One thing I miss about living in Spain the most is the Spanish coffee. I mean, our two countries are quite similar in that aspect, neither government can function without coffee, but while American govies usually get their coffee really hot, really weak and in really big cups, their Spanish counterparts drink their coffee out of these cute tiny European coffee cups, their coffee is so strong it can wake up dead people, and it is usually served at a temperature fit for human consumption.

The very nature of American coffee makes it impossible to go out and drink it with your co-worker. I mean people band together to “get” coffee, but that is the extend of the coffee brotherhood. After getting a coffee everyone quietly sips it at their desk. It is impossible to do it any other way – it would take forever to drink it, and you just can’t do it on taxpayer’s dime.

Things are different in Spain. Every self respecting organization, military unit or government office has their own coffee bar. I mean even the Department of Motor Vehicles has its own coffee bar! You go out to drink coffee, and the whole venture does not take more than 10 minutes.

So, as I was trundling around the Pentagon hallways, reminiscent of the good old days, when I saw a red, yellow and red flag on one of the uniforms. I could not believe my luck. I actually encountered a real, live and breathing Spaniard, right here in the Pentagon! I now have someone to drink Spanish coffee with!

***

Word of the Day for Friday, November 30, 2012

trundle \TRUHN-dl, verb:

To move or walk with a rolling gait.

They get her into a wheelbarrow and trundle her all over town.

— Alice Munroe, Meneseteung

Fling leaflets down basements; expose them in stalls; trundle them along streets on barrows to be sold for a penny or given away.

— Virginia Woolf, A Room of One’s Own: Three Guineas

Trundle, first used in the 1500s, may originate from the Old English trendel, “ring or disk,” which is also the root of the modern English trend

My stay at the Spanish Army Infantry Academy at Toledo had come to an end.  These were incredible four weeks, and every day spent at the Academy was a great learning experience for me.  I audited a fair number of classes for their cadets, which were similar to classes taught at our Infantry Officer Basic Courses, and got a chance to listen to classes for their infantry captains attending a transition course.  In the mornings I spent an hour teaching in English classes like Military Decision Making Process, Targeting, or Troop Leading Procedures to the cadets, and in the afternoon I taught the same classes to those faculty members of the Academy that desired to improve their English skills and their knowledge of our staff procedures.  During this month spent at the Academy my knowledge of the Spanish Army improved tremendously, as well as my level of military Spanish.  I have established contacts and friendships within the Spanish Officer corps that will last me a lifetime.  I also got a chance to conduct a daily physical training with the cadets, and I have to admit that I am quite impressed with the level of their physical fitness.  I was able to take part in a Field Training Exercise, and had an opportunity to become intimately familiar with their basic infantry weapon systems, such as H&K G-36 rifle, and their H&K MG2 light machinegun.

On my last two days at the Academy, as my parting gift for the cadets, I gave them an opportunity to try to pass our Army Physical Fitness Test and those deserving cadets who have met the standards will be awarded the US Army Physical Excellence Badge in a near undetermined future.  Sometime in April, I will coordinate for an alternate qualification range, where the cadets will get a chance to qualify with their weapons according to the US Army standards, and these who will meet the standards, will be awarded an Expert qualification badge.

On 6^th of March 2011, I will be flying to Poland, where I will spend 12 days in a staff certification exercise.  The purpose of this exercise is to prepare a Polish Army Brigade staff for their deployment to Afghanistan.  I will have a chance to use my language skills, combat experience and staff experience in order to help prepare better our allies for their upcoming rotatation.  I am really looking forward to this.

My goal for the week following the trip to Turkey was to catch up on administrative matters.  It still costs me a great deal to use the DTS and APACS systems, but I am learning fast to become more proficient with it.  While in Turkey, I caught some kind of virus, which I readily passed onto the rest of my family that was with me on that trip.  Nevertheless, on Saturday we went to visit the Spanish city of Avila, which also serves as the capital of the Avila province.  Avila was founded in 5^th Century BC and is located approximately 120 km Northeast of Madrid.  The city is famous for its city walls, which remain intact since the 11^th century, and it is also one of the cities with the highest ratio of churches to its inhabitants in Spain.

On Saturday night, I had a chance to experience the Spanish Army Military Hospital emergency room, as I took my one-year-old there.  One of the surprising things about the Gomez Ulla Military Hospital that I discovered, is that it actually serves mostly the community that it located in, and there are only a few military personnel that still use its medical services.  Apparently, two years ago the hospital was incorporated into the civilian public health care network.  Although it is still mostly manned by military personnel, its patients are the citizens of the Madrid’s districts of Latina and Carabanchel.

I got a chance to become intimately familiar with the Emergency Room there.  The following day I took my one-year-old there again, and this time he was admitted as an in-patient.  For three days I was able to experience the level of care given to the little patients of the Military Hospital, and I have to admit that it was great.

Thursday, following my extended stay at the Military Hospital, was quite busy.  I found out that in order for me to Observe and Control (OC) the Bagram exercise with the Polish Army, I need to attend the “Train the Trainer” session in Poland in order to get certified as an OC.  After receiving a verbal authorization for the trip I coordinated for my 6 day visit to Poland.  That same day I went to the Conference sponsored by the Spanish Ministry of Defense.  The conference was about the Effects of Arab Spring in the North of Africa on the European Union and the NATO, and the material was presented by the Spanish SEGENPOL, or the General Secretary of the Defense Politics.  Alejandro Alvargonzález San Martín has been nominated for that position by the new Spanish president only a week earlier, yet he was able to present the current Spanish policy towards the countries affected by the Arab Spring in a very informative and well researched manner.  Everyone who was anyone in the Spanish Defense community was present at the conference, to include three representatives of the American Office of Defense Cooperation.  Following the conference there as a social which gave me an opportunity to expand my personal network and trade business cards with Spaniards.

On Monday, I received a security briefing at the US Embassy in Warsaw, and I departed via train to Miedzyrzecz, the home of the Polish Army 17^th Mechanized Brigade.  This unit provided the bulk of the OC personnel for the certification process of the deploying unit.  I was pleasantly surprised by the level of professionalism displayed by the American instructors from the Joint Multinational Readiness Center (JMRC).  Given an extremely short notice they were able to put together a training package to prepare the Polish OCs for the upcoming training that was both valuable and pertinent.  I was also impressed by our Polish partners, who received the training entirely in English – yet they actively participated in classes, asked questions and contributed to the overall quality of training through their valuable insights and experience.  The facility designated for training and the reception by the Polish Army was outstanding as well.  On Wednesday, at the conclusion of the day’s training I organized a historical trip for the American crew to the German bunker system that was supposed to protect Berlin from the Soviet advance.  The bunkers are connected by a network of 100 kilometers of underground tunnels complete with an electric train, they have all the support facilities, and were designed to be almost entirely self sufficient, with their own water system, plumbing, heating and electricity generation.  These fortifications were designed to be manned by 21,000 military personnel and are the second largest in Europe.

The weekend following my return from Poland I went to visit the Royal Palace in Madrid.  The Palace was first constructed in 9^th century by the Muslims and was designed as a defensive castle.  Destroyed by fire in 1734, it was rebuilt by the Spanish King Felipe V and designated as the Royal Palace.  The Palace is still officially listed as his Majesty the King residence, although the King no longer lives there; the palace is used for hosting official events though.  It is also open to public as the part of the Spanish National Heritage.

Today is a big day for me.  In August I shipped my motorcycle to Spain from New Jersey, I shipped it at a personal expense.  It arrived to Barcelona in September, and I was very naïve to think that to pick it up from customs would be as easy as sending it to Spain.  Two months and couple of thousand of Euros later I finally collected all the documents necessary to pick my bike up from the customs.  It turns out that registering the bike in Spain is a task in itself, and it extremely time consuming.  So today, I will finally pick up my Harley from the shop that worked on it to ensure that it meets the Spanish technical requirements.  I should be able to finally pass the technical inspection, and if everything goes right I should even be able to finally register it.  Although I don’t keep my hopes up to high, since when it comes to Spanish bureaucracy, nothing ever goes right.

I am proud to report that I finally got my go ahead to audit the Spanish Major’s Course for a month – I am supposed to start attending the Infantry Academy in Toledo this week pending an official request from the Army Attaché in Madrid.

Yeah, so yesterday I went to a conference to hear what the new Spanish General Secretary for the Defense Politics (SECGENPOL) had to say about the Arab revolts in North Africa.  It was a rather interesting experience, I shall add.  A lot of generals attended; a lot more than is required for me to start feeling a bit uncomfortable.

Good guy that SECGENPOL.  The government in Spain just recently changed from left to right, and the Mr. Alejandro Enrique Alvargonzales San Martin (say that 10 times really fast!) has been nominated for his post only a week and half ago, and yet he had to come to this conference and speak in a perspicacious manner for a couple hours to a whole bunch of smart people (yours truly not included).  That is impressive.

There was a part for questions at the end of the conference.  I really wanted to ask a question.  Just because I thought it would be cool to personally ask a question a Spanish General Secretary for the Defense Politics, and let’s be honest: I like to be in the center of attention, and I like to hear myself speak (yes I know that might sound a bit vain).  But then a dose of reality settled on me.  I realized I can’t really come up with anything intelligent to ask, and even if I did, I probably would not sound intelligent at all, considering the level of my Spanish.  As a matter of fact I would probably make an idiot out of myself.  It was a good decision on my part, I shall add; there were some brilliant questions asked that evening.  Of course there were a few stupid questions asked too, to include a question asked by a dude who introduced himself as a Political Science Student at the Universidad Complutense.  The guy looked very feminine, had a pretty blue ribbon in his long, black, luscious hair, stylish earrings in both of his ears, and asked a long ass question that consisted of two parts, and both parts just screamed “Aha!  I am going to get you, you know, you imperialist son of a gun!”.

Yeah, sometimes it is just better to sit back and relax and watch others making idiots out of themselves.

 ***

 Word of the Day for Monday, January 16, 2012

 perspicacious \pur-spi-KEY-shuhs, adjective:

 1. Having keen mental perception and understanding; discerning.

2. Archaic. Having keen vision.

 You are perspicacious, know the ways of the world, and are more tactful than most men of your age.

— Alexandre Dumas, The Count of Monte Cristo

More perspicacious neighbors, the Paulsens among them, suspected that Joey also enjoyed being the smartest person in the house.

— Jonathan Franzen, Freedom

Perspicacious is derived from the Late Latin word perspicācitās meaning “sharpness of sight.”

Yeah, so I wanted to do something nice for the Spanish Army the other day.  You know, the Spanish Army have been really good to me, and nothing says THANK YOU better than a liter of warm human blood in a plastic baggie. 

I made a mistake of answering YES to one of the questions on donor’s questionnaire.  It was but a silly thing , but I felt obligated to disclose it – explaining  in a detail what it was.  It never stopped me from donating blood in the States anyway, so I did not think that it was a big deal.  Well, as it turns out, the Spanish are very persnickety about things like that, and until I have an official document with a blue stamp that states the exactly same thing that I put down on that questionnaire, I guess cannot donate blood for the Spanish Army.

The blue stamp strikes again!  Although the nice lady at the blood bank did not specifically say that the document needs to be stamped in blue, I just assumed that this is an implied task, since I have not seen a single document in Spain that did not have that dreaded blue stamp.

Oh well.  I guess there will no Polish-American blood flowing in a Spaniard for a while.

***

Word of the Day for Wednesday, January 18, 2012

persnickety \per-SNIK-i-tee, adjective:

1. Overparticular; fussy.

2. Snobbish or having the aloof attitude of a snob.

3. Requiring painstaking care.

These critics can take some consolation by looking at the recent rehabilitation of Hamilton Grange, the upper Manhattan house built by founding father Alexander Hamilton. It shows just how persnickety a preservation project can be.

— Robbie Whelan, “Historic Home on the Grange,” The Wall Street Journal, December 11, 2011

The point here is to make your animal understand that its upstairs neighbour is exceptionally persnickety about territory.

— Yann Martel, Life of Pi

Persnickety dates back to the late 1800s. It is a variant of the Scots word pernickety, which is of uncertain origin. Pernickety is perhaps related to other Scots words with the per- prefix, like perskeet which meant “fastidious.”

Spanish Bikers are just cool.  I mean, they ride like they own the place – the rules of the road don’t seem to apply to bikes here.   If the traffic slows down or stops, they weave in and out and between the cars, with the lissome easiness and in style.  In Madrid it is OK to ride on the side of the road while the poor chaps enclosed in the metal of their cars are stuck on a highway that looks like a giant parking lot.  It is even OK to ride on a sidewalk – with moderation of course.

I dig it.  I am still a bit uneasy about driving like this – my seventeen year old habit of driving my motorcycle as it was a car is hard to break.  But you know what?  It really does feel good to ride on the shoulder of the road, and not having to worry about the cops.

There are a couple of motorcycle lessons about driving in Spain that I’ve learned today.  First, the Spaniards love their fountains.  They tend to put them in the center of traffic circles all over the city.  As it became clear to me, on a cold wintery day like today, the road in a close proximity to a fountain is covered with ice.  That was freaky feeling, when out of the sudden you are riding on pure glass.  Another thing that I have learned today, is that your expensive fancy motorcycle rain suit that you put on not because it is raining, but because it is cold, and the expensive fancy chromed pipes on your Harley don’t really get along.

***

lissom \LISS-uhm\ , adjective;
also lissome:
1. Limber; supple; flexible.
2. Light and quick in action; nimble; agile; active.

Raphaelle Boitel moves with the lissom, contortionist plastique of a snake-woman.
— Nadine Meisner, “Clowns real and imagined”, Independent, April 20, 2001

Her foot touches the plate and sets off the trap, but so swift and lissome is she that her ankles evade the clash of the serrated iron jaws as they spring together.
— John Bayley, Iris and Her Friends

Lissom is an alteration of lithesome, which derives from Old English lithe, “flexible, mild, gentle.”

On 4 November 2011 I commenced my regional travel.  My first destination was the Basque city of San Sebastian in Northern Spain.  What I expected to see was a rundown city, neglected by the Spanish Government since General Franco’s times.  What I saw was a booming modern metropolis that is the pride of the region.  Until now I was under the impression that is the poverty that breeds insurgency and social unrest, and this is how I always thought of the ETA’s 50 year old struggle for independency, but after my visit to San Sebastian I am forced to revise my previous thought process. After talking to my Spanish counterparts I realize that ETA’s struggle was supported by rather a small number of Basques, both French and Spanish; but the overwhelming majority is content with the current status quo.  I was also surprised to see how many people actually do speak Basque language – approximately 30% of all Basques are fluent speakers and the language is making a strong comeback – over 50% of young people speak it fluently, mostly due to regional emphasis on Basque as the language of instruction in public schools.

Our next stop was the French city of Bayonne and Lyons.  It was an eye opening experience for me.  Until now I have always thought about French language as a backdrop for cheap romantic comedies, not as a real language.  I have actually met only two or three Frenchmen in my entire life.  Suddenly, I found myself surrounded by people who spoke French, and only French, which was pretty much a shock therapy for me.  Even in a local restaurant the only word on the menu that sounded familiar to me was a word “Poissons”, which needless to say made me a bit nervous when ordering food.

In Stuggart I visited the EUCOM HQ.  I talked to a number of desk officers there, getting a really good idea about what their duties and responsibilities, and the countries that they are responsible for.  I have also received briefings from a number of other sections, which was an excellent learning experience for me, as well as an opportunity to establish contacts.  I have also had an opportunity to intimately get to know the German health care system, for I spent one night with my youngest one in a German emergency room.

In Heidelberg I spend a day with the Country Desk Officers at USAREUR.  We received numerous briefings, and got a chance to spend significant time with the political advisor.  On the German side we received briefing about the state of the German Armed Forces from the German Army Liaison Officer and received a brief crash course in the history of German re-unification, and the problems that this process have caused and is causing.  I have also spent a significant amount of time getting to know Heidelberg itself, getting familiar with the city, the culture and the German people.

On 14 November 2011 I started my second Spanish Professional Military Education course, the Peacekeeping Operations.  The course is designed for Lieutenant Colonels and Colonels level, although there are a couple captains and a small numbers of majors, to include yours truly.  The course is interesting and it accelerates the expansion of my Spanish vocabulary, but what is even more interesting than the course is the composition of the student body.  The most significant person on the Spanish side is the future commander of the Airborne Brigade; but we have a number of officers from the Latin American Countries, to include Columbia, Peru, Uruguay, Paraguay, Guatemala, Ecuador, Brazil, and Chile to name the few. If I was a Latin American FAO I would be all set after this course, because these contacts are very solid; the Guatemalan Colonel for example has confessed to me yesterday that he is getting ready to pin on his first star.  We also have an Argentinean Navy Commander, who boasts of being a veteran of the War over Falklands with the UK, and what I found extremely intriguing – a Venezuelan full bird colonel.  The Venezuelan is very quiet and keeps to himself – I have not seen him really talking to anyone yet.

I am supposed to graduate from this course on 1^st December 2011.  The attaches from all of the participating countries will be present – I will request that our attaché supports my graduation on that day.

On the personal side, my two month long battle to get my Harley out of the Spanish customs has come to a happy ending.  I proudly announce that I am re-united with my motorcycle once again.

So, today on a way to work, a young guy walked up to me with an official looking folder and a clipboard and a petition.  He pointed at his mouth and ears, and then pointed at a paper on the clipboard.  It said on the paper that this is a petition to the Spanish Government to construct a center for the deaf in Madrid.  He asked me to sign the petition in a horrible sounding Spanish.  Talking with the deaf guy was a metempirical experience for me, but I just assumed that it was a miracle that he could speak at all, being deaf and everything.

Of course I could not say “no” to a deaf guy asking to sign a petition for such a noble cause.  I filled out my name, and signed right next to it, noticing later that this was a part where I should have written my zip code.  My deaf comrade did not seem to care; he just wanted for me to hurry up and finish signing the petition.  I put down my home town, and to my surprise, I then saw the column where I was supposed to write how much money I am donating to this cause.

I am normally very wary when people ask me for money; a wise Chinese saying goes: “A fool and his money part quickly.”  But this caught me completely by surprise.  There I was, standing next to a deaf guy, with my pen over the “donation” column; feeling like a fish feels out of the water.  What to do, what to do?  I remembered I had some change in my packet, reached out and grabbed it, regretting that move the moment I did it.  Yup there it was.  The three Euros I had for lunch that day.  I wrote big number “3” in my column and gave up my lunch money to the deaf guy with a loud sigh.  The guy looked me in the eyes and asked for a 20, a greedy deaf little bastard.  I shook my head and walked away.  The deaf guy walked away too, and joined other four deaf guys with clipboards.  I followed them with my eyes.  One of the deaf guys pulled out a pack of cigarettes and shared them with the group.  Another one said a joke in a foreign language, I think it was Romanian, and all of them laughed loudly.

Yup.  “The fool and his money part quickly”.  I think I was just conned by a Romanian.

***

Word of the Day for Wednesday, November 2, 2011

metempirical \met-em-PIR-i-kuhl, adjective:

1. Beyond or outside the field of experience.

2. Of or pertaining to metempirics.

…but the quality of her innate wit had deepened, strange “metempirical” (as Van called them) undercurrents seemed to double internally, and thus enrich, the simplest expression of her simplest thoughts.

— Vladimir Nabokov, Ada, or Ardor, a Family Chronicle

Still however, instead of aspiring to becoming rigorous and metempirical, poetry lives by the heart, the sense and singing.

— Kahlil Gibran with Andrew Dib Sherfan, The Third Treasury of Kahlil Gibran

Metempircal derives from the Greek words met- meaning “beyond or before” and empirical meaning “experience.”

I have to say I’ve been a bit busy lately.  For three weeks now I have been enrolled in Spanish Peacekeeping Observer course, and this is why.  Although the frequency of my WoD declined, I did not give up on it yet.

Yesterday, two civilians mooted journalism for discussion in class.  They turned out to be professional journalists, and no, they did not teach us how to write for living.  They were teaching us how to deal with the likes of them, sharing the tricks of the trade that the journalists use “to get people”.  Later we even had a practical exercise.  And I tell you, the Spaniards went all out, prepared an interview room with flags cameras, and everything, and two students were chosen to give a mock interview, while the rest of the class watched the events to unfold on a TV screen.  And guess who was picked.  Yup, you guessed correctly, the only American in the class, namely I.  And yes, I did fall for every trick they taught in class to avoid.  It is hard to give interviews when all a journalist wants is to get you.  But after the exercise I felt better prepared to deal with the journalists, ready to apply my newfound knowledge in real life.

And low and behold, as I was walking on calle Serrano, a girl with a microphone chose me out of the crowd of pedestrians and approached me, her crew with their big ass camera followed.  She asked if she can ask me a question, and I said “yes”, trembling with anticipation.

And then she asked something about Andalucia and llanas, and I had absolutely no clue what she said.  I asked to repeat the question, and observed as her happy facial expression is changing to denote disappointment.  And then she told her boys to turn around, leaving me standing there, all alone, in the middle of calle Serrano.

Yup, I had my chance for five minutes of fame and I blew it.  I guess I am not becoming a Spanish celebrity after all.

***

Word of the Day

moot \moot, adjective:

1. Open to discussion or debate; doubtful.

2. Of little or no practical value or meaning; purely academic.

3. Chiefly Law Not actual; theoretical; hypothetical.

verb:

1. To present or introduce (any point, subject, project, etc.) for discussion.

2. To reduce or remove the practical significance of; make purely theoretical or academic.

3. Archaic To argue (a case), especially in a mock court.

noun:

1. An assembly of the people in early England exercising political, administrative, and judicial powers.

2. An argument or discussion, especially of a hypothetical legal case.

3. Obsolete A debate, argument, or discussion.

“What do you mean, ‘moot’?” “I mean moot. It’s taken care of. The documents are notarized. I’m recouping my lawyer’s fees and that’s the end of it.”

— Jonathan Franzen, The Corrections

As for Maddy, my only point would be that a suitable age for dating becomes moot if nobody’s asking.

— Marion K. Douglas, Dance Hall Road

Moot is derived from the Old English gemot “meeting.” The adj. senses of “debatable” and “not worth considering” arose from moot case, earlier simply moot (n.) “discussion of a hypothetical law case” (1530s), in law student jargon, in reference to students gathering to test their skills in mock cases.

So, last week I started a Spanish peacekeeping operations course.  I like it.  Today we had a field day, we practiced with land mines, but first we had to see a couple very graphic presentations, definitely not for the milquetoasts or faint hearted. 

On the way back in the bus the Spanish officers were teaching me how to swear in Spanish, the military way.  They had way too much fun while doing it, and I played along well.  I am learning tons of Spanish.  Love it.

Word of the Day for Sunday, October 9, 2011 

milquetoast \MILK-tohst, noun:

A very timid, unassertive, spineless person, especially one who is easily dominated or intimidated.

He played the quintessential meek, scrawny, milquetoast character.

— Iris Johansen, Fatal Tide

It was hard to believe that a milquetoast coward like myself could be involved in such a clandestine and dangerous operation.

— Walter Mosley, Fear of the Dark

Milquetoast is after Caspar Milquetoast, a character in The Timid Soul, a comic strip by H. T. Webster (1885-1952), American cartoonist.