the hippiest thing I have ever written

Around ten years ago, my sister, my brother and I started the tradition of cooking the same dishes for christmas. Some of the things we prepared were based on typical northern Mexican kitchen and others were only things we love to eat, but never had the time to cook, so we prepared them on this special day, the day were I spend 8 hours cooking.

In North Mexico, we cook turkey on the 24th in a traditional American way: Put it in the oven for 4-6 hours with white wine, salt (we sometimes add carrots and onions) and later use the juice to make gravy. We serve the turkey slices with mashed potatoes, fresh bread ans salad.

On special occasions, my mom prepares arróz poblano (Puebla-style rice), which is the easiest way to prepare amazing rice: Cook rice with nothing but salt, when ready, put a layer of rice on a pyrex, add sweet corn, crème fraiche, grilled bell pepper slices and shredded Chihuahua cheese, continue with another layer until you reach the top of the pyrex. Finish with cheese, then make a gratin out of it.

The menu we designed for christmas is the following:

Vegetarian spring rolls (self made)
Arróz poblano
Green salad with a marmalade vinaigrette
White wine goose stuffed with oranges, ginger and garlic
Chocolate chip cookies (...of course, self made!)

I like the way people develops, the way traditions are modified. I like how traditions change and keep on going as a “new traditions”. I really love that my family and me celebrate these days in different places, that we cook different dishes...and that each time we are all happy, also if good times are gone – we enjoy the moments together and make the best of the things we have.

I wish you all a happy time with your friends and family and hope that you celebrate your family traditions and that you create new ones, try it, it's fun!

And now, the hippiest thing I have ever written: I love you all!

My reality tonight: I have PMS

Yesterday, a friend of mine wrote on her Facebook-wall that she had the feeling she had PMS. I added a comment „me too“ - no one on her wall thought my comment was funny and no one bothered to ask me why I had PMS...if I am a man.

Certainly, I have to admit that I was kidding when I wrote the PMS comment, but I knew it would come soon because in autumn I get depressed.

Today I don't feel good, I have the feeling I have PMS.

Don't think I am trying to be funny, I am not assuming, I am talking based on reliable information!

Tonight for dinner, I cooked the recipe I posted in my blog on September (blog: my emo-side is on vacations), I had a glass of white wine and I called good friends today.

Well, these are only dry facts, without feeling and are not giving you an idea of how I feel tonight. This is what really happened:

FACT: The dish I cooked for dinner is supposed to be shared with friends
MY REALITY TONIGHT: half a portion of my food is now resting on a Tupperware in the fridge

FACT: The glass of wine I had is an excellent (and expensive) Austrian Riesling,vintage 2009
MY REALITY TONIGHT: The wine it tasted like shit

FACT: I called friends and some friends called me
MY REALITY TONIGHT: The friends I called did not want to talk to me and I was not interested in talking to the friends who called me

FACT and REALITY: I knew tonight I needed to stay home, write a blog and hear sad songs (and drink no wine). Right now “Anyone else but you” by Moldy Peaches is playing, before it I heard “Always on my mind” by The King.

...if I were a woman I would be about to bleed to death

P.S. I would like to apologize if a woman thought my last sentence was sexist
P.S.2. if you are a man, have you also had the feeling you have PMS?

Man, I really hope the food in the plane is good…

Two working colleagues, who are also periodical readers of my blog, told me on Monday that my entries are each day less and less…interesting, less “the way they used to be”. I think they meant self-ironic, sad and funny.

Apparently, if I spend the rest of my days as a sad single writing blog entries drinking wine makes my stires funnier.

Well, that may be difficult at the moment, because of my current relationship status...however, things can also be shitty, even if you are in love:

I am sitting in Frankfurt’s airport on gate B 22 waiting for the boarding time. I am traveling to Montevideo via Buenos Aires. If you are used to use nice airports like Munich’s you may know how easy it is to get all kinds of food at all kinds of prices. At Munich you can get an excellent Falafel , Sushi or a Beer and Sausages for less than 5 euros. In Mexico you can have American food, tacos or sushi for 3-6 USD, and in Dallas there is a good place for Hamburgers and two nice Mexican places. Even at Europe’s smallest international airport (Innsbruck) I got a sandwich, a blueberry muffin and a bottle of water for 5 Euros.

Frankfurt sucks! I am hungry and there is nothing affordable here. Yes, there is a bar where you can have a glass of red wine for 7,50 EUR or a stand where you can have a bottle of beer for 4,50 EUR. Even the duty-free shops are bloody expensive! Why buy a bottle of Absolut vodka for 16 Euros, when you can pay 10 at the supermarket and pay taxes?!

I hold a credit card which allows me to wait in a V.I.P. lounge where I probably could get a snack and a drink for free, but my gate is way too far and I had to take a decision: food and booze or catch my plane to Buenos Aires, I went for the second.

Man, I really hope the food in the plane is good…

I think terrorists and stoke-brokers should have real friends, eat more chocolate and think less of sex

Tonight I cooked a nice dinner, Basmati rice I got from an Indian colleague, topped with green curry paste I got from Verena's last trip to Thailand, broccoli and cauliflower and sweet sesame paste from my French ex-flatmate Marina.

I ate this delicious dinner while reading the newspaper and hearing a song compilation I made for Andrea. The newspaper, as usual in these times, was disappointing.

Financial crisis in the west and terrorist attacks in the east; both are terrible ways of treating innocent human beings. The victims of the crisis are loosing their savings and their health and social services. The victims of terrorism loose also a lot: their arms, their legs, their dads, their husbands and wives, their brothers and daughters...

The crisis and terrorism are both caused by men taking advantage of others. Business men and stoke-brokers are happy to steal money. Terrorists are happy to send young boys to trigger bombs attached to their bodies...the reason? I know they think that virgin teenagers will wait for them in heaven and after dying in the attack, they think they will fuck them...and that's it.

Bankers in New York and London and Frankfurt also do what they do (steal money) to get laid. They buy cocaine and have sex with prostitutes...not in heaven, but in penthouses.

Since the news in the paper were too sad, I decided to finish my piñata. Yes! I am working once more in a piñata. So, this is what I did:

I sat on the floor with my glass of red wine, chocolate cookies (digestives, for the British among you), scissors, glue, coloured paper (crepe paper, for the handicraft-junkies among you) and nice music on the background. I started to work, ate and drank and then I got it!!!

In the song playing I heard the line “love is the answer”, then I thought of the Beatles and “all you need is love” and all that hippie crap...really, I have a possible answer to make this world a better place!

I don't think that a person sitting in his kitchen, hearing to the music he likes, having glass of his favourite drink, eating food prepared with ingredients from the people he loves, having chocolate cookies and then, he builds a piñata for a small lovely girl would ever, ever think of robbing or killing innocents.

I think terrorists and stoke-brokers should have real friends, eat more chocolate cookies...and think less of shagging prostitutes in expensive hotels (or raping virgins in heaven). They should get a girlfriend, get in love, with her, maybe have children and make piñatas for them.


P.S. maybe it also helps to hear some songs by Nina Simone, Elvis Presley, Sigur Ros, Radiohead...and the supremes!

music and lyrics

This time I won’t be telling a story, but I will show a video I made on Tuesday. A working colleague (she would kill me if I write her name in this blog) gave me the link to website which produces word clouds automatically. I used text of old blog entries and a song I composed for Andrea this summer to produce the video.

Enjoy the video and I hope you can recognise one or more words from my entries!

Click here to stream the video

The baby, the midwife, the piano and the sunshine

After my last blog entry, Marina, my French ex flatmate asked me to explain the reasons why I stopped being an emo. I think it is time for me to write about that...

It all started when my beloved sister and Victor, her husband, had a romantic night last December, then, some months later, little Victoria was already one of the 6,8 billion inhabitants of this planet.

Victoria is a small warrior with only one goal in her mind (and in her name): to win! She is strong, sometimes stubborn and above all: beautiful! She looks a lot like my sister, and I am still not sure who has the biggest cheeks, the daughter or the mother.

Until now, I only know Victoria digitally, in the form of JPEGs and MP4s, but this December I will meet her in Chihuahua...I cannot wait to watch her, hug her and talk to her.

Another reason for my happiness is that my lovely girlfriend (she is indeed lovely) is living her dream. She got a job last June to work for Médecins sans Frontiers as a midwife. Andrea left last week and will be on the field for the next six months. It is incredible to be the boyfriend of a happy girl.

Recently, I started being even more happy because I am planning a piano project. I love the idea and with some luck, we will get the money and then hundreds, or even thousands, of people will be happy...because the project is about making people happy.

...and I am also happy because it stopped raining in Innsbruck! On Friday and Monday it was rainy as hell, and even though I rode my bike to work wearing my rain-trousers, waterproof gloves, raincoat and leather shoes, when I got to the office, I was totally soaked...but today, everythign was different, I even had to wear my sunglasses...nice :-)

my emo-side is on vacations

A working colleague was the first to note that my blog is now lacking of sad themes.
No more melancholic, depressive or sarcastic events. If you like these stories, I am
sorry, but the happenings of the last six months have provided me with a more
positive way to see daily life and not to focus on nostalgic thougts...yes, my
emo-side is on vacations, and I'm not sure if emo-scar is coming back!

Today I will simply share with you a nice recipe which you can cook in 15
minutes, and it is a dish to place it in the middle of a table and enjoy it your best friends.

This recipe is perfect to prepare for in autumn: it has less fat, it gives you energy and is full of proteins.

Here is what you will need:

6-8 dates without stone - I know many people don't like dates and raisins, but trust
me, you will like the dish

1 medium red onion cut in slices

2 garlic cloves finely chopped - please don't use a garlic press and after that,
wash your hands carefully rubbing your finger tips with the knife blade, this will
take off the garlic and onion smell!

100 grams of feta cheese - ground it with your bare hands...you will love doing this!

700 grams of fresh spinach OR a package of frozen spinach (usually, they weight 400-500 gramms)

Olive oil and some salt

Cook in a large pan the onions and garlic at low flame for some 5 minutes in plenty of olive oil, then add the dates, then the washed and rinsed spinach and on top the feta. Cover the pan and cook it for 8 minutes at medium flame - stir every now and then. Finally, uncover the pan and cook it for 2 more minutes at high flame so the spinach loss humidity. Taste it and add salt if needed.

Serve on a nice big plate. Give your guests crepes, toasted baguette slices or
warm tortillas to eat it straight from the plate.

This serving is for 4-5 pax as a starter or for two as a main dish

Have a nice day :)

food

I have experienced so many things this weekend that summarizing them for a blog would take me ages - and it would not be interesting at all; instead of writing you something, I will just place a link.

I started dating And F some months ago, and since April we are a couple. One of the things we have in common is that we both enjoy cooking...and eating. With this link you can see things we hace eaten. We also plepared almost all dishes, with two exeptions: A magnificient kebab we got at Kent in Vienna and Georgian food we had at Karmelitermarkt, also in Vienna. The Photos from the Georgian food can be easily indetified: two pictures in which a glass with a green liquid appear (toothpaste-green). That was an estragon-flavoured soda from Georgia...looked from outer space, tasted weird and smelled like hell.

Here the pics, enjoy!

I want to be like mamá Bertha

On Tuesday, I was on the phone with my good colleague Sarah, with whom I have “the food conspiracy” project, and she suggested me to have dinner at Amacord, an typical Austrian restaurant. The restaurant was not far away, so I decided to give it a try.

The place was traditional Viennese (dark wood furniture, beiges walls, no music) and packed with people. I hesitated a while whether to stay or to have sushi at Kujiro instead. Kujiro is an excellent sushi bar, very small (7 seats) and the cooks and owners are Japanese.

I ordered the lamb osso buco with chanterelles and mashed potatoes. The last time I ate osso buco was about 6-7 years ago, and it was cooked especially for me by my lovely grandmother. She cooked the veal (not lamb) osso bucco in a soup with cabbage, carrots, zucchini, potatoes and cilantro. As she always does specially for me, she separated the bone’s marrow on a separate plate, so I could eat it with lime juice on a corn-tortilla.

I still remember the first time I had osso buco (called chamberete in Chihuahua) cooked by my granny. My sister and me had friends who stayed overnight and she made us osso buco tacos for dinner…it was delicious.

The lamb osso buco I had was heavy (I had to order two glasses of red wine - an excellent Zweigelt - and decided to walk home to support my digestion), but tasty. The portion was maybe too big for me, but the mashed potatoes were simply fantastic! I remembered that by mixing boiled potatoes, salt and butter you can get one of the best culinary inventions ever.

The best about Amacord were the memories that my meal triggered. Mamá Bertha, my grandmother, is a second mom for me, for my sister and for my brother…and also for all my cousins. She is always smiling and telling all of us how much she loves us.

Since I can remember, she takes medicated pills to control her blood pressure and her pain (arthritis), nevertheless she is never complaining. She is simply full of love. When I get old, I don’t want to be like the old people from my last blog, I want to be like mamá Bertha.

two old stubborn and intolerable ruffians

Last week I read an interview with Julia Fischer, a young German top violinist. She played and recorded several times under the direction of Russian/U.S. American conductor Yakov Kreizberg (who died recently this year at the age young age of 51).

In the interview Julia Fischer mentions that Kreizberg was stubborn, perfectionist and challenging person...just as Julia herself. Apparently, when both artists worked together, the sessions were hard, stressful and tense. Reason for this was the similitude in their rigid personalities.

Ms Fischer mentioned that Kreizberg's illness had a positive impact on his personality: Knowing he was going to die soon it made him softer. Kreizberg valued each time he could still conduct. Julia recalls that in his last days as a conductor, he turned more "flexible" and even tolerated mistakes when playing a concert.

Enough superstars, now back to my daily life in Innsbruck:

I cycle daily to work and each time I do something illegal: I ride my bike on the sidewalk for approximately 8 meters (from my house door until the corner). Those are like 5 seconds of illegal activity.

Two days ago, I cycled back home and when I reached the “illegal” corner an old man shouted at me because I was using the sidewalk. As a good Latino, I yelled him back.

Yesterday in the morning before going to work, I went to the postal office to drop a letter, and once more, I committed a traffic felony, but this time I was completely amazed by the angriness of an old lady. I never in my life saw an old woman swearing so loud on the street. She shouted Verdammt noch einmal which can translated as "damn it!", I yelled back saying that I only carefully drove 3 meters from the postal office til the corner, then, I continued cycling, but behind me, I could still hear the old woman barking.

It seemed like those two old people have been waiting days or weeks to explode, and yell and be offensive.

Julia Fischer said in her interview that giving birth to her son made her a more relaxed and tolerable human being, just as happened with Kreizberg by knowing he was going to die soon.

But really, what kind of bastard you have to be all your life, so that even if you have experienced the love of a child and years later, know that you will die, you are still an old stubborn and intolerable ruffian?

an easy, tasty and healthy summer dish

Its been a long time since I wrote a recipe, here is one I invented last Thursday:

You fry for 2-3 minutes one and a half cup of red lentils (they are actually orange) with 3 or 4 spring onions and one courgette/zuchinni chopped in cubes. Add water and salt and cook it for 15 minutes at low heat without covering (let the lentils become a dried paste).

While the lentils cook, prepare a tzatziki-like sauce with half a cup of yoghurt, half a cucumber (shredded or finely chopped), juice of half a lemon, olive oil and chopped fresh mint.

Taste the lentils, if they are cooked, you may turn off the fire.

On a separate small saucepan, toast chopped walnuts (or pecan nuts if you are a lucky bastard) at medium fire, for 1-3 minutes, add fresh rosemary and when this mixture starts to smell lovely, add two spoons of butter, two spoons of olive oil and some salt. Take the saucepan away from fire as soon as the mix begins to turn dark brow.

Now, you take a plate, place some lettuce leaves, pour a big scoop of the lentils, then add the yoghurt sauce and top with the brown butter-nut-rosemary sauce.

I really enjoyed this meal, I cooked in Höchst, a quite little town at the constance lake. It borders to Switzerland and it is the birth place of Andi F.

This lentil dish has everything a good summer meal should have: It is served not very hot, it has lots of proteins, it refreshes through the use of yoghurt, cucumber, lemon and mint and the rosemary and nut sauce provides a herb, strong body.

I cooked this dish for Andi F and her mom...by the way, Andi F is my girlfriend.

P.S. I took no photo of the dish since it would have been weird to do that in front of Andi F's mom

Alpine, urban and tacky

Some weeks ago, I wrote about the „oh-shit-we-live-in-a-small-town“ complex from which many politicians in Innsbruck suffer. On that same entry, I also wrote about the „cosmopolitan city“ marketing-campaign, and now, new shit has come to light!

Months ago, the marketing and tourism department of Innsbruck launched a design competition (which not many people heard of) to design a city logo and corporate identity for Innsbruck. The costs for this entire process were around EUR 250,000, but for the logo, only EUR 35,000 we paid, this means that the marketing and tourism department spent EUR 215,000 in something...

The problem with this logo is that it represents the identity of the entire city, and has a direct influence on all cultural and touristic venues...and these cultural and touristic venues were not involved in this process at all, even though they pay taxes to the marketing and tourism department.

After being strongly criticised in the media and by many cultural associations, the marketing and tourism department decided to invite all cultural associations to a presentation of this new logo/corporate identity. Somehow, I was among the invited, but it was impossible for me to assist. However, Evelin, a friend of mine, did attend. Evelin told me yesterday that Innsbruck's new corporate identity is based under the slogan „alpin urban“ and this is was my inspiraton for today's blog.

In order to show you how „alpin“ and „urban“the city I live in is, I will describe you one of my favourite places in Innsbruck, the Landestheaterplatz, a wonderful square:

This square is located in front of the Hofburg (an imperial castle of the Habsburgs) on the Europaalle (Alley of Europe). This street got its name in the late 1990s, after the European Commission had a meeting in the city Congress, which is located in front of the theatre.

If you sit in the theatre steps (something I love to do on afternoons with a bottle of prosecco), you will instantly feel like ina big city: You can see the imperial castle, the congress, the Hofgarten (royal garden), the Pavillon (a Michelin-star awarded restaurant), a cable-car station designed by the world's most known architect woman, Zaha Hadid, and the cherry on top of this marvellous urban landscape are the Alps.

When you sit there, you have the feeling you have everything a real cosmopolitan city can offer: History, culture, award-winning gastronomy, modern architecture, beautiful huge trees, antique gardens and a contemporary water-fountain with an amazing acoustic effect. If you sit here anytime during the week you will see tourists, business people, punks, students, dancers from the theatre company and musicians with their instruments heading to the congress or to the theatre.

Last Saturday, Andi F and I passed by the Landestheatherplatz and saw something amazing, something I simply had to capture on video. If you hit the link at the end, you will see Innsbruck’s most cosmopolite square, where the two words „alpin“ and „urban“ melt into a perfect symbiosis of nature and mankind.

Politicians and board members of the tourism and marketing department, thank you for offering us, citizens of Innsbruck, this wonderful event!!!

Chick here to see the video - the building on the back is Pavillon, which holds one of the two Michelin-stars in Innsbruck. Great food, by the way!

and now...the link.

the best slow fast-food

When I am in Vienna, I always go to my favourite place: the Naschmarkt, which is Vienna's biggest and most touristic market. I love to go there an buy cheese (my favourite is a matured Goat Gouda), herbs (the cheapest place in Austria to buy cilantro), curry pastes and my beloved falafel (after years of testing I found tthe tastiest at Dr Falafel). I also love the things they grill at the market different restaurants: Kofte at okzident, calamari at Do-An. At Kurkonditorei Oberlaaan one can find an mouth-watering chocolate cake.

Last weekend, Andi F took me to another market, the Brunnenmarkt. And the experience was incredible: One third of the stands were selling fruits and vegetables at very cheap prices (I assume it was because the products were ripe and needed to be sold soon, but the fruits were at their best stage). Another third of the stands was selling nuts, seeds and cheese (from Denmark, Holland, Italy and Austria) and the resting third, were stands selling the most useless Chinese products in history: battery-operated plush pets in horrendous colours, awful baseball caps and the cheapest clothes you can ever imagine.

For us, the best in the market were the few places you can get prepared food: We saw real kepab (were you can see that the meat was manually placed into that rotating pole), fresh fish they clean for you to cook home or if you prefer, they grill and serve the fish for you. But the best of this stands was a real slow food stand:

It looked like a normal fast-food stand and inside there were three Turks: One thin guy in his early 50's and two obese women, whose age we were unable to guess. They seemed old, but with some married Turkish women you can never know if they are 30 or 60.

This Turkish version of an Italian mamma, were preparing in a very calm way, somethin that looked like a home-style borek. The ladies were slowly rolling dough, forming pizza-like shapes, then they carefully topp this „tortillas“ with plenty olive-size portions of cooked and seasoned spinach, grounded meat, potatoes or sheep cheese, depending on the client's taste. After finishing the topping, these mammas folded the dough to form a square the size of a DVD case and cooked them on a huge pan which seemed to be upside down.

We ordered one of this Turkisch crepes filed with spinach and got 10 minutes later. The process was easy and the cooking took only 3 to 4 minutes, but the acurate and love-full preparation of this dish took over 10 minutes.

Seeing this entire process was beautufil, but to taste it, it was a culinary-trip to a small village in Anatolia and back to Vienna for only €1.5

I am not exagerating, it was the best „slow“ fast-food experience I've had in Europe.

the cosmopolitan city which smells like fermented cows's shit

Innsbruck is a small city with politicians with a big complex: Innsbruck is very small and rural. Some days the city even smells of compost when the farmers fertilise their fields.

Since I came to Innsbruck, 14 years ago, politicians have tried to win back the Olympic games twice, but, any normal person knows that they could never be successful! Who the hell could give them the winter Olympic games for a third time?

Some years ago, those politicians tried to make the inner city a UNESCO heritage site because of its ancient buildings, and when their proposal was rejected, they tried to make a city known for its modern architecture. Now, Innsbruck is the only city in the world with two buildings designed by Zaha Hadid. This is almost embarrassing...it's like if a guy in his midlife crisis buys two red Ferraris.

In 2004, the city hall was turned into a shopping centre. And since that day, the government presents Innsbruck as a "Weltstadt" which means cosmopolitan city. A Barcelonese friend of mine used to work for the marketing firm behind this concept and she told me that since this shoppings centre had a Mango store and a Müller (a German drugstore chain), the city was now cosmopolitan!

Independently of all this stupid campaigns (Sports, architecture and shopping), I experienced a truly cosmopolitan moment last Friday:

There is a farmer's market each Friday in the city centre. I was hungry and went there to get a Kiachl with Sauerkraut. A kiachl is nothing but fried dough, which reminds of a doughnut without sugar or frosting on it. The owners of the kiachl stand was a couple in their fifties. The man was preparing them and the woman collecting the money. It was a little bit weird to hear that the couple spoke English among them, I then realised that she was British and he Tyrolean. While preparing my Kiachl, the cook was talking to the city's Vice-Major (probably one of those politicians investing money to present Innsbruck as the only cosmopolitan city in the world which smells like fermented cows's shit). Right after me, two Turkish girls asked in perfect German if the Sauerkraut had bacon bit in it. The British Kiachl seller replied that they only sell vegetarian sauerkraut, because they themselves are strict vegetarians.

While eating my kiachl I had two thoughts "First: the sauerkraut is great, and second, Innsbruck is indeed a cosmopolitan city".

Go to any place on earth and if you find a vegetarian couple older than 50 selling regional products (and they being foreigners themselves), and if their clients are politicians, locals and locals with migration background, you surely are in a cosmopolitan place.

Happy Guys Finish Last

Jessica L. Tracy and Alec T. Beall from the Psychology department at the University of British Columbia recently published a study called "Happy Guys Finish Last: The Impact of Emotion Expressions on Sexual Attraction", they did not only achieved international success within the scientific community, but they also had media impact internationally (I read that in an Austrian news-website)

Tracy and Beall suggest that "Showing a happy face is considered essential to any
friendly social interaction, including those involving sexual attraction" but this
applies only for women! The study states that "women may find male pride displays
more attractive than male happiness".

Now my story:

Between 2008 and 2009 I was not very lucky with women, let me quote again (but this
time myself), "I will try emotional chastity". Reasons for this? During my stay in Nicaragua (and the 18 months prior to that) I was not happy with my non-existing emotional life.

What went wrong with the ladies? During that period, I was not always happy, or at
least I did not look happy. So, I assume that my face and body expressed more
seriousness, even sadness.

So: during 2008 and 2009, I did not laugh much, but women did not find me attractive!

Ms tracy and Mr Beall, I can prove you wrong!

Summarising:
a) I was a serious man (almost an emo) for two years
b) there we no women queuing to meet me during this period
c) I am dating a girl
d) I am permanently smiling

Thesis by Tracy and Beall: "Happy Guys Finish Last"

Thesis by me: I am a happy guy who will finish last

Synthesis: Happy guys don't care if they finish first...or last


P.S. Here is the link to the study of Tracy and Beall

Peculiar coins

There are three famous personalities I really hate. I am sure that the world would have been a better place if they would have never been born.

Curiously they all worked for the same organisation. The first of this monsters is josémaría escrivá. He founded the opus gay, better known as the opus dei. No one on earth thinks more often in sex than them. Just imagine that many of the opus gay members cover their bodies while taking a shower, because if they see themselves naked they may think of sex - and that is a sin for them! Here is my favourite one: If you think of something dirty (like a mom breast-feeding her baby), you will have to flagellate yourself and pray at the same time. Once, an opus gay member told my brother "I flagellate myself while praying, it hurts, but after some time I started liking it. FREAKS!!!

The other guy I hate is marcial masiel. He was a very good friend of karol wojtila (he is the next in my list). This priest was the best manager that the catholic church has seen (cerated an imperium of 650 million USD). That is probably why the vatican under Karol Wojtila never said anything to him when they discovered what "father masiel" was doing: He sexually abused of many children and teenagers...including his own children. SICK!!!

And the most famous celebrity I hate: karol wojtila a.k.a. as Pope Johannes Paulus the second. He did nothing, absolutely nothing to stop the bastards I mentioned above, and he knew them personally. ASSHOLE!!!

The worst of all: Two of these animals have achieved the first step in becoming
saints according to the catholic church...IDIOTS!!!

Last week I went to a bar, when I paid I received a 50 Cent coin, and as usual,
I inspected the coin to see it's country of origin. It was a nice surprise to discover that the coin was from the vatican city. Since they are not frecuent, they have a high numismatic value. My karol wojtila 50 cent coin is 6 Euros worth. Nice to have that bastard on my coin!!!

P.S. If I hurted your feelings by expressing the way I did in this entry, sorry but your religion has sick and crazy leaders...

P.S. 2 I don't like the catholic church, but I love their coins!!!

a smart accident

19 months ago I started to write this blog. Common themes have been food, childhood, prosecco, family and friends. However, there is something I haven't written about yet: fear

Last Saturday, I had a wonderful afternoon. Hannes, his parents, Roland and Magdalena, Lindsey, Andrea and I made a nice picnic in the garden. We had prosecco, roasted almonds, crostini with green olive paste, wasabi-gouda and strawberries. After that, we had dinner with the Quantschnigs (Roland and Magdalena invited us). After dinning, we walked to one of Innsbruck's most beautiful squares and had a drink there. Hannes’ parents left and then we headed to a bar and stayed there until half past one.

On our way home, Andrea was riding her bike in front of me when all of a sudden she was hit by a car. She didn’t see the car coming from her left side…Andre was very lucky because the driver reacted promptly (and that the car was a smart). However, as a consequence of the impact, she lost consciousness for about twenty seconds.

Many people helped after the accident. A guy stopped the cars, another called the paramedics (who arrived 4-5 minutes later) and a man gave her his jacket (she seemed cold, since her body was shaking, probably because of the contusion). I did the best I could, I carefully moved her head to allow easy breathing, put my jacket over her, verified if she could move her legs and then raised her knees to keep the blood on her chest, and talked to her all the time in order to calm her.

All this time I remained serene. We drove to the hospital, talked to the doctors, answered the policemen's questions (we both had an alcohol test, which was negative in both cases), I had to explain Andrea repeatedly what happened. After taking x-rays and an ultrasound test, the hospital personnel took her to another floor where she spent the night. I had to leave the hospital.

Only then my fear started.

I took a cab in order not to see people; the taxi-driver drove through the accident's site, which did not help at all. When I was in bed I started crying. I was so afraid because I was no longer with her, holding her hand. I was extremely worried that something could happen to her during the night. I can't remember crying so strong ever. I cried so hard and for so long that I was completely exhausted, that helped me to sleep well.

The next morning, Andrea woke me up with a text message; she was doing way much better. I went to the hospital without any fear and only then I realised that during the night I let out the fear caused by the shock of seeing the accident. My body and mind were restored.

Andrea broke no bones and was released from the hospital on Tuesday noon. She is doing very well; today she told me she quit taking the painkillers...respect!!!

I am including a picture of her so you can see that she is doing well :)

Cheese and Whisky

Last year I took someone a picture with a digital camera and I was amazed because for the first time I saw tiny red squares moving around the camera's display. It took me a while to understand that those red squares were following the faces of the people in the screen. Suddenly, a message appeared in the display telling "laugh-identifier is on"; I was astonished to see that the camera "knew" if people were laughing or not, and only when all people in the display were showing their best smile, the camera took the picture.

I enjoy taking photos with my mobile, but I really love taking pictures with analogue cameras. I am the proud owner of a polaroid, of a half-format camera, of a semi-automatic cannon (from the 1980s) and since two years I use disposable cameras and I love them! You can even play football with them and the worst thing that can happens is that the flash triggers after each kick (I tried this in new year's eve with my nephew Santiago).

Some people when taking group pictures ask the people to say "Cheese" or "Whisky", I think this is because when people pronounce the "ee" in cheese or the "y" in whisky, their face appear to be smiling. I wonder why photographers never asked us to say "the eels", instead of the usual terms for matured milk with salt or fermented and distilled cereals. Maybe the band (the eels is a wonderful band) is not known enough. However, saying "Cheese" or "Whishy" is old school, now the cameras do that on their own.

By the way, I have to show you what it happened to me in Vienna last weekend! I was taking pictures of tulips when my inner voice told me "Oscar say cheese when you shot the next picture". I dis so...in the link below you can see what happened.

Use this link to discover what happened and use this other link to hear eels' sweetest song.

P.S. I recommend you to combine the links hear the eels and see the pics

the Czech extra kilos

I stop drinking beer in 2007. Ever since, I only had one at Munich’s airport in 2007, one at a friend’s wedding in 2009, and a few in Nicaragua (beer was my prosecco substitute in Central America).

The reason for quitting was the relation between beer consumption and my increasing body fat-index.

Last Friday I travelled to Prague for working reasons. We stayed in a nice hotel with a huge breakfast buffet.

The very first morning, I was late for our meeting and only had 5 minutes for breakfast (literally 5 minutes). While having breakfast I felt like breaking a Guinness record. I cut my fried egg and some bacon stripes and built four portions I ate in four bites (around 15 seconds per portion, 60 seconds). On the side I had baked beans and cucumber; I mixed the beans with cucumber to have a “healthy” version of an English breakfast. I exterminated those guys also in 60 seconds. While doing all this I brew myself a cup of earl grey (3 minutes). I never ate so fast in my life, but at least I was on time for the meeting.

During the resting days I ate like Conan the barbarian: Beef, goose, dumplings, Gulasch, kraut, potatoes…and beer.

I came back yesterday from Prague after five and a half days of work (12 hours a day) and at least 15 litres of Kozel, Zlatoplamen, Pilsner Urquell and Budweiser.

Already on Sunday I felt my body was not content with the amounts of Czech food and beer I was consuming, that day I started having oats and fruits for breakfast until I discovered miso-soup at the end of the buffet line…thank you hotel manager!

This morning I called my friend Kathrin, who knows an ayurvedic treatment for expelling toxins from one’s body. She warned me that the preparation for this regimen lasts between 4 and 5 days (no sugar, no pasta, no alcohol), and only then the real treatment begins. This is hard core! I think I won’t try Kathrin’s treatment this time. Until then, I hope I can cope with my Czech extra kilos.

Today is a nice Sunday :-)

It’s been three months since I’ve been in Mexico, nevertheless, today is a good day for writing about my family. For those of you who are not Mexican, or don’t know any Mexican, let me tell you that for us, our family consists of mother and father, sisters and brothers, aunts and uncles (including the in-laws), grandparents, and sometimes even good family friends are considered family, that is the case of my cousin Mario, with him I don’t share any close DNA-tracks, but still, he is my cousin.

I made a filckr album; there you will see Allison, my brother’s wonderful girlfriend. She is from Hawaii; they met in Chile and have lived together in two different Mexican cities and also in Innsbruck. Allison is the first girl in the photo album (showing us her christmas present: a bracelet).

Among those pics, you will also see Víctor. He is my sister’s husband. According to her, he is the most wonderful man on earth; my sister is incredible intelligent, so if she says that it is true. You can recognise him because he is the guy reading the label of a red wine bottle.

You will see also pics from my cousins and their partners. The children are from my cousins Liliana and Larisa, their last names are “Aragón Castro”, I am a “Germes Castro”, our second last name reveals that our mothers are sisters.

There is a wonderful picture of my mother and Anna, Anna is for me (together wit Luisa) the most beautiful child in the world.

There is one weird picture you may ask yourself “What the hell?” when you see it. It is Albino and me holding firecrackers with our mouths. Albino is for me the funniest Spaniard (together with Javier Cámara, but he is an actor). Albino is the proud husband of my cousin and childhood-sidekick Karla.

The last picture is of the two people I love the most in this planet (not counting my mom). They are Tita, my wonderful sister, and Tomás, my funny brother.

I hope you like the pics and thank you for reading this personal message to my beloved family…if you are one of the people in the photos let me tell you that I miss you.

And if you click here, you can see the album

I am sexier than Rick Asley

The oldest memory I have of being bullied at school was related to my skin and hair.
I think I was around 9 or 10 years old when my school "friends" formed a circle around me and started singing "f*cking freckle-face penguin", they only stop doing that after I burst into tears. There is another sad story, my mom told me that once I came back home crying from kindergarten because children found my freckles bizarre and then I told my mom "Mother, they laugh at my freckles, and I am full of them".

During my late childhood, I was given nicknames such as tortilla, carrot, and the non plus ultra "f*cking freckle-face penguin" (putos cerdos!). But when I was 17 or so, my hair started getting darker and darker, and by the time I reached the age of 24, my head hair was completely black.

On Tuesday, I called Carol and she told me that at school (she is currently studying art-restoration) she had a course on Christian painting, and there she learned that Judas (the informant among jesus' buddies) is commonly represented as a ginger. Now I finally understand why Cartman from South Park thinks red-haired people have no soul: Jews in general, and not only Judas, as well as "enemies of the church" are commonly portrayed as gingers in Christian art. In addition to that, during the Spanish inquisition, gingers were stigmatized as Jews.

During my Wikipedia research, I also learned that red is the rarest hair colour in the world (1% to 2% of the world's population); but the most striking data I got is that gingers are more sensitive to thermal pain. This may explain why I love shadows during summer and why I hate temperatures over 28°C. My sister, who is also a ginger, also dislikes hot weather. My brother loves the summer, but although he also had red hair, his skin is dark and he has no freckles.

I'll go back to this blog entry's title: Carol told me on the phone that ginger men are everything but sex-symbols, and that is the reason why there are no ginger actors. After laughing at me for a while, she tried to console me by saying that she only knows two red-haired men: Rick Asley and me, and eventhough she is not attracted to gingers, she was my girlfriend for over two years. Sweet, that automatically makes me sexier than Rick Asley.

If you are wondering how Rick Asley looks like, use this link

My pros are my cons OR I am a post-modern pragmatic emo?

At the end of 2004, weeks before finishing University, I found myself spreading CV's all around Europe. Back then, my mother told me that she could support me financially for only four months after my final exam. My graduation was on December 2004, so I had only until April 2005 to find a job, otherwise, I would have to return to Chihuahua (back then Chihuahua was one of the safest, better organised and tidiest cities in Mexico).

It was hell. I sent around 30 CVs per post and more than 50 via e-mail. Only three firms showed interest, but that interest turned up into only two job interviews.

When preparing for the first job interview of my life, I sat with Hannes and Gimm (both my flatmates back then) and discussed about the possible answers I could give to possible questions.

One of the questions that Hannes and Gimm asked me in that interview-simulation was actually the mother of all job-interview questions: "What are your pros and what are your cons?" Looking into Gimm and Hannes faces, I replied without hesitating: "that is an easy one, my only pro is at the same time, my only con, and that is my cool hair".

There was some true in my answer, when I had long hair (1999-2003) I really loved my hair, the only problem is that long hair look terribly bad on me (see the profile pic). There is something else regarding my hair: I was very ofter late at dinner or parties because it took me hours to style my hair...even though I had already short hair.

Now, I am 32 and I confront a different problem. Whenever I am interested in a girl and I tell her about my feelings, there are only two possible reactions from her side: She finds me funny and stays, or she walks away from me very, very fast.

…but, if fortune is on my side, and the girl stays, she will probably like me sooner or later because some qualities I have (my pros); however, if I later ask this girl if she’s interested is starting a relationship with me, the one and only question I get is “no, because you…bla bla bla”, and that “bla bla bla” matches perfectly the list of my pros.

If one sees this situation in a positive way one could say “My defects attract girls”, but I am far away from being a positive guy, I am a post-modern pragmatic emo, so I can only say “My qualities expel girls”.

Sport ist Mord

There is a saying in German which I love, it reads „Sport ist Mord“ and can be translated to „sport kills“. Last Saturday I went snowboarding with Hannes and Anne and at the middle of the first slope I felt (just after coming to a complete stop). when this happenes, I was moving so slow before falling, that you cannot even call that speed; however, I landed on my knees and hands. My right wrist was injured.

Doing sport is one of the two reasons I haven’t written in my blog, the other one is the lack of interesting happenings at the moment. Yes, my life is currently pretty boring.

Based on the lack of curious, sad or funny events in the last two weeks, I will show you a series of pictures from me enjoying the night life in Los Cabos. These pictures reflect what partying, getting drunk and meeting girls is for me.

If you want to see me at my best, click here

Todays is a day for celebrating having good friends

Today is St. Valentine day. In Austria it is “The day of the beloved” and in Mexico “The day of love and friendship”. In Austria people are now buying only one flower bouquet, however in Mexico, people are buying chocolates for the office colleagues, carnations for their close friends and perfume for the partner.

When I was in high school, we bought carnations for our friends on this day. It was nice to get many and in different colours. The white ones meant friendship; if you got a pink carnation it meant someone liked you, but if you got a red one, oh man, there was someone crazy about you!

Last week, I was on my way out to the supermarket when I saw a man lying in front of the building’s door (in my building there are nine apartments). I helped him to stand and only then I realised it was my neighbour, the retired University professor from upstairs. While I accompanied him to his flat, he told me he had a blood pressure problem and felt. He also added that the day before he turned 80 years old and he was proud to tell me that he was born in the apartment he lives. 80 years in the same flat!

After ensuring that he was well, I went on, but just before leaving I noticed a slight smell of alcohol in his breath, I also saw six bottles of beer in his grocery bag.

Sometimes, when I am a little depressed, I am afraid of living on my own for the rest of my life. This pessimistic visualization of my future vanishes away as soon as I think of all the good friends I have.

Earlier today I talked on the phone with Magdalena and Isabella; after work, I went with Hannes for dinner (I just joined him since I ate earlier); when I got home, I had a fantastic phone conversation with Maria; Verena just called me minutes ago, and the first thing I will do when I finishing writing this, it will be to call my brother and then my sister and mom.

Today, the day of love and friendship, reminded me how much I love my friends, and if I in 50 years I fell in front of the house, I will surely call a good friend and tell him or her “Shit man, I am getting old and I am dying slowly!”, I will say it in a sarcastic way so that we laugh together and then we will meet for a glass of prosecco.

When two independent things, leading to the same object, occur at the same time we have to pay extreme attention!

I always have admired those journalists who write about a subject and find parallels between that subject and something apparently having nothing to do with it. Sometimes it is an artist or an historic event. Commonly, in those articles, everything seems so irrelevant, but if you keep reading, the article perfectly mixes subjects which turn into a perfectly logic article.

When I finish reading articles, I wish I could be as wise and as clever as those guys.

Right now, I am about to write a similar article…and I am neither wise nor clever, and I did not studied journalism, and did no research at all. I will just write what happened today.

It all started when I read an article in a Mexican online newspaper about Thomas Bernhard. It said he would be turning 80 years old tomorrow if he would be alive. Thomas Bernhard is one of Austria’s most important novelists of the last century. The article also mentioned that the director of the Thomas Bernhard Institute is called Martin Huber.

Immediately I sent Hannes an E-Mail with the newspaper link because Hannes parents live in the same neighbourhood were the writer lived…and he told me yesterday he finished reading a book by Bernhard.

After some minutes, I wrote Hannes once more to tell him a nice coincidence: A common friend of us is called Martin Huber, and Martin told me last summer it would be cool to move to Ohlsdorf, Hannes’ hometown, because he is a fan of Bernhard’s literature and wanted to live near the writer’s house. What Martin surely doesn’t know is that he shares the same name and last name with the Thomas Bernhard Institute’s director.

Half an hour later, I sent Hannes another e-mail with more coincidences: Thomas Bernhard was born on February 9th, just as my cousin Karla. Karla currently lives in Madrid and Thomas Bernhard also lived there…and Karla was two years ago in Ohlsdorf.

An hour after that, I forgot about the coincidences issue and checked the e-mail account of Los Gurkos, our cultural association. There, I saw an e-mail for Hannes, it was sent by one of Austria’s most known DJs: B.Fleischmann. Fleischmann wrote that e-mail to Hannes and sent a copy to the director of Morr Music, an important indie and electronic record label based in Berlin’s. An hour after B. Fleischmann’s e-mail, Thomas Morr, the owner of Morr music replied to Hannes.

It took me a while to put all the pieces together…then, as fast as I could, wrote Hannes an e-mail saying the following:

"Hannes,

We have been communicating the entire day via e-mail regarding coincidences around Thomas Bernhard, and now the cycle has been closed.

Today, you received two e-mails on the los gurkos account, one from B. Fleischmann, whose real name is Bernhard Fleischmann and the second E-Mail was by Thomas Morr, if you put both first names together you get Thomas Bernhard"

On the last episode I saw from Twin Peaks, Agent Cooper said something like “When two independent things, leading to the same object, occur at the same time we have to pay extreme attention”.

Today’s coincidences were bay far more than two, that is why I am rigorously following Agent Cooper’s advice.

Lord of the Ceviche part III: The Return of the King

I think many families have a special city, town or region where they spend holidays. Between 1990 and 1996, I travelled with my family to a town called Puerto Peñasco each Easter. I have very nice memories of Puerto Peñasco: my sister and I inviting different friends each year, my brother vomiting because he ate 8 brownies when he was six years old, me kissing a girl for the first time, going fishing with my grand father and collecting clams at the beach. However, there is one thing I learned there which changed my life: A cook trusted me his secret recipe to prepare the king of ceviche.

That secret lies in the fish and the way to cut the flesh. The fish has to be sierra (in English Pacific Sierra or Sierra Mackerel) and the flesh has to be “separated” from the fish’s skin by “scrubbing” it using a spoon.

This knowledge was entrusted to me almost 17 years ago by that Master, and I made good use of this information. I prepared a sierra ceviche the next day after receiving the secret recipe, but it was not until last December when I decided to use all my powers, I wanted to show the world the immense supremacy of the king of ceviche, I gathered forces from the very deep of my soul and prepared mentally to combine the experiences I had collected during my extensive mission and mixed it with the old Masters’ secret. My family and I were witnesses of what happened…

Our journey started when we departed to the Palmilla beach; there I encountered an assembly of wise old men, who made a living by extracting living fish from the deep waters of the Sea of Cortéz. To achieve that, they used wooden boats, as old as history itself. The wise men brought the fish to the land and sacrificed them at the windy sea shore. The men separated the gutter from the flesh and fed it to the schools of birds…albatrosses…sea gulls and pelicans, all hungry for fresh bloody guts.

An old wise man provided me and my cousin Laura a piece of fresh sacrificed fish to taste it…it was raw, it was mouth-watering, and yes…it was Sierra.

Laura and I, without hesitating, acquired the necessary amount of fish to feed my starving tribe. Back in our shelter we scrubbed the flesh out of the Sierra filets, marinated it with lime juices so it obtained their scent, combined it with sacred red onions, fresh coriander and tomato and we added a new component to the original recipe: avocado cubes.

After curing the ceviche for half an hour, we were ready for ingesting its powers and there it was, the king was once more with us, we all were there…we all tasted it...the return of the king.

The lord of the ceviche: The two cities

San José del Cabo is the city where my brother lives. It is located in the southern part of Baja California and if you drive 30 Kilometres heading west through the coast highway, you'll reach San José's twin city: San Lucas.

In San Lucas, I tried two ceviches at eateries for locals; tourists prefer to have giant steaks with giant shrimps or giant hamburgers at hooters or Johnny Rockets. I assume that good food in San Lucas is reserved for Mexicans ;-)

One of the ceviches I got there was interesting and the second was very good.

I bought the first one from a guy who selling fish and shrimp ceviche from the trunk of his mini-van at the marina. He prepared it with fish, coriander, red onions, lime and something that surprised me: shredded carrots! The flavour was very balanced since the carrots added a sweet taste to it. The ceviche was served over a tostada, which is nothing but a tortilla chip the size of a cd.

“Las tres islas” was the place I had the very good ceviche, their ceviche was perfect: White fish perfectly marinated in lime juice with the ideal amount of red onions, coriander and tomatoes and it was served along with tortilla chips.

In the city of San José I also had very good ceviche, it was actually nearly amazing. My brother drove us (my mom and me) to the “container”, a shipping block adapted as a restaurant. It is located at the new San José Marina. They prepared an incredible good ceviche: Big chunks of fresh tuna*, loads of red onions, coriander and the perfect amount of lime juice…and the right amoutn of their secret ingredient: Mango. To add even more points, they serve the ceviche with fresh home-made tortilla chips.

Not far away from the posh container, there is a couple selling excellent ceviche, oysters and clams on the street. They use an old cable barrel as both, kitchen and table for the guests. The atmosphere there is magic: Locals, gringos, dusty streets, dogs and chickens blend perfectly with their excellent ceviche using the traditional ingredients.

Want to see how some of the eateries look like? Click here

* In Baja California there is no industrial fishing; fish comes from sustainable lane fishing.

I'll just call ourselves "The fellowhip of the ceviche"

In winter 2006, my family and I decided to spend our December holidays at the Mayan Riviera. As we flew from Chihuahua to Cancún, we knew this was not a simple family trip, it was the beginning of long quest: The search for the greatest ceviche ever; a quest that until now, four years later, hasn't been concluded.

Looking for the tastier ceviche in the galaxy is not an easy task. Back in that summer, we found our favourite among ten different eateries. On the Riviera highway, in the city of Tulum, not far from the point were you turn left (if coming from Playa del Cármen) to reach the archaeological site, there it is, a street restaurant serving one of the best ceviches we have tried.

I still remember how it all happened: We all ordered ceviche, but my sister was the first one to try it. As soon as the magic blend touched her tongue, she took a look at us and with her eyes wide open said "No…está bien bueno!“. That ceviche is since then our standard: We give ceviche grades based on that one.

My family and me...well, I'll just call ourselves "The fellowhip of the ceviche" continued our journey last month. In December we started exploring new territories. My brother, who has been living in Los Cabos for over a year now, located new terrains. Before I narrate the impressions from the best ones last month, I have to dedicate the next paragraphs to ceviche. Some readers may have joined this blog recently and are not aware of what ceviche is.

I often describe ceviche as the Latin blend of sashimi and gazpacho. Ceviche has the Japanese minimalism if you count the number of ingredients (all raw), it is perfectly combined with some of the fresh ingredients of gazpacho and is pimped with the two best ingredients of Latin kitchen: Lime and coriander/cilantro.

Ceviche has six ingredients: Fish, lime, tomato, red onions, cucumber, coriander and salt. Some people add fresh jalapeños and/or avocado. In Peru, the birthplace of ceviche, ceviche is prepared sometimes with corn and served with slices of grilled sweet potato.

Many cooks try to make ceviche tastier by augmenting the number of ingredients. There is ceviche prepared with tomato juice, black pepper, ketchup, chillies, and a mix of Worcester, Soy and Maggi sauces…

For us, the fellowship of the ceviche, the dish has to be fresh, simple and it must have red onions. That’s it.

I will write about the ceviche experience in Los Cabos in my next entry...

P.S. The picture is a ceviche I had at the marina of San José

fat, old and lonely...niiice!

The British newspaper „the guardian” recently published an article on a trend in cosmetic surgeries: Women want to look like 36. “Sweet” I thought! The consumer society has selected “36” as the landmark of aesthetic-human splendour, the non plus ultra of hotness.

The first thing that came to my mind was that in only four years people will envy me, and if not, they will find me pretty damn sexy.

As I continue reading, I couldn’t believe the article: Looking like 36 was not the goal of ladies in their late 40’s, they are women in their early 20’s the ones trying to look like cougars!

Anne, my flatmate has a refined sense of humour which she perfectly complements with her German way of telling things (She is quite direct). Well, some minutes ago, Anne saw me in the kitchen, and apparently I was looking worried (but I wasn’t) and as I told her I was going to write for my blog, she asked me if I was writing about how sad my life was.
She finished our short conversation by adding that I was “fat, old and lonely”. Although this comment may sound as a reason for either stop talking to her or suddenly committing suicide, I thought it was great and laughed out loud :-D

I liked Anne’s comment so much I told her it was the perfect title for the blog, then I grabbed a bottle of red wine and came into my room to write this.

It is nothing new that I whine for being fat, old or lonely, but that’s not the case this week. Not since I read that Lindsey Lohan and Heidi Montag are 23 and 24 respectively and just got themselves fixed with botox to look older than me.

Thank you Lindsey!


P.S. The article “The year-zero face: is 36 the perfect age for a woman?” was written by Eva Wiseman in case you would like to google it.

that warm family noise

In 1996, a set of circumstances enabled me to go to Europe for two semesters to learn German, I was 17 back then.

I came to Innsbruck, studied German and then enrolled at the University to study political sciences. By the time I finished my studies, I was member of an incredible and lovely circle of friends. I bonded so well with them that taking the decision to stay in Innsbruck and look for a job was not hard at all.

I know many Mexicans who cannot live without consuming Mexican products: Chillies, sauces, snacks and sweets. During my first years in Austria I also showed symptoms of that gastronomic nostalgia. My mom used to send me candies, salsas and chips by either parcel, or with someone who happened to travel to Innsbruck. At present, I can survive extreme long periods of time without consuming Mexican food, but there is something I cannot turn my back to: my family.

The only reason I still travel home is to meet my mom, my brother and sister, and my vacations turn even better if I meet my grandmother, my grandfather, my father, my aunts, my uncle, my cousins and their children. There are also a number of good old friends with whom I enjoy chatting, but sadly, most of them no longer live in Chihuahua.

I came back from Los Cabos only three days ago. While there, I spent most of the time with my relatives, who came for the wedding of my cousin William and to spend christmas and news year's eve there. We were around 30 Castro-clan members. Those weeks were everything but calm: children playing, running and yelling; the adults were eithwer watching TV, cooking, discussing or eating. It was noise and chaos at its highest peak, all the time and everywhere we went to.

Right know, I am happy to be back in Austria, I love my apartment, my friends and the cultural offer here; however, I am missing something: that warm family noise...