Alida's Wide World of Sports

When I was about 5 years old, my mother signed me up for ballet.  I loved it at the time, and did it for a couple of years.  The shows were great, but I was very aware of the fact that two of my friends (sisters), were getting the lead roles in all the shows.  They were good, no doubt about it, but even at that age, I thought there were some connections being pulled, although I never voiced my opinion.  By the way, we are still friends, so the ballet issue didn’t affect our friendship.

One weekend, a gymnastics team came to our country club for a demonstration; I fell in love with the sport.  I was hypnotized watching a girl on the balanced beam, so I begged my mom to sign me up...and she did.  So long ballet, hello gymnastics!!  I’m not sure how often I practiced at first, but very quickly, I was practicing every day for 2 hours.  The gym wasn’t very nice and the equipment was quite old, it was the state gym inside a big coliseum where there were other sports facilities, but it was the only gymnastics place in Cali.  All types of people trained there, mostly low-income people, as it was very cheap.  I don’t mean to sound pretentious, just remember that I’m talking about Colombia, where many government and state funded programs are very poor (more so back then).  It was dark and a bit spooky, walking through this huge place was strange, there were very few people around.    It was also a bit far from home, my mom and a friend’s mom would carpool in order to make it more manageable.  Anyhow, I loved every minute of it!!

As a warm up, the coaches made us run up and down the stairs in the coliseum, we then practiced floor, beam, vault and bars, and more conditioning and weights at the end.  Every day, I would wake up with a sore muscle, it was just part of my life, a sign that I had trained hard the day before.  Funny enough, I truly enjoy that feeling today, being sore after a workout, feeling muscles that I didn't know I had.  I always had blisters in my hands (from the bars) and bruises in my legs (from the beam).  After some time, I became somewhat good at it, competed in meets between schools, won medals, and so on.  I was the only one from my school, so it was a bit sad (although I didn’t care) to see the school delegations walking out during the opening ceremony, and it was just me, alone, representing my school.  Gymnastics became my life, I competed in the Maccabi games in Toronto (did horribly), went to a gymnastics summer camp somewhere in Pennsylvania (8 hours of gymnastics every day, loved it!), watched every competition I could, and kept practicing every day for 2 hours.  I was a total tomboy, all I was interested in was gymnastics.  I didn’t care for dolls or boy bands (Menudo at the time).  


Then, when I was about 13, I started playing volleyball at school, and also got into track and field.  I eventually quit gymnastics, it was clear that I wasn’t going to get to an elite level, although that was my dream all along.  Volleyball and track were my new sports.  Our volleyball coach was so strict, I remember crying many times. He made us work so hard, even if something hurt, even if we were exhausted.  With those two sports I also competed in Maccabi games (in Colombia and Venezuela), as well as against other schools.  At 15, I was still a tomboy.  I would get along better with the boys, and was still not into Menudo. 


Having two older brothers also contributed to my love for sports and my tomboy status.  They were not the overprotective type, to the contrary, at times, somewhat rough.  I remember them saying that “being rough with me would forge my character.”  I'll take their word for it!

Years later, in college, I took sports for 1 credit:  Mountain biking and skiing.  First time trying those 2 sports.  I also discovered cross country, which I think would have been a perfect sport for me growing up, but it didn’t exist in Colombia, and it was too late to get into it in college. 

Growing up, I really wanted to excel at a sport, but I never did.  Whether it was lack of ability or training, I don’t know, it just didn't happen.  My dream was to live in the US, train at a state-of-the-art facility and go to the Olympics...nice dream :)

Now, as an adult, that dream doesn’t really matter.  I see all the things I have learned from sports, and couldn’t be happier!!  Sports gave me discipline, drive and responsibility.  I always did my homework and was at the top of the class, regardless of the number of hours I trained.  Sports taught me to work hard, give my best effort and push my limits.  No matter how tired I was, I kept training.  No matter how much my leg hurt, I kept going.  There were many sacrifices involved, and they were all worth it.  My coaches weren’t always nice, back then, they didn’t worry about overprotective parents or law suits.  They were there to train us and push us, not to please our parents (who were never there anyway).

I’m a sucker for sports, and for everything involving sports (Olympics, sport movies, etc.).  It gives me so much pleasure and joy to practice many sports, although I’m not particularly good at any.  I play tennis, golf (started with my ex-husband), surf (started with my ex-boyfriend), bike, run (although not my favorite), soccer (my new thing), hiking, etc.  I’m game for anything, kayaking, ping pong, paddle boarding, roller blading, wake boarding, skiing, you name it, I’ll try it.  

When I went surfing and wake boarding for the first time, I was able to get up on the first try.  That made me realize that having been athletic since I was little gave me a lot more than discipline and responsibility.  It gave me the coordination, strength and flexibility to be somewhat decent at many sports.  My kids asked me, “have you ever wake boarded before?  How come you were able to get up?”, and I answered, “that’s the advantage of having done sports since I was young.”  

My kids love sports, and they also enjoy watching the Olympics and sports movies (we’ve watched Rudy, Victory, The Blind Side, Invictus, and many more).  However, things are different now (and here in the US).  They practice much less, and most coaches are not as tough.  When my kids complain to me that they're tired or something hurts, I just say, “suck it up,” that's how I grew up.  I hope they get to embrace and appreciate the sore muscles and the sacrifices involved.  My desire is for their lives to be enriched by sports, the same way mine was!!

Another dress story....a red dress, of course!!

We ended up staying the last two nights of the biking trip in Hoi An again. What a treat!!! The hotel was great and three of us (the self-labeled trouble makers) went to an Italian restaurant for lunch on the first day. They said it was the best pizza "ever", it was really good, but I think it was the fact that we had been eating the same "country-side" food for one week....breakfast, lunch and dinner.

In Hoi An, there are about 10 tailors in each block, they make whatever item of clothing you want. They copy designs, make casual or elegant things, traditional Vietnamese items...anything you can think of. Needless to say, I went kind of crazy. I love Asian-inspired clothing, it's just so elegant and unique, especially living in Miami. So I found two places to have the traditional Vietnamese dress made (called ao dai). In one of the places, I actually went to pick the fabric with one of the girls from the shop. We rode in her moped all over town, with a flimsy helmet with a pink bow, quite an experience. Those two dresses turned out well, but then, the night before leaving (had to go to the airport at 3pm the following day), I got a card for another tailor that looked good....and you can't have too many nice dresses, particularly if they are custom-made. So at 9 am on Sunday I was there, selecting the fabric and designs. I asked them many times if they would have the things ready in just a few hours, as I had to take my flight to Saigon, and they assured me they would. I had 2 Chinese tops and one dress made, they told me to come back at 1:30 for a fitting, and of course, they weren't ready. I went back at 2 and they were still working on them. Finally got fitted and they had to make some adjustments. It was 2:45 and I had to head back to the hotel to take a van to the airport (about 30 minutes away), so I had given up on the clothes. I paid a deposit and wanted to get my money back. Then the "manager" suggested that one of the other girls gives me a ride to my hotel in a moped and she would bring the money with her. Then, as soon as the adjustments were made, someone else would take the clothes to the hotel, and we she didn't make it one time, I would get my money back before getting on the van. So a second experience in a moped in Hoi An, made it to the hotel, loaded the van, and still...no clothes. Someone else in the group had to stop by a tailor to pick up some shorts she had made, so I told my girl who was waiting with the money, to tell the other girl to meet us at the other tailor where my friend was picking up her shorts. And that's how it was, it seemed like an illegal transaction; one moped following us (with the money), the other one parked in front of the van, they gave me the "merchandise" and I gave them some additional money....what an exchange. Unfortunately, the dress wasn't ready, so the girl tells me that she would take it to the airport, 30 minutes away. I wasn't expecting the dress to be delivered, I didn't owe them money, so just gave up on that idea. Just the scene with the mopeds and the van, in the middle of the street, was funny enough. We get to the airport and still had about 1 hour to kill, so I asked Dave to stay with me in the waiting area before security. It's a very small airport, and i think, in the back of my mind, I was hoping for the girl to show up with the dress. Then, about15 minutes later, I turn around and there she is, holding a package with my dress. Dave and I looked at each other and couldn't stop laughing, she drove 30 minutes in her moped to deliver the dress. Now...that's customer service!!!!!

We flew to Ho Chi Minh City that afternoon, and when we landed, I joked that the girl would probably be waiting for me at the airport, in her moped, to make sure the dress fits well. Such a cute and funny story, a glimpse into the Vietnamese culture. A few dresses later, I can't wait to wear them in Miami!!!

"Comfort zone"...a funny thing

About 3 years ago I first discovered a company called Roadmonkey while reading National Geographic Traveler. They do adventure-philanthropy trips, one week of what I consider "active fun" (biking, rafting, hiking), and 5 days working with an NGO on a community project (building a playground, library, etc.). Right away, I knew it was the perfect combination for me. I had already done research to go on a biking trip to Europe (although I'm not an avid biker yet...but I will be in 10 days), and I had also looked into volunteering trips abroad. So I went to their website, saw their expeditions, spoke to the founder, asked questions. Vietnam was the most appealing trip. I've been wanting to go to Vietnam for a few years now. I actually had a trip planned to Thailand and Vietnam but never made it (the break-up spoiled it). To be honest, I wanted to go to southeast Asia with my a boyfriend or a close friend, but since there's no boyfriend and it's hard to find a friend with the time and same interests, Roadmonkey became even more appealing. I thought about going last year, but I would have missed my son's 11th birthday. Finally, this year, I started considering it again. I had to leave Miami the day after my son's birthday, so it was perfect.

Over the summer I started really thinking about going. I spoke to Paul, the founder, and asked him many questions, he asked me some as well. I'm a researcher and he's a journalist, so there were questions back and forth. He was curious as to my motivations and I explained to him that a few years ago, I decided that it was important to "get out of my comfort zone". I thrive on that feeling, doing things that make me a bit nervous, that I never thought I would do. So far, these have been the most valuable experiences and most cherished memories: Going to Spain with my kids for a week, learning to surf, traveling alone, etc. Nevertheless, I had my hesitations about the Vietnam trip. I'm not a biker and this calls for 8 days of biking, I'm not 25 and in my mind, everyone would be younger than me, it's a long trip (2 weeks) and it's far, very far. It took me a few weeks to make up my mind, and I finally decided to go, to really get out of my comfort zone!! It all worked out with the flights, I was going to travel with miles but ended up finding a super cheap ticket and was able to use my upgrades, lucky me!!!

The preparation has been interesting. I started biking, although not as much as I should have, started reading about Vietnam, and a few weeks ago, started buying the all the gear (a head lamp, pocket knife, quick-dry towel, energy bars, etc.). When I read the detailed itinerary, after having paid for the trip, I really got nervous and anxious. What did I get myself into? Eight days biking and 5 days building a sustainable organic garden and rice paddy for a poor community in the Mekong delta. The biking distances are a lot longer than I anticipated, I realized I was in big trouble, but hey....the idea is to get out of my comfort zone.

The last week has been particularly stressful. Even though I've been traveling extensively for the past years, I still get very anxious before long trips, particularly the fact that I'm leaving my kids in Miami (which still generates some guilt) and I like to take care of the daily logistics while I'm gone (I know all will be fine). Additionally, it was my son's birthday yesterday, so we had multiple celebrations. I've been a basket case, trying to get last minute gear, pack, work, spend time with my kids, and totally nervous about the uncertainty. In addition to having to bike a lot, I don't know the other people, I have to share a hotel room (not used to it), I've never been to Asia, the trip is extremely long and I will miss my kids like crazy. So I've cried a bit over the last few days. My kids have been incredible, they are so excited for me, and looking forward to the pictures, stories and Vietnamese straw hats!!!! I'm on the plane right now, flying to Chicago, then going on to Tokyo and finally arriving in Ho Chi Minh City about 24hours later. What a adventure this will be, full of amazing people, incredible places, valuable lessons, and most importantly...completely out of my comfort zone.

Last night my daughter said, "Mom, you don't get lucky with these things," and I asked her, "what do you mean?" She replied, "you have to like sports, be determined, be hard-working, like you". Needless to say, I couldn't hold back my tears. A 9 year old reassuring me, encouraging me!! She then said, "it's going to be fine, actually it will be great. You'll meet new people, a new experience". Well, I was still crying, and at that point, the 3 of us were hugging and crying. When I said good night, they told me there was one word which describes me, and it is: AWESOME (I completely lost it). What a lesson they taught me yesterday!! I'll make sure this experience is as much theirs as it is mine, and I hope I can encourage them to get out of their comfort zone throughout their lives.

Let the adventure begin....

Once upon a Red Dress

Almost a year ago, a very good friend got married in Lima.  I was very excited about her wedding, it was a great story, 20 years in the making.  I also knew it was going to be an amazing party, and it was my return to Lima after over a year (after a bad break-up).  Bottom line, I knew I wanted a fabulous dress.  I started thinking about it months in advance, looking here and there, hoping to find something truly special.  Finally, one day, I decided that I was going to wear an Indian sari.  I find them elegant, sophisticated, and I knew I would be the only person at the wedding with a sari, so the “standing out” factor was guaranteed.  I started looking for sarees, oh my, what a task that was.  Websites and websites, hundreds of pictures, fabrics, colors, styles, prices…..totally overwhelming.  On a business trip to New York, I even stopped in Jackson Heights and tried on a few.  After over a month looking, I ordered one online, finally received it, but was not what I expected.

A few weeks later I was in Madrid again, meeting my very good friend from Serbia.  It was a fun trip, we stayed in a nice little hotel, walked everywhere, ate, drank, talked and shopped…nice quality time together!  After all…I love Madrid!!  We casually looked for “the” dress during the first few days, but had no luck.  On our last day there, a Monday, we walked by a store which we had seen before, and my friend suggested we go in.  I wasn’t too interested, but gave in.  They only had one potential dress, which didn’t wow me.  Nevertheless, I tried it on.  It was big on me, they pinned it, and when I came out of the fitting room, my friend said “that’s the dress.”  I wasn’t convinced, it was nice, but it wasn’t what I was looking for; and then, I saw the price and was shocked.  No way I was spending that much money on a dress!!  Nevertheless, due to my friend’s persistence, I asked them to hold it for a few hours.  We left the store, had lunch, walked around and she kept telling me to get the dress, I kept saying “it’s not what I’m looking for.”  In my mind, I wanted an emerald green dress with a plunging neckline.  This was a strapless red dress, and even though red is my favorite color, I never wear strapless.  So I was not convinced.  We met up with my childhood friend who was mentioned in my Madrid love affair story (with the city), and told him about the dress.  I needed another opinion, a male opinion.  I wanted to make sure it would be elegant and sexy, instead of “cute and pretty.”  We ended up doing other things and by the time I thought about the dress it was 7:45pm and we were having wine at my favorite Madrid sidewalk restaurant.  The store closed at 8 and we were about 6 blocks away, so we started walking briskly, trying to make it on time.  I showed him the same dress on a mannequin (he was not impressed) and then I tried it on.  His face was priceless, just by looking at him I knew it was “The Dress.”  He convinced me to buy it and to spend an outrageous amount of money (for my standards) on the dress.  The salespeople were convinced that he was buying me the dress…not the case though!  The dress was big, so it had to be taken in.  I left it there, thinking that a friend would take it to Miami very soon.  Wishful thinking on my part, my Spanish friend never traveled to Madrid.  Anyway, I had a dress, but it stayed in Madrid.  I was happy about my decision, and the next step was getting it home.  

After doing some research I found out that the dress designer is Princess Letizia’s favorite designer, and that she had worn a very similar dress to a royal wedding in Sweden that summer.  I had no clue, it was a total surprise, no wonder it was so expensive.

In the meantime, when I got back to Miami, my mom was in Colombia and needed to speak to me urgently.  She finally got a hold of me, and the urgency was to tell me that she and my dad were thinking about making an attempt to get back together.  My parents have been divorced for 32 years, and this came as a total SHOCK (actually, SHOCK is an understatement).  The reason why I mention this is because the dress was never shipped to Miami (over $300 to send it), so my childhood friend took it to Cali.  The wedding was getting closer, about 10 days away, and the dress was still in Colombia.  I couldn’t travel because I had a few business trips those days, so my father found the perfect excuse to come see my mom in Miami, he was going to bring the dress!!  He made it!!  It was the first time after 32 years that I saw my parents cohabitating, what a strange feeling.  After witnessing that, I am sure I will need therapy for life!  Back to the dress…it was still quite big on me, so had to rush it to a seamstress with only a few days for my trip.  Finally, everything was ready, dress, shoes, earrings!  I was ready to go!

Next thing I know I’m on the flight down to Lima.  The guy sitting next to me spilled his champagne and orange juice on my leather jacket and purse even before taking off.  Right there I knew it would be an exciting trip.  I changed clothes (luckily had some in my carry-on), the flight was delayed because they had to get a dry cushion for my seat.  I finally had a few glasses of Malbec on the way to Lima, all was good, the stains on my jacket did not spoil my trip, I had a huge smile on my face the whole time!  My seat neighbor was surprised at my reaction, he expected me to be totally upset, but there was no point in that.  He made his best effort to make it up to me, invited me to play golf, wanted to take me out to dinner, offered to pay for my dry cleaning, and so on.  Never saw him again though, he’ll always be the guy who spilled his drinks on me.

We had three days of events prior to the wedding.  Lunches, cocktail parties, dinners, lots of friends, lots of dancing.  I was having a great time.  I absolutely love Lima, and during that entire trip, I felt a sense of excitement and anticipation, even without drinking much.  Then, it was finally Saturday.  Got my hair done, did my own make-up (I’m very picky) and had to call housekeeping at the hotel so they would send one of the housekeeping staff to help me zip the dress (I was staying alone).  I was all ready and felt like a million bucks.  I went down to get on the van that was taking us to the wedding location, hoping to find other people, but I was alone.  Some friends had already gone and others were not ready yet, so I decided to go alone.  It was chilly out and I didn’t have anything to cover myself.  The ride was short, and my heart was racing.  It’s strange that I felt such anticipation.  It was my friend’s amazing wedding, a lot of preparation to get a fabulous dress, a chance to run into my ex-boyfriend whom I had not seen for over a year, and given the amount of dancing I had already done the previous days…lots more was awaiting!! 

I came down from the van and all the security guys turned around, I walked in and a bunch of friends were standing there, all looking at me in my incredible Red Dress.  I felt on top of the world, totally glamorous, sexy and elegant…not “cute and pretty”!!!  Everyone had something to say about my dress, I received countless compliments.  It was perfect! That was the beginning of a magical, surreal and strange night.  I danced all night long, had my occasional tequila shots (well-spread out), ate a bit, talked to friends and danced some more.  At first, I danced with a bunch of friends with whom I had danced the days before.  Then, a few hours into the party, I met someone new, a friend of friends, a very studly man who was wearing a red tie which matched my dress perfectly.  We ended up dancing past 6am, what an amazing time, I had a permanent smile on my face.  My feet were killing me, but I refused to take my shoes off.  We kept on dancing with the bride and groom and a few more friends who stayed until the end.  I did run into my ex that night, while wearing “The Red Dress;” I felt invincible, unshakable.  It was the perfect place and time for that reunion.  I got back to my hotel, after sweating for hours, I was a mess…a happy mess!!  My make-up, my hair, my knees, my feet.  I took a long hot shower… 

The story continues….almost a year after that incredible night.  Let’s just say it was a memorable trip, a memorable night...and an unforgettable Red Dress. 

To gift or not to gift

As a little girl, I loved gifts!  Well…who doesn’t? Gifts were the highlight of birthdays, Hanukkah, graduation, etc.  I vividly remember when I was about 8 years old and I was bitten/scratched by a big dog.  It tore my eyelid (I could see the slit in the mirror) and left a big bloody scratch next to my ear.  I had surgery that day, an amazing plastic surgeon worked his magic, stitched my eyelid inside and out, and across the side of my face.  I got very lucky, it was December 26^th, nobody works that week in Cali (Colombia).  The point of the story is that in the following weeks, while my eye was still black, swollen and completely shut, people wanted to visit me.  The condition was that they had to bring me a gift, they were told that over the phone (a bit too direct…oh well, I was 8).  So I got a bunch of great stuff, I loved it!!  It made everything better.

Fast forward to my high school graduation, I remember some of my friends were getting necklaces and earrings from their parents.  All I wanted was for my university to be paid for, I was not interested in any jewelry, perhaps in part because I didn’t care much about jewelry at the time (I always considered myself to be a tomboy).  So that was my graduation gift, the best gift ever, a college education.

With time, I became less and less interested in the “typical” gifts, and became more practical in life.  So I started liking useful and thoughtful gifts, and not necessarily in specific occasions.  One Valentine’s Day, I got a jump rope from my husband (ex now), zero romantic, but until this day I jump rope as part of my workout, all thanks to that non-romantic Valentine’s gift.

Then I had kids, and my opinion towards gifts changed even more.  I saw all the birthday gifts they received, most were forgotten, put aside or broke after 2 days, and only a handful were good, long-lasting, entertaining or educational gifts.  Then there was Hanukkah (my kids are being raised Jewish) and Christmas (my ex is Catholic so the kids also got some Christmas gifts, although not in the same magnitude as most of their Catholic friends).  That was insane, so many gifts, more than they knew what to do with. Then add the stuff we buy when we go shopping, the gifts from grandparents, and so on.  It all got me thinking…

In my case, I got to the realization that I like receiving thoughtful gifts, nothing fancy, just thoughtful; and I don’t necessarily expect gifts anymore, not even on my birthday.  Luckily, I can buy myself what I want, so anything I get is a bonus!  But let’s go back to the kids.  It got me thinking about how we’re spoiling our children, how they’re losing perspective on the value of things, on rewards, on hard work.  So when my son was turning 4, I decided (and my husband supported me) that we were going to have a birthday party for him, but that all, and I mean ALL the gifts would be donated to underprivileged kids.  We explained it to him in the best possible way.  He didn’t seem to mind.  We sent out the invitation, explaining our plan and asking people to bring unwrapped toys and books for kids of all ages.  The party was incredible, there were about 30 kids, a big bounce house, games, food, cake, etc.  Some people brought 2 and 3 gifts to be donated.  We had close to 50 gifts, which were stored in the guestroom.  It was November and we were waiting until December to give them away as part of a Christmas party at a shelter for Haitian immigrants.  For weeks my kids would go in the room and look at the gifts, but it was never an issue, they knew those were the gifts that we were giving the “poor” children.  December came around and we went to the Christmas party to hand them out.  It was incredible to see that from the birthday party of one boy, 50 kids got Christmas gifts.  We kept doing that for 6 years, until we stopped having big birthday parties.  As my kids got older, they started to appreciate and value this great deed even more.  You could tell just by looking at their faces that they were happy knowing that they could help bring joy to someone else.  One time my son told me “it makes me so happy to see all these boys and girls getting gifts.  It’s totally worth it.”  What can I say…it’s priceless!!

Over the years a few parents told me that I was depriving my kids from their birthday gifts.  I can just say that they have learned an invaluable lesson.  I consider it essential to show our kids (with actions) what it means to have social responsibility, and that they can do their part as well.

Our children don’t need any more toys, instead, they need to realize how lucky and privileged they are.  As parents, as adults, I feel we need to do our part in raising children who are aware of the world around them, of the inequality.  We need to raise sensitive, generous kids.  It is our responsibility. 

The joy of surfing

I surfed for the first time almost 4 years ago.  I didn’t grow up close to the ocean, so I’m not a person who feels totally comfortable in it.  Up to that moment, I had never been very aquatic.  Nevertheless, I like being in the water, I like sports, and, most importantly, I like a challenge.  So one cold November morning in Lima, my boyfriend at the time had the brilliant idea to go surfing.  I went along, sleepy and cold, nervous and excited at the same time.  A group meets for lessons at 5:30am in the coast of Lima.  I put on the wetsuit, followed the warm-up routine and listened to a brief explanation by the instructor.  We went in, water was freezing, waves were big, and I started paddling out, with a lot of respect for the ocean and its power.  Did I mention the big waves?  I had never done this, and there I was, for the first time, in a pretty rough ocean trying to catch my first wave.  I warmed up quickly, it was a combination of the paddling and the nerves. Trying to paddle past the waves breaking was the toughest part.  I swallowed so much water, but kept going.  Then, the time came to give it a try, Harold, the instructor, put me in position and showed me the wave I was supposed to surf.  I started paddling hard, he pushed me a bit, and there I was, catching my first wave.  I stood-up on the board and rode it all the way to the shore.  I know I had a huge smile on my face, the same smile I have every time I get a chance to surf.  What a great morning that was!!!  I surfed a few more waves, so excited by my accomplishment.  It was a sense pride, happiness, invincibility.  Never, in my wildest dreams, did I think I was going to be surfing.

Ever since, I’ve surfed a few more times.  Twice more in Peru, and a handful of times in Costa Rica.  The water is completely different in these two places.  Even though I’ve surfed in the Pacific Ocean in Costa Rica, it’s definitely not the same.  The waves in Peru are big, I mean….big, and the water is cold.  Costa Rica is much warmer, calmer (at least where I’ve been), so nice to surf in just a bikini.  Costa Rica is also much closer to Miami, it’s warm all year-round, and I have a great friend who I try to visit as much as possible…and the fact that she surfs is a plus!!

The feeling I get when I get in the water with my board is absolutely incredible.  There’s an instant smile on my face, whether I catch 10 waves or none at all.  Sitting on the board, looking at the horizon waiting for the next wave, such tranquility.  Spotting the wave and trying to ride it, the thrill of paddling, worried about having the right timing, and finally getting up, such rush. I love everything about it (except the stories every now and then about sharks), I love the people, the culture, the places.  I love being in the ocean as early in the morning as possible, the glass water, the perfectly organized sets of waves, the sun coming up, the fresh air.  It puts things into perspective, it allows me to appreciate life even more, to value the little things.

I’m so glad that, 4 years ago, I decided (with some encouragement) to wake up at 5am on a cold morning in Lima, and give surfing a try.  Life is about getting out of your comfort zone. You might be surprised with the outcome, you might actually fall in love with it.  I wish I could surf more often…still, I’m thankful I can do it every chance I get.  I feel lucky to have “Surfing” high up in my list of favorite things to do!!!

A gift from Paris opened a world of art

I love art; however, I don’t consider myself to be artistic.  My parents like art and I remember being taken to museums and concerts when I was very young.  I whined because it was boring and I was tired, I wasn’t always very interested, but you have no idea how thankful I am to my parents for dragging me to each one of those concerts and museums.  I particularly remember a guitar and flute concert that my dad took me to when I was about 9, I was so unhappy and bored, I really wanted to leave.

Now, as a mother, I’ve realized that children can only get to appreciate, and eventually like, what they are exposed to.  Given all the technology around us (PSP, DS, iPad, phones, etc.) and the budget cuts for the arts, it is more important than ever to expose kids to the arts.

A few years ago, when my kids were about 5 and 3 years old, my brother and his wife brought them a gift from Paris:  A children’s book about Vincent Van Gogh.  For about a year I didn’t even open the book, until one day, I decided we were going to read it.  We could have read another “Dora the Explorer” book, but instead, we read about Van Gogh.  Half-way through the book (parts of the story are not that child-friendly) my son asked:  “Is it almost over?”  I interpreted the question as lack of interest, so I replied:  “Don’t worry, just a few more pages.”  He, in turn said:  “No, I don’t want it to be over.”  What a relief!  Needless to say that the following day I ordered that entire collection on Amazon (only a few more artists), and found another children’s book collection about artists.  We now have about 25 artist books at home, from Michelangelo to Andy Warhol.  They love reading their stories (including the failed relationships, sickness, deaths, and harsh conditions).  They are familiar with Edward Hopper, Marc Chagall, Mary Cassatt, Henri Matisse, Salvador Dali, René Magritte, Alexander Calder and many more.  So now, when we go to museums, they recognize many of the pieces, it has put all these artists and styles into context.  About 3 years ago before a trip to Montreal I remember telling them:  “Guess what?  You’re going to see a real Picasso in the Montreal Museum of Fine Art.”  They were so excited to see a Picasso in person!  They still get tired after walking for a while and they still complain, but the experience of going to a museum or gallery, any experience related to art, is different now that they have learned about the lives of these incredible artists. 

It is very similar with classical music.  I love classical music.  I remember my older brother loved it when I was very young, but I never really listened to it until I was much older.  I particularly like Beethoven, Tchaikovsky, Mozart and Schubert.  Once again, I’m no expert, I only recognize a few pieces, but I enjoy listening to it.  I started playing some of my favorite concertos at home and always listened to the classical music station in the car.  I was expecting my kids to complain and ask me to change it, but they didn’t.  We started reading about various composers (same book series as the artists) and we try to go to concerts as much as we can.  I’m delighted that they truly enjoy classical music, even though now, in the car, we alternate with hip hop and rap (that’s their influence on me). 

Art is easier to see around us, in movies, commercials, advertisements, etc.  However, classical music is different.  If we don’t play it at home, it is very unlikely that they will hear it in other places.  Such a shame that incredible composers who wrote beautiful music are not being introduced to our younger generations, and, for that matter to people my age. 

It is up to us to expose our children to the arts.  It enriches our lives, and I hope they will treasure it forever.

My love affair with a city

This is how it all started.  In March of 2010 I travelled to Madrid.  I was supposed to go in February, but, as it usually happens in our office (I have a business with my brother), as soon as one of us plans a trip, clients call.  And being self-employed, I find it very hard to say no to a client, particularly during tough times.  So I ended up travelling in March, alone, that was the whole idea, to travel alone.  I chose Madrid because after spending only one night there a few years ago during a trip to Barcelona, I liked the city and always wanted to go back.  Thought it was a good destination for me, there’s plenty of culture, not too big, beautiful architecture, night life, delicious food and wine and the idea that Spaniards are hospitable (and good looking!).  So I embarked in this mini-adventure, 4 days in Madrid.  Started doing some research, also trying to find people I knew, or friends of friends.  A total of 4 contacts were established, however no concrete plans were made.  Had a hotel reservation and that was it. 

Here are the stories of the 3 characters in this trip: 

First character – the childhood friend:  A guy (I guess I should say man) who I knew back in Colombia when we were 9, our mothers went to school together and remain friends.  The two of us had corresponded via Facebook a couple of times (after not being in contact for over 25 yrs), and had not seen each other in 29 yrs, so we were never really friends, although he clearly remembers me when I was 9 as being his “first love.”  Well, we exchanged BBMs and when I got to Madrid wrote to him, he told me he would pick me up at 2pm to go to lunch.  I took a shower and passed out on my bed for a great 2-hour nap.  He picked me up, 29 years later, there we were.  He took me to a place in which we had to go down a few stairs, it was packed.  It was chilly outside, everyone having lunch inside, smoking like crazy, drinking wine.  I thought it would take forever to get a table, but after inhaling a cortado (macchiato) which I very much needed, we got a table.  All the other people around us who were waiting before us started joking, I guessed he had connections, and I’m happy to report that, after my latest trip to Madrid (I’m actually on the plane back now), which is my third trip this year, I also have connections in Lateral!!!!  Back to this reunion, first bottle of wine down, no food yet, jet lag and one cortado in my system, we talked and talked and talked.  Having the connection of childhood, Colombia, our mothers, both of us divorced and with kids, all this made it easy to just talk.  Then, some tapas, more wine, and more amazing conversation, like two great friends, like we had never lost contact.  What an incredible afternoon, suddenly, I look out the window, and it was dark, and I said “I wanted to go to a museum” and my friend replied “the museums will be there tomorrow.”  Very true, this was the perfect afternoon, even though he started receiving calls from everyone as he had already committed to other plans, well, he got in trouble later that night.  But for those 6 hours, 2 and a half bottles of Rioja and many wonderful stories, life stood still and reminded both of us of the special bond that we have and which we will nourish for years to come.

Second character – the new friend:  A Spaniard friend of my good friend in Miami.  She had met him through friends… some sort of story.  She put us in contact and we emailed a few times before the trip.  On Wednesday morning before travelling, I received an email from him saying that the sun had finally come out (it had been raining), and that he had plans for me on Friday night, Saturday and Sunday.  I didn’t understand, thought it was very nice of him, but we had never met, so I wasn’t sure about these plans.  On Thursday, in between wines I wrote to him saying that I was free later (he had nothing planned for me that night).  I wanted to go out, it was a combination of excitement, the cold air, the wine, and my childhood friend needed to get back to his life.  So this “new” friend wrote back saying that he was free for dinner at about 10:30 pm, “of course” I replied “would love to, I’m on vacation.”  Went to the hotel, took a shower and started feeling the wine in my system (I don’t drink much), but a plan was a plan.  He picked me up and we went to dinner.  Another bottle of wine, great conversation (I love the Spanish accent), delicious food (I vividly remember the tomato salad with ventresca, although I just wanted the tomatoes, I can still taste them).  After dinner, Bar Tomate (funny, now that I think about it, appropriate name given how much I liked the tomatoes at dinner), fun place, cool people.  Then, to end my first night in Madrid, walked to the car (it felt amazing breathing the cold air, invigorating!!) and drove to a night club.  Great way to finish that very long day, some dancing until past 4am.  What can I say, the entire day was perfect.  The story with my “new” friend continues, but let me first introduce the other character chronologically, and then I’ll get back to him.

Third character – my girlfriend from the summer or 1992:  We had lost contact and somehow discovered that she had moved to Madrid.  Met for a drink after over 15 years, it was great seeing her again and meeting her boyfriend.  After a few drinks, went to their apartment and then down to a little local place for some of the best seafood I’ve ever had.  I have to admit that I was a bit overdressed for the place, and somewhat worried about staining my “rabbit” jacket, which survived the night.  Standing up drinking beer, eating olives (the pits you throw on the floor, with any used napkins), oysters, gambas, boquerones and a few more things I don’t remember….all absolutely delicious.  It was an early night (for Madrid standards), as I had been “scheduled”, by my “new” friend, for a trip to the outskirts of Madrid on Saturday.

I was told that I would be picked up at 10am, that’s all, no idea what the plan was.  It was 4 of us in the car, a guy in his late 20’s who my friend didn’t know but was asked to give him a ride, a very nice and fun woman our age, and the two of us.  Two-hour ride to a country house in Trujillo.  Beautiful landscape, great to get away from the city.  We get to the house and I realize that it was a birthday celebration of the mother of my friend’s friend.  She had invited a few of her friends, and, in turn, my “new” friend had invited me.  There were about 50 people in this beautiful old stone house with a courtyard, pool, olive grove and amazing views.  There was a stork (with nest) on the “campanario”, quite a sight.  Suddenly, I realize that I’m the only person not wearing dark green, or anything remotely close to a “country or hunting outfit,” which made me feel a bit self-conscious, but, luckily, I can just say that I’m from Colombia, as if that was a justification.  Next time I’ll make sure to pack something green!!!  Lunch in this old room with stone curved ceilings was incredible, and suddenly this man takes out his cello and starts playing classical music, I couldn’t believe my luck.  It was magical, being in this beautiful place in Spain, with people I didn’t know, eating amazing food, drinking delicious wine and listening to classical music, I just said to myself “this is what life is all about, thank you, thank you!!!!”  I looked at my “new” friend and, with my eyes, tried to convey this feeling of gratitude for having brought me to this unforgettable event.  After walking through the olive groves and watching the sunset, we headed back to Madrid, first stopping in Trujillo.  What a beautiful town.  It was nighttime, the moon and stars shining, very cold air, and children playing futbol in the square, another magical moment, absolutely magical.  I would breathe the cold air and feel something happening in me, an appreciation for the small things in life, the things that actually matter.  I felt I was truly on vacation, and I felt the need to start doing this more often, of bringing my kids.  I felt recharged, I felt alive, at ease and happy.  Once again, I can only thank my “new” friend for that perfect and memorable Saturday.

On Sunday, I did some sightseeing, the “musts” in Madrid.  The more I walked, the more I liked the city. The skies (bluer than any other sky, not one cloud), the buildings, the streets, the air.  For some odd reason, I feel at home walking the streets of Madrid.  This was the beginning of my love story with this marvelous city.  A perfect trip, mostly unplanned, full of surprises, old friends, new friends.  A trip that changed my life in ways that are hard to explain, in ways most will never understand.  Borrowing a line from a great movie, it is my turn to tell a city, not a person “This is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

Here I am...at last!

It’s funny how in the past year, a few friends have told me that they “live vicariously through me.”  Funny because until recently, I had not realized how lucky I am and how special my life is.  I want to give you an idea of who I am.   Originally from Colombia, I’m 39, divorced mother of 2 (11 year old boy and 9 year old girl).  Started my own market research company with my brother in 1996.  I live in Miami and travel a lot, for work and for fun.  I’ve always liked sports, did gymnastics, volleyball and track when I was growing up.  I have many interests:  Food, cooking, art, classical music, travelling, adventure, volunteering, education, sports, cultures, people, etc.  I’m no connoisseur or expert in any area, but enjoy them all.  I think it’s important to be well-rounded, and that’s what I try to instill in my kids. 

Life has not been easy, but I refuse to complain or be a victim.  We need to take the cards that were dealt to us and move forward.  One thing I have to say is that, in the past year, I feel like I have finally come into my own.  I’m at a great place right now, not without suffering, pain and many tears.  But what matters is the present, and life is really good.  I consider myself very lucky (I’ve also worked very hard), I have two amazing and healthy kids, a job that I love, a good relationship with my ex-husband, incredible friends, the chance to travel, and the determination to try new things and be happy.

Maybe that’s why my friends enjoy seeing my pictures on Facebook, and my status updates with airport codes, and listening to my stories.  There are so many stories, all sorts of stories. 

Every trip I take, for work or pleasure, with or without my kids, in the US or abroad, there are always stories, and my close friends find them entertaining.  The one common thread are the unique characters and amusing situations. 

Then, there are everyday anecdotes regarding kids, friends, family, work, dating……life in general.  So I decided to start writing, recording many of these stories and my thoughts about simple stuff that’s important in my life.  The common thread will be me, and how I look at the world….from the sky.  All the stories will be written on a plane, which is fitting because I travel a lot, and I usually don’t work on planes.  Now I have something relatively productive to do.

So welcome to my life.