

“No, not use meter! It will mark only
5,000”

Couldn’t believe it!

“so you want to charge me 25,000 more just
like that?!”

He laughs

I shut the door and walk away all the
while I hear him

“Ok! Ok! How much you want to pay
Mister?!”

Vegeteri.whaaaat??

D’oh!Posted by Gala Sun,
June 06, 2010
17:43:30

Still trying to keep the vegetarian front
strong, what a challenge this is in the Eastern world! oddly enough I thought
that it would be a walk in the park to get veggies everywhere as in most
countries meat is a pricey food than not everybody can afford, BIG FAT mistake
that was, they sprinkle beef, chicken, pork, fish seafood on just about everything,
including desserts.

I have accepted the fact that
I am a weird eater… no pasta, potatoes or rice and I stay clear of fried
stuff as much as possible, I keep it healthy and keep it fresh. In Asia they
have 3 elements in their menu: animals, fried and rice/noodles; add to the mix
the fact that I am unable to communicate and it is quite a circus.

I am ashamed to admit I do
not learn any local words beyond “please” and ” thank you”;
I am -however- extremely fluent in sign language which can get me pretty much
anything: from a size 9 silvery pair of sandals to a Brazilian bikini wax; I
have learned that unfortunately this does not go so smoothly when it comes to
food.

Starving! I stop at a place
next to the guest house to have a much needed meal, I always favor markets and
street stands… I like to live on the edge; so the Guy has all sorts of things
on display: pig heads, ducks, teeny birds and chunks of brownish beef serving
as a buffet bar to several dozens of flies. He also has those lovely baskets
with Dim Sum (snacks, the local equivalent of Tapas or Garnachas).

I embark on my Mime language and point to
some round shaped things asking what they were (by means of an upward nod and
raising shoulders and hands, palms up) and the Guy breaks out into a lively
monologue in –what I guessed was- Thai so I tell him I want to eat (cupping one
hand and simulating chop stick-feeding motion with the other) and ask again, he
obviously doesn’t understand me when a BRILLIANT idea hits me; my guest house
was literally 3 doors down, so I motion the international sign of “wait a
second” (thumb and index finger a couple of inches apart) which
unfortunately is often confused with the “you got a really small
willy” sign

I run to the reception and
ask the kid to write down in those Thai cute little symbols: “I
am a vegetarian, please give me dinner with no meat, thank you”
;
he hands me the paper looking somewhat bewildered and I go back to my Guy; he
looks the note and looks back at me with a blank look on his face and a pointy
fork in his hand.

By now I am truly famished, so I say: “NO MEAT” a bit
loudly…perhaps speaking in a very high pitched voice helps? but nada, so I
start making noises and saying whilst I shake my head:

(shake head) NO Muuuuuuuu!
(shake head) NO Quack, Quack!
(shake head) NO Oink Oink!…this one came out pretty
well, snorting noises n’ all
(shake head) NO Cluck, cluck cluck!… at this point
I was doing the chicken dance, walking in circles around his stall, knees bent
and clucking with my hands tucked under my armpits.

The Guy just stands there
looking at me like I had just grown a second head. I point to the paper so he
reads again and looked up a bit frustrated/// at that moment I saw the the
proverbial writing on the wall: ALL China-like decoration and symbols… this
was a Cantonese restaurant and the he only spoke Chinese… not a word of Thai.

I took the little note from
him, folded it neatly and put it in the back pocket of my jeans, held my head
up saying ”Domo Arigato” (Japanese, I know, but it is the closest I have to
China) and walked away to get me dinner at the 7/11 next door.

Don’t worry, be happy

D’oh!Posted by Gala Fri,
June 04, 2010
23:48:31

Off to Indonesia tomorrow;
all I have is a plane ticket and a bag packed full of lovely Asian style silky
clothes.
No map, no hotel, no plan, no
guide book; got some tips from friends and that’s about all I need, the rest is
to be found out as I go.

I’m at the top of the world
right now, so very happy and things are looking wonderful from where I’m
standing.

To the untrained eye I might
appear as homeless, over 40, unemployed an so single I have become nuveaux
spinster (been single so long that I actually am one, 15 years I believe it is
all I need to get back into the club… 3 years to go!);

Aaah! but appearances can be
deceiving! I am actually living a long cherished communal dream: that one where
we all want to say a big fact FU*K you! to the world, flick the bird and leave
it all behind, no remorse and go live in an exotic place and travel the world?
ya know? that fantasy we all cherish at one point or another? well: that IS my
life right now.

I am not unemployed: I simply
don’t have a boss
I am not single: I am free
AND LOVED
I am not homeless: I have a
home AND A FRIEND wherever I put by bag down
I am not over 40: I have just
been born into adulthood

My intuition tells me I am in
the right path and finishing a stage with a BOOM! and starting another with a
BANG!; I am certain that the big wink lady Liberty gave me some months back
will finally materialize and my new found friend will soon be making travels to
Asia and write another chapter to our story.

This blog should not make
sense to anybody… heck! makes no sense to me but I am am feeling so bloody
good about myself right now, I just don’t care.

Retreat

D’oh!Posted by Gala
Mon,
March 29, 2010 20:45:29

Tomorrow I fly to Thailand to enter a
Monastery (I kid you not) for a 10 day (12 really)meditation silence retreat
with some Buddhist Monks down south…

Stone bed, wooden pillow (that has me very
impressed) not a word uttered in 10 days, 2 light vegetarian meals a day,
getting up at ungodly hours (schedule detailed below) and I don’t even wanna
think about the showers as i suspect they may not have hot water.

No internet, no computer, Ipod, books…
just me, my demons and my aching body… Oh dear, sounds horrid now that I put
it in writing!

I honestly do not know why I do these
things to myself

Here
are the Basic Rules:

During the retreat, all participants are
required to observe some basic rules. This is for the ben­e­fit of everyone – a
very important part of getting you to the right frame of mind for med­ita­tion
– and because you will be staying on monastery grounds. You must:

* Keep complete silence throughout the
retreat

(exceptions: personal interviews from Day
3 to Day 8 and emergencies).

* Stay within the boundaries of the
retreat center.

* Keep the Eight Precepts, which are

* 1.Intend not to take away any
breath(abstain from killing).

* 2.Intend not to take away what is not
given (abstain from stealing).

* 3.Intend to keep one’s mind and one’s
body free from any sexual activity.

* 4.Intend not to harm others by speech.

* 5.Intend not to harm one’s consciousness
with substances that intoxicate and lead to carelessness (no alcohol, no drugs,
no smoking etc).

* 6.Intend not to eat between after noon
and before dawn.(what?! NO COOKIES??)

* 7.Intend not to dance, sing, play or
listen to music, watch shows, wear garlands, ornaments and beautify oneself
with perfumes and cosmetics.

* 8.Intend not to sleep or sit on
luxurious beds and seats.(they make
damned sure about that one!)

his is the moral code for those who seek
normalcy plus lightness and simplicity in living.

The abstain from killing and stealing
seems quite easy… now! but I am not sure if I would not break somebody’s neck
for a Hersey bar after day 4…

No eating between meals… no dancing or
singing…no sex (that is easy) and I do hope that soap, toothpaste and deo are
not considered cosmetics or pretty soon the place is gonna stick with all of us
crazies!

DAILY SCHEDULE

(With some modifications on Day 9 and Day
10)

04.00 ***

Wake up *** = Monastery bell

04.30

Morning Reading

04.45

Sitting meditation

05.15

Yoga / Exercise

07.00 ***

Dhamma talk & Sitting meditation

08.00

Breakfast & Chores

10.00 ***

Dhamma talk

11.00

Walking or standing meditation

11.45 ***

Sitting meditation

12.30

Lunch & chores

14.30 ***

Meditation instruction & Sitting
meditation

15.30

Walking or standing meditation

16.15 ***

Sitting meditation

17.00 ***

Chanting & Loving Kindness
meditation

18.00

Tea & hot springs

19.30 ***

Sitting meditation

20.00

Group walking meditation

20.30 ***

Sitting meditation

21.00 ***

Bedtime
(the gates will be closed at 21.15)

21.30 ***

LIGHTS OUT

Gourmet delights

D’oh!Posted by Gala

Mon, March 29, 2010 08:54:53

I never have thought of me as a picky eater, I really would gulp down anything
except for peas, hate those! and liver; however, being in Asia has made me
review my stand point… well that and being over 40 where the mere thought of
food gains me a few pounds and NOT in the right sexy places.

So I have slowly but surely reviewed my diet…

I steer clear of:

fried stuff
bread
potatoes
rice
pasta, noodles, etc
chocolate
things made of flour (except cookies, can’t quit those)
chips
carbonated drinks
beer
alcohol in general
anything factory like stuff like ho-ho’s twinky and such delights

Meat looks… not healthy here and visiting local markets has certainly given
me a glimpse of how many hands (feet and other body parts) touch the food that
will be cooked for me, not to mention fleas, heat, dogs and many creepy
crawlies roaming around the meat stands, so just to be on the safe side I quit
eating anything with a face.

Considering my health and travel insurance consists of a couple of band aids
and Vitamin C, I do my very best no ti get sick (Cambodian Hospitals don’t seem
very hygienic..) so I drink only bottled water and bottled tea.

Mmmhmmm… so what to eat? I love all greens, broccoli, green beans, spinach
and best of all: rocket salads

I went to a little street restaurant and asked for “a rocket and lamb’s
lettuce salad, with fresh cherry tomatoes (cut in half) diced goat cheese and a
bit of balsamic vinegar (Modena, naturally) sprayed, NOT poured, please and if
you have just half a table spoon of Olive oil (first press ideally, but second
will do). Absolutely no meat anywhere, if you could make REALLY sure, thank
you!”

The woman just stared at me with her toothless mouth open, totally baffled,
went back to the kitchen and 20 minutes later she brought me a Chinese
vegetable soup with noodles.

It was delicious!

Handbook to
Tourist Etiquette

D’oh!Posted by Gala
Thu,

March 25, 2010 18:48:24

There are masses of us, stomping all over the planet; I consider myself a
traveller rather than a tourist, yet I do want to do the touristy sites and
then divert to my own thing.

Manners and common courtesy seem to be a thing of the past, so I will indulge
in a self righteous note here and jot down the:

10 Commandments of a Well Mannered
Tourist

or
Stop Embarrassing your self and your
Country, ya Dumbass

1. Dress code: avoid high heels and
heavy make up specially when visiting various ruins and temples: your spiked
hills might be sexy while clubbing in Tokyo or Bangkok but here you are just
re-engraving ancient stones. Make up runs with profuse sweating and you look
damned scary.

2. General appearance: don’t try to
go local: dressing as a peasant does not bring you closer to the people: you
are a white New Yorker living in Manhattan’s Dakota Building… you ain’t
kidding anyone

3. Sun block: use it! beats wearing
layer upon layer of clothing! Asian ladies go to great extent to preserve their
pearl white skin, it is believed that a wide variety of colors, materials and
patterns all mixed together have better sun blocking effect, this includes:
black elbow length gloves, white t-shirt with a whacky print; bright green
flowery silk blouse (open to show off the T-shirt’s fun design); electric pink
cotton hoodie; chequered scarf; BIG straw hats or plastic caps about 20 cms in
length to cover face; massive fly style shades; silver plastic-like pants with
black embroidery (I kid you not, it matches the gloves..); golden sneakers; an
eye poking umbrella with Hello Kitty patterns; LV, Gucci, Prada or Carrefour
handbags.

4. Hygiene: OK, so you are a
backpacker and like to rough it, we get it! but come on! a little bar of soap
and washing powder does NOT take up that much space! lose the Dope pipe and
make room for a Dove bar, for Pete’s sake!

5. Pedicure: you are showing your
tootsies to the world and yourself with those beaded sandals you just bought,
how about getting rid of the 3 inches of dead skin which certainly make you
look taller? Black toenails are NOT the new French Pedicure! (Refer to point 4)

6. Pictures: making, taking and
getting out of the way of them:
a) When making a picture, do be considerate: there are 200 people looking at
the same chunk of rock, DO NOT TAKE SO BLOODY LONG! No matter what a massive
camera and lens you got, or what funky posses you might adopt to take the shot,
chances are the picture will not make it to National Geographic; anything over
18 seconds is too long.
b) When taking a picture for somebody else: make sure you don’t chop off head,
feet or make them look the size of an ant; show the photo to the owner of the
camera to see if he wants a retake, only 1 retake is allowed, for anything more
than that bring your own damned photographer.
c) Get out of the way: step aside if you see someone is about to take a shot;
If you see somebody kindly stepping aside, the rule is 10 seconds, not 18, a
Thank You! is in order.

7. This is an obvious one, but had to be said: DO NOT LITTER! Just because
local people treat their sites as open waste bins, that does not mean you can;
organic waste is not cool either, drop that mindset of “in this weather
that half eaten banana will be compost by tomorrow”.

8. Comparisons & qualifications:
so you are a big huge traveller and you want the world to know so you share you
invaluable (and seemingly endless) knowledge at the top of your lungs… news
flash: world does NOT care to know if this temple reminds you of that you
visited in 1972 in the western Pao Thang before the civil war “now THAT
was travelling, not like now”. No need to qualify either: we know it is
big, old, impressive, hot, amazing, beautiful, profound, funny, awesome,
incredible, etc so again: use your inside voice for such obvious statements.

9. Silence: please OH PLEASE do not
be screaming at all times! If your group of friends are on the other side of
the Pagoda, Museum, Temple, Building, Bridge, etc. do not attempt to lure them
by your side by yelling and pointing out to an amazing statue or pretty
picture; fights with spouses and children’s disciplining should also be done
quietly, we know you are a great parent, but watching you bitch-slap your kid
or wife is no fun. LOUD IS OUT.

10. Three words: deodorant,
deodorant, deodorant.

In Cambodia at the moment, loving

Here’s to Mr.
Thong

D’oh!Posted by Gala
Tue,
March 23, 2010 22:12:51
I spent the last day in Laos running around Viengtiang, lovely city, amazing
temples; I took a tuc-tuc with Mr. Thong (I choose to pronounce it as tongue),
he drove me around all morning, I invited him for lunch and he took me to the
distiest hidden market ever, where I had some broth with herbs and tons of
chili; we barely exchanged a word and yet it was the most enjoyable meal I had
in a while.

I did not plan the Lao part of my trip properly, I did not inform myself and
was a lazy traveler who had high expectations without doing any research, shame
on me!

Mr. Thong reminded me of how wonderful the simple things are and I realized I
was being unfair to his country and behaving like an arrogant brat, ridiculing
a whole nation I don’t even know.

Perhaps I return after my retreat with the Monks, by then dry season will be
oven and vegetation obscenely lush (as opposed to the dry landscape I
encountered). I might redo Laos and a some of Vietnam.

Thanks Mr. Thong!

Thai-Lao
Friendship Bridge

D’oh!Posted by Gala
Tue,
March 23, 2010 00:35:06

The “Travel Agency” promised it would be an 8 hour drive in a VIP
luxury bus and a 5 minute deal to get the visa from the Thai-Lao Friendship
Bridge, taken by private taxi to our bus; as an alternative they recommended a
truly breathtaking 2 day journey through the Mekong river on a slow boat to
rest our tired bones we would sleep in a lovely little village and proceed the
next morning to our final destination: Luang Prabang, proclaimed by UNESCO as a
World Heritage Site.

Allow me to illustrate..

The “private Taxi”… what can I say?

The VIP bus was a minivan filled to the last cubic centimeter with smelly and
tired looking backpackers, average age: 13, average height 2.20 (7′) so they
were folded into the car like noisy accordions.

We then switched buses and I was so glad!… and I was so wrong to be glad!

The ride took -count ’em- 16 SIXTEEN hours in a regular bus designed to fit
Asian people (average national height is that of a leprechaun), not only that,
but it was regular routed bus, which meant he stopped every 30 minutes to drop
off or pick people up… Lao folks are know for being laid back, which is
polite for “take your Royal time, why dont’cha??!!!” so by the time
they grabbed their multiple boxes and bundles of joy, got down got the money,
negotiated the price and waved bye-bye to passengers I was quite ready to break
their knees.

I did get to the the scenery, which was nice at some stages: bamboo houses,
kids running around, showers were a public deal (naked for the kids, in a
sarong for the ladies) it was quite unexpected that they showered at all, as
the smell of the people on the bus was unbearable, really. It also surprised me
tremendously to see that those dusty bamboo huts had a satellite dish… I
mean, women were picking fleas out of each other’s hair (I swear to God, I
think it was a social thing) kids were running around naked, the older ones had
only a dirty t-shirt and no underpants… no nickers but 87 channels and a
color TV (I could see them shining brightly through the holes and open doors
from the road), that is an interesting list of priorities… to each his own, I
suppose.

Oohhh and there was entertainment, the driver was well equipped with multiple
tapes -yes, actual tapes- of cheesy pop Lao music, I have the sneaking
suspicion it was from Laos has Talent, Lao Idol or something equally bad; he
played his cursed music LOUD, I mean, he had the speakers going on all over the
bus, it was not unlike being in a live concert, all accompanied by his own
rendition to his favorite tunes, which were played extra loud. by the end of
the 16 -count them SIXTEEN- hours I could already sing some of the tunes, as he
also had a tendency of looping his Top 3. We did get a break every now and then
from this, periodically he would call his buddies on his mobile and held long
and quite animated conversation, all this while he was driving at night, on a
curvy dark road -which was largely undergoing repairs- only one hand on the
steering wheel while the other was holding the phone… constant oncoming
traffic.

FINALLY we got to Luang Prabang, dropped off at a lonely bus station at 2am in
the morning.

I admit I don’t get VIP treatment often, but I am pretty damned sure that is
NOT the way it goes.

I know I am being mean, but it was a rough ride.

Bummer!

D’oh!Posted by Gala
Thu,
March 18, 2010 19:55:58

I just had the weirdest episode.

I am in a Chiang Mai Guest House, packing my stuff as I will leave to Laos
tomorrow morning, I realize that my necklace, rings and bracelet are missing,
so I unpack again and NADA; normally I wear these at all times, so I am well
aware of them, except I took them out to go rock climbing and jumping around
the jungle.

I figure I left them in the old room for I had changed the nigh before, so I go
to the Owner, and older Thai woman who speaks no English and I point to neck
and finger saying things are missing, hoping she would open the old room, so
she says to wait, goes into a room beside reception and spends 10 minutes in a
hysterical screaming match with a man, I mean, they were LOUD!

I was waiting around pretending to read a newspaper in Thai, there is more
yelling and thumps, the woman comes out crying, whaling really and just told me
sob! sob! NO sob! sob! and kept on crying, leaning against the counter shaking
her head… I am standing there like an idiot asking if she is ok and patting
her back saying “there, there” so she grabs her little purse and goes
through money (I though she was going to pay for my things or something) gets
some keys out and walks up, I follow her thinking we would go to my old room
and she just goes in to hers, locks the door and after 5 minutes of me waiting
outside, I gave up.

I can still hear her crying.

A silver ring my friend Vanessa made; a silver bracelet my friend Magali gave
me; a silvery necklace, worn so often it was almost a trademark and my b-day
necklace from Abu Dhabi (those are the things I have noticed…)

AND she goes on crying -her room is next to mine-.

Not be be insensitive here, but what about my stuff????!!!!

Abu Dhabi

D’oh!Posted by Gala
Tue,
March 16, 2010 18:20:02

So, 3 weeks in Abu Dhabi came and went.
Laureus was crazy and great for me in so very many ways…

I SO love Hugh Grant.

Arabian women: hairy, hairy hairy!! no wonder they wear burkas! turns out the
uni brow is a sign of beauty..

Makes me angry that they have to be covered up and walking 3 steps behind men.

Burping… I don’t care what a compliment that is or how culturally different
we are, expelling gas from any cavity at all IS NOT COOL.

Bangkok

D’oh!Posted by Gala
Mon,
March 01, 2010 00:56:00

SO I spent 3 full days in Bangkok, doing the tourist thing and working just
enough not to feel guilty.
Several things made an impression, first and foremost the fact that on the city
map everything seems so close and it’s damned far when you walk, funny thing is
to stop a taxi, tuc tuc or scooter/taxi and invariably they will say that the
place is too close, too far or too much traffic to go that way…. err… is
that not the bleeping reason for me to take a cab??? because the place is
far??? If I want to take a tuc-tuc to save me 10 loooong blocks and be in time
to catch a movie I might as well forget about it! I never quite got the
“right” distance to be able to hail a taxi.

My friends have told me about the seedy, downright illegal Bangkok bars where
girls are capable of shooting -with brutal force- golf balls, razors and all
sorts of things out of their… birth canal , well I just could not believe
that! I mean, we are all equipped more or less the same, some prettier
accessories than others, I’ll grant you that, but it is just impossible to
achieve that no matter how many funky exercises a girl might when no-one is
looking…

So I ask the reception girl at the hotel where the bars where, “the bad
ones, like in the movies” I would say -she looked at me funny, pointed
some are in the map and II gingerly set of to find them ball popping girls,
miraculously managed to get a scooter taxi (best invention ever, although I am
normally twice the size of the Tiny Thai driver), get down and sure enough
there are tons of bars, food stands, and people selling from Rolex watches to
Bob Marley aprons; I walked like a camel in search of water, miles and miles
and miles of bar after bar and no ball popping girls, in fact it was all quite
healthy: families sitting around, sipping lemonades and watching over their
kids lovingly as they held hands… all quite disgusting, really! where are the
Lady-boys?? the razor spitting girls?! the scary looking transvestites??the
massage parlours with multitudinous happy endings??!! NADA, cero, nichts,
niente, rien, not a thing!! there were a few young drunkards who appeared to be
on a fraternity/bachelor trip and girls pulling them from the arm into dark
corners, there were some girls walking around and those frat boys cat calling
and inviting them for drinks… but me? ME??? nobody even looked at me!! I was
invisible.

I know that there are people who are a magnet for trouble and whilst I am well
aware that I am a healthy one, but could I possibly have started sending granny
signals?? am I invisible??!!

I just wanted to be really bad for a day or at least see really bad things.

I am soooo boring, not even in Bangkok do I see action!

*sight*

Back to Warm

D’oh!Posted by Gala
Fri,
February 12, 2010 12:28:48

I just booked my flight from Phuket to Bangkok and a hotel in the Asian Sin
City, where I will be spending 3 days by myself.. some friends are betting I
will break my vow of celibacy there… hmmm… wanna bet again??

Let us examine the evidence:
1) There are like 5 million (born as) women; seemingly all of them are young,
thin, delicate, cute, readily available and easier than 1+1.
2) then you have the male population where 90% are young, thin, delicate, cute,
readily available and easier than 1+1 AND way more feminine than I will ever
be. (the remaining 10% are midget sumo wrestlers).
3) Lastly, those ex pats who are looking for young, thin, delicate, cute,
readily available and easier than 1+1 girls OR boys (really doesn’t make a
difference there).

Adding ALL of the above to the fact that I am not into one -or 3- night stands
plus the fact that I am stupidly mourning lost loves that were never meant to
be, well… what can I say?

I will save myself for marriage.

Wondering

D’oh!Posted by Gala
Thu,
January 28, 2010 21:47:38

Walking around Patong and seeing SO many blonds, and British -2 of my fav
things put together- I could not help to wonder if I ever will date again, it
would be lovely but I just don’t think so… seems SO far away, so complicated!

The whole love thing appears to be such a fleeting, unreliable and deceptive
feeling which invariably ends up in pain and/or suffering, it just doesn’t seem
worth the risk and effort.

Perfectly happy just window shopping those surfers and cute looking foreigners
in Thailand.

I do hope I eat my words at some point in my life, but just now I can’t even
bring myself to even consider for a MINUTE to have an affair… This would be
unheard of 2 18 months ago, even 6 months back!

Scary what a cocktail of guy disappointment and a Muslim country can do to a
woman’s spirits, the first most disheartening of all.

*sight*

Phuket

D’oh!Posted by Gala

Wed, January 27, 2010 18:25:49

Having a GREAT time in Phuket, this place is awesome!

Since it looks like I will most certainly be by myself and homeless 2 weeks in
Feb, I just might spend that time here in Thailand (curse men!!)

Sun, beaches a tiny bikini and internet, a girl does not need more!

Mission
accomplished

D’oh!Posted by Gala
Sun,
January 24, 2010 02:43:45

Tonight is my last night in Khunfunadhoo Island, Baa Atoll Republic of
Maldives.

D- E – L – I G – H – T – E – D

I have accomplished all that I set myself out to do here and then some: learned
TONS of things in terms of work and a brand new industry, made GREAT new
friends who will last me a life time, realized that I can pretty much live
anywhere under almost any type of circumstances -provided I have internet-,
fell in love with Skype all over again AND…

Taaaaa Daaaa!!!!!

Got my PADI license for diving!!!!

… of course, being me and the way I am, I got it the day I am leaving, so I
can’t dive any more…

I guess I will just have to sacrifice and move to Thailand for a month and live
in one of those surfer/diving /sea side places…

life IS tough!
(did I mention surfing place?… as in full of SURFERS?!!?

Those of you who are old enough, sing to Simon & Garfunkel:

And here’s to you, Mrs. Robinson
Jesus loves you more than you will know (Wo, wo, wo)
God bless you please, Mrs. Robinson
Heaven holds a place for those who pray
(Hey, hey, hey…hey, hey, hey)

Freeee!!!

D’oh!Posted by Gala
Fri,
January 22, 2010 19:01:33

Just finished working for the cheapest lamest most unsophisticated person I
have come across… and he is supposed to manage a high-luxury resort, imagine
that!

Just gave my uniform back, cleaned my PC and I am BACK to my jeans and MacBook,
working in a cool event, on my way to a Thai holiday.

Life is sweet!

Falling into place

D’oh!Posted by Gala
Sun,
January 17, 2010 22:45:40

Got a gig in Abu Dhabi… SO exciting! 3 weeks in UAE, working with my mates in
something I REALLY like and it will enable me to live for 1 year in Thailand
(or 2 weeks in Florence…)

There is a God and She loves me!!!

So, according to my master plan I will meet my best friends in Phuket, then off
to Berlin with my Boys, if I get lucky a few days away with that elusive oh! SO
terribly desired Mr. a Destiempo somewhere in Europe OR traveling… gawd knows
where.

The land of Liberty is singing my name, luring me like a chubby Sexy Siren and
I cannot wait to be there.

Wonderful project.

Candles are burning

Dilemma

D’oh!Posted by Gala

Wed, January 13, 2010 00:16:47

Ok, so I screwed up…
I let my hot temper get the best of me… the Guerrero got to my head… and my
head got chewed big time.

So now that I am cool, I have a ton of things to say, but he is so DAMNED mad
at me I’m afraid I can’t do a thing.

When the hell did I get to be the bad guy ALWAYS??? Granted, I a ain’t no
saint, but I own up to my fu*k ups, and just cause I take responsibility
doesn’t mean I am the ONLY one at fault.

Darn… gotta find a place to stay now… how did I go from a romantic getaway
to living under a bridge?!

10 days left here! toc toc tic toc…

Who to choose?

D’oh!Posted by Gala

Thu, December 31, 2009 00:10:07

Just watched “Alfie” starring Jude Law…

It is just too much to bear, watching those baby blues and pouty lips
complaining about loneliness and want of a better half…

Small debate aroused with a friend and colleague about the shagadelic qualities
of Jude Law and I for one have declared myself all for the cause, so after
admitting all sorts of preferences, I am happy to list the lucky winners:

1. Mr. Jude Law. Any time any place, preferably a romantic setting.
2. Mr. Matthew Mc Conaughey for a wonderful summer love affair (with his shirt
off at all times).
3. Mr. George Clooney for a long lasting relationship which will lead nowhere.
4. Mr. Brad Pitt as arm candy and nothing more.
5. Mr. Jake Gyllenhaal for “I will marry you and have your children even
if it takes a scientific miracle”.
6. Mr. Julian Mc Mahon for “Ok Darling, you may take me to Paris for
dinner and butter my croissant in the morning”.
7. Mr. Ewan McGregor for “boy next door” syndrome.
8. Mr. Leonardo di Caprio to satisfy the Ms. Robinson crave.
9. Mr. Will Smith to have a weekend of fun and dismantle any racist theory on
my taste in men.
10. Mr. Hugh Jackman to restore my faith on the possibility of finding a slim
waistline and full head of hair after 40.

HONORARY MENTION:
Mr. Ashton Kutcher for “I’m over 40, divorced with kids and I will rock
your world” and “yes please! 1 cutie pie to go”

Stay tuned for blast from the past where you will most likely find the likes of
Mr. Rock “Who cares you bat for the other team” Hudson and ambiguous
bad boy James Dean.

We might even go for a top 10 pin up girl with Ms. Ava Gardner at No 1…

Homeless

D’oh!Posted by Gala
Tue,
December 29, 2009 16:19:30

I have effectively become homeless come
January 23rd … in fact I might be unemployed end of March if I don’t play my
cards right.

How funny is that?!

Iti s soooo incredibly exciting! I’m giddy
n’ all! will grab my backpack and after Berlin I have NO clue where I will
live… I think I should lose myself in Indonesia… or Thailand… these are
the only places I can afford to travel around aimlessly.

THE WORLD IS MINE

(add mad -scientist laughter)

Smells

D’oh!Posted by Gala
Fri,
December 25, 2009 07:40:52

Love that warm vapor that comes out of dry cleaner shops.
That -to me- is the smell of cleanliness.

Evokes a perfectly pressed white dress shirt…

Few things get me going like a a man in a well cut & immaculate
white shirt, first 2 buttons undone… just a glimpse of collarbone and a drop
of perfume.

Yes, that is the most erotic scent combination: dry cleaner + manly aftershave.

…sight…

Flirting

D’oh!Posted by Gala
Sun,
December 20, 2009 17:17:24

Lady Liberty just winked at me and got me all excited.

Mmmhhh…. could it be that I swap Asia for the Americas?!?

Shamelessly flirting with the idea.



Old blog entries 2

2010 blogs Posted on Tue, August 19, 2014 04:12:33

Top 10 list:
Island life

D’oh!Posted
by Gala Thu,
December 10, 2009 17:46:39

Top 10 good things about living in
Khunfoonadhu Baa Atoll

10 I don’t have to cook, do
dishes or think what to make for dinner

9 Don’t have to do laundry or
iron clothes

8 Never worry about what to wear

7 No traffic jams

6 Bad hair days go totally
unnoticed

5 Girls are always considered
gorgeous… regardless! (Island population: 367 males vs 20 females)

4 I get to enjoy paradise,
snoozing on a hammock on my days off

3 ZERO (null, nichst, cero,
nada, pas de tout) risk of pregnancy and other such scares

2 No dog poo to step –or slide-
on

1 Most locals are so slow at
work, I am like Speedy Gonzalez! (Andele! Andele!)

By George, I think
she’s got it!

D’oh!Posted
by Gala Sun,
December 06, 2009 18:23:18
It is not hidden longing, awkward shyness, repressed feelings or burning desire
kept secret from you.
Nothing to do with fear nor insecurity.
Not about time difference, good timing, bad timing, right time, wrong time,
free time, no time.

I’m sorry for being curt: a blind man could see that…

Girlfriend, he is just NOT into you!