vienna

three months before giving birth, panzón and i decided to travel to prague and vienna. i had just gotten my spanish resident card and was thrilled to use it for the first time, so i deliberately left my passport at home. at the airport in prague, an immigration officer quickly glanced at our papers and let us through, a triumph for this proud resident of the european union.

after a couple of days in prague, we took a train to vienna. i noticed, as an impeccably uniformed man approached our seats and held out his hand, that the czech officials looked shabbier than their austrian counterparts. i confidently handed him my card and was slightly annoyed when he asked for my passport, until i heard the words only valid with passport. i instinctively lied that i had lost it in prague. he took our documents and gravely warned "i'll be back" (http://tr.im/yUFl). i didn't know if i should laugh or cry. i did a little of both.

when the train made its last stop, the terminator came back and let us off the hook, recommending that we immediately go to our embassy. i could not fathom wasting a perfectly lovely viennese day at the mexican embassy, so i disregarded his advice and convinced panzón, who knew better than to argue with a pregnant woman, to go sightseeing.

after leaving our things at the hotel, which was a university dorm catering to tourists during summer break, we ate wiener schnitzels, which have nothing to do with hot dogs, bought a block of hazelnut manner wafer cookies and walked around. i fantasized about skipping arm-in-arm with wolfie (http://tr.im/yUIZ), giggling away in a breast-bursting dress and feathered hat. tee hee hee!

panzón snapped me out of it by handing me the phone, having already dialed the embassy. i told the ambassador about loosing my passport in prague, knowing perfectly well that it was safely stowed in barcelona. i thought, and suggested, that he could give me some kind of note, like a bathroom pass at school, that would allow me to return to spain and that would be that. impossible! he wanted details, so we spent the rainy afternoon in his office.

ambassador: was it stolen? if it was, you have to report the robbery.

me: oh, no. it was accidentally left at the hotel.

ambassador: what hotel? address and telephone, please.

me: um, can we google it? *we googled*

ambassador: i'll call. if they find it, i'll have it mailed to my office and you won't be able to leave the country until then.

me: but our flight is tomorrow! what if they don't find it?

ambASSador: they will, if what you say is true. *gulp*

he personally called the hotel in prague. no signs of my passport. i would have to get a new, emergency passport. so, the next day, after reporting the "robbery" at the police station and rushing to get my picture taken, where i was told not to smile, which made me laugh uncontrollably, i got my austrian-issued mexican passport.
we barely made our flight.

wah-hah-kah

panzón and i got married in oaxaca, which is the capital of the state of oaxaca in mexico.

we first travelled there with our fellow architecture students and a couple of teachers on a private bus from guadalajara, armed with snacks, (hidden) beer and excitement. by the time we got there, eighteen hours later, we all looked (and probably smelled) terrible and a streak of fluorescent orange vomit decorated the side of the bus.

we quickly recovered after eating tlayudas, which are actually like really big tostadas, even though some people refer to them as mexican pizzas, under the giant laurel trees of oaxaca's main square (it's heart!), el zócalo. we walked around the city's colonial center and visited the 16th century convent-turned-hotel camino real (http://tr.im/yHy1), where i had a vision: this is where i am getting married to him *turned around and looked at panzón, who was oblivious to my vision*.

that night, we all went to la casa del mezcal, a true cantina, where you can taste different kinds of mezcal (worm or worm-less), which is similar to tequila. we ordered round after round of caballitos (shot glasses), each sip preceded by a ¡salud! and followed by a bite of orange or lime. five rounds later, i proudly declared myself reina del mezcal, or "mezcal queen", when i realized i was the only female left. my glory was crushed, as our friend kbuz, short for "caboose", walked in and mercilessly took my title by ordering six caballitos for herself. we crawled out of that cantina, at the innocent hour of nine o'clock, like arañas fumigadas, which literally translates to "fumigated spiders".

that night, we all sang wah-hah-kah. it turns out that the bus decoration was but a sign of what was to come.

mouse ears

i don't know the exact number of times i've been to disneyland in my life (too many to count with fingers and possibly even toes), but i'll write about the last four.

on the fourth to last time, i went with almovi and his wife, muntsa, who was pregnant with their first child. we each got a mouseketeer hat: almovi's said mies (as in mies van der rohe, german master of modern architecture), muntsa's said zyanya (their baby's name), and mine said panzón (my boyfriend at the time, my childhood friend/crush, my future husband). we got our picture taken with mickey mouse: eight mouse ears and one big belly. this memorable photograph would later haunt me, as a friend of almovi's commented, with childlike cruelty, that i didn't need a mouseketeer hat because i could have just painted my own ears, that stick out a little, black. grrrrrr.

anyway, on my third to last visit to disneyland, panzón and i got engaged. i'll leave this story for later, but i'll just say that it happened in the darkest moment of pirates of the carribbean, right before the first drop.

the second to last time i went to the happiest place on earth was last year. it was coco's first time, two months away from her first birthday, and it was not very happy at all. panzón, coco and i met with almovi and mutsa (pregnant with their third child) and their two beautiful daughters. coincidentally, the first ride we went on was pirates of the carribbean. i guess i had forgotten about the darkness, the drops, the bony pirates and the loud BOOM!s, but as soon as we got on the boat, i knew it was a mistake. coco cried during the entire ride. and on every ride after that. i feared a lifelong disneyland-trauma.

my last visit to disneyland was on tuesday. this time, panzón, coco and i went with loquillo. for coco's second time, two months away from her second birthday, we decided to avoid pirates all together and went directly to it's small world. to my relief, she absolutely loved it! she kept saying todos, referring to all of the children of the world singing together. we got her her own mickey ears, which she wore happily during the parade. the photos we took would later remind my mother of my own toddlerhood, when i would wear my mouseketeer hat as an everyday accessory in guadalajara, and panzón's mother and grandmother would call me ratoncita, meaning "little mouse".

igualada

around the time coco was conceived, panzón and i, quite ironically visited the igualada cemetery (http://tr.im/xVye) with our close friend, who everyone knows by loquillo, which means "smallish crazy man", a pretty accurate description. the cemetery was designed by catalan architects enric miralles (http://www.mirallestagliabue.com) and carme pinós (http://cpinos.com), who were married at the time. i had used this quarry-turned-cemetery as a reference for my thesis, that was about the reuse of abandoned industrial sites, but had not bothered to look it up before our visit, which is probably why it surprised me on many levels.

we got in our 1985 red two-door volkswagen golf, inserted the cassette that was connected to my ipod into the radio and began our short road trip away from barcelona. loquillo and i exasperated panzón, as always, by having multiple conversations at the same time, some of them pointless, some of them leftovers from another day, some of them mere parentheses.

after getting lost a couple of times in the cemetery's industrial surroundings, we finally crossed the enclosing gate, which was a victim of oxidation, and were greeted by a handful of delicate blossoming trees, scattered on a clearing. the complete lack of signs and people made us feel like we were entering a forgotten place and our descent towards the main space, enclosed by tomb-lined walls, but open to the sky, humbled us and reminded us of our own earthliness. just then, we saw the presence of the living: horrid benches and cheap trash cans and tacky plastic flowers, and we were reminded that is place is not forgotten.

maybe our visit wasn't ironic at all, maybe we unknowingly took home a lonely soul awaiting rebirth.

gemz

it seemed that, upon my arrival to mexico, i confused people, who, not seeing a bow or earrings, quickly assumed i was a boy. my short curly hair certainly didn't help. neither did my disgust for the color pink, nor my reluctance to wear dresses (this reduced the possibility of showing my underwear, which i believed was one of the biggest mistakes one could make. i must admit, however, that i did enjoy the repetitive display of men's underwear on torso-less, leg-less mannequins at department stores. and the stockings, one pointy-toed leg after another, all reaching for the sky).

it irritated me that these strangers didn't look further for hints of my subtle femininity. like my pink gem-studded moccasins (each shiny gem a different color), which were the only pink exception i allowed because of their comfort and uniqueness (after they were worn out and outgrown, i received a second, seemingly identical pair, which turned out to be, in my opinion, an inferior, gem-shedding replica). they could have seen that my outfit had beautiful, shimmery seashells on it, which everyone knows that boys never wear.

i would later become accustomed to the frustrating reactions of people to my appearance and would eventually thrive on them during my teenage years, when i wore my hair even shorter, my shoes even shinier, and my gems (glued) on my face.

two lines

the night after we confirmed, by peeing on a stick, coco's existence and imminent arrival, we went out to dinner for our anniversary, during which, over fondue (www.gadesfondues.com), we had one of many what-are-we-going-to-do conversations. well!, we agreed, first we need to find out if it's true, if the pregnancy test is right, right?

so, the next morning, i called the doctor's office and asked to make an appointment. "what for?", asked the receptionist, dryly. "i need to know if i'm really pregnant", i responded, voice and hands trembling. "what makes you think you're pregnant?", asked the receptionist, irritatedly. "the pregnancy test i bought at the pharmacy was positive", i explained, eyes welling up. "well then, you're pregnant, aren't you? what do you want to see the doctor for?", she said matter-of-factly, slapping me with her spanish (from spain) tone. "um...", i said, looking around, trying to find the words that were cruelly hiding from me at the moment. i panicked and hung up.

wow. home pregnancy tests are that accurate.

procrastination

motherhood changes you. there's no way around it. it changes your body forever because, even if you lose the weight afterwards, the pregnancy fairy always leaves something under your pillow. bigger feet, for example, or, in my case, a tiny shift of the tailbone. i'm also pretty sure my bellybutton moved, though i can't precisely tell in which direction. most of my senses are sharper now, making danger-detection easier. unfortunately, my eyesight didn't benefit at all from maternity.

motherhood also affects the brain. priorities are reprioritized and attitudes towards life (or at least towards giving life) are carefully reconsidered. procrastination is reduced to a minimum because there is certainly no room for laziness in motherhood. you have to act now and you have to plan ahead. always.

these are things that i didn't do on a regular basis before. i have found great empowerment in ridding myself of the sticky slime that is procrastination. and now that napping, a pastime that had given me great joy for years, has become (almost) extinct, i have made a huge discovery: i have enough motivation and time and newfound structure to actually do something productive with my creativity. bingo!