Zoe and I will be returning to my home town of Portland, Oregon for 3 weeks. Last week's bomb threats have pushed US air security in to the dreaded red zone. This means that 6 assorted dry sausages (chorizo picante and fuet), 2 chunks of Spanish cheese and 3 packets of pata negra jamon are now in the refridgerator and not in my suitcase. I'm risking a stay at federal bed and breakfast (3 squares a day and sex whether you want it or not) for even thinking about trying to slip a few cans of atun y sardinas through customs. But hey, it's for the padres.
Already I've been told that my harmonicas could be construed as menacing weapons (and if you've ever heard me play you'd know why), I should forget about my meds and do not under any circumstances drink water from an airplane even if it's from a bottle.
When I went back two years ago I completely freaked out when I saw self service check out at the grocery store. This could be an very interesting trip. Mas tarde.
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dear robin, as i am going thru your blog some of the details really make me smile. for one i studied in portland during five years in the 80s, for two i have lived in barcelona during seven years before moving (sort of - i still spend almost half the year in barcelona for work etc) to the south of france where i am now... i don't always agree with certain of your observations such as what a good reason reason for learning chinese might be, but i really have fun with your crisp comments and sense of humour... cheers
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