So 100 Montaditos, a Spanish sandwich chain, wants to build 4,000 restaurants in the US. Think they'll be successful?
Yes. Yes they can. You know how?
Make a huge jar of beer cost $1.44. Every day.
Conquering? That'd be blitzkrieg.
Mostrando entradas con la etiqueta USA. Mostrar todas las entradas
Mostrando entradas con la etiqueta USA. Mostrar todas las entradas
lunes, 15 de agosto de 2011
Can Spain Conquer America with Sandwiches?
Can Spain Conquer America with Sandwiches?
So 100 Montaditos, a Spanish sandwich chain, wants to build 4,000 restaurants in the US. Think they'll be successful?
Yes. Yes they can. You know how?
Make a huge jar of beer cost $1.44. Every day.
Conquering? That'd be blitzkrieg.
So 100 Montaditos, a Spanish sandwich chain, wants to build 4,000 restaurants in the US. Think they'll be successful?
Yes. Yes they can. You know how?
Make a huge jar of beer cost $1.44. Every day.
Conquering? That'd be blitzkrieg.
viernes, 5 de agosto de 2011
USA! USA!
I got home yesterday to Florida for six weeks of quality time with the family and intense visa processing. Upon touchdown in New York I got a big smack of America in the face. Big. A visual representation of returning home:
It's cool but weird being back. Full frontal America is a lot, even if it's your country. But it is wonderfully my country.
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| An obsession with manicures and time management. |
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| E pluribus, unum. |
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| Good things! |
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| In case I wanted to get my electronics on the go. |
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| A quick several hundred dollars on a DS. |
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| Mandatory CNN. |
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| These aren't pay phones, it's straight business. |
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| Wifi! And phishing! |
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| Rolos, peanut butter M&Ms, Hershey's, Werther's Original. |
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| Mobile recharge unit. |
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| Every product you will never need. In case you get the urge to consume midflight. |
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| HP! |
sábado, 12 de febrero de 2011
The New Americans
When I was younger, probably somewhere around this glorious age of 15/16:
my family and I spent some time in Australia. At that time, with both the Bush administration and my horrible awkward teenage years in full gear, I had a real love/hate relationship with telling people that I was American. Mostly a hate relationship. It's great to be from a country that has had such importance and such a powerful influence, but that also means that people, for better or for worse, will have a strong impression of you before you even open your mouth.
Despite the fact that Australians are some of the nicest, coolest people you will ever meet, I used to get in little tiffs with people who badmouthed Americans or were critical of us. Childish at best, mean at worst. It was a tough time. I remember a substitute teacher I had for an International Relations class made some off-the-cuff comment about how her country's influence, she was English, could not be bought, unlike the United States. I stood up, furious, and made a scene, saying that she was wrong and shouldn't be talking that way because she was a teacher and I was offended, etc. She told me to get a thicker skin. The whole thing, looking back on it, is kind of embarrassing. Whether she was right or wrong for saying that, getting up and yelling is the worst way to try to get your point across.
Flash forward to 2011.
The majority of young Americans I have met who live and work abroad are interesting, consciencious, mature people. Most of them are really interested in learning about where they are and about other cultures. Most are self-sufficient and independent. Most spend more time listening to others than they do talking. Most of them I am proud to call compatriots. Yes, there are your drunken study abroad idiots and morons on vacation, but the fellow teachers or volunteers or students or workers I have met in Spain and elsewhere are great people.
Today, having some delicious seafood in the center, the waiter was talking about a group of Dutch kids who had been there who were in a tuna, or a group of musicians from a University that are sort of like wandering minstrals.
Asking what city they were from, he replied, "Mastreeck." with his Andaluz accent.
"Maastrich!" I repeated, comment that my dad has had several post-doc students from there.
"Ah, is that where you are from?" he said, giving my blond hair a once-over.
"No, she's American."
Yes, and pretty proud of it.
Now, oh readers, it's true that:
everybody has their own set of stereotypes and personal experiences.
it is impossible to generalize about an entire nation of people.
there are exceptions to every rule.
But I would say that a big lesson I learned from when I was 15 to now is that when abroad you represent your country and yourself as best you can. For me, I'm pretty happy with the image us Andalucía teacher folk are giving off these days and am proud to count myself in that group.
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| Just look at that angst. |
Despite the fact that Australians are some of the nicest, coolest people you will ever meet, I used to get in little tiffs with people who badmouthed Americans or were critical of us. Childish at best, mean at worst. It was a tough time. I remember a substitute teacher I had for an International Relations class made some off-the-cuff comment about how her country's influence, she was English, could not be bought, unlike the United States. I stood up, furious, and made a scene, saying that she was wrong and shouldn't be talking that way because she was a teacher and I was offended, etc. She told me to get a thicker skin. The whole thing, looking back on it, is kind of embarrassing. Whether she was right or wrong for saying that, getting up and yelling is the worst way to try to get your point across.
Flash forward to 2011.
The majority of young Americans I have met who live and work abroad are interesting, consciencious, mature people. Most of them are really interested in learning about where they are and about other cultures. Most are self-sufficient and independent. Most spend more time listening to others than they do talking. Most of them I am proud to call compatriots. Yes, there are your drunken study abroad idiots and morons on vacation, but the fellow teachers or volunteers or students or workers I have met in Spain and elsewhere are great people.
Today, having some delicious seafood in the center, the waiter was talking about a group of Dutch kids who had been there who were in a tuna, or a group of musicians from a University that are sort of like wandering minstrals.
 | |
| Tradition from the middle ages. |
"Maastrich!" I repeated, comment that my dad has had several post-doc students from there.
"Ah, is that where you are from?" he said, giving my blond hair a once-over.
"No, she's American."
Yes, and pretty proud of it.
Now, oh readers, it's true that:
everybody has their own set of stereotypes and personal experiences.
it is impossible to generalize about an entire nation of people.
there are exceptions to every rule.
But I would say that a big lesson I learned from when I was 15 to now is that when abroad you represent your country and yourself as best you can. For me, I'm pretty happy with the image us Andalucía teacher folk are giving off these days and am proud to count myself in that group.
viernes, 24 de diciembre de 2010
Home base!
Stardate: Málaga, 4:30 a.m. 23 December 2010
Went out for Chinese and beer with Joseca and logged a 1.5 hour visit to slumberland. Caught taxi to the Málaga airport. Note that flying out of Málaga is 49023 better than flying out of Madrid. Taxi driver from Sao Paolo. 20-odd years in Málaga. No traffic. Had exact change for the driver. Upon arrival at the airport Northern European couple still dressed up as Mr. and Mrs. Claus who clearly just came straight from a party spotted. Feel good about the fact that I will not be flying hungover. Planes forecasted to be on time. Bag was exactly 23 kilos. Starbucks on the horizon. All things go.
Stardate: Málaga, 6:30 a.m. 23 December 2010
Starbucks in Málaga located inside the terminal closed for repairs. Situation adapted to by getting an americano and an apple from other café. Feel mature for not throwing a temper tantrum for not being able to get a delicious coffee of the week and hot croissant. Wonder what kind of gene Americans have been implanted with that makes Starbucks exhibit similar addictive behaviors to crack cocaine. Ipod fully charged, movies and series downloaded. Impressed at Iberia employees English during safety demonstration. Plane takes off over the Mediterranean.
Stardate: Madrid, 9:30 a.m. 23 December 2010
Starbucks and croissant acquired during 3-hour layover in Madrid. Shopping perused. Mild headache sets in. Woman at information desk grimaced when I ask if there is a pharmacy or any place that sells ibuprofen. Wonder at her purpose in life since she works at the information desk and is not inclined to provide information. Quickly spot 3 other American girls that, are with 89 percent certainty, are auxiliares de conversación. Cultural invasion. Watch a few episodes of Community. Read grammar book. Board plane and sit in the back, window seat. Only spot on the aircraft that doesn´t smell like the toilet. Score. Seat back and tray table upright and locked. Blanket and luggage in place. Window shade up. Take off.
Stardate: Somewhere over the North Atlantic Ocean, near 1:00 p.m. Spanish time. 23 December 2010
Immediately fell into slumberland upon take off. Woke up in time for dining service. Lunch is pasta with a red bell pepper sauce that was ridiculously good for airplane food. Cup of coffee number 3 drank. Get up for restroom break number 1. Man next to me has every kind of consumer electronic device known to man.
Stardate: Approaching Eastern coast of the Americas, near 4:00 p.m. Spanish time. 23 December 2010
Estimated flight time 9.5 hours. After emerging from slumber in which neck was twisted in swan-like manner, turn on computer to start watching movies. Note that only 5 hours have passed and start to feel desperate. Relax by watching series until battery runs out. Ipod on. Napping again.
Stardate: Approaching Eastern coast of the Americas, near 6:30 p.m. Spanish time. 23 December 2010.
Coffee number 4 drank. Wonder why Señor FNAC next to me has not risen to utilize the restrooms in the whole flight. Contemplate resisting urge to use restroom until landing to not inconvenience him, then contemplate the idea of going through US customs with a full bladder. Ask Señor FNAC to let me out of my nook to go. When seated again, contemplate the idea that he may be a world record holder for the greatest ratio of cups to coffee served to trips to the bathroom on a transatlantic flight. Contemplate asking for autograph.
Stardate: Flying down Eastern coast of the Americas, near 8:00 p.m. Spanish time. 23 December 2010
Panic sets in. Time to get OFF the plane. Oh hey! They´re serving pizza! Coffee number 5.
Stardate: Miami, 3:30 p.m. Eastern Standard time. 23 December 2010
Landed in Miami. Hypothesize that if Crayola made a salmon-colored crayon, an apt name would be "Miami Pink." Passport and resident card reexamined, luggage rechecked, security repassed, Claire re-cansada. Find out that US phone still has 25 percent battery. Make mental note to stop turning around and staring when American English is overheard.
Stardate: Miami , 6:30 p.m. Eastern Standard time. 23 December 2010
Board regional jet for Jacksonville half hour late. Thankful that flight was routed through Madrid and Miami and not through northern Europe, where surely it would be half a week late. Sit next to a scruffy looking surf guy on return from Caribbean. Has fantastic tan but smells. Reconsider his income level when iPad is busted out. Struck with iEnvy. So tired that slumber was achieved whilst landing.
Stardate: Jacksonville, 8:00 p.m. Eastern Standard time. 23 December 2010
I SAW MY MOM AND DAD MY MOM AND DAD! YAYAYAY! Bag arrived. 1.5-hour car ride to Gainesville commenced. Taco Bell patronized.
Stardate: Gainesville, 9:30 p.m. Eastern Standard time. 23 December 2010
Arrive home! Christmas decorations up. Bath taken to de-swan neck. Consider taking up yoga. Beer drank. Reconsider taking up yoga. Pajamas donned. Fell asleep on couch until brother arrives at 11:00 from Pittsburgh.
Stardate: Gainesville , 11:30 p.m. Eastern Standard time. 23 December 2010
Hay is hit. All is right in the world.
Went out for Chinese and beer with Joseca and logged a 1.5 hour visit to slumberland. Caught taxi to the Málaga airport. Note that flying out of Málaga is 49023 better than flying out of Madrid. Taxi driver from Sao Paolo. 20-odd years in Málaga. No traffic. Had exact change for the driver. Upon arrival at the airport Northern European couple still dressed up as Mr. and Mrs. Claus who clearly just came straight from a party spotted. Feel good about the fact that I will not be flying hungover. Planes forecasted to be on time. Bag was exactly 23 kilos. Starbucks on the horizon. All things go.
Stardate: Málaga, 6:30 a.m. 23 December 2010
Starbucks in Málaga located inside the terminal closed for repairs. Situation adapted to by getting an americano and an apple from other café. Feel mature for not throwing a temper tantrum for not being able to get a delicious coffee of the week and hot croissant. Wonder what kind of gene Americans have been implanted with that makes Starbucks exhibit similar addictive behaviors to crack cocaine. Ipod fully charged, movies and series downloaded. Impressed at Iberia employees English during safety demonstration. Plane takes off over the Mediterranean.
Stardate: Madrid, 9:30 a.m. 23 December 2010
Starbucks and croissant acquired during 3-hour layover in Madrid. Shopping perused. Mild headache sets in. Woman at information desk grimaced when I ask if there is a pharmacy or any place that sells ibuprofen. Wonder at her purpose in life since she works at the information desk and is not inclined to provide information. Quickly spot 3 other American girls that, are with 89 percent certainty, are auxiliares de conversación. Cultural invasion. Watch a few episodes of Community. Read grammar book. Board plane and sit in the back, window seat. Only spot on the aircraft that doesn´t smell like the toilet. Score. Seat back and tray table upright and locked. Blanket and luggage in place. Window shade up. Take off.
Stardate: Somewhere over the North Atlantic Ocean, near 1:00 p.m. Spanish time. 23 December 2010
Immediately fell into slumberland upon take off. Woke up in time for dining service. Lunch is pasta with a red bell pepper sauce that was ridiculously good for airplane food. Cup of coffee number 3 drank. Get up for restroom break number 1. Man next to me has every kind of consumer electronic device known to man.
Stardate: Approaching Eastern coast of the Americas, near 4:00 p.m. Spanish time. 23 December 2010
Estimated flight time 9.5 hours. After emerging from slumber in which neck was twisted in swan-like manner, turn on computer to start watching movies. Note that only 5 hours have passed and start to feel desperate. Relax by watching series until battery runs out. Ipod on. Napping again.
Stardate: Approaching Eastern coast of the Americas, near 6:30 p.m. Spanish time. 23 December 2010.
Coffee number 4 drank. Wonder why Señor FNAC next to me has not risen to utilize the restrooms in the whole flight. Contemplate resisting urge to use restroom until landing to not inconvenience him, then contemplate the idea of going through US customs with a full bladder. Ask Señor FNAC to let me out of my nook to go. When seated again, contemplate the idea that he may be a world record holder for the greatest ratio of cups to coffee served to trips to the bathroom on a transatlantic flight. Contemplate asking for autograph.
Stardate: Flying down Eastern coast of the Americas, near 8:00 p.m. Spanish time. 23 December 2010
Panic sets in. Time to get OFF the plane. Oh hey! They´re serving pizza! Coffee number 5.
Stardate: Miami, 3:30 p.m. Eastern Standard time. 23 December 2010
Landed in Miami. Hypothesize that if Crayola made a salmon-colored crayon, an apt name would be "Miami Pink." Passport and resident card reexamined, luggage rechecked, security repassed, Claire re-cansada. Find out that US phone still has 25 percent battery. Make mental note to stop turning around and staring when American English is overheard.
Stardate: Miami , 6:30 p.m. Eastern Standard time. 23 December 2010
Board regional jet for Jacksonville half hour late. Thankful that flight was routed through Madrid and Miami and not through northern Europe, where surely it would be half a week late. Sit next to a scruffy looking surf guy on return from Caribbean. Has fantastic tan but smells. Reconsider his income level when iPad is busted out. Struck with iEnvy. So tired that slumber was achieved whilst landing.
Stardate: Jacksonville, 8:00 p.m. Eastern Standard time. 23 December 2010
I SAW MY MOM AND DAD MY MOM AND DAD! YAYAYAY! Bag arrived. 1.5-hour car ride to Gainesville commenced. Taco Bell patronized.
Stardate: Gainesville, 9:30 p.m. Eastern Standard time. 23 December 2010
Arrive home! Christmas decorations up. Bath taken to de-swan neck. Consider taking up yoga. Beer drank. Reconsider taking up yoga. Pajamas donned. Fell asleep on couch until brother arrives at 11:00 from Pittsburgh.
Stardate: Gainesville , 11:30 p.m. Eastern Standard time. 23 December 2010
Hay is hit. All is right in the world.
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