If we have learned anyhing this last week, its that Rick Steves' maps may suck, but his tips for avoiding crowds are dead on. Prior to our departure from the states we had several conversations that went like this:
"Hey babe...Rick says we should reserve tickets to the Academy where David is located in Florence." "Eh...maybe. we'll see."
Fast forward to the day we are in Florence. It is smoking hot, we took an hour long train from the port to Florence and we are working on hour three standing in line to see this GD statue. You have never seen anything like this. A three hour line. Luckily, we had some nice young ladies in line with us and it was fun to hear about their travels through Europe. I swear one of them was Ali Smith...right down to the personality. I loved her!
So, after the three hour mark, the gates open and our side of the line begins to move. Yes! We are finally in!
Nope. Security cut the line right where we stood. And we stood there for another 30 minutes. "Maybe we should have reserved tickets." Especially since the reserved line only waited 30 minutes.
After almost four hours waiting in line in the blazing sun it took us 20 minutes to see what we wanted to see. David is still as impressive as I remember him.
As a parting gift, our frustrated Mr Tucci decided to buck the security warnings about no photography. "I waited all damn day to see this thing...im taking pictures!"
On the train ride back to port we decided we could scratch Florence off our list for a lifetime. F@&# Florence, he said.
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Northern Spain is very different. They are Spainsh by force, Catalonian by choice. Franco, and many others before him, attempted to make them conform under Spanish rule. The flag, the language and even some of the festivites and dancing were outlawed. But now, the culture is making a comeback with a vengance, including the lanuage.
Rick Steves says Catalan is as different from Spanish as Italian. He wasn't kidding. This isn't simply a dialect difference or one verb tense, entire words and the composition of their alphabet are different. So, imagine our fun trying to communicate with a gruff female attendant at a gas station at 1:30 a.m. when we were lost. Yea...that was a potential marriage ender too.
Cities don't look very far apart on a map. They're simply two inches. Can't take that long. Based on some quick calculations, Alicante to Barcelona should be four, five hours tops. If we get within an hour of Barcelona we can easily turn in the car and jump on the ship. Oh...and there's a cool beach town right in that area. Vamanos!
Well, things are never as easy as they seem, but they make for good stories the next day.
Thanks to the all nighter watching the sun come up (it was worth it) we shot out of bed at noon. Check out is at noon. Crap! Hurry, pack everything up...we gotta get out of here.
Now it's about 12:30.
We had an amazing pizza the night before. I mean best thing I ever ate good. We thought "let's hit that place quick for lunch." Simple. Unfortunately, Spanish streets are a lot like Lakewood - they go in circles. We thought we knew where the pizza place was then went through various iterations of stubborn determination, defeat and sweat. Just as we were about to give up, an hour later, we found it. Yes...we had walked circles for hours and even passed within a block of the place. That was the best diet coke I've ever drank.
So now it's somewhere around three.
We head back to the car and drive to the Castle de Santa Barbara. It dates back to he eighth century and is not to be missed. Naturally, even though the castle is on the hill right above us, it takes 30 minutes and lots of wrong turns to get there. It was worth it. The views are amazing and the archetectre beautiful.
Now it's after four.
Vamanos! We gotta hit the road. It's all fun and games for the first two hours. Passing beautiful old orange groves and estates, snapping pictures of the huge black bull cutouts scattered along all the hillsides, me reading fun facts out loud from Steve's entries on Barcelona. But then it gets old. Quickly.
The toll freeway goes much faster. But each stretch we hit costs between 14 and 19 euro. That adds up. We decide to take the free freeway, and that was our big mistake. Now the trip got longer.
So, short story, it gets dark quick and we are kinda stuck on this slower freeway. We finally get to Tarragona. Sigh...goal accomplished. At this point,it is eleven. Makes most sense to stay in a cheap place since we aren't going to be there long. All booked up. Nothing available.
Well hell...we are this close to Barcelona, let's just keep going. After a series of wrong turns we get on the right track. However, it is the slow track and no one is around. Pat starts to panic that we are going to run out of gas. Pat never panics, so this is serious. We coast in to a gas station, at 12:30, with tempers flaring only to realize this catalonian language barrier is greater than we thought. This female attendant is screaming over the pa system and all I can make out is "touch it...touch it!" That meant pick up the pump handle, insert it in the gas tank, and push the button...apparently.
Long story short, we survived and finally found a nice hotel outside Barcelona around 2 a.m. apparently there was a huge rave party going on at the arts center across the street. I was so beat I missed it.
Rick Steves says Catalan is as different from Spanish as Italian. He wasn't kidding. This isn't simply a dialect difference or one verb tense, entire words and the composition of their alphabet are different. So, imagine our fun trying to communicate with a gruff female attendant at a gas station at 1:30 a.m. when we were lost. Yea...that was a potential marriage ender too.
Cities don't look very far apart on a map. They're simply two inches. Can't take that long. Based on some quick calculations, Alicante to Barcelona should be four, five hours tops. If we get within an hour of Barcelona we can easily turn in the car and jump on the ship. Oh...and there's a cool beach town right in that area. Vamanos!
Well, things are never as easy as they seem, but they make for good stories the next day.
Thanks to the all nighter watching the sun come up (it was worth it) we shot out of bed at noon. Check out is at noon. Crap! Hurry, pack everything up...we gotta get out of here.
Now it's about 12:30.
We had an amazing pizza the night before. I mean best thing I ever ate good. We thought "let's hit that place quick for lunch." Simple. Unfortunately, Spanish streets are a lot like Lakewood - they go in circles. We thought we knew where the pizza place was then went through various iterations of stubborn determination, defeat and sweat. Just as we were about to give up, an hour later, we found it. Yes...we had walked circles for hours and even passed within a block of the place. That was the best diet coke I've ever drank.
So now it's somewhere around three.
We head back to the car and drive to the Castle de Santa Barbara. It dates back to he eighth century and is not to be missed. Naturally, even though the castle is on the hill right above us, it takes 30 minutes and lots of wrong turns to get there. It was worth it. The views are amazing and the archetectre beautiful.
Now it's after four.
Vamanos! We gotta hit the road. It's all fun and games for the first two hours. Passing beautiful old orange groves and estates, snapping pictures of the huge black bull cutouts scattered along all the hillsides, me reading fun facts out loud from Steve's entries on Barcelona. But then it gets old. Quickly.
The toll freeway goes much faster. But each stretch we hit costs between 14 and 19 euro. That adds up. We decide to take the free freeway, and that was our big mistake. Now the trip got longer.
So, short story, it gets dark quick and we are kinda stuck on this slower freeway. We finally get to Tarragona. Sigh...goal accomplished. At this point,it is eleven. Makes most sense to stay in a cheap place since we aren't going to be there long. All booked up. Nothing available.
Well hell...we are this close to Barcelona, let's just keep going. After a series of wrong turns we get on the right track. However, it is the slow track and no one is around. Pat starts to panic that we are going to run out of gas. Pat never panics, so this is serious. We coast in to a gas station, at 12:30, with tempers flaring only to realize this catalonian language barrier is greater than we thought. This female attendant is screaming over the pa system and all I can make out is "touch it...touch it!" That meant pick up the pump handle, insert it in the gas tank, and push the button...apparently.
Long story short, we survived and finally found a nice hotel outside Barcelona around 2 a.m. apparently there was a huge rave party going on at the arts center across the street. I was so beat I missed it.
Friday, June 17, 2011
No, no...I got it...
I really can't believe the attitude here toward garbage. It is 4 a.m. and I am watching three men, employed by the government, picking up trash on the beach. Reference our blog about la basura and apparently that attitude extends to everything else. Everyone tosses their trash all over. Looking out on the beach at 4 a.m. there is garbage all around. Really? It's not cool to pick up after yourself? Well, I guess it keeps people employed. We saw similar operations in Madrid. NO, NO...don't worry...don't pick up your garbage....I got it.
Street Drinking
We haven't quite figured out all the social cues of Spain. When do you not take your top off on the beach? Do you put it back on to go in the water? Can you just sit at any open table outside and get served? But the most of these is what I call street drinking. Wander down any street in Alicante after midnight and you will find large groups of young Spaniards drinking a mix of Coke or Fanta with their alcohol of choice. The Police seem to have issues with this, but the crowds are larger than they can control. So, we watched the police come in, scatter the crowd to different dirrections only to catch up with them later on a different street.
On a related note, street peeing also seems to be a big thing. Especialy after 2 a.m. We caught several people peeing on old buildings or behind dumpsters. We laughed, so did they. But imagine...that goes on every night. I feel a need to wash my feet before bed.
On a related note, street peeing also seems to be a big thing. Especialy after 2 a.m. We caught several people peeing on old buildings or behind dumpsters. We laughed, so did they. But imagine...that goes on every night. I feel a need to wash my feet before bed.
No es serio!
Because we had to, we stayed out all night dancing last night in Alicante. Seriously people, if you get to Espana, block out three days for this place.
I didn't get this whole siesta thing until I got here. Playa (beach) en la manana (morning), nap in the afternoon, get dressed for dinner around eight and party all night long. I have to admit, as counter as this whole thing is to productivity, it is nice to take a nap in the afternoon when it is boiling hot out.
But wow. At midnight the streets are packed with people eating dinner at outside restaurants. At two a.m. everyone goes to the clubs. At 4:15 a.m. I had to convince someone to go home. Yes, Pat is convinced he should live in Spain.
Dancing here isn't exactly what Pat envisioned. Most dancing is based off the salsa. We Americans, in general, are too serious and tight to do that well. After afew lessons from folks in the bar, I am happy to report Pat got a thumbs up from everyone we met. He could hold his own.
Music plays a big part in any culture. It is fun to be in a place where we can experience that through a totally different perspective.
I didn't get this whole siesta thing until I got here. Playa (beach) en la manana (morning), nap in the afternoon, get dressed for dinner around eight and party all night long. I have to admit, as counter as this whole thing is to productivity, it is nice to take a nap in the afternoon when it is boiling hot out.
But wow. At midnight the streets are packed with people eating dinner at outside restaurants. At two a.m. everyone goes to the clubs. At 4:15 a.m. I had to convince someone to go home. Yes, Pat is convinced he should live in Spain.
Dancing here isn't exactly what Pat envisioned. Most dancing is based off the salsa. We Americans, in general, are too serious and tight to do that well. After afew lessons from folks in the bar, I am happy to report Pat got a thumbs up from everyone we met. He could hold his own.
Music plays a big part in any culture. It is fun to be in a place where we can experience that through a totally different perspective.
Thankful
When packing light there are several thing you become thankful for, and others you can ditch.
1. Eddie Bauer's travel skirt.
2. My Olukai flip flips from REI
3. The Droid...so I stay in touch.
4. Purity face cloths
5. A Patagonia travel dress
6. A pashmina wrap
7. Bandaids...for blisters. See post 2.
If you are traveling soon, I highly recommend these items.
1. Eddie Bauer's travel skirt.
2. My Olukai flip flips from REI
3. The Droid...so I stay in touch.
4. Purity face cloths
5. A Patagonia travel dress
6. A pashmina wrap
7. Bandaids...for blisters. See post 2.
If you are traveling soon, I highly recommend these items.
Una Basura
I equate Spain´s garbage problem with Oregon´s outlook on having people pump your gas for you. It creates jobs.
After about five drinks, I got up the nerve to talk to a female bartender. Come to find out, she´s from Ecuador. I asked about all the garbage on the floor. Napkins, olive pits, wrappers...you name it. It´s pretty sick. And everywhere you go.
¨I know! I can´t believe it! There are garbage cans all over the place, under their feet and they just throw trash all over.¨ Well, I guess it gives someone something to do. As for us, we made sure to kindly put all of our garbabe in the basura or on the plate where it belonged.
After about five drinks, I got up the nerve to talk to a female bartender. Come to find out, she´s from Ecuador. I asked about all the garbage on the floor. Napkins, olive pits, wrappers...you name it. It´s pretty sick. And everywhere you go.
¨I know! I can´t believe it! There are garbage cans all over the place, under their feet and they just throw trash all over.¨ Well, I guess it gives someone something to do. As for us, we made sure to kindly put all of our garbabe in the basura or on the plate where it belonged.
Saving Spains Economy
I´ve figured out how to save Spain´s awful economy. Sell off just one of the rooms from the palace in Madrid. I´m all for tradition, but really - this is over the top. Gold-leaf everything, silk, silver, grand rooms, crystals, a throne room...even Napoleon´s brother was smart enough to sell off some of the royal bounty to finance wars in his time.
There is almost a forty percent unemployment for those under 30. Damn near half! We did a little research on government subsidies after listening in on one woman´s conversation about living off the government. If you have a baby - 2,500 euro bonus payment off the top. 16 weeks paid (100 percent) maternity leave and up to 15 weeks paternity leave if the people have their way in the next election. And, if you are under 21 and have a baby, you get payment no matter if you´ve paid in to their social security. REALLY? Anyway, they´ve got more money going out than coming in, like most countries in trouble.
And if the nanny state couldn´t get much worse, everything fom McDonalds to Coke comes with a warning label. Seriously. Advertisements for both include messaging about how you should eat a balanced variety of fruits and veggies and get excercise every day. Printed on EVERYTHING. Bet the private comapnies love having to go through THAT extra effort. Really people, if you are going to eat cheeseburgers every day, all day, and not exercise...don´t we consider that Darwinism?
There is almost a forty percent unemployment for those under 30. Damn near half! We did a little research on government subsidies after listening in on one woman´s conversation about living off the government. If you have a baby - 2,500 euro bonus payment off the top. 16 weeks paid (100 percent) maternity leave and up to 15 weeks paternity leave if the people have their way in the next election. And, if you are under 21 and have a baby, you get payment no matter if you´ve paid in to their social security. REALLY? Anyway, they´ve got more money going out than coming in, like most countries in trouble.
And if the nanny state couldn´t get much worse, everything fom McDonalds to Coke comes with a warning label. Seriously. Advertisements for both include messaging about how you should eat a balanced variety of fruits and veggies and get excercise every day. Printed on EVERYTHING. Bet the private comapnies love having to go through THAT extra effort. Really people, if you are going to eat cheeseburgers every day, all day, and not exercise...don´t we consider that Darwinism?
Titillated
There are really no words to describe the beach in Alicante. Amazingly beautiful, under an 8th century moorish castle and full of people. We feel so lucky to have found this hotel, especially after eight hours of driving with no agenda and limited patience. It was a marriage saver.
How does one describe the scene? Clothing optional just doesn´t seem to do it. There are boobies everywhere. Mother playing in the sand with her child? Topless. Two girls reading OK magazie? Topless. Old lady in retirement? Topless.
It´s like being in a topless bar and not having to pay - says Pat. The double bonus score? When the gals just have a thong on. I mean really, why bother with anything at that point?
We met some Navy guys from San Diego - Santucky actually (what are the odds of that Brooke and Doug?) and these guys were telling us all about it last night. We didn´t believe it. Anyway, needless to say they were right. For all you guys, imagine pretty much naked girls, sitting on eachother, rubbing sunscreen in. Yep...titty overlaod. It´s pretty amazing.
As for me - well, yes...there are some good looking guys here. The Speedos seem to be thankfully relegated to the older generations. Younger guys are wearing more board shorts. But I still find the whole thing entertaining. Really? You are sitting on the beach, by yourself, no top on, eating a sandwich? That´s new to me.
How does one describe the scene? Clothing optional just doesn´t seem to do it. There are boobies everywhere. Mother playing in the sand with her child? Topless. Two girls reading OK magazie? Topless. Old lady in retirement? Topless.
It´s like being in a topless bar and not having to pay - says Pat. The double bonus score? When the gals just have a thong on. I mean really, why bother with anything at that point?
We met some Navy guys from San Diego - Santucky actually (what are the odds of that Brooke and Doug?) and these guys were telling us all about it last night. We didn´t believe it. Anyway, needless to say they were right. For all you guys, imagine pretty much naked girls, sitting on eachother, rubbing sunscreen in. Yep...titty overlaod. It´s pretty amazing.
As for me - well, yes...there are some good looking guys here. The Speedos seem to be thankfully relegated to the older generations. Younger guys are wearing more board shorts. But I still find the whole thing entertaining. Really? You are sitting on the beach, by yourself, no top on, eating a sandwich? That´s new to me.
How Lucky Can One Guy Be?
Pat only wanted one thing - to head to the South coast of Spain and go wine tasting. When we had the wine shop, we sold a very popular Spanish wine called ¨M 5.¨ It was from an area called Yecla, but every Google and everyone we asked turned up nothing. So we drive. We drove from Madrid to Valencia, realized that was a joke, and headed further to Alicante. Eight hours in the car was a bit much for both of us, but we were very happy with the results.
Yecla is about 30 minutes from Alicante. But it isn´t like tasting in the states. There is no ¨wine route¨no website and no information. So, we drive. We headed that way based on some information from a nice girl at the hotel.
We arrived in Yecla to find some marketing for a ¨Routa del Vino.¨Good sign. We stop in a gas station to ask for a map of the wineries. No luck. M 5? Never heard of it. But check the wine co-op. At the co-op, M 5? No, never heard of it, but here´s a map of six local wineries. They are closed during siesta which starts in 30 minutes. Awesome, we say...because they can´t understand us.
So, we drive to the closest winery. There are two right outside of town and we think we can hit them both before siesta, if we are good. Unfortunately, Pat blows by the first one, and we have nowhere to turn around. ¨There´s the next sign...turn, turn, turn!¨I say.
After much debate about whether we are going the right way down the driveway (there is no one there, what does it matter?) and debate about going back to the first one, we decide to park and go in. It´s empty. I mean no one. A nice girl meets us at the door and after a really broken conversation in Espanol she asks if I speak English. Yes...yes I do.
Well, after all this, would you believe this is the winery who makes M 5? I´m not kidding - Pat spotted the signature bright green box from across the lobby and about passed out. He was so excited. The Tucci golden horseshoe strikes again.
The gal gave us a very, very nice tour of the winery, including the bottling and storage process. She must have told everyone in the place that we were from America and used to sell the M 5 in our wine shop, because everyone came down to meet us. Wine maker, marketing team, even the owner. We saw the brand new versions of a couple labels, got to weigh in and give them our perspective from the states.
Of greatest irony, Alfredo, one of two owners, is headed to Seattle in July. Ole Imports is taking him on a tour to some shops and taking him to a big...um....es un tienda grande...yes! Costco! Alfredo has a meeting with Costco. Oh great we say, that´s big! What we really wanted to say was ¨not you too!¨
Look for M 5 at your local Costco soon, courtesy of Ole Imports. Oh, and by the way, they call it ¨Mo Cinco.¨ Mo for monastrell, cinco for 5. No wonder we couldn´t find it.
For those who taste wine regularly, you will be as shocked as we were to know there is little to no marketing directing visitors to the wineries in one of Spains most famous regions. But, the co-op did have a small map and information. In talking with Alfredo, we found out we were the first tourists to visit Barahonda based off the map and co-op marketing. What are the odds? The gods smile on us sometimes.
Yecla is about 30 minutes from Alicante. But it isn´t like tasting in the states. There is no ¨wine route¨no website and no information. So, we drive. We headed that way based on some information from a nice girl at the hotel.
We arrived in Yecla to find some marketing for a ¨Routa del Vino.¨Good sign. We stop in a gas station to ask for a map of the wineries. No luck. M 5? Never heard of it. But check the wine co-op. At the co-op, M 5? No, never heard of it, but here´s a map of six local wineries. They are closed during siesta which starts in 30 minutes. Awesome, we say...because they can´t understand us.
So, we drive to the closest winery. There are two right outside of town and we think we can hit them both before siesta, if we are good. Unfortunately, Pat blows by the first one, and we have nowhere to turn around. ¨There´s the next sign...turn, turn, turn!¨I say.
After much debate about whether we are going the right way down the driveway (there is no one there, what does it matter?) and debate about going back to the first one, we decide to park and go in. It´s empty. I mean no one. A nice girl meets us at the door and after a really broken conversation in Espanol she asks if I speak English. Yes...yes I do.
Well, after all this, would you believe this is the winery who makes M 5? I´m not kidding - Pat spotted the signature bright green box from across the lobby and about passed out. He was so excited. The Tucci golden horseshoe strikes again.
The gal gave us a very, very nice tour of the winery, including the bottling and storage process. She must have told everyone in the place that we were from America and used to sell the M 5 in our wine shop, because everyone came down to meet us. Wine maker, marketing team, even the owner. We saw the brand new versions of a couple labels, got to weigh in and give them our perspective from the states.
Of greatest irony, Alfredo, one of two owners, is headed to Seattle in July. Ole Imports is taking him on a tour to some shops and taking him to a big...um....es un tienda grande...yes! Costco! Alfredo has a meeting with Costco. Oh great we say, that´s big! What we really wanted to say was ¨not you too!¨
Look for M 5 at your local Costco soon, courtesy of Ole Imports. Oh, and by the way, they call it ¨Mo Cinco.¨ Mo for monastrell, cinco for 5. No wonder we couldn´t find it.
For those who taste wine regularly, you will be as shocked as we were to know there is little to no marketing directing visitors to the wineries in one of Spains most famous regions. But, the co-op did have a small map and information. In talking with Alfredo, we found out we were the first tourists to visit Barahonda based off the map and co-op marketing. What are the odds? The gods smile on us sometimes.
Communication Breakdown
If you laugh when I say I´m shy, this one is for you. Yes, I studied Spanish for nine years. But I did so with the least amount of conversation possible. At one point, I could write a term paper en Espanol. These days, I´m lucky if I can order a beer. Double that - remember all those days where our American teachers told us not to worry about the Vosotros tense, because that's just for Spain? Right. That would have come in handy this week.
It took about five drinks to get me to a point where I´d even open my mouth to try. But, it has been an interesting experience since. Some things just flow without me having to think. Like, after 30 minutes driving around the parking garage, finally asking someone where we pay for the ticket. Others, like arriving at a winery andasking for a tour, don´t go so well. ¨Do you a speaka English?¨ Words come back to me every hour. Seeing things in print certainly helps.
But there are two thinks I´ve learned about communication in Espana; they don´t want you to get out of the City and there are universal truths.
Driving in a foreign country with your spouse is a trial of any mariage. I don´t care who you are. Me...I´m map girl. Try that when traffic is flying 100 MPH. In the States, we would let you know if you are on I5 south or I5 north. Here, not so much. We would also give you a nice heads up of how far your exit may be. Here, not so much. After several wrong turns and yes, one hot lap around a round-about, we have always been successful. But a little more communication on the part of the Spain department of transportation would be greatly appreciated.
Two - there are some universial truths. We have witnessed several interactions that just crack us up. One, a couple in a plaza in Madrid. He´s holding the baby in the shade, she is storming around. She walks back to him all pisssed off. He laughs - ¨did you think you were going to find it? You have no idea what you are doing.¨She lets him have it. Ditto an exchange we saw in a bar. The bar owner, 60ish male, has a 30ish girl show up to work. To be honest, I couldn´t tell if they were married, lovers or just co-workers. She LET HIM HAVE IT. It was so freaking funny. Just like every Spanish woman portrayed in every movie - passionate and vocal to a fault. She kept going even when he left the room, several times. We were just laughing, others left the bar. I couldn´t pick up much between her rapido rambling and the difference in dialect here, but it sounded like he´d been out living the life of a single man when he has a family. I´m sorry, but I laughed out loud when he tried to end the tirade, in font of everyone, by telling her to ¨shut her mouth.¨It was pretty darn funny. Passions run high.
It took about five drinks to get me to a point where I´d even open my mouth to try. But, it has been an interesting experience since. Some things just flow without me having to think. Like, after 30 minutes driving around the parking garage, finally asking someone where we pay for the ticket. Others, like arriving at a winery andasking for a tour, don´t go so well. ¨Do you a speaka English?¨ Words come back to me every hour. Seeing things in print certainly helps.
But there are two thinks I´ve learned about communication in Espana; they don´t want you to get out of the City and there are universal truths.
Driving in a foreign country with your spouse is a trial of any mariage. I don´t care who you are. Me...I´m map girl. Try that when traffic is flying 100 MPH. In the States, we would let you know if you are on I5 south or I5 north. Here, not so much. We would also give you a nice heads up of how far your exit may be. Here, not so much. After several wrong turns and yes, one hot lap around a round-about, we have always been successful. But a little more communication on the part of the Spain department of transportation would be greatly appreciated.
Two - there are some universial truths. We have witnessed several interactions that just crack us up. One, a couple in a plaza in Madrid. He´s holding the baby in the shade, she is storming around. She walks back to him all pisssed off. He laughs - ¨did you think you were going to find it? You have no idea what you are doing.¨She lets him have it. Ditto an exchange we saw in a bar. The bar owner, 60ish male, has a 30ish girl show up to work. To be honest, I couldn´t tell if they were married, lovers or just co-workers. She LET HIM HAVE IT. It was so freaking funny. Just like every Spanish woman portrayed in every movie - passionate and vocal to a fault. She kept going even when he left the room, several times. We were just laughing, others left the bar. I couldn´t pick up much between her rapido rambling and the difference in dialect here, but it sounded like he´d been out living the life of a single man when he has a family. I´m sorry, but I laughed out loud when he tried to end the tirade, in font of everyone, by telling her to ¨shut her mouth.¨It was pretty darn funny. Passions run high.
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