Wednesday, June 25, 2014

The Bookshelf: Old Friends


In this brand-spanking new series here on M&M, I'll just be chatting about what I'm currently reading, what I've tossed aside, or what books I've recently picked up--generally what is on my bookshelf. I love talking about books, and I enjoy reading, although these days I don't read as much as I would like, and so I thought I'd do a little blurb about what I'm currently, or just recently read, or what I hope to read soon, to hopefully spark some interest. With that said, I've been all about revisiting old friends this month--either authors of whom I'm a fan, or just books that have been spending way to much time on my shelves without me even breaking their spines. I'm trying to do more reading since it IS summer vacation, and so I present you...




The Book of Images by Rainer Maria Rilke

This is a book I only just got around to reading after having purchased it from the Elliott Bay Book Company the last time I was in Seattle... 5 years ago. This poor book has sat in my "unread" section of my bookcase all that time, despite me picking it up on several occasions with the honest intent on reading it. In college, when I was toying with the idea of majoring or at least minoring in comparative literature, Rilke was one of the authors I was exposed to early on and took an immediate liking to his poetry. One of the greatest banes of my existence is that I never learned German, and so I can never fully experience the Rilke's poetry the way it was intended, nevertheless, I still think there is some magic found in the translations. What is so appealing is that there is just something sort of nostalgic and wistful in the way Rilke writes. I am a firm believer in having books come to you at the right time and even though it may have taken 5 years, the timing was perfect for me to be in the right place in my life to appreciate this collection.

Eleanor & Park by Rainbow Rowell

I had been waiting to read Eleanor & Park for what seems like ages upon ages now. I am such a lover of YA fiction, and had heart just so much about this book from freaking everybody and I was greedy to get my hands on it. I finally picked it up back in November--along with Rowell's Fangirl and John Green's The Fault in our Stars--and while I plowed through the other 2 novels, I kept putting off Eleanor & Park. Granted, work picked up again and I was extremely busy, but also I just, again, wasn't in the mood for this particular kind of story of a young star-crossed lovers in the flush of their first love. But as soon as school let out for the summer, I found it was the best beach read for me. I have to say, though, that it wasn't as good as the hype made it out to be. Maybe I just had a lot of expectations going in, especially having delayed reading it for months which just allowed all those expectations to fester, but I felt like bot Park and especially Eleanor were two-dimensional for me--which I know is saying a lot given the storyline. There were plenty of good, bordering on great, moments, but on the whole it was just not as amazing as I thought it would be.

Wind, Sand and Stars by Antoine de Saint-Exupery

The author of this next book may be familiar to you, and it's probably because he is the author of the insanely popular and most beloved Little Prince. Yes, the little prince from the planet of endless sunsets, and a rose without a thorn, and the sheep without muzzles, and the countless laughing stars. de Saint-Exupery's writing has always enchanted me because it's so evocative yet deceivingly simple, and just so beautiful. de Saint-Exupery, beyond being a gifted writer, was also a pilot, and Wind, Sand and Star is a memoir of his crash landing and survival in the Saharan desert. I've only just cracked into Wind, Sand and Stars but already I'm yearning for adventure and far off spaces.

Neither Here Nor There by Bill Bryson

Bill Bryson's work is an old friend of mine, having read his other travel novel about living in England, Notes from a Small Island, and since I've been having just the worst hunger pains for travel in Europe recently, I thought the next best thing (probably not though) would be to read about it. In Neither Here Nor There, Bryson retraces his steps across Europe from a trip 20 years prior which takes him from the most Northeastern city in Europe to the straits of the bosphorous in Istanbul, and is full of tons of enough quirky and charming anecdotes to make a person pick up a backpack and made the same pilgrimage.

What are you reading?

Monday, June 23, 2014

La Roja: A Love Story

We are in the thick of the World Cup, the only time in 4 years that Americans seem to even care about the sport, and so it comes as no surprise that I am frequently asked how I grew interested in the sport, and why, of all teams, I support Spain.

And I totally get it. I am not, upon first impression and later admission, someone who seems to care about sports at all. Being from San Diego, it's not like our home teams were something to brag about--sorry to say, please don't revoke my membership. I have never been an athlete and only played sports when they were required of us during P.E. classes in school. I never participate in office pools, can't remember the last time I went to a football/basketball/baseball game, and generally have no idea what is going on in American sports.

So when Le Roja steps onto the pitch, it seems the oddest thing in the world that I would be glued to a TV, jersey on, and ready to yell at every dive or celebrate every goal. I was so excited for the World Cup, I made a schedule of the matches and put them into my calendar. I even made a bracket, for crying out loud. On my social media outlets, I have not tried to hide how much I was anticipating the start of this tournament.

But is my love of the beautiful game merely affectation? A desire to separate myself from my American upbringing and claim rank with the rest of the world where football–the game of football–is the most popular sport? To be "different" from my peers? Is it because soccer/football players are "so hot?"
Tapas & Spain's first match of the
World Cup 2014.

And what about my preferences for club Real Madrid and country Spain? Many people will say that it's easy to love Spain's national team or that Real Madrid is an easy choice--they are champions, they are on top of the game, and doesn't everyone like to win? It's easy to support a team when they give you bragging rights, when they serve up championships like cake, when you get to ride those feel-good vibes of victory and success.

But the answer to these two questions are much simpler than that.

It was 2005 and I took my first flight into Europe--to Paris of all places--to meet my sister who was working abroad in Spain. After a trying few days in France, we made it to Madrid, where she was living. And it was in this beautiful country and this wonderful city, that I was...initiated, in the best possible way, to football.

And it was different than how I had seen the game played in the US, and the just die hard passion of the fans overwhelmed me. It was intoxicating to get caught up in the frenetic energy of the sport and the players and the fans. And the game, the game was simply beautiful. As cliche as it may sound, there really isn't another world that can adequately describe everything that the sport is. It was stunning to see.



Being in Madrid at the time, and with a certain forceful and insistent crowd, it was an easy choice to support Real Madrid. But if I had made my selection not based on the purest of intentions, then my decision to continue to support that team, even in the many years that have passed since I last step foot in that city, stems from the gratitude and the memory of what that city gave to me, what that country showed me, that first time I ventured into Europe.

That said, the last several years have been spectacular to witness as a fan of La Furia Roja. I have seen this "golden generation," this dynasty of kings, stamp their dominance of the game across the globe, have seen them seal their destinies under the weight of trophies, have seen them celebrate their victories in clouds of confetti. And more than that, what they have brought to the game is nothing short of spectacular.

And now that they are leaving the World Cup--the defending champions exiting at the group stage--there is talk about what this means for the team moving forward, about the defeat of tiki taka, of the end of an era. As a fan, it has been nothing short of heart-wrenching to see La Roja play like they did, because I knew they were capable of so so so much more. It wasn't supposed to end this way for them. It was tragic in every sense of the word. The only bright spot was today's final match against Australia, where we finally got a glimpse of what they were able to do. Some may say, a spark of their former selves.


But putting off all the questions about the future for La Roja, today's match was all about giving a proper send off for these players, this incredible group of athletes who have defined world-class soccer/football for this generation. Emotions of a different sort ran high this match, and for good reason. Because it wasn't just that Spain leaving the World Cup much sooner than anticipated, but because so many of these very players would never again play for Spain, would never step foot again on a pitch at the World Cup. After dominating the field, literally, for so many years, this roster of players would ever be seen together as a team again. In that respect only, it was an end of an era.

David Villa, for example, played his last match of his life for Spain, retiring from the international play, and after scoring Spain's first goal of the tournament, left the pitch in tears.


 

Many people, I know, are happy with Spain's loss. They want a new game, a new team at the top, and I completely understand that. Will them losing the World Cup make a difference in my support for them? Not at all. Now that Spain once again have something to prove, I believe this is a great opportunity for their growth. I am looking forward to the next Euro Cup.

In the meantime, I am just so grateful that I have been able to witness La Roja's greatness these last several years. They are a team that holds so much significance for me, and I support them with great affection. This is not the end--definitely not the end of an era--but a new beginning.




For me, they will always be kings. Gracias Por Todo. VIVA LA FURIA ROJA!