You Get What You Give.

The 42nd President of the United States is in the media this week talking about the second year of the Clinton Global Initiative. The Initiative focuses bringing together money, volunteer time and expertise to focus on poverty, religious and ethnic conflict, energy and climate change and global public health. The Initiative has garnered $7 billion in commitments. And lots of good karma. I’m so very proud of the work he is doing. What a statesman.

I’ve read the Fortune cover story. Watched his appearances on Meet the Press and The Daily Show more than once. Clinton’s appearances with Tim Russert and Jon Stewart are downloadable on iTunes. And then there’s the appearance on Fox News Sunday. Amazing. If you have not seen his interview with Chris Wallace on Fox News (I know) do check it out on YouTube: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AYm1TH23e9E. I wish I could vote for him again. After watching this, you will too.

The smartest thing I heard this week, of course came from Clinton. When Tim Russert asked him his opinion on the biggest problem confronting our world, Clinton’s answer gives me chills. Clinton said: “In the short term, it is the illusion that our differences matter more than our common humanity. That’s what drives terrorism.”

Wow. The illusion that our differences matter more than our common humanity. That’s the answer to so many questions. In a million years, the 43rd President, or even anyone on his staff, could ever come up with such a thoughtful response. A confident Democrat. See, it's not an oxymoron.

Beach Baby.

Sitges is to Spain as Provincetown is to the US. Everyone is here on vacation and here to play in this ultimate beach town. Sitges is a 40-minute train ride from Barcelona. The beaches are beautiful. And nude. Our hotel was fantastic, right across from the beach. No, not the nude beach.

We spent the last four days of vacation here in Sitges. This was actually our second time in Sitges. We came down here on Saturday night for the “Mr. Bear Sitges” event. This bear event is an annual crowd fest. Thankfully, we missed the contest piece. It was a wild night, putting us on the train back to Barcelona at 4:50am.

This was the most relaxing part of vacation- lots of time on the beach and by the pool. We met lots of guys from the US, including a couple from New Mexico who spend two weeks in Sitges each year. They were our experts on Sitges, introducing us to the official, post-beach happy hour at the Parrot. Which I officially called judging hour. The Parrot Bar has two outlets, on two corners, across the street from each other. All the chairs face the street and the locals and the tourists sit watching the foot traffic. OK, they are judging the foot traffic. And there was lots and lots of foot traffic. Sitges is also home to what I think is the best name for a gay bar: El Horno.

We Are Familia

Even people who have never been to Spain know about the becoming-more-of-a-masterpiece everyday Sagrada Familia Temple. Designed by Antonio Gaudi, Sagrada Familia (Holy Family) Temple is a religious experience. And I’m not a big temple or cathedral guy.

Gaudi designed the Sagrida Familia in 1882 and it’s been under construction ever since. And it’s not slated for completion for until at least 2035. Even longer than Boston’s engineering marvel "big dig” project. It’s a labor of love for this community. Craftspeople retire from their regular job, and then spend the twilight of their career leaving their mark on Sagrada Familia. And there’s so much work to be done. The temple is nearly impossible for my amateur photog skills to capture, hopefully these pics will drive you to visit the website at and make a donation. Donations, and the entry fees from visitors, fund this now modern day project. Visit the website to get more of a history and to take a virtual tour. Oh yeah, and donate a few dollars so that when you go to Sagrada Familia you will know you helped this community build a temple. www.sagradafamilia.org



Just as spectacular as the cathedral itself were the views from the tops. I’ve always been a fan of the view—I love looking out on the world from high up. Life seems more peaceful up there. Sweeping vistas of Barcelona gave us our first real views of the Olympic Village and the part of town completely revitalized by the 1992 Games. Once a destroyed beach and slum, it’s now a beautiful beach on the Mediterranean and the Olympic Village itself is now some of the most desirable real estate in town in which to live. Funny how that happens.




Gaudi once said "The patron of this project is not in a hurry." He knew this project would not be completed in his lifetime and he tasked many other creative people to help. Legend actually has it that the original plans for the Temple are lost. Gaudi’s leadership is one of the magical things about this project. Gaudi “got it” when it came to encouraging others to do only those things at which they excel. He discovered his strengths way before HR geeks like me bought the book, went to the class, and now get others to buy into it. I love finding the connections between past and present.



And on the subject of familia, we missed George Michael by just one day.

Happy Birthday Picasso

The Picasso Museum is in an old part of Barcelona- the narrow streets have a medieval feeling to them and the Picasso blends right in. I’ve always been amazed at the genius of Picasso- he was a boy wonder at age 12 and at age 15 won his first art competition that got him into art school. Pablo spent much of his youth here in Barcelona and he was thrilled to have the museum in the city and actually bequeathed much of his work to Barcelona. In keeping with his political stance, Picasso never saw the completed mecum as he vowed never to step foot in a Franco-ruled Spain and the Franco regime outlasted Picasso.

The most memorable part of the Picasso was his series of interpenetrations of the Velazquez work, “Maids of Honor” a piece we saw at the Prado in Madrid. The Velázquez piece is from 1656 and Picasso spent much of the late 1950s creating more than 50 different pieces that cut apart the original and put it into Picasso’s modern “Cubism” style. Most critics would saw that these two Spaniards are artistic equals, but Picasso spoke often of his great respect for Velázquez. The museum presented the two artists in a very unique way using flat panel monitors and mirrors that placed one work over the other—a great introduction prior to seeing the real work.

It’s the 125th anniversary of Picasso’s birth and there was a special exhibit of Picasso’s work as an adult in France. There were lots of Picasso-related celebrations earlier this year to commemorate the birth of this famous Spaniard.



We walked around the city a bit more after the museum- the narrow streets are very pedestrian friendly and encourage you to walk. Maybe that’s how Spaniards stay so fit- they walk everywhere. There is art everywhere on the streets of Barcelona- from fountains to statues- the walking tour we did was a museum in itself.

As for tonight, we might catch a train to a Sitges for a party.

Big Yellow (and black) Taxi

The airport in Barcelona is huge. Sure, Madrid is Spain's capitol, but Barcelona is Europe's playground. Modern Barcelona introduced itself to the world in 1992 when it hosted the Summer Olympic Games. After seeing the Games on TV back in 1992, I knew someday I would make it to Barcelona. The airport has a more global feel to it, very much like Heathrow in London.

The trip to downtown Barcelona was a quick cab ride. Our hotel is very centrally located, just off the Placa de Catalunya, which marks the beginning the infamous La Rambla. Now for some some friction-- technically, Barcelona is not is Spain, it is in Catalunya, a point people are pretty serious about. Catalunya has it'’s own language and culture. We learned that Barcelona was one of the last democratic resistances of evil dictator Franco'’s rule and Placa de Catalunya has been the center of town, since, well, the beginning of time. It divides old and new Barcelona and is a mecca for tourists and pigeons.

La Rambla (means "stream” in Arabic) was a drainage ditch back in medieval times. It now is the tourist stroll in the city- lined with an elegant opera house, amazing architecture, hip cafes, street performers looking to make a euro or two, t-shirt shops, prostitutes, and pickpockets. We walked La Rambla down to the water, soaked in all that Barcelona had to offer, and determined we had now seen all we needed to see of La Rambla. At the foot of La Rambla is the Columbus Monument. Of course, you know the story of Columbus and he is beloved here in Spain. Even though he is Italian- a fact Jon and I debated for several blocks. But hey, I remember the episode of The Soprano'’s in which Carmella helps organize a protest to keep the Columbus Day parade in town.



The dense population in Barcelona forces, I guess, residents to shop for pets on La Rambla. Lizards, birds, hamsters, gerbils, mice, roosters, you name it, you can get it. That is unless it is un gatto (cat) or perro (dog). Small pets here rule. Evertime we saw a perro it made us miss Chaplin. Special thanks to Jan and Mel for visiting him at the spa-- it was such a comfort to know you played with him! Back to the reptiles-- Natalie would love the availability of pet reptiles here.



Also at the foot of La Rambla is a wonderful marina, an aquarium, IMAX theatre, and yes, a shopping mall. We shopped around a bit and I continued to feed my latest obsession: futbol jerseys. I have bought four of them, one for the Spain World Cup team, two from the FCB (Futbol Club of Barcelona), and one from the Madrid Futbol Club. The rivalry between the Madrid and Barcelona clubs would make the Yankees/Red Sox rivalry look friendly. The two cities are fiercely competitive and strive to be very different from one another. So much so that Barcelona has made illegal bullfighting, the traditional sport that is all the rage in Madrid and throughout Spain. Get this-- developers are in process of turning the ancient bullfighting arena, one that looks like it could be in Greece, into a shopping mall. They paved paradise and put up a shopping mall. Sad, actually.

We were hungry and in need of some comfort food. So, we did what Americans have done for decades. We went to the Hard Rock Cafe for drinks and nachos. Like my dad always says: location, location, location. Right off Placa de Catalunya, we felt right at home with the hundreds of Americans and English-speaking servers. We vowed not to tell anyone that we caved into the Hard Rock, but we did. And it rocked. Videos from Melissa Etheridge, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Rolling Stones, INXS, ABC, The Fixx, Queen, Adam Ant. Ah, yes. The sound of English music. And videos. And loud. We were in one very well-done tourist trap.

We mapped out our nightlife choices for the evening. And contemplated a nap, which Jon was now calling siesta just to sound cool. I went to hang by the pool at our hotel, which was a world away from the hustle of the placa a few blocks away. This was paradise. Paved, but paradise.

Learning To Fly

As much as we loved Madrid (how can I not love a city with a bear eating fermented berries as it's official symbol?) it was time to move to the shore. OK, that was the New Yorker in me coming out. We headed to the “coast” of Spain to enjoy Europe's playground, Barcelona. We had booked a flight from Madrid to Barcelona, as it would be much quicker than a train ride. Flying out of Madrid's airport on a domestic flight was an adventure and a lesson in patience and the power of a smile.

You could sense the chaos as the taxi pulled up to the departures area. People everywhere, with lots of baggage. Yep, both kinds. I think there was someone with a chicken. Yikes, and I thought Jon and I over packed. We entered the huge departures hall and had no idea where to go. My renewed respect for my great-grandparents and grandfather who came to America with nothing, not even language, continues to grow strong. How I wish I could talk to grandpa about my love for the capitol of Spain. It made me sad. It also made me think about how he always wanted me to learn Spanish. And I kicked myself. I was learning to fly all over again. Everyone, it seemed, was headed to Barcelona for the weekend. How cool that we were among them, I think I even said that to Jon.

We stood in what I'm sure everyone else thought was a line. Jon and I knew different. Think about your worst day at the DMV in America and then multiply that by, I don't know, like a thousand. The concept of a queue is lost in Spanish culture. Jon and I stood in line for about an hour with very little movement. Even Jon was becoming impatient, which never happens. Seeing an opportunity with an attractive young counter employee, I pounced. And smiled. As I approached the counter the employee smiled back. Cool. I showed our tickets to Barcelona and suddenly I was getting boarding passes. “Uno momento,” I said, running back to get Jon and our luggage. As we ran to the counter, Jon asked what I did. I told him all I did was smile. My grandmother told me a smile could get me out of anything. I never underestimate that advice. Boarding passes in hand, luggage checked, we headed for security. Lyrics in my head are: “Disarm you with a smile” by Smashing Pumpkins.

Security was very efficient and fast. When we arrived on the other side of security, we noticed on the monitors that our gate had changed. There were two older American women from NYC who were headed on a cruise from Barcelona also looking for the same flight on the monitors. The look on their faces when I smiled and began to speak in English to offer advice to them was amazing. As if they were communicating with some one else for the very first time. I knew exactly how they felt. It made me feel good to help them. It also felt good to actually know what I was doing.

We exited out of the terminal to the plane, via an outside stairway. I always feel like Paul McCartney when I enter an airplane this way and turn around at the top of the stairs to look back at Madrid- it felt a bit like home. A great working class, capitol city with great people and more history than I ever imagined.

The Devil Wears Prado.

Today was the day we visited the Prado, thought by many to be one of the finest art museums on the planet.

Getting into the museum was like getting onto an airplane-- our bags were scanned for weapons along with any liquids or gels. We actually saw a guard escort an older woman out of one of the galleries (called "rooms" here) because she took a sip out of a water bottle. This country is serious about the Prado. El Greco, Velazquez, Goya, and Titian are each represented well here. OK, embarrassingly, the only piece I was immediately familiar with was "Venus with the Organ Player" by Titian. It was a work featured in an old Saturday Night Live sketch with Dan Ackroyd and Glida Radner- Ackroyd's character was trying to get Radner to talk about the body parts on the painting. All the while he was repeating the name of the artist, accenting the first part of the artist's name. Good clean fun.

It's difficult to talk about the memorable views at the Prado. The one we spent the most time with was "Maids of Honor" by Velazquez. This amazing example of art coming to life is considered by many to be THE finest painting in the world, period. If the crowd surrounding the work was any indication, this is an important piece. And from 1656. Lots of history learned on this trip.

The Prado is dramatically influenced by the very strong Christian roots of Spain. Never have I see so many depictions of the crucifixion and the lives of saints. No, Jon's life was not represented here at the Prado. There were several rooms that we spent more time admiring the building and the spectacular architecture and vast marble than we actually spent looking at the canvases. Never have I seen a more spectacular palace for art. And I'm a MOMA guy.

As it was another sunny, perfect day in Madrid, we strolled aorund a great city park in front of the Prada, near the Palace Hotel. Madrid is about horses, palaces, and fountains as they seem to be everywhere. In the middle of the most congested traffic circles are these huge fountains or statues of a king and his horse or both a statue and a fountain. Maybe that's why it's so difficult to drive here-- there are so many distractions. And the drivers are pretty wild. Never have I seen so many motorcycles and scatters- perfect for weaving in and out of traffic. Our American subs are nowhere to be found. In fact, no subs, not even Range ropers. I have seen lots of MINI Coopers, which makes me smile. VA and Mercedes are very popular here.

We actually walked around and tried to do some shopping today and found many of the shops to be closed due to siesta. Jon is really getting used to this nap routine.

Tonight we're heading out for a late meal, like everyone else, and then out to check out some other Madrid nightlife. Off to Barcelona tomorrow. And we were just starting to know our way around Madrid. We fly out of Madrid's airport in the morning, which I'm certain will be an experience.

International Bright Young Thing

Today we slept until 11am and ready to hit the day with a vengeance. During our breakfast of huevos (eggs) and jamon (ham), Jon and I chatted about the cultural differences between home and Madrid. Wow, we are good consumers in the US. We are all about choices and “have it your way” and here in Madrid it’s just not that way. Just a few choices of beer in the bars, there is not a selection of six kinds of bread with breakfast and you are not presented with three kinds of artificial sweetener on the table. And no free refills. The choice you do have is smoking or, yep you guessed it, smoking. It seems everyone smokes. Everywhere. I have been quickly spoiled by the no smoking ordinance in CO, NY and CA.

With a book by our new best friend, Rick Steves, PBS Travel Guru, we did two walking tours today. This is not, by the way, the same Rick Steves of radio’s “The Weekly Top 40.” The first stop on our walk was Puerta del Sol, Madrid’s central square. This is home to the new year’s celebration in Madrid and home of the first electric billboard in Spain. Nothing like Time’s Square, but bustling with activity—people walking and running from the bus to the metro to shopping. There was even a Sephora here, only much smaller than in the US with much fewer choices. Spain’s first post office is here as is the first city hall. There was a plaque honoring the victims and those who helped on Madrid’s 9/11: March 11, 2004. Very touching. This is also the geographic center of Spain—km zero.





It was then a short walk to Plaza Mayor, which felt like a walk in time. Built in 1619, the plaza is surrounded by uniform buildings. It was here that Spain’s bullfights were held (now they are held in huge stadiums) and also where those guilty of sins were executed. There was a bar here celebrating bull fighting, Torro Bar, that had pretty gruesome painting and photographs and even a collection of bull’s heads. Quite a popular activity. It was here that we decided that we were not going to a bullfight. Ever.

A walk through a few narrow, medieval streets brought us to the Royal Palace, thought by many to be among the most beautiful in the world. It has 2000 rooms and is filled with priceless antiques and gold everywhere. While the royal family now lives in mansion a few miles outside of Madrid, the palace remains the center of royal and official functions. In fact, there was an official function in progress the afternoon we were there, so the palace was closed to the public. We watched for a while with the other curious tourists and saw several official cars exit, but don’t know what was happening. Lots of horses and military-dressed men all standing at attention.

From here, we walked to lunch at the Grand Palace Hotel. We sat on the patio and watched drivers negotiate the (beautiful) traffic circle, complete with a huge fountain in the center. With a statue of a king on a horse. Jon and I are still not in complete understanding of a monocracy, all I know is they have horses and lots of them. We chatted lots about kings and queens. International Bright Young (let me have it) Young Things, indeed.

Our first museum stop in Madrid was the Centro de Arte Renia Sofia. Here in what was Madrid’s first public hospital is a terrific modern art collection. We enjoyed several galleries filled with work by one of my favorite artists, Joan Miro, and also saw one of the greatest works of art in the world. Picasso’s “Gurnica.” Here’s the story we learned: in 1937, the evil dictator Franco permitted Hitler to test out bombs on the village of Gurnica. Hitler’s army blew up the entire village and killed everyone. Picasso captured this scene brilliantly in what is the best anti-war work I’ve ever seen. The painting was exiled to the US for many years and just celebrated its 25th anniversary of being returned back to Spain. Many of us stood transfixed in the horror of the scene. I wondered if there is an artist today capturing the wars in our world right now. Well, other than Green Day. We relaxed in a beautiful sculpture garden before walking back to our hotel. And yes, we napped again.

Magic Bus

We arrived on Tuesday morning, around 9:30am. The flight from Newark to Madrid took just 6.5 hours, but the flight brought us a world away. Arriving in another country where English is not the primary language is a very humbling experience. Everyone around us was speaking Spanish and the CDs, podcasts, books, and that (one) class we attended to try to learn Spanish barely helped. Customs was a non-event. We picked up our luggage, exchanged some dollars for euros and caught a taxi into the city. Madrid's airport is about 20 minutes from the city. Like the US, there is construction everywhere on the highway (M30) that took us into central Madrid.

The famous Spanish architect designed our hotel, the Hotel Gaudi. It is on was of Madrid's many busy streets, Gran Via. Hotel Gaudi is a business class hotel with a beautiful marble lobby and staircase. Our room has all the normal comforts, including wireless internet, but feels so different due to the hardwood floors and walls, marble bathroom, and central electricity control- you need to insert your room keycard into an ATM-esque slot to turn on the electric for the entire room. Crazy.

After checking into our hotel room, we went directly to Starbucks. Suddenly we were at a familiar place but did not know what to say or what to do. It took us what seemed like forever to order. I'm sure the people behind us were growing impatient, just like I do when someone in the US is indecisive at Starbucks. How's that for karma?

We spent yesterday afternoon on one of those hop-on/hop-off double decker magic tour buses which gave us a great introduction to Spain's capitol city. We napped through parts of the tour, from a bit of jet lag, not boredom. We saw the palace (one of the largest and most beautiful in all of Europe), the vast commercial streets, towering cathedrals, and amazing public squares. The business district was not of tall skyscrapers; in fact the tallest office building was 39 stories. Madrid is home to one of the last buildings designed by Minoru Yamasaki, architect of the WTC twin towers. His building here in Madrid is just over 30 stories and features an eerily similar design of long and slender columns like WTC in NYC, only this building is made of concrete not steel. Madrid is a modern city, but one with history like nothing we know of in the US. With a population of almost 3 million, Madrid is the center of banking, business, and government for Spain. Madrid it is a working-person's city. Even with more than 10% unemployment. But the unemployed get into museums free-of-charge, just like students and senior citizens. OK, so maybe not the best thing to be unemployed, but at least you'll have something to do.



We returned from our afternoon on the upper deck of the bus and did what most Spaniards do in the last afternoon, we took a nap. In Madrid, it is common for the working folks to work from 10am to 2pm and then take a few hours in the afternoon as siesta before returning to work around 4:30pm until 7:30pm or so. The nightlife in Madrid is different from what we are accustomed to in the US as it starts very late. Even on weekday evenings, the bars do not begin to get busy until at least 10pm. Many bars are open until the early hours of the morning. I guess that might explain the 10% unemployment? We hit four or five of the more popular nightspots and Jon has already developed affection for some of the Spanish disco music. I found comfort in hearing Seal and Madonna and seeing a poster from our own bar, the Denver Wrangler, displayed in two of the bars we visited. On our way home we of course stopped at the McDonalds for way-too-bad-for-us food. I could not believe how very small the large (grande) Coca-Cola Light (dietCoke) was- it seemed like what I might have called a medium in the US. And there's no such thing as super-sizing anything.

525,600 Minutes.

What is it about anniversaries? How do you measure a year in the life?

Katrina. September 11. The 10th year of RENT on Broadway.

I'm fascinated by our fascination of celebrating the passing of time. In our classic, good ol' American short attention span style, we'll remember just how much has happened and how much better off we are now than one year ago. Or are we?

The footage from Spike Lee's "When the Levees Broke" on HBO haunts me. So much of the suffering that the people of New Orleans went though was kept under wraps. I guess so we could focus on the real enemy. Insert your favorite enemy here. Thank you Spike Lee. Oh, and special thanks to hottie Anderson Cooper for bending the rules of television journalism (rules?) and showing us just a bit of the horror that happened in September 2005. Even today, the streets have no name and a great American city is dying, before the eyes of our channel switching public. Great line from the no-hit wonder but great band of the 90s, HUMAN RADIO: "They tell me to reach out and change the world. So I reach out. I reach out and change the channel." I am humbled by the thousands of people who put their own lives on hold to go help the good folks of New Orleans. Almost like the spouse at a funeral-- once the water went away, our attention went with it.

And then there's 9/11/01. I read recently in one of my favorite magazines THE WEEK (www.theweekmagazine.com) that only 60% of American adults surveyed remembered that 9/11 actually happened in 2001. Are you serious? I remember the times of each crash and the flight numbers. I remember everything I did on that day. OK, I might be a bit over informed. Or obsessed. THE WEEK also asked me the question "how much safer are we?" just five years after that day. I'm thinking we're much more aware that so many people don't like Americans. Aware, yes. Safer? I hope so. NYC is forever changed, and there's still that hole in the ground that we just can't seem to figure out what to do with. But it's cleaned up. Except for the dust in the lungs of the rescue workers.

In the meantime, Jon and I are headed to Spain. And we fly out on 9/11/06. Check back here for pictures and great stories.