hooray for zappos

See by Chloe clogs

No, I promise, this is not another post about clogs.  (Though I can't promise there won't be another one at some point).  This is about a great zappos moment I recently had.  I bought a pair of boots back in december and then decided I wanted to return them (hooray for the zappos return policy!), but then life got hectic and things got put off, and so they only just got shipped back a few weeks ago.  Then last week I looked into it and UPS was posting delivery completed, but there was no sign of my refund.  So I sent zappos a friendly email asking what steps I need to take to get my money back, assuming it'd involve UPS tracking codes and multiple emails and faxes and who knows what other headaches.  Two days later I got an email saying So sorry for the inconvenience, sometimes things get misplaced in the warehouse, we have refunded your credit card and here's $15 off your next purchase.  I was flabbergasted!  Talk about customer service!  So of course I headed straight to their website to see how I could put my coupon to good use.  Somehow I ended up in the couture section, and got distracted for ridiculous amounts of time looking at shoes I will never actually buy.  This is what I found.

From top to bottom, left to right: Michael Kors, Robert Clergerie, Elizabeth and James, KORS Michael Kors, L.A.M.B.,  DSquared2

You may have noticed that most of these wedges are insanely high.  Well yes, they are, and no, I don't actually wear anything that high.  Give me a break!  I walk everywhere, every day, and most days I have to get where I'm going over cobblestone streets.  Cobblestones + towering high wedges = either death or a nervous ostrich walk, neither of which I have the time for.  But I still can admire these for the works of art they are.  Don't you love the details we're getting on the backs of the heels?

Pantorrillas

Means calves. As in lower legs. As in the word the neighborhood shoe repairman used when he exclaimed "You have enormous calves!".

I'd taken my Durangos in to have the shaft stretched a bit. They fit well, but I thought it'd be nice for there to be a little bit more wiggle room at the top. When I went yesterday to pick them up, I tried them on and I swear, they were no different than before. And that's when he took a peek and said "What big calves you have," I should have said "The better to kick you in the head with my dear", but all I came up with was "Yeah." Ha! Take that shoe fixer guy!

Anyway, then I guess he felt a little awkward or something cause he followed up with "I mean, I'm just saying it because I'm looking at them. I can see them right now, and you have very very big calves. I mean, I'm looking right at them and I can tell that they're big." Gosh, thanks for the clarification. And then he says "I don't know what you expected, I mean, they weren't going to stretch that much".

So I took a deep breath and smiled and said that they fit fine, but that they'd fit exactly the same when I brought them in, and he said fine, he'd stretch them again, and since I'm going out of town for a while I can just bring them in whenever I want and just remind him what had happened and that he of course wouldn't charge me anything. Which is great. I can just see myself going in at the end of june... "Hi, remember me? The girl with the enormous calves?..." Viva España!

Please don't touch

One of the hardest things for me when I moved here was doing my grocery shopping. I had to learn all the basics, how to buy meat (from the butcher), how to buy cheese (from the cheese guy), how to buy fruits and vegetables (from the fruits and vegetables guy), how to buy bread (from the french bakery, sorry, it's just better), but not just where to get all these things, that much was obvious. But how to ask. And how to ask so that I didn't look like I'd just gotten off my little spaceship. Part of the problem is that my spanish is really good, and from my accent most people don't know that I'm not from here, from the south say, or at least from some spanish speaking country. Which is great, except that it got me into a lot of trouble in the beginning, because then what the hell is my excuse for not knowing how to ask for ground beef? Mental deficiencies? But I digress. My point is, I've figured most of that out now. And some of it's wonderful. Like my neighborhood olive oil store.



Yup, that's it, it's tiny, but that's all they do. Sell olive oil. The guy's a little grumpy, and not too forthcoming with advice or recommendations, but if you keep on at it eventually he'll bark something out. Which I've come to appreciate as a spaniard being helpful.

On the other hand, it still cracks me up that you see stuff like this at the fruit stands:



Some grocery stores have boxes of plastic gloves in the produce section, because it's self-service, but god forbid you actually touch the fruit with your icky dirty germy bare hands. I'll try and get a photo of that up soon. Cracks me up cause this is hardly Switzerland. This is a country where when people have shrimp at the bars they peel them with their teeth and spit the skin and lil' legs and all onto the floor of the bar. And yes, you can smoke almost everywhere, but ashtrays are optional, toss 'em on the floor with your shrimp bits and your used up waxy napkins! But please, PLEASE, whatever you do... don't touch the fruit.

Just Cow.

In my effort to embrace my life here in Madrid, and more conscientiously enjoy all things spanish, or at least experience them, I started buying cheese at the deli counter instead of in packages. I know, sounds like a simple thing, but I don't know anything about cheese, I've come to it late in life, and I would have no idea how to buy some in english even with a friendly person helping me, let alone here. So today I hit the store, which amazingly is open on a sunday. Easter Sunday no less. (Happy Easter by the way.) And I head over to the cheese counter and ask, "Can you tell me a little about the cheese from the Pyrenees?" (It doesn't rhyme in Spanish, so it didn't sound as silly as it appears here.) "Cow" she says. "Sorry?" "Cow. Just Cow." Deadpan, no smile, no hint of more information to come, Just Cow. So I smiled and said thanks, I'll have the Mixed Soft. No idea what Mixed Soft is either, but I'm eating it right now and it sure is tasty. Suppose the pyrenees could have been good too, but somehow "cow" doesn't seem like much of a recommendation. Viva España!