My birthday this year is a numerical palindrome. In Spanish, as well as in English, it can only be written separately. So here I am, celebrating my birthday violating all the instructions the Real Academia Española has provided.
The age of Christ is probably the most well heard phrase you can hear once you’ve reached this age. No. The most beautiful thing is having a song by the Smashing Pumpkins with that name, or one from Mala Rodríguez. Or why not? The name of that film about the miners trapped in Chile. Without a doubt, the best of all: this number, according to numerology, is one of the most important ones and means ‘the lesson of life’.
I receive this day with my parents in Madrid, the best gift, without any doubts. The second best is my new flat! -Which I have signed for two days before my birthday, but haven’t yet been able to occupy- I’m the proud owner of a flat in Madriiiiiiiid! Thankfully, I can share all the collateral difficulties with my parents, but most of all, the happiness that overwhelms us.
I share breakfast with my mum exposing all of our differences towards a particular subject, while my dad is hands on painting my new place. Big stores await us to buy gifts as my parents return to Buenos Aires is getting closer each day. The third best gift is the certainty that my life is man-clean. And by that I mean there are no lovers, boyfriends, ex-boyfriends, ex-lovers, admirers, stalkers or anything like that. I’m lean clean, and maybe it’s the right year for the proper one to arrive? Or so I thought until I received a call from my Belgian affair. Yup, the same one I’ve been ignoring for the past 6 months! He dared to call… nothing important, as you might already know.
The fourth and last gift of my thirty-three birthday is… it goes by without a cake, but with a marvellous dinner with close friends at S/R (Sin Reservas), next to Retiro Park, invited by my parents. At their terrace they delight us with a 7 type of tomato salad with avocado, croquettes, ‘burnt’ bacalao, chanquetes with salmorejo, fried aubergines with cane honey and those classic Spanish ‘broken eggs’. As a full stomach makes for a happy heart, Madrid gifts me some fireworks to celebrate its San Isidro fiestas.