Chez Agnes

Marbella es despertares tardíos en habitaciones blancas.  Atardeceres frescos en la orilla del mar, la arena fría colándose entre mis dedos. Marbella es mojitos en la terraza envuelta en noches negras que huelen a dama de noche, salitre y rocío.

Jeez… it’s being a long week so far. Apparently, meteo is not willing to cooperate with us, poor souls, who have to work during august in Madrid. I mean… we all know it gets hot. VERY hot. But not like this!!! Yesterday night was the worst: 32ºC by 2 AM. Not even a flicker of wind… horrible, I can tell you. During the afternoons, the thermometer doesn’t hit anything under 40. So yeah… we’re basically sticking to the chairs when we are out having drinks, or melting otherwise. Cool. The worst part is, at work it is a totally different situation. Seems like we can’t get an intermediate temperature, and we’re kind of freezing there. Honestly… it’s being hard. For 2 weeks now I’ve had to wear jackets to work, and I have totally resigned to wearing skirts or open shoes. The two days I’ve tried, I’ve ended up covered by the blanket we will be giving in autumn. .. hard stuff, I’m telling you.

Y esterday night, I went to see “Up” with a friend. OMG… what a wonderful film! It’s in times like this that you don’t regret paying 7’50€ for the cinema… but the total opposite. Up is the kind of film anyone can watch: from the old to the “smaller” people, all of them being able to not only deeply enjoy it, but feel identified by the characters. Up is both a technical masterpiece and a wonderful and unexpected story. As I’ve read somewhere, it flies high, leaving us spectators with the sense of the money and time well spent. It makes you go from laughs to tears in seconds, along with delightful moments of cuteness, surprise, tenderness, and disappointment (only from some of the characters attitudes, mind you), all wrapped up in a brilliant and simple narrative. The story is about Carl Fredricksen, a widower and former balloon salesman with a square head that looks ready for giving a hard time to anyone careless enough to disturb. But Carl isn’t your typical American animated her...

Our A. wearing a striped skin-tight dress, heading towards home, quickly following her friend A. after a not so very pleasant look from a dancer in the Verbena de la Paloma. That’s what you get when you go for sexy sweetheart… some looks you can’t avoid. Word has it they had been sitting on a bench chatting and armed with a couple of frozen Mojitos… way to go girls! A. again, receiving the fright of her life, the moment she felt hands over her shoulders supposedly of the nasty-looking man. Once she discovered the hands on her shoulders weren’t his, but from her colleague and friend, R., she changed from scared, to funny but just a wee bit pissed. Not even her quick walk avoided the experience… he said he had seen the look, and went for the joke. The bastard.

Don’t know what’s tougher… that I’m actually back to work or that none of 2 best friends are going to be there when I’m back. The latter, I’m sure. Been reading the 300 mails that were awaiting me at work when I see a couple of e-mails from them… with their goodbyes. Ah. Miss them already, and I have only be back for a couple of hours. AnSunday was re-insertion day: relaxing, unpacking, getting Paris Vogue and buying a couple of somethings to eat. Or at least to fill my fridge… believe me, there’s nothing sadder than an empty fridge, seriously. By the time I arrived on Saturday, it was far too late to even think about going shopping, so, even though I knew it was going to be empty, I still wasn’t prepared for what I was going to see when I opened it. I could count 7 eggs, 6 yogurts, butter, some jamón serrano, a packet of ready-to-eat prawns and… that was much about it. So… Yeah… Sunday morning was all about finding a shop to get some things into my fridge and don’t feel utterly ...

Closing hours . For God Sake… why close so early?? We know you Brits measure different, drive different, pay different and all that stuff, but don’t you think it could be wise to open your shops/attractions/museums/etc just a wee bit later than 7PM?… that way, we wouldn’t just hop on to a consumist drive a minute after 7 when, like shopping-driven Cindirellas, we all end up in Top Shop, just because it open until 9. The timetables . Sorry, been there, done that… can’t seem to be able to adjust to your eating hours. 12:30 meal? 19:30 dinner? No way… no wonder Fridays alter 5, you only see people drinking in the bars… already drunk. I’ve been thinking, and I don’t seem to recall a time in which that happened in Spain. We’ve got our cañas, o’course… and the drinking too (well known is the botellón all over Europe) and then again, not in the same way. Seems like you lot drink different too, go figure. The lack of air conditioning awareness . Especially in the tube: Come on!!! melting on...

Sales assistants in Harrod’s . This people know their stuff, and know what we innocent consumers are paying for. So yes, they butter you up like the professionals they are, and you love them for it. Here’s an example: went to the Pet Shop at Harrod’s to get a present for my doggie (wasn’t going to get back with presents for everyone but him). Apart from being absolutely astonished by the variety of products, brands, etc. and the way they where displayed, I was totally absorbed by the Patisserie for Dogs. That’s right, patisserie. When approaching the sales assistant for help (I was just so thrilled and astonished by the shapes and colours that I couldn’t think straight) not only was I helped, but asked about my pet, his name, and even his picture! They also gave me links to find the delicatessen on-line, and some other tips… So jolly… Punctuality & manners . Just love it: Opening and closing hours are strict, so is the start of classes.And nowbody pushes you in the tube without...