Ice, Spice and Good Tidings.

Clara is gone for a week. Which means the secador is gone for a week as well. I thought it couldn't get any colder here, but then I went outside with wet hair. And thanks to James Cameroon, I know that being wet and cold is basically fatal. I need the hot African sun like never before. And mark my words, when I get back to Oklahoma I am sleeping in the dryer. Almost as an anti-protest. Just a love-fest. I miss the machine that makes my clothes hot and snuggly, so very much.

Ok now something about Spain? Ummm...... if they say something is muy picante, this means it has little to any spice at all. Ask for muy x 45 picante (this doesnt translate dont actually say this). I had a dinner party recently and made curry. Knowing that spice levels were skewed to the bland side, I made it not very spicy. I'm not some spicy oficianado (please don't dump a jar of cayene in my dish as a test when I return) I just like some zazz. Anyway, all the Spanish friends were basically in tears after eating the curry. I guess I next time I'll be more curryful.

Must go. Im preparing for my classes and we are teaching Christmas Carols. I hate teaching words like "good tidings" and "kin". Its a thorn in my side to think that one day when they are traveling in Arizona, they won't be able to remember "paper towel" or "roadside assistance" because back in 4th grade the American taught them words used once a year in Christmas carols.

Researching Morocco

While researching my imminent adventure to Marrekech, Morocco, I have discovered some truly quirky descriptions online that I just can't seem to get enough of. Seeing as there is no one next to me to share a cackle with at the absurd translations and phrasing, I'll share with my blog. Sometimes I really feel like this is a "Wilson" I am talking too.

Anyway here goes:


El Badi Palace is a palace now in ruins and inhabited by storks and stray cats. There are some underground passageways to explore. Admission is DH 10. The view from the terrace is majestic. A must-see.

Equity Point Marrakech - Riad Amazigh, 80, Derb El Hammam Mouassine ....  extremely tricky to find. Some good advice would be to print off a map and stick to it, and dont assume you will find it when you get there, as there will be many people who claim to know where it is for a small fortune.

Riad Zara, 294 Derb Ben Salek ... In the evening, candles are lit and guests gather around the pool, enjoying wine and if you're lucky Hassan might give a live music performance.

Some of the hostels include "warm water" as an ammenity. This makes me concerened that it was not a given. Maybe I should bring toilet paper since I didn't see it listed.

 I kept reading "Hammam" and finally asked google for some explaining. Basically its the Moroccan version of the turkish bath. Here's a funny article describing one woman's experience. I think this is a must.

Also a must will be this:

Anyway, very excited for this adventure. From what I remember, we will most likely be bombarded from the moment we step off the plane due to the fact we are three American girls not wearing hijabs. I cant wait til Saturday. I'm also pretty sick of Jamon so Im ready for some Moroccon food. Mmm! But for now, I need to go fine-tune my haggling techniques. Love to all!

P.S. Nineteen dayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyys until I'm Oklahome!

Writing a blog is the hardest thing I've ever done.

But I will attempt and in current fashion I will write about whatever bizarre topic Im thinking about right now, which happens to be......about my recent rendezvous with the website Stuff White People Like. I try not to frequent it often.

As a generic white person, I feel extremely accosted when I read about myself being a stereotypical white person doing stereotypical things such as this year off. Its nice to laugh at but I'm sure there's an entry for you too. Stuff White People Like Entry #1899 Reading Camille's Blog About Nothing. What's the name of that restaurant where they yell profanities at you during your entire meal? (We never had such thing in Oklahoma but we heard about it). Anyway, its the same kind of personal assault I feel now. (So I hear).  I think we both know that if I actually went to one of these restaurants and anyone used such a caustic tone with me when I asked for water, I would probably just cry my own glass instead.

I try not to look at the list of Stuff White People Like because when I do I get depressed and realize they know everything about my pigeon hole. Of course I prep for a year for my favorite holiday, Halloween. I carry my disposable grocery bag and throw away my coke can when the recycle bin is too far away. Its a good thing my only outlet to the White World is through the internet now. What is the new trend? Are we still harrassing people wearing Ed Hardy? Taking pictures of cute old men? Everyone (erudite twenty-something year olds such as myself) knows being old is cute and envied.


Oh by the way, I am alive. I went on a hiatus from my blog. That may be a euphamism. I am also "soaking" about three pans in my sink right now, and I think we all know that is the glorious cop-out for putting off dishes until you are disgusted with your messy kitchen (and needing one of the said pots). How about I just upload some pictures and you all can guess the rambling that otherwise would have been supplemented? Travel pictionary.






They call this beauty "hot chocolate". Goodbye weight loss. Hello tastebud fiesta.

Halloween was done right in Madrid. That is, until I paid an arm and a leg to get into a horrible 7 story discoteca, then paid another extremity for a drink and later was almost trampled as the stampede left the building. Our lights actually saved us and we were able to find each other amidst the chaos. At the end of the night, I felt like a true Chilean miner.

Estamos vivos! We're alive!

Strolling on the beach before we had a Magosto (event where you roast chestnuts).

Hello fareros! (lighthouse workers)



Isn't she a beauty? Best day yet. Getting to go with the workers
to service the lighthouses on the Isles Cies.

I think I made Manuel nervous because I kept asking to drive the boat.

Um yeah we hiked that. Had to service that lighthouse!

Trip to Portugal

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Went to my teacher's house in her home village. Turns out her house is older than my country.

Ok now for update with words: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMMMMMMMMMMMMMMAAAAAZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG. Life's a peach. I teach English. I learn Spanish. I eat bad food. I watch trash t.v. in Spanish (I didn't know trash t.v. could get more awful and confusing). And I don't even feel remorseful that I have since forgotten such words as resume, interview, 1040 ez, forbearance, etc. My fingers even stuttered typing them. Its going to be a hella transition coming back to reality.

Here are some goals:

Stop ignoring my blog.

Give more attention to the gym. (The front desk guy actually say things like "You came back! -in spanish- and Im like yeah... that doesnt translate to something nice. Or maybe its ok to be more blunt here.)

Attempt to talk to understand old people at the bus stops. They always talk to me in mumbly spanish-gallego and I smile and offer a peice of gum. I wonder how I am percieved here.....

Get a camera and take pictures. Iphone is great but I dont think it substitutes.

Spanglish word play

Today I asked my students "Como se dice 'award' en espanol?" And one cute little boy replied, "una palabra?"

 I think I'm in love. Its a shame my soulmate is a 9 year old.

Profe! Profe! Camille is down.

I have to start rationing my hugs at school. Today I was literally pulled to the ground by 20 little six year olds. I have no idea how to discipline these precious little things. I mean they chant and cheer when I walk in, so secretly, I don't want to discourage this habit, I love being loved. But at the same time I think the English teachers may be getting annoyed of the chaos when I'm around. All of the children were told that I don't speak Spanish to discourage them from trying to speak to me only in Spanish. As I was tackled I tried to shoo them off me using simple English that they might understand, "Ok ok enough, please stop, back to your seats, please please". Of course, they did not understand. I also don't have a very stern voice so I think they might have thought I was encouraging them. The teacher stood behind me and watched this whole debachle. And then yelled at the students in Spanish and told them that Camille told her if they continued acting out then she wouldnt ever come back. I was like wait, I didn't say that. I like the wild rumpus......

I also brought Ginger today so that was extra exciting and I put post-it notes on her "head" "shoulders" "knees" and "toes" and then, we had a song to learn our new words! I really enjoyed class today.

xoxo.

Lady Gaga gets flamenco-fyed.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?gl=ES&feature=player_embedded&v=O8XJP-xSKak


Oh yeah. That just happened. What now, Greyson Chance?


Ole!

I learned a valuable lesson today.

When your supply of chocolate suddenly runs out and you crave something sweet, it isn't recommended to go overboard on the digestive cookies. It's dangerous how delicious they are.

The story of how I acquired my chocolate "supply" is kind of interesting. I was walking home yesterday and found a shiny euro coin in the street. I was ecstatic. It was like a suprise party in the gutter. So like the classic American, I assessed the economical benefits of saving verse spending for about three seconds, and then nearly tripped over two homeless men on my way into the bakery to spend my new money as fast as possible. Truth is, I have quite a picky sweet tooth. Don't get me wrong, I love cavities, but I get downright disgusted when I choose an innocent looking crossiant and then bite into a landslide of yellow custard. I was getting the chills just thinking about the nightmare of a Russel Stovers box without the information sheet, when I decided I should just do things organic and stick with a plain bar of chocolate.

Of course the bars of chocolate they had were monsterous and actually cost a little more than a euro but I was far past any economical analysis once I realized the theatrical reference I had stumbled upon. I. Am. Charlie. Unfortunately there was no gold wrapper, no invitation to a chocolate factory and instead of people gathering around to make outrageous offers for my recent purchase, I just had the typical gawking directed at the American scarfing a candy bar in the street.

As a side note, I really do like when references as such happen. I just imagine 8 second musical numbers where I am the star, I have thick hair and I can actually sing. And sometimes I'm asked to play British parts. On a really more embarassing side note, I went to Portugal this past weekend and met someone with British accent and because of too much drinking implored for an impersonation of Oliver Twist when he says  "Please sir, can I 'ave some mo'?" Of course, its not as funny today and I'm glad I'll probably never see this person again.

How come things are never as funny? I hate that. Also I discovered another thing I strongly dislike. (Is it bad I keep track of a "strongly dislike" list?) Anyway here it is, I recently met a drama teacher who was quite undramatic. I couldn't get over it. Undramatic is one thing, but being bland and huffy is another. For someone who had a degree in Drama, I of course had imagined asking for the salt to be passed and then experiencing a lively bit with a twirling salt shaker and maybe a few spins in the air pecisely showering my food with salt and exquisiteness. I would have applauded and demanded an encore for the pepper as well. Instead I was met with a monotone voice and there was no condoment spectacles nor charades nor accent impersonations.

It seems todays theme is deception in all things theater. Now this is a Spain blog!

No lie: I just asked google for "ESL Grammer Lessons"

Did you mean: ESL Grammar lessons for yourself?






Sigh.

The spy, the facade and the ousting

Well I was figured out.

My spanish teacher at the language school pulled me aside tonight after class and "suggested" I move to a lower level course. I thought I was doing so well of pretending like I knew what was going on but apparently she wasn't to be made a fool of by the girl who couldn't answer questions because she couldn't take her eyes away from a riveting page in the dictionary.

 In reality, I'm pretty sure everyone in that classroom knew I shouldn't have been there. They were all way too friendly and would try and talk with me before and after class. They asked things in their ridiculously fast, grammarically correct Spanish, and instead of repeatedly asking/whispering "Que? Que?" in front of the spanish spy- I mean teacher, I would just choose one of a few replies I had in stock to distract them. Sometimes I would answer "si si" if I felt it was a positive agreeing kind of conversation we were supposedly having and other times I would throw in a " si, claro" (yes, of course). Most of the time, I just nodded and gave mmmmmm's or excused myself for a perfectly timed coughing spout. However, I never use "No" during one of these mystery conversations. You give yourself right away if you give a direct "No." They might try to pry at you like "Oh, porque no?" because they love to push their pleasantries into conversations. And then you are required to give some kind of put together sentence-answer that indicates you have a half a brain and were understanding the conversation. Its very chancey to give a No. Best to stick with the mmmmm's and shoulder shrugs. Yet, even so your teacher will discover you another way because they are trained to find imposters of the Spanish language, such as myself.

For me that other way, was reading an in class written assignment aloud. In the past, I never dreamed I would become a martyr but who was I to know my own destiny? I won't go into detail but it was horrendous. We were supposed to write a letter to a future employer and use a more formal, professional vocabulary. The other students had lavish sentences with perfect "ustedes" verb conjugations and compound sentences patting themselves on the back. I, on the other hand, "liked" things about the job and thought I would be a "good" candidate if they would "meet" me sometime. Of course, I couldn't think of the word interview when I desperately needed it. I don't think I got the job. Or the grade.

The best part of the event was when the spy asked how many languages I knew. After voicing what she already knew, (that I only spoke English) she shook her head and said sweetly "that must be why its so hard for you." I think my jaw dropped. I wanted to pout and say " Well in the U.S. you get a gold medal and lifetime praise for even attempting a second language!" Unfortunately, I am the only American so no one could relate to this phenomenon because they are all well into their third or fourth or who cares what number- language. And for them, it's a modest acheivment. Like finding conjoined peanut M&Ms. I thought I was in line for succession of company ownership.

 But in my defense, all those students have lived here for several years and they have pretty good reason to be such bad asses at spanish. And even though they were horrible accomplices in my facade (they were always explaining things to me quietly during class when I looked dazed, thus tipping off the spy even more) they were all very friendly to me. And Carmen San Diego is actually a really nice teacher and told me I could stay if I wanted to, and I would have told her "No thank you I don't like really experiencing daggers to my self-esteem three times a week for two hours."
But I didn't know how to say that, so I replied "Mmmmm, si si."

Try inserting a "No" in that scenario and I think you would agree with me, it just sandpapers the convo.

Anyway, off to stumble around some more in Spanish.

Holy Shit.

That was my first Queen video to ever watch from the last post. And....... I'm beyond speechless. I'm pretty sure if spandex looked better on me, I would have a life calling as an interpretive dancer. I've forever been fascinated since this commercial. Unfortunately, I don't think I would make the cut. Or shape. Unless they needed to impersonate a couch.

I like to take a coffee. Do you want to take a coffee with me at the house of Sarah?

I now use the grammar of one language with the words of another.

As my English continues to decline, and my Spanish treads in a stagnant manner, I may soon speak no language at all. I will just speak a smoothie of once dialect, now mutant phrases, rolled R's, and Okie accent. Aweome. I'm so glad the Spanish government is paying me to educate their children.

My Spanish is similar to a pre-teen in that really awkward stage of adolescence. I mean that as, I have enough Spanish that I can't be excused from the conversation (no more staring off into space being the American that doesn't speak Spanish) but not enough that I can keep the conversation intelligent and progressive. The absolute worst feeling is when I understand the conversation and have a million snappy replies in English in my head and all I can produce is a "ah si si, que interesante." To me, I feel this:

I don't care the lack of humility, I want them to know I am actually an intelligent person and I actually adore humor. I like humorous people. I like where the conversations are going and I am pained to not be able to contribute. I always felt bad for Bill Murray in Scrooged that he couldn't interact with the living.

But the good news is the Spanish is gradually coming. I feel I can understand what people say most (some) of the time but when I reply, I just feel so sorry for those who have to listen to me stumble through their language. It must be painful. I know its painful listening to people try and speak English. I'm like, "Yes? you have a..a ...what? a cow? a couch? an accountant? Please! Tell me!" Almost every day I think of this video and how amazingly it relates to my situation. I'm pretty sure an explanation isn't necessary. Someday I am going to speak hella fast and if anyone is wanting to run across America speaking only Spanish, I may be interested in a year or so.  I can't wait to break free. Perfect now this is stuck in my head.

In other news, I love my school. One entire wall of the classroom is the Atlantic ocean and today we watched a cruise ship go by and yesterday we learned the word "rainbow" (enough said). So that's pretty awesome. I also tried to teach the six year olds "Simon Says" but they barely understood what Simon was telling them to do, so I didn't feel right, telling them they were "out" when they did something Simon didn't say. So there was no winner, just wild children patting their heads and everyone yelling "Cameeeelle!!" Some children draw me things, or bring things to show me (like a collection of sci-fi stickers) and one 7 year old boy always asks to be my boyfriend. I feel so celebrity. I love being adored by spanish children. So awesome.

xoxo-coco

Welcome to my Brain.

We go to Vigo? Si, viGO vary soon! Board a plane to Spain.. will esplane later! Coach o coche? Plane to aerOPORTO only two hours south! Have you been by Barco? No, not yacht! Could look for autobus, if you are autobuscando! Aye, no hay nada en parada!

(Travel chapter en my book of Spanglish Pun Dialect A.K.A. S.PUN.D).

Picture is somewhat deceptive. I've yet to turn my play on words into a laser light show.

Day or Night? Crucial factor

I just woke up extremely disoriented. The main problem is that my sleep schedule is out of wack. I have always been an early bird waking up by 8 or 8:30 a.m. everyday. And here in Spain, they have these amazing blinds that block out all light and make your room dangerously dark and cavelike. Hence I can now sleep until an impressive sloth-like hour. Today I slept until 4 p.m. It just happens, even if I do nothing the night before, I run the risk of sleeping for a few days when I close my eyes. This evening I went to bed at 10:45 p.m., a mere 6.5 hours after waking up. I woke up to someone coughing, and realized it was myself. Which has been normal with this sore garganta (I love this Spanish word. I wish the Pixies would cover their Gigantic song with it, but I don't think they would mainly because it doesn't make any sense but none of my ideas really do. I'll just dream it happened.) Anyway... when I awoke my clock read 12:59. And at this point, I lost my marbles.

 I wish I could have filmed the next thirty minutes. I jumped out of bed, looked at my phone, the clock, my phone, the computer, the clock and remained disoriented as to whether I had just slept two hours or 14. I was in this half-awake kind of anything-is-believable dream state where I really could not just figure out what part of the day it was. Waking up like this isn't new to me, sometimes I wake up and am still completely confused by the fact that my clock says 15:42 because of the military time they use. Please just tell me night or day for god's sake! Then I dream walk into the bathroom and do a double take of the two toilets. But I'll save my bidet commentary for another bid-day.

Anyway, I was saved by Facebook. It told me that I commented on someone's photo two hours ago and it didn't appear to be a narcoleptic's commentary and so I deduced that I had in fact only slept two hours. Here I am, proud of myself for reading time, and realized a look out of my window might have done the trick. Although, its been pouring night and day, so then again maybe not.

I still had my bowl of cereal (a trait I undoubtedly acquired from my midnight munching dad) and wondered if I would still want my morning bowl in 6 hours. Miss a balanced breakfast and how will my day even go on? Drat, I am now tampering with a food schedule as well. I wonder if everyone has similar problems with feeding and sleeping. I am so jealous of Wilder (my new nephew) without a care in the world. Just eating and sleeping without mind to any schedules. Babies.

Wilder Risch Opie

And you thought my blog would be about Spain..... rahaha.

If Tom Hanks had landed on this island.... Well he probably would have stayed.

I went to the Isles Cies yesterday. They are a group of uninhabited islands and national park just off the coast of Vigo. I don't have words for the beauty so I'll just post some pictures.

I love Hipstomagic.

I haven't really gained all that weight in my mid-section, the wind just made me into a balloon.

After hiking, we went to the one restaurant on the island where we had lunch and then a cafe and as we found out it's custom to have an coffee liqueur shot after a cafe. I don't know if it's custom to finish several bottles but we did that too, then played some intense Foosball and took the last ferry back to the mainland waving goodbye to our new island friends. Although next weekend, they are having an end of season party and we may go back to do some snorkeling (with wetsuits of course) and enjoying of paradise.

In other news, everything is going wonderfully. I absolutely love my school where I will be teaching, I have a cute apartment with great roommates, enrolled in Spanish classes, threw away the nutella, joined a gym (with a pool!) and am making new friends everyday. The Galician people are so nice. If you ask someone directions, they'll just walk you there. Life is wonderful and I'm so happy I have this opportunity! xoxo.

I can't eat asparagus that looks like... children's fingers.

They also come in a box and sit next to the canned sardines at the Supermercado. I have never considered myself a queezy person but all of the sudden I am extrememly perceptive to food that is not "normal" (by my American standards). A few examples are unrefridgerated milk, egg yolks that are orange instead of yellow, tuna on pizza, bacon that stays pink even after you cook it a solid thirty minutes, etc.

I also forgot how obsessed this country is with Jamon. The massive legs of Jamon dangle above your head like Christmas decorations as you browse the meat/produce department, you glance at a can of Pringles and of course it is Jamon flavored and my favorite, when you are playing pictionary at a bar and you draw a guitar, the spanaird next to you shouts, "Jamon!!"

I have never thought so hard as when I am grocery shopping at the Supermercado. Typically, I walk the aisles and try and decide what kind of food is feasible for me to try to prepare. Next I try and find the ingredients in probably the most inefficient, sporatic manner, backtracking and getting sidetracked, and everyother kind of track there is, before finding what one of the items. All the while, I have to consult my dictionary to see whether I am buying olives, (I accidentally just typed, "Olivia" ahhhh) or olives stuffed with anchovies. Also becuase I'm determined to know what things are in real prices, I use my phone to calculate the price from euros to dollars. "But how much is this reallllly..."

When I try and order something from the meat counter it is really excruciating for thsoe around me. Here's a typical scenario that happened yesterday:

me: I ..want ...you to cut... something ...for me.
meat guy: Okwhatdoyouwant?
me: I ...don't ...know. What... is... good?
meat guy: ajfkldsjflaskfhdasfhasklfhdsaklfhadsfhd
(fast spanish explanation where I catch some random words)
me: what?
meat guy: kajfklsjdflkasdjfklsajflafdklfjaljdsljflasjflsajfk
me: .............
(other customers begining to gather)
me: ok...that.
meat guy: what?
Old woman next to me: amnm,nmn,mnerm,buuimn?? mnmsdrrm chicha??
me: .................
Husband of woman to woman: wery!!!!uieyrKkuwy!!!!iuerywiQWeuwyriuyiu!!!!!
me: ......un momento. (and then I suddenly remember I wanted to try to be vegetarian this week.)

Alot of dishes here have meat as the main ingredient. I went with a couple girls to a restaraunt and my friend told the waiter she want this pasta but without meat because she was a vegetarian (she's actually a legit one) and this is what she recieved:

Mm, noodles, cheese and a box of tomato sauce!



Arrival in Espana

Arriving on a weekend has proved detrimental for my cuerpo. (Oh, I may sprinkle some spanish in for local flavor. Keep dictionaries on deck). Currently I am nursing my sickness with hot tea, sweatpants and nutella. (Hence the name of blog, it was top of mind recall). Fortunately, I have nothing to do until Friday so I can take my time relojando and creating a blog for loved ones back oklahome.

I don't think I fully explained myself. It wasn't the weekend's fault to why I am sick. It was the fact that not only did I not sleep on my 8 hour plane ride (Two babies dualing over who could cry the loudest, so precious!) but I also forget about the infamous spanish horario of going out until 7 or 8 in the morning on weekends. I arrived on Friday to Vigo, found an apartment, unpacked, had a great Spanish dinner courtesy of my new roommate Clara, (So Spanish, so cute.) and

then went out with her and some of her friends. The next day we drove to the pueblo that she's from (A Guardia). It's right on the border of Spain and Portgual and we hiked up to get a better view and some pics. Here's one with yours truly. (So American, so corny). Spain is behind my left shoulder and Portugal my right. And I'm facing the Atlantic ocean but you can't really see that.

Oh wait, I did take a picture of what I was facing. Here's that:

And we saw some ancient Celtic ruins. The information tablets were in Gallego. (If you didn't already know Galicia has two national languages. First being Gallego which I don't speak and second being Spanish which I attempt at speaking.) As I said the information was in Gallego so I had to self-educate myself on what I thought they were describing. I'll post a picture and then give an explanation.

Here we have some ancient ruins of a Celtic tribe's once village. They loved circles. They were a very short people and so their circle houses were only 3 feet tall and very close together because they were immune to Claustrophobia, an epidemic that Americans now suffer from. Or this was just their hot tub vacation village and their real village was somewhere else. 

That night we went out and everyone asked where I was from. Maybe it was my stumbly spanish and blonde hair, but I obviously haven't camilleoned myself like I wanted too. When I say Oklahoma, I get such a bizzare reaction. They know it exists but that's about it. I think it would be like if someone told me they were from Qatar. I'd kind of think it was real because it sounded familiar but I'm sure I'd still ask some stereotypical question like "was that before or after sega genesis?" And then inquire about the missing "u" phenomenon. At the bar, some boy asked me if we rode cows in Oklahoma. He may have been pulling my leg, but I didn't want to do that to him. He should have an unskewed image of true Oklahoman life. So I told him that we don't ride them to church on Sundays, that would just be unheard of.



My apologies, but this is not about Spain.

Obviously I would have liked to post about Spain but this is just too funny to not write about first. I was about to create a post about my arrival (which I will next) and I clicked on the "title" bar. A random list of previous questions came up that someone on this computer had asked google. Here is the list:

How much is a springer spaniel?
Is a springer spaniel bigger than a cocker spaniel? a bread box?
how much is rent in spain
spain cost of living
Do cannibals eat each other?
Was jonestown something bad

I'm so impressed with myself right now. I think my favorite is definately the one about Jonestown. Its like a child heard adults reference it in conversation and then asked wise old man google for enlightenment. The absence of the question mark really adds something. (absence, adds something... paradox? Check.)