New dancing shoes!

I bought what I first thought was the ugliest pair on the rack.

They are gold and silver with a butterfly pattern, not me at all -- even trying them on was out of the question. Then the shop owner said that it was her best selling model because of the way it fits and that I should try them on, especially because I have super narrow feet.

And I did and I bought them! Euro 109 *gasp* definitely the most expensive shoes I've ever owned.

They hug my foot perfectly and my toes don't stick out the front! To find shoes where my toes don't stick out is almost impossible unless I get them custom made, but I never have the patience for that.

These actually don't look bad when on -- they do not appear not as gaudy-goldy as they look. Besides, they are a dancing shoes -- they're supposed to be jazzy and all! I can't wait to wear them. My other three seem like the dogs have eaten them; they are going into the bin tomorrow.

Nails gone Gothic

Hmmm. I am liking.

Back to blogspot

Yeah, that whole Tumblr experience didn't last too long. It's a great program, and honestly I'd like to continue on it -- but a few things have brought me back here:

-- People cannot interact with me unless they email me. They cannot leave comments, nor can I measure traffic, nor can I link to other people, nor can I transfer all my archives to Tumblr, bla bla bla -- that's enough reasons to come back here I guess. I felt like I was writing to a wall on Tumblr.

Also, I can do everything I do on Tumblr on Blogger, and I feel like it's home on Blogger so yeah, I'm back! :) Maybe I will juggle the two, I dunno -- but Blogger will stay my home.

For those who checked me out on Tumblr, what did you think? (Please, someone tell me they saw me on Tumblr?)

Tumble Mumble

Well, in effort to not let my personal blog die, for the time being I'm switching to a Tumblog! It's easy, effortless, and makes your most invalid post seem valid! :)

So, until further notice, I'm going to be tumbling at www.abhamalpani.tumblr.com so do check me out there!

Why don't they have dustbins!?

I'm currently in Barcelona working for the European Radio Awards. Am staying at the swanky Hotel Arts, in quite a swanky room.

But the one thing that has made me swear more than 50 times in the last two days here is that my room doesn't have a dustbin!

It has a plasma screen with 3 remotes, a CD rack with a selection of music, a weighing scale, enough chocolate to feed a classroom of 4-year-olds, 3 pairs of bathroom and bed slippers, lots of lovely containers with potpourri, more than a few empty bowls on my sink in the bathroom (to spit in?), but no freakin' dustbin!

Don't people who stay in swanky hotels use dustbins? where do they throw their rubbish?

So I've been using my plastic bags to throw stuff. But since these dudes come to clean your room twice a day, I don't have any plastic bags left.

Oh, and 3 times in the last 2 days has some house-keeping person rang my doorbell, not waited for me to open, and walked right in. WHAT?! Anyway...(DEEP BREATH)...am not going to rant about that.

A "why the f*** don't you have dustbins" note is definitely going into their complaint box.

Curry night...

...for those who care to know: it was fine. The food almost got over, so I'm going to take that as a "Abha you can cook" signal, and leave it at that.

I didn't take pictures. For a few reasons:
- I felt it rather vain to take pictures of my own food. There were too many people in my house when I had finished cooking, so it was hard to do it without getting some smartass comments I really didn't want to deal with.
- The food didn't really look nice.

Oh well, next time!

My First Curry Night

So I'm cooking curry for the first time for...urrr...12 people tomorrow night. Holy shit.

When I told my mum, she said: "Why!?" (I've never cooked curry in my life, and I'm not particularly a good cook). I've hardly ever cooked for my parents either, so this reaction is not uncalled for.

My ex-flatmates from Valencia are coming for the night to Madrid, so it's in their honour. 15 months in Spain and it's kinda over due, don't you think?

"But you don't know how to cook Abha," says my flatmate Javi most innocently. "Should we bring some pizza backup?"

Guys I'm going to make this hot-ass curry, you will be begging for more.

(I wish!) *sigh*

I'm still quite excited though, but am freaking out a bit too. It's a lot of pressure to cook for a dozen people.

I have been making visits to the Bangladeshi spices shop for the last three days, to make sure I have the right stuff. I have been asking him for his opinion on what mixes are better than the other, then cross checking with my mum, stuff like that. He can't stop smiling as he speaks to me. I think he thinks I like him.

*sigh*

Menu is: chicken curry. gira-aloo. raita. gira-rice. and bhel! yeah can you believe it? bhel!? hahaha.

Will take some pics and post them, whether it works out or not.

My life lately...

I've been swamped writing a million things, but enjoying it just the same.

Panadol, Red Bull and Dorito's have become part of my staple diet, am averaging 5 hours of sleep at night, but that's ok -- perhaps I should work at getting 6 at least, then I'll be more than rocking.

I'm young, I've got blood in my veins -- one day the rush will die, so for now it's cool.

Have also started vlogging (video blogging), will share my silliness on camera at some point, even thought it's quite embarrassing.

Am off to Barcelona next weekend to work on the European Radio Broadcasting Awards, am excited about that (although I have no idea what I'm gonna be doing, but that's ok!)

Anyway, all for now -- stay tuned.

Quote of the day & off to Rome

"Don't worry if you can't sleep, there's always play dough."

It's been a while since some quote stuck with me for more than a few minutes! :)

Off to Rome in 5 hours for the weekend - ah the pleasures of living in Europe!

Will be seeing a close friend of mine I used to live with in Australia -- haven't seen her for 5 years! Plan is to eat lot's of pasta, drink lots of toxic lemonchelli, see some ruins, gossip and reminisce.

Otra razón por que me encanta España

Conversación en una panadería:

Dependiente: “Buenas, que te doy?

Yo: “Tienes Red Bull?”

Dependiente: “Si, claro.”

Me da una bota de algo rojo con letras en color negro y plata que se llama: “Torro XL”

Yo: “Pero eso no es Red Bull.”

Ella: “Es igual, y mas barato.”

Genial :)

Writing for Gadling

All my incessant mindless blogging has finally borne fruit -- as of today I have started writing for Gadling, one of the hottest travel blogs on the blogosphere; I am thrillllllllled!

If you are even remotely interested in traveling and you don't read Gadling, shame on you! Read Gadling -- it's one of the top 1000 blogs according to Technorati.

So, yes now I'm blogging for a bit more than just beer money! YAAAY :)

Check out my first post here!

Explaining what I am doing with my life...

...this was something I really had to tackle when I decided to quit my job and move to Spain. Before Spain came through, the original idea was Costa Rica -- which amounted for bigger explanations to everyone from my my boss, my friends, my parents to my turtle, my watchman, our cleaning lady, the supermarket delivery guy and long lost uncles in New Jersey.

This is what my latest post on Vagablogging deals with, read it here.

The Tango Slap

I went to my first Milonga (tango gathering) yesterday.

To my delight, although I was sitting quietly in a corner, I was quickly swept up to dance. But this is all I heard.

"Abha don't move your hips!"

"Contain all your energy inside you and maintain your body stiff."

"Your energy needs to be kept in balance with your body's axis, this isn't a free dance -- don't let go."

"Do not move unless you feel forced to by the man you are dancing with; submit to him completely."

"Tango has nothing to do with any of the Latin dances you dance; you need to forget everything you have learnt in salsa, chacha, merengue and bachata."

So I got demoted to a beginners class. I didn't get up to dance again.

For someone who has been dancing for the last 4 years, being told you can't do a particular dance is acceptable, but nonetheless a huge dent to your ego.

You become so used to being a rockstar on the dance floor that when suddenly told all the above, that feeling of being a novice again, isn't fun.

It was my first tango social, and I was quite surprised how entirely different the tango ambiance is to the salsa ambiance. The people were older, dressed in (mainly black) elegant dresses as opposed to provocative slinky salsa stuff. People dance with an intensity that doesn't even permit them to keep their eyes open; in salsa if you don't look at the person and at least smile whilst dancing, it is an insult.

Tango is the opposite of every reason I choose to dance. I dance to let go, to be silly, to feel free, to laugh, to disconnect. Tango is everything but these things.

I still liked being there though. I felt the need to be able to dance like that, if only -- just to be able to.

But but no way will it ever replace my salsa dancing; at least while I am still young, energetic and flexible.

Trying Tango Again

A few years ago, with utter ganas of getting back into a dance class, I went to a tango lesson.

As a salsa dancer who had a salsa instructor as a boyfriend and taught with him for a significant period, I don't have the patience to go to a salsa class anymore, I also find it below my dignity now. Yes, give me a black star for having said that out loud. Unless it's a super-advance class where you have guys who are actually advance dancers, you learn nothing and you feel like an idiot. For those who didn't realize, all the advance dancers are on the dance floor, not in an academy; so that's where you need to be to get better if you are a seasoned dancer.

Anyway, so in my first tango class a few years ago, I loved the dance. It had this profound seduction that took no time to win me over. But the problem was the music. I couldn't stand it, nor could I follow it. It annoyed me and stressed me out. I felt rigid and restricted. Also, the seriousness of the dance got the better of me, I couldn't handle it. I could never go back.

Recently something stirred in me and I decided to give it another try. And this time I loved it -- music, seriousness and all. To the extent that I have decided I want to learn all of it, and maybe even perform one day -- something that has not appealed to me in 4-years of dancing salsa. Perhaps it's because I'm older now. (?)

Tango is the complete opposite of salsa.

In salsa, all your energy is out there -- wild, fun and sexy. In tango, you have to contain all your energy inside you -- to feel powerful, intense, smooth and seductive. Your look alone should have the power to kill.

There is something very appealing about having the power to do that. About being able to channelize and balance all your energy in the centre of your body so as to be able to give-in gracefully to the man you are draped around while you are dancing.

My impatience wants me to conquer the art NOW. Will need a few months to begin with though. I'm excited.

I'm already imagining myself with a high-slit black dress and red stilettos circling the dance floor with all my energy centred for the man to take control of.

As someone who loves to be silly, I just need to learn how to keep a straight face when I have to give my partner that piercing gaze that kick starts the dance.

Sometimes you just need a cry

I walked home this morning on a crisp and sunny autumn day in Madrid. I felt the cold and minty-fresh breeze on my face, and through my clothes. I had goosebumps. It was early, so it was still quiet and I could hear the fallen leaves crunch under my boots.

I was cold, I had a headache; yet I felt the day to be beautiful. The newspaper boy smiled to me as he handed me todays paper, the street musicians were tuning their instruments to begin earning a living, I smelled coffee and churros as I passed a few old-man cafes. And suddenly I realized how much has happened in my life over the last 8 months in Madrid.

I started getting flashes of all the good times, and all the down times; of all the wonderful people I have met and personal relationships I have made that I know will last me a lifetime; of how hard I have worked, of how little money I have earned, of how I'm lucky that I don't have to give a shit about my income at the moment.

Of family - deep gratefulness,love and longing to feel home; of lovers - ecstasy and heartbreak; of friends who have never let me feel alone, and of friends who have disappointed me.

Of how much I have achieved and grown personally in the last year. Of how much I love my life, yet of how much I still feel very alone sometimes, although I have no good reason to. Of how insecure I get, of how much I want to share, of how my walls stand higher than they ever have been.

I thought your life only flashed before you when you are dying.

Anticipation, excitement, fear, solitude, independence, happiness, disappointment, vulnerability -- I felt all this in the same instance.

Funny how a bad nights sleep and an early morning autumn walk can ruffle-up all this. I was abruptly overwhelmed so I sat down and started to cry.

Sometimes you just need a cry.

I'm in a travel-writing book!

Helen Leggatt from So Much World found me a while ago and asked me to write her something on being an aspiring travel-writer and my views on writing for free. I sent her some words, and the eBook (Writing About Travel For Fun And Profit) she was going to use it for is now out -- and I have a page dedicated to me (pg 59), photo and everything!

Other people quoted in the book are hot-shot travel writers who have worked for the likes of National Geographic and Conde Nast Traveller, so I was pretty kicked to share a book with them.

The book is a wonderful no-frills guide to making it as a travel-writer, so if you are even remotely interested in the idea, you can download it here for free.

Now I see it...

I seem to be having many a over-blogging and under-blogging phases these days.

Phases of being swamped, uninspired, hungover; phases of my eyes wanting to bleed from the number of hours glued to the screen; phases of sitting those number of hours and watching the best of YouTube leaving me tired and brain numb — an excuse not to write.

But with the ultimate goal of writing something worth being read, elation and oomph has occasionally overtaken and produced some work I am happy with...(read the rest here)

Cold Chicken and Computers

Cold grilled chicken (which actually tastes great by the way), coffee, Chinese food, Doritos, Cookie Crunch, coffee, diet Coke (which I only drink because I think normal Coke is way too sweet), beer, Martini rojo (which if you still haven't tried, you're a loser of the first degree), coffee, Chinese food, Doritos, Cookie Crunch, coffee, diet Coke...has been my staple diet over the last week or so.

I officially establish this as my never-filling-therefore-keep-eating writing diet that has shockingly served to be very productive. I have been writing heaps this last week, so come time to write my blog unless I have cold chicken left, it's not happening. I think it's the size of the cold chicken and it's utter feel good deliciousness has helped me stay glued to my computer until I finish the whole animal.

The ends justify the means. I still weigh the same so it's all good.

(Thought this was an important detail of my life that you'd like to know.)

Pet Planning

"Hey, do you like pets?," my flatmate asks me as she runs into my room, jumping up and down with the biggest smile on her face.

"Yeah, sure I do. Why do you ask?," I say.

"Well, we are planning on getting one for the house!!," she replies, still jumping up and down.

"Cool," I say, intrigued to figure out what she had in mind.

Her smile and grin gave me the idea that it wasn't going to be a 'normal' pet.

"What, a dog? A cat? A mouse? What do you want to get?" I ask with a straight face, knowing that it's definitely none of these.

"Noooo. Everyone has one of those, I was thinking about getting a turtle," she says.

I think, ok, not a monkey or a rabbit, a turtle - I can live with a turtle.

"Do you like turtles?"

"Not particularly," I say meekly. (It's a reptile!!!)

"But they are adorable! Small, slow, easy to maintain."

To which I say: "Fine, get one -- it'll have to live in a bucket of water though in one of our balconies, right?"

"Well, we are thinking of getting an earth turtle that doesn't need water, and we don't want it caged -- it will be allowed to walk freely in the house, and it's home will be your balcony."

"First of all who is "we", and what do you mean it can walk freely in the house!?"

"Everyone is fine with it, I just need you to be ok with it. Of course it will walk freely, why would we want a pet if we wanted to keep it in a cage? Do you have a problem with that?"

Umm... YES. I DON'T WANT A REPTILE WALKING AROUND THE HOUSE. WHY WOULD YOU WANT A REPTILE WALKING AROUND THE HOUSE!? HOW IS THAT HEART-WARMING IN ANYWAY? HOW DOES THAT MAKE OUR HOME A BETTER PLACE TO LIVE IN?

That's what I was thinking, but all I could muster was: "I'm scared of turtles. One walking around the house freely would freak me out."

So I was a party pooper, and because of me, no free-walking reptile in the house.

WHY WOULD YOU WANT A FREE-WALKING REPTILE IN THE HOUSE!?

Writing for Vagabonding!

I read a book about two years ago that was key in changing my life to live the way I live now.

The book is Vagabonding -- An Uncommon Guide To The Art of Long Term Alternative Travel, by Rolf Potts.

And guess what! Today I have started blogging for Rolf at Vagablogging!

How often do you read something, get inspired by the writer, and then get to write for him!?

I'm thrilled!