January 2, 2008 at 8:02 pm · Filed under Travel
How many times have we entered and exited an airport without the slightest delay or mishap. Dozens of trips have taken over the years both during and after the holidays without even the slightest gripe to be uttered, elated that we arrived to our final destination and in the warm embraces of our family and friends. This holiday was different however. Leaving Spain at 7am to arrive at in Norway a little after dusk, we followed the heavy shoulders of other weary travels towards to the baggage claim where we waited patiently for our heavy black bags brimming with clothing, gifts, and bottles upon bottles of cava, sherry and port wine. Noticing that bags were slowly bowing under the long black insulation strips of the adjacent loading bay, we made our way through crowds of passengers vying for prime collecting space. And just as we inch our way comfortably in place among a large Norwegian holding a peanut of a child suckling on a bottle of milk and a family of Americans whose voices could have given a blow horn a run for its money, we notice every holiday goers nightmare, the exploding suitcase. Scattered among the brightly colored holiday bags were jeans, t-shirts and skirts; which wouldn’t have been all bad if what followed weren’t black silk bras, white underwear stained in red wine and wool skirts smeared in oil and dirt.
“OMG! Can you imagine if those were ours!” the lanky American girl whispered to her brother. “I think I would just die!”
And in that very moment, it occurred to me that it WAS my clothing. My underwear was drenched in Sandman’s 2005 Vau Vintage Port, while my pressed white shirts looked more like a prop for a horror flick than a garment to show off my holiday cheer. As Ryan hunt and pecked our shirts and pants off the belt, tossing them like rag dolls behind his back and into my hands, I sat on the floor momentarily distressed. If I dumped the remaining items from the broken bag onto the floor, I may have a better idea as to what was lost, but I’m also placing myself in the center of a theatrical mess. Yet if I don’t assess what could have been lost, we may be kicking ourselves in long run.
“Gabby, what wines are in there?” Ryan yelps desperately with two bottles in hand.
“Ah, none.”
“What?!! None???”
“No, Ryan. None.”
Looking at each other across the crowd, we realized that a few baggage handlers were having a field day roaming around the airport field with a bottle of port in one hand and a bottle of Spanish garnacha in the other toasting to their great fortunes. All things considered, it could have been worst. Not one piece of clothing was lost. Not one Christmas present was confiscated. Instead, we lost the few items we have the greatest access to, wine. Therefore, all things said and done, we were quite fortunate.
As for our clothing, by the grace of the red wine gods, it came out sparkling white. After a little internet research, we found that if we soaked the stained garments in baking soda and/or oxygen based products mixed in hot water dissolves even the worst oil or wine marks. You would imagine I would know this after 6 years of breathing wine day in and day out, but ironically, we’ve only had one major spill on our beige carpet 4 years ago in Minnesota. Since then, we’ve somehow avoided the worst.
Bags unpacked and jackets hung, Ryan and I ended the evening thoroughly enjoying their traditional Christmas dinner leftovers of roasted pork bathed in crispy fat, boiled potatoes and cooked prunes washed down with a bottle of beer.
October 22, 2007 at 8:54 pm · Filed under Uncategorized
October 15, 2007 at 6:07 pm · Filed under Uncategorized
I decided that I needed to begin Spanish classes now! If I wait any longer, my street slang will slowly deteriorate into ghetto speak. Not a good idea if you’re hoping to be respected in the wine world!
So off I went this morning to take my first placement exam through the Terrassa Government. For 30 Euros, I can get 6 months of classes held twice a week for an hour and a half. 30 Euros!!!! I don’t even have to like Spanish to take the class. Consisting of nothing more than a written grammar test, they placed me in an advanced course.
I find this manner of testing interesting. They didn’t speak to me, make me write an essay free form, nor did they test any of my fluency. It was a multiple choice and fill in the blank test, which for all practical purposes is absolutely worthless.
I suppose it doesn’t matter how proficient this course is, because by the end of the day, I’m spending a few cents to get a foundation.
October 14, 2007 at 5:34 pm · Filed under Deep Thoughts
Teach children long enough and you quickly realize how age is no indication of maturity. As much as I would love to believe that I have 31 years of wisdom and intelligence to fall back upon, the reality is, is that I’m as awkward and uncoordinated with my thoughts and emotions as any toddler is taking their first steps.
Just need to get my right foot forward. Damn my leg is heavy! Who made my leg so chubby and heavy? Stupid chubby leg! How am I supposed to move this fat stub and balance on this tiny foot at the same time? Breath…Okay..okay..almost there..Yeah! Whoo hoo. One step! Sweet!…Wait..What?!! Now you want me to move the left! No way lady! I’m sitting here and taking a breather. I’m saying “nap time” with the dog and my pacifier is what I’m saying or you’re going see some serious tears.
We cry, scream, hit and occasionally bite when we don’t get our way. We get angry, and take our frustrations out on the one’s we love, and more often, the one’s we don’t love. Rather than smiling and saying thank you to the store attendant, we nod our heads in a sign of acknowledgment but not necessarily with kindness or respect. We rarely move out of our seat for someone who needs it more, claiming that our day was equally as difficult as theirs, nor do we help each other even when help is completely warranted. We do this to protect ourselves from interacting or getting to close.
I say this because I’ve noticed that I’m becoming a little numb to granny needing a seat on the train, little Alvaro wanting to teach me about the cats who live under the bushes lining his apartment building, or the store attendant who asks me for millionth time, “De donde eres?”
As I rare up on my 32 birthday, I don’t want to be numb. That’s actually the last thing I want. I want to connect with people and the world, more so than I’m doing now. Because Ryan and I are hooked into our computers, as well as one another, I wonder if we find ourselves adapting to one sided conversations where our own internal voice is the closest relationship we have. I sense that we’re so focused on making this business a success that we’re not only taking each other for granted, but the big beautiful world outside our windows as well.
Maybe maturity for me will come in recognizing where to divide my time between work, my relationships with others and my relationship with myself. Maybe my 32nd year will bring clarity as to how I can continually invite change without feeling barraged with instability. And maybe, just maybe, together, we’ll take our first fluid steps towards appreciating the daily achievements, rather than remaining focused on lifelong goals.
October 7, 2007 at 1:46 pm · Filed under Uncategorized
I tell people everyday not to be afraid to start over. Pull yourself up by the bootstraps and don’t be afraid to face your fears. I am the biggest supporter of following one’s dreams, chasing your desires, and remaining steadfast to what gives my life meaning. But when the tables are turned, and it’s my opportunity to lay my ace of spades on the table, I get overwhelmed and freeze.
Marc was not so different than me. Marc was a beautiful little five year old with porcelain blue eyes, limestone colored air and a smile that could melt the arctic faster than global warming. Bright, sweet, but he was completely incapable of producing inner confidence. Each day, Marc would come into my class with the energy of a jester. His eyes alight with mischievous thoughts, he’d creep behind the coat rack waiting for just the right moment to send something flying across the room. Wads of wet paper would stick on the blackboard, pieces of gum hung from the ceiling, butter sandwiches slid down the window. The class loved it. Breaking up into chuckles and giggles, Marc would achieve exactly what he wanted, at least until the boredom set in. Suddenly, what was once a novelty became an annoyance. And when his water gun came out on the sixth day of class, sending streams of orange dyed water across the room, anger arose.
“Gabriella, why does Marc always have to be this way?” Miriea inquired.
“I think he wants your attention”, I’d softly responded while replacing a stray piece of hair behind her ear.
“Yeah, but he’s being stupid and I want him to stop!” she snapped and walked away with tight fists and pierced lips.
I couldn’t argue with her, but I sympathized with him. I knew what it was like to want a type of attention no one was giving you. You felt empty, like someone took a vacuum to your soul and sucked you dry.
As I taught the class new English words for the beach, the house, or things you might need to pack for vacation, Marc would stare out into space, daydreaming of a different family, a new home where he would get the unconditional acceptance he needed.
I’d heard rumors of his parents locking him in his room for hours, refusing to let him out despite his cries. He was called “ignorant” and “stupid” by his mother, a few feet away from where we, his teachers, stood feeling powerless. “God, isn’t there something we can do?”, we’d say to one another. But the thought of calling the Spanish Dept. of “Child Protection Services” sounded horrific. Who has a right to separate a mother and child?
This idea haunted me, because I knew in my heart I could do more. While the other children sat laughing and smiling, content to banter while completing their work, he’d draw big thick pencil lines all over the paper. Content with his abstract masterpiece, he’d take a big breath, lick his hand and smear the lead from side to side. Consciously, he had no idea why this behavior felt so good, but I knew. I knew that this was his way of pushing that fear of failure deep inside. If he destroyed what he needed to create, there was nothing left to judge.
“Marc, why are you doing that? Why do you always destroy every paper we put infront of you?”
“Because I can’t do it. I don’t know how. I just can’t”
The saddest part is that he could. He was bright and passionate and had a killer instinct about him. He knew how to do the work, but he needed someone by his side every step of the way to encourage him, to push away the demons and to let him know that no matter what negative message snuck up inside him, we would protect him. He wanted instant gratification. He wanted someone to hold him and love him, to let him know that he would always be safe. And we tried, god we tried. We told him that his pranks and lack of effort would not get him any closer to happiness, and that hitting other children would only produce the opposite effect of pushing them away.
“The means towards fulfillment Marc is by trying to do your best no matter what the result is. Your best is not avoiding what you fear, but facing it and working through it.”
You might imagine that at 5, a child has no ability to understand this level of banter, but you’d be mistaken. He understood it to his core, and would come back the next day reformed, polished and ready to take on the world. This would last the morning until the negative crept in again, leading him to throw a chair, knock over a bookcase or tease another child.
When looking back, I think we all have a little Marc in us. That part of us that is afraid to try. The part that would rather do nothing than to hear ourselves say, “This isn’t good enough.”
When you look back at your life and you ask yourself, “what gives my l life meaning?” I hope we can all say, at the very least, “I found what I loved and I did it. I may not have been the best, but it made me happy.”
October 2, 2007 at 10:50 am · Filed under Website Info
Not sure there is anyone reading this. But we are alive and doing well. Check out www.catavino.net for more info on our lives. Lately I’ve been feeling a need to talk about stuff that was not wine related. So maybe I’ll fire this blog up again and get posting. For now though, photos are still at www.obiscoito.com so check it out. Oh and we’re really into Facebook so friend us up and stay in touch. Cheers, ryan
July 10, 2007 at 6:03 pm · Filed under Uncategorized
we’ve ignored you mr. opaz so Sorry, you were such a wonderful blog for so long, what have we done. maybe we’ll return, tell you a tale or two, cataloge an event again, i hope…if you want though you can check out our other efforts at www.ryanopaz.tumblr.com and www.catavino.net
we’ll return I promise.
soon.
May 25, 2007 at 4:37 pm · Filed under Uncategorized
May 22, 2007 at 11:11 pm · Filed under Uncategorized
Viagra could be used to help people flying eastwards recover from jetlag, animal research suggests.
A team of Argentine scientists found the drug helped hamsters recover up to 50% faster from forward shifts in their daily time cycles.
However, the drug only worked in conjunction with light therapy, and only in one time direction - the equivalent to flying eastbound.
Where in God’s name do begin cracking jokes with this report? Do I start with the fact we can only travel eastbound and not westbound yet? The fact that we have to use BOTH Viagra and light therapy to minimize jetlag?
Or my favorite part…..
Injection of Viagra before the time shift meant the hamsters adjusted to the new time cycle faster, even when low doses of the drug, which did not cause penile erections, were
used.
Do I need to point out the fact that correlating the lack of erection with low doses of the drug may have something to do with the fact that it’s a HAMSTER and that a low dosage of anything in a hamster is sort of irrelevant when compared to a human!
May 12, 2007 at 10:32 pm · Filed under Family
Here’s a short audio clip of people sending their love from England…Wish you were here with us…
LOVE YOU GRANDMA - CLICK HERE
Oh and here’s a link to some of the photos I’ve taken tonight, lots more, but Need to get some up for you!
May 3, 2007 at 9:19 am · Filed under Deep Thoughts
Results for RYAN OPAZ
April 18, 2007 at 3:12 pm · Filed under Uncategorized
if you know what it is, and you want an invite, I have three
send me an email and I’ll get you hooked up! obiscoito with gmail dotbefore the com
April 18, 2007 at 2:37 pm · Filed under Uncategorized
If you don’t think that Stephan Colbert is the Greatest Living American then as they say, your not paying attention.
Last years Roast of the President
BTW this post is an attempt to help out this effort.
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