Spain Wins the 2010 FIFA World Cup

As a permanent guest in this fantastic country, I cannot but congratulate the Spanish National Football Team for its performance during this World Championship. You really deserved it.

Sun xVM: Cloning your domU

If you're using Sun xVM for server virtualization the capability of cloning a domU is a real time-saver: reduced downtime and reuse of a corporate-standard OS installation and configuration. Really cool. If you sum up the power of ZFS snapshots and clones to all this, the picture is impressing: you can configure you domU to use ZFS volumes that you can take snapshot of and clone at will.

Now that you have the big picture, assuming you already know how to administer you ZFS pools, how can you clone your domU? This way: the first thing you have to do is shutting down your domU:

# virsh shutdown your-domain

Now you can copy your domain disk files or snapshot the corresponding ZFS volumes with a command such as:

# zfs snapshot your-fs@snap-name

# zfs clone your-fs@snap-name your/clone/name

If your just using files, then:

# cp your-domain-disk-file your-new-domain-disk-file

The next thing you've got to do is dumping and editing your source domain configuration:

# virsh dumpxml your-domain > your-domain.xml

# cp your-domain.xml your-new-domain.xml

Now, before importing this file, you've got to apply some modifications. Since Sun xVM identifies domains by means of a name and an uuid: then, you've got to edit the domain definition file to change the name and remove the already-used uuid. A new uuid will be generated for you as soon as Sun xVM wil import the domain definition. So, open the file:

# vi your-new-domain.xml

First, change the name you'll find in the <name/> element and then remove the entire <uuid/> element. The last modification you must apply is having the new domain point to the new file or ZFS volume you copied or cloned earlier. An example of a disk definition is the following excerpt from a domain configuration:

<disk type='file' device='disk'>

  <driver name='file'/>

  <source file='/export/home/xvm/db-server/winsrv2003.img'/>

  <target dev='hda'/>

</disk>

Just change the file attribute of the <source/> element and the job is done.

Last thing you've got to do is importing the new domain definition:

# virsh define your-new-domain.xml

Done! Now you can boot your new domain.

A last word of warning: chances are your just-cloned system shouldn't be running aside the old one without proper configuration. Double check your virtualized OS configuration for parameters such as:

• network configuration (hostname, DNS, static IP addresses, etc.)
• network service which may clash

Enjoy your virtualized server environment.

Menta or hierbabuena?

One of the spells of foreign languages is that they aren't just a bunch of new words, properly ordered by the laws of its grammar. Language reflects how native people is, how they think, how they live. A language is the way we express ourselves and how we communicate. Obviously, there's much more to it than rules. I love learning new languages and, when I'm living in another country, learning the local language is the most important to do.

Languages also have their idiosyncrasies, I accepted it and learnt to live with it. When I don't understant what gave birth to an expression or to a motto I immediately go and check. That's the most valuabel thing I did while learning the languages I can speak. Sometimes, these idiosyncrasies lead to a clash.

Just like what happened with mint. I think everybody know mint, a family of spicy herbs. As I told you, I love tea. And in summertime, I love drinking Tuareg tea, a Moroccan specialty made with a variety of mint called spearmint and Gunpowder tea. For best results, fresh spearmint leaves are required, so I went out looking for them.

One thing I knew for sure: Spaniards call this specialty Té con hierbabuena. Being a so widely spoken language, it turns out that, despite the order that the Real Academia tries to impose, hierbabuena is a term that identifies different plants depending on the country you are. This fact explained why I was receiving so doubtful answers from whoever I asked about mint and hierbabuena. It seemed like everybody's got his theory! Some Spaniards even thought that hierbabuena was not a kind of mint. Well, but I was pretty sure! Despite the Arabic name of the drink, I sawed and rose spearmint myself.

An evidence that seemed to fail, here in Spain. Fortunately it came out that hierbabuena is spearmint. In Spain, too, where everything (else) is different. I clashed not with an idiosyncrasy of the language this time: I clashed with widespread ignorance.

Magi are coming to town

And for me, it's the first time it happens.

I think everbody knows the story, at least at some degree. The biblical Magi, in the Christian tradition, were three Kings coming from the east of Jerusalem to pay a visit to the recently born Jesus and to bring him gifts. When I was a child, the only tradition that my family observed was adding the statues of the three Kings after Christmas, and I think we did it on Epiphany.

What I did not know, was that in some countries like Spain, this is the day in which gifts are traditionally given to the kids, who believe that were the Kings to bring them instead of Santa Claus. This tradition is indeed very similar to Santa Claus': kids use to write letters to make their wish and promise to behave well during the new year. Here in Spain, the Kings can be seen in the shops, as I used to see Santa when I went shopping with my father. Curious, indeed. I discovered that Santa didn't exist when I was pretty young and now, almost 25 years later, I'm celebrating this new tradition for the first time! Tonight, the Kings will bring me the first gift, ever!

Another tradition which is very popular here is Spain is the Cabalgata de los reyes Magos, o the ride of the Kings. On January 5th, the Kings can be seen in the streets of many town and as they arrive to worship Jesus, they throw candies from their horses.

Another small difference is that, instead of leaving the gifts below the Christmas Tree, the Magi leave the gifts on a terrace, on top of a pair of shoes. As usual, kids leave something to eat in order to pay their respect to the Magi.

Funny. Nowadays, kids in Spain are easily exposed to traditions of other countries by means of the television, above all, and by other means such as internet. It was natural to me seeing so many Santas in front of the houses, but here in Spain it's kind of a newly imported tradition. If you were born in these days, you'll probably be eligible to double gift: one from Santa, and one from the Kings!

First contact with a villancico

Another thorny subject: villancicos. I could translate this word with Christmas carol but as far as I could see, the term villancico has a wider meaning.

I remember the first time I heard one: I was having a walk inside a big mall few days before Christmas and I noticed that everywhere you could listen to the music of some villancico. Then, I didn't even know their name. Neither could I understand their words. Even so, the atmosphere of happiness was clearly transmitted to me and I started remembering the typical Christmas carols I'd been listening all over my life.

The spell was broken when the following year I could clearly understand their words. Some of them are so absurd that I started looking for information about this kind of Christmas carols. It turned out that the villancico even had a couple of century of glory as a poetic form, and I don't doubt about the quality of the Renaissance poetry.

As far as it concerns their poetic form, a villancico is formed by stanzas, which usually are two, followed by a refrain. As far as it concerns the content, they were meant to be didactic texts to get people to know Christianism and help their conversion. One of the many funny evangelic means that mankind has invented throughout the centuries.

So far, so good. The problem is: have you ever listened to one? I'm not saying heard. I said: listened. I could give plenty of examples but the one that struck me most comes from a villancico which (I think) it's called Rin rin. I really want to translate it for you because I couldn't find words to express the feeling I have.

Toward Betlehem goes a donkey
rin, rin

I was mending it,
I mended it,
I did a mend,
I took it off.

Loaded with chocolate
it brings its chocolate machine
rin, rin,

I was mending it,
I mended it,
I did a mend,
I took it off.

its grinder and its stove
Mary, mary
come here soon
that the chocolate
they're eating.

In the hall of Betlehem
rin, rin

I was mending it,
I mended it,
I did a mend,
I took it off.

some mice have entered
and to good St. Joseph
rin, rin

I was mending it,
I mended it,
I did a mend,
I took it off.

they gnawed the shorts.
Mary, mary
come here soon
that the pants
they're gnawing.

In the hall of Betlehem
rin, rin

I was mending it,
I mended it,
I did a mend,
I took it off.

some thieves have entered
who, to the poor child in the cradle,
rin, rin

I was mending it,
I mended it,
I did a mend,
I took it off.

the nappies are stealing.
Mary, mary
come here soon
that the nappies
they're stealing.

Now, maybe we can just laugh at this nonsense. It's the only judicious thing left to do. But I was still wondering... Does somebody see any poetry in it? Does somebody see at least some didactic intent to convert somebody? I fail. Speaking of St. Joseph pants gnawed by mice seems almost unrespectful, though. And about the mend... I really don't catch its meaning.

Italian restaurants in Spain: my first impressions

It always feels uncomfortable to me speaking about this kind of stuff. I think it's too general a subject that retrieving significant statistical data is an impossible task for an individual. Unless, maybe, you're conducting a specific study. But I will try once again, altogether.

Being a stranger sometimes means being exposed to discussions about stereotypes related to your homeland: it's a good starting point for a discussion especially when speaking with somebody you've been recently introduced to. I think, at least I hope, the same thing happens to all the members of the strangers category residing in every country in the world.

Well, if you're guessing about which is the first topic in this particular hit parade: ladies and gentlemen, it's food, one of the subjects where objectivity is out of question. First of all, I would like to say that I'm not the typical traveler which fills his luggage with food lest I die of hunger... Wherever I went, I'd always been glad of trying the local dishes I surely would never try in my homeland. I still remember when I arrived to Poland wondering what local cuisine could be like. No idea. And I was delighted to try the typical Polish pierogis or the fantastic Polish soups that warmed my frozen body during the long winter nights spent in Warsaw. I still dream about the delicious Arabic desserts I had while having a cup of green tea.

More or less the same thing happened when I arrived in Spain. No knowledge about local gastronomic traditions. I only knew about the existence of something called tortilla and I wasn't even sure that it had something to do with eggs... And I can gladly declare that Spanish cuisine has been a pleasant surprise, too.

What's the matter then?

Well... I don't know why but I suppose it has something to do with the excellent marketing strategies of my fellow-countrymen. Wherever may I be, whatever may I be eating, a comparison with Italian dishes is almost assured. The problem with such thing, let aside how boring the subject is, is that true Italian dishes aren't easily found in Spain. The same thing happens in Italy when looking for a true paella valenciana or even something as simple as a sangría. No way. Contamination is everywhere. It's surely due to the lack of the necessary basic ingredients or to the differences they have in the different countries you buy them. Subtler things to grasp are contaminations due to the necessary adjustments a dish undergoes to accommodate with the local tastes. In Spain, a shining proof is paprika (pimentón in Spanish). We don't use it, so, don't put it. We don't have chorizo, so, don't put it in a dish of pasta. Garlic in a pizza with ham and mushrooms? Never heard of that.

When making such considerations it's really hard not to appear conceited and hurting somebody else's proud is very easy, particularly when nationality is part of the equation. The point isn't that. I'm not trying to make a blind criticism of the tastes in the country I'm a guest of. I'm just questioning the adjective. I began to like paprika here in Spain, and so did I with chorizo and many more things. This doesn't mean, however, that I'm expecting to see extraneous ingredients in dishes which supposedly are Italian.

This phenomenon not only happens when some particularly gentle guest invites me at his home and tries to delight me with an Italian dish. I appreciate it, it's very gentle of them and I think I'd do the same (mistake) if I were the host. The problem is that this happens in the majority of the Italian restaurants I've been eating in here in Madrid. "Italian restaurant" surely is a good tag to attract customers. I think the more xenophilous the people, the better such kind of tags is. Chinese, Indian, Ethiopian, Italian, Vietnamese. Who cares? Sometimes it's just the fact of eating in an exotic place which, at the end, often it's only exotic because of the name.

The magic in traditional dishes is often their semplicity. Centuries of hunger with few ingredients at hand and the wisdom to mix them magically. In Madrid, I'd come a cocido rather than a pizza. In Warsaw I'd come pierogis rather than spaghetti. That's the fact. Were I Spanish, I would go to an asador as often as I could. And when I really feel like eating an Italian dish, I'd go to a selected restaurant and as I already stated, there are very few which are worth the bill. In Madrid I just ate in two restaurants where I could close my eyes and pretend I was in Italy. Just two, and I'd been kind of obliged to try so many.

A suggestion for my fellow-Spaniards and all of the fellow-strangers in the world. It's easy to pronounce this magical statement

In (insert-your-favorite-country-here) you eat as nowhere else.

De gustibus et coloribus non est disputandum. But if you really love your traditional food, then eat it when you can. Promote it whenever you can. Eat it in the restaurants of your country and not only on Christmas day. So, tourists will see you and the efforts will be worth the price. It's quite unuseful speaking about dishes you wouldn't come in a restaurant yourself!

Silence in Valdemoro

I was going to shut my workstation down. I took my headset off and I lit a cigarette when I realized how deep it's the silence, tonight. Windows are open because I use to smoke in this room. Tonight, moreover, the temperature is mild and I'm enjoying a fresh breeze in the face. Dogs are barking, probably at the latecomers arriving at some new year's dinner in a house in the neighborhoods. I can also hear the sound of the leafs in the trees behind my house. The few crackling leaves that winter has yet to rip off the branches. I think it's the first time I hear them since I live here in Valdemoro. Sometimes the silence is broken by a sudden explosion. Probably some kid who's already bored of the dinner with its parents. Child, you'll miss it, sometimes. The quiet sound of my workstation seems unnatural, now, and the monitor is gleaming too much, tonight.

It's time to shut it down.

Caught in a winter storm at El Espinar

It was a long time I was not caught by surprise in a winter storm. The last time I remember I saw something similar to that was in Italy, I believe during the winter of 2001.

I was taking my girlfriend home from Las Rozas (Madrid, Spain) when it started to heavily snow above the A6 motorway. In a questions of minutes (at an average speed of 80 km/h) the landscape was absolutely white and the snow flakes density in the air was so high that I initially confused it with mist.

We reached without many problems El Espinar but once there, I was seeing no way back. I was driving an Alfa Romeo GT Q2 with bare pneumatics and we covered the last slope before reaching her house crossing our fingers. It was not even 21 o'clock. I stayed there until 23.00 hoping the situation changed but it was constantly worsening instead. I couldn't wait any longer: I already spent a night in a car during a winter storm and I preferred not to do it again. The last cigarette and the last kiss. I took my car and went away.

Sort of a driver's nightmare. The landscape was incredibly beautiful, the sky was gray with a sort of luminescence, probably due to the full moon, and it was throwing sinister reflections on the woods surrounding El Alto del León; the atmosphere was frightening and my car was the only one on the highway.

I will remember this for a long time.