Erik’s Blog

We began World Cup final Sunday evening by heading to nearby Laredo, where we’d heard there might be a big screen set up on the beach. We were certain that we couldn’t take a 15.5 month old child to an enclosed space with Spanish fans because she’d die of fright from all the screams. We discovered that the beach screen was only a rumor, and the real big screen was in the old town hall square. We took one look at how packed the square was with people and turned around and headed back towards Colindres, but not before spotting a group of old ladies wearing red-yellow-red striped headbands singing A Por Ellos.

Once back in our home town, we chose our favorite soccer-viewing bar, El Vapor (The Steam), which is only about two hundred meters from our house. The twin brother of our friend with the restaurant in Laredo was already seated at a prime table, and he informed us that he was leaving before the game began and promised us his table. We would spend the game outside on the sidewalk looking into the bar through the glass to a projected screen. And it was a good thing we were outside, because, well, let’s just say that inside the bar, it lived up to its name.
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We had another successful Hamburgerfest this year for July 4th, with friends Agustin, Ana, Ivan, Veronica, Manolo, Elena, José Luis, and Azucena attending. In 2009, we came up almost short on hamburger meat, so this year we decided to make sure that definitely didn’t happen. As a result, we have about eight hamburgers left over to freeze or eat this week. Nora was very well behaved with the guests once her initial “who are all these people in my living room??” confusion wore off. And they were very good about warming up to her slowly. Agustin fed her a pretty big portion of his dessert of flan, ice cream and whipped cream, which endeared him to her at least for the duration of the dessert course.
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For a week now I’ve been seeing signs around town advertising the “I Festival de Cerveza de Colindres“, but none of the signs said exactly what or where it was, just the dates, June 17 – 20 and the bars that were sponsoring the event. I sort of assumed that it was going to be some discount on beers in those bars or something, but yesterday we ran into a friend that informed us that it was a big festival with bands in a tent near the town hall. Unfortunately, it has been cold and rainy all week, but today, on the last day of the festival, we went to check it out. This is what we found…
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On June 12, 2010, shortly before the United States faced off against England in their first World Cup match of the second decade of the third millennium, we had a party to celebrate the ninetieth birthday of my third grandfather. It was a lovely meal with good friends and family followed by a balloon-popping event, some gifts, and cake. A good time was had by all, even if Nora did manage to receive more gifts than the birthday boy.
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Nora, twelve days ago, on March 24, 2010, you turned one year old. They were perhaps the longest 365 days of our lives, but your mother and I made it…and are now the proud, if not dumbfounded, parents of a one year old. By a coincidence involving the date your great-grandparents chose to get married, we spent your first birthday in the United States. You showed your shiny new blue passport and grinned as the immigration official took your mother’s fingerprints and mugshot. Mommy only has a red passport. You did better than I expected on the transatlantic hop, preferring your mother’s lap to mine, thus allowing me to watch a few movies. They didn’t have a microwave on the plane, just an oven, so when the flight attendant tried to heat your vegetable puree lunch in a bowl, she only managed to heat the bowl. On the ninety minute third leg of the journey, we were exhausted, and you spent sixty of the ninety minutes crying as loudly as you could. I experienced this in surround sound, because you were to the left of me and a six-month-old (who was freakishly born with two teeth) was on my right failing to harmonize with you. We did not know until our seats were already chosen for the pond hop that it’s possible to request a bassinet on the long flights. We did so on the way back and it made a HUGE difference not to have you sitting on our laps the whole time.
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On Saturday, March 6, 2010, I attended the 517th annual Fest da Arribada (“Arrival Festival” in the Galician language) in Baiona, Galicia. In the port of that small town, 517 years ago, on March 1, 1493, a boat called La Pinta returned to Spain bringing news of a New World to the west, filled with bizarre mostly naked humans, corn, potatoes, peppers, tobacco, tequila and cowboys. It was the first of Christopher Columbus’ ships to return, and, should your childhood textbooks be believed (they absolutely should not!), the first proof that the Earth was not round. Normally Spaniards need little to no provocation to have a celebration, so there’s been no stopping this party for half a millennium!
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Yesterday, I was informed that Nora was expected to be at daycare at 9:00 this morning, dressed all in white, and with moisturizing cream applied to her face so that her face could be painted and she could be dressed as a snowball and paraded around the streets of town. It’s the annual Carnival parade, the time of year when Spanish kids, who have never had the Halloween costume tradition that American kids enjoy, get to dress up as various adorable things and parade around looking cute. Since I’m always a good sport about trying out traditions of my adopted country, I was there at 9:05 sharp with Nora dressed all in white, and my camera and video camera with empty memory cards and full batteries.
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The following is a document written by my father, Paul Rasmussen, about a recent golfing excursion to Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, USA.

On Monday Erik decided to fly to the States and join the fun known as the Myrtle Beach Classic. Betsy picked him up at the Charlotte airport Tuesday afternoon, and I fed them both tacos and Rioja when they arrived in Morganton. On Wednesday morning, Erik and Betsy went to Grace Ridge so Erik could visit with his Grandfather, and a little before noon on Wednesday, Erik and I climbed into the well-loaded van and headed for Myrtle Beach. On the way, we picked up Jeff in Hickory, along with his clubs, his suitcase, his guitar, his sleep machine, a case of beer, and his bongo drums. Jeff took his normal position in the van’s driver’s seat, I moved over to shotgun position, and with Erik in the back, we had a pleasant and uneventful trip to the ocean.
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Last Saturday night, two participants in the Myrtle Beach Classic 2010 went out on the town for a crazy night out. Have you ever woken up after a night of drinking and discovered photos on your camera that you didn’t remember taking? Or how about having a friend steal your camera from you and try to take the weirdest photos he can? Well, that’s what happened last Saturday. Ryan took Jacob’s camera and went a little crazy. I wasn’t present, but it’s fun to follow their evening from bar to bar through the photographs. Surprisingly, some of them are quite good photography, creative subjects and skilled framing.
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I wasn’t going to go on my annual golf outing this year for parenting reasons, mainly because I couldn’t leave Marga alone with the little primate beast for a full week. But then, at the last minute, my mother-in-law got sick; just the right amount of sick that she got time off work and was able to care for Nora. After double checking with my work and The Committee that hosts the event, I decided at the very last minute (16 hours before the flight) to go. Let me just say that it’s true what the psychologists say: Decision is the secret to unhappiness. There’s nothing like making a major decision (and this was only a week’s vacation, not moving to another country or anything) to make one miserable. However, once the decision was made, I immediately began to enjoy the trip. I was naively surprised to discover that me dumping Nora off on my in-laws was more of a favor than a burden. They were elated!
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