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Protein Pancake Mix
Protein Pancake Mix from The Protein Works™ is a high protein, low GI, great tasting snack. It includes a tri-protein blend of whey, milk and egg protein, Pure Fine Oats, Medium Chain Triglycerides.
With over 30g of protein per serving, TPW™ Protein Pancake contains five times as much protein as a traditional pancake. It is ideal for breakfast or as a convenient snack, plus if you try our pimping suggestions, they are incredibly versatile!
- High in protein with low GI carbs
- Incredibly versatile breakfast or snack
- Includes Pure Fine Oats, MCTs & Stevia
Protein Pancake Mix is a high protein, low GI, great tasting snack. Weighing in at over 30g of protein per serving and only 4g of fat.
This mix includes a tri-protein blend of whey, milk and egg protein, Pure Fine Oats, Medium Chain Triglycerides and Stevia.
They make a great breakfast or snack choice, providing a slow, sustained release of energy.
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Nutritional Insights
Dietary Info
Product Highlights
Protein Pancake Mix
This mix includes a tri-protein blend of whey, milk and egg protein, Pure Fine Oats, Medium Chain Triglycerides and Stevia.
They make a great breakfast or snack choice, providing a slow, sustained release of energy.
What is Protein Pancake Mix?
With a huge demand for healthy breakfast and protein snack alternatives, the gurus here at THE PROTEIN WORKS™ have been stopping at nothing to innovate products you won't believe are guilt free.
Our protein pancake mix is an easy way you can conveniently make fresh protein-rich pancakes in minutes With nutritional credentials to match; 30g of Protein, 4g of Fat and just 10.1g of Carbohydrates per 55g serving.
There are 3 main steps to making perfect mouth-watering protein pancakes. 1st create the TPW™ Protein Pancake Mix; add 150ml of milk or water to two large scoops before mixing. Before cooking we recommend adding a dash of coconut oil to your.
When the pan is warm and the coconut oil has melted, pour on the pancake mix to create a shape or size you want.Leave for a few minutes before flipping over to the other side.
The next part comes down to personal preference, whether you add some Organic Roasted Cacao Nibs, a nut butter of choice, Nuts or Dried Fruits, one thing is for sure, you should add some Zero Syrups! Giving you some incredible tasty options with 0 calories and 0 sugar. What more could you want?
Protein Pancake Mix Benefits?
As well as keeping you full, and providing a slow release of carbohydrates TPW™ Protein Pancake Mix has many nutritional benefits that can help you reach your body goals. The mix has been enhanced with low Glycemic Index (GI) carbohydrates and MCT (Medium Chain Triglycerides) powder The carbohydrate blend can provide you with a slow release of energy whilst also contributing towards the maintenance of normal brain function and the recovery of normal muscle function after high-intensity exercise. Not only this but the Protein Pancake Mix is also packed full of protein, which as I'm sure you are aware, is an important nutrient to consume when taking part in physical activity, as it contributes to a growth in muscle mass and maintenance of normal bones.
What is in Protein Pancake Mix?
We tossed around ideas for weeks about what we should add to this mix. Whilst developing this product, as ever, we kept to aspects in mind taste and nutritional value. This led us to be very particular about our choice of ingredients. Introducing the innovation of the tri-protein blend, featuring premium grade Whey Protein 80, Milk Protein 85 and Egg Protein 80, combined with MCT Powder and incredible flavour to create something so good, that pancakes won't just be eaten on pancake Tuesday! As we use some Protein sources from Milk, it has allowed TPW™ Pancake Mix to be packed full of calcium too, which contributes to the maintenance of normal bones, teeth and also helps normal muscle function.
Who should have Protein Pancake Mix?
Getting down to specifics, everyone and anyone! Whether you're looking at gaining muscle mass through increasing your protein intake, or just wanting a healthy alternative snack or breakfast, it really does become as versatile as you like. Not only does it provide your body with important nutrients to take you to the next level, it also tastes amazing!Don't forget to add some Zero Syrupsfor added oomph, but no added calories.
Why buy Protein Pancake Mix?
Who doesn't love pancakes? And if you don't, well you haven't tried TPW™ pimped up Pancakes! It can be hard to eat incredibly healthy and still give your taste buds some fun, that's why we are here to help you on your nutritional fitness journey. Protein Pancake Mix comes in a resealable pouch, meaning that you can conveniently make them whenever you need to refuel or add some extra protein to your diet.
* Disclaimer: Customer reviews are independent and based on personal experience. Individual results may vary. Products designed to be taken in conjunction with a balanced diet and training plan.
* Nutritional Information per serving based on Natural Flavour
Nutritional Info
|Values based on:
|Per 55g Serving
|Energy (kJ)
|Energy (kcal)
|Fat (g)
|of which Saturates (g)
|Carbohydrates (g)
|of which Sugars (g)
|Fibre (g)
|Protein (g)
|Salt (g)
|Allergens - See below ingredients in
|Milk Protein Concentrate 80
|Whey Protein Concentrate 80
|Pure Fine Oats
|Egg White Protein 80
|Medium Chain Triglycerides
|Bicarbonate of Soda
|Ultra Stevia Extract 98%
To create the perfect TPW™ Protein Pancake simply follow these directions:
- Add 55g (two large 70ml scoops ) to 150ml of milk or water
- Mix lightly with a fork, be careful not to over mix, the mix should still have a few lumps in it, so don't worry!
- Leave the batter to rest for 1 -2 minutes.
- Gently heat a non stick pan with a light coating of oil over a moderate heat (we recommend using TPW™ Coconut Oil)
- When the pan is warmed then add 2 tablespoons of the batter into the pan, and repeat to form 3 round pancakes in the pan.
- Cook GENTLY for one and a half minutes until the pancake begins to "fluff" up , then flip over and cook for a further one minute until evenly golden brown on both sides.
- Immediately take the hot pancakes out of the pan and eat straight away with your preferred choice of toppings
Note: to make a larger, crepe like pancake, simply add more milk to the batter mix.
Why not try 'Pimping Your Pancake'?
Here are some sweet suggestions on how to pimp your TPW™ Protein Pancake:
- Mix in a pinch of cinnamon to the batter before cooking
- Add choc chip pieces to the batter for a melting choc pancake
- Throw in some chopped TPW™ Natural Almonds for a nutty taste & texture
- Add some whole fresh blueberries to the batter for a fruity burst
- Use almond milk instead of regular milk to make the batter
- Top with a spoonful of TPW™ Simply Smooth Peanut Butter & sliced banana
- Finish off with 100% natural yoghurt & fresh chopped strawberries
Here are some savoury suggestions on how to pimp your TPW™ Protein Pancake:
- Top with fresh asparagus & fresh tomato salsa
- Finish off with smoked haddock & poached egg
- Make a larger pancake by adding more milk to the batter mix & create a fresh cannelloni using the pancake 'sheets' in place of pasta sheets
Related Products
We're pretty renowned for our protein pancakes - but did you know we also had vegan protein pancakes - whist you're looking we also offer some vegan friendly Zero Sugar Syrups to drizzle on top.
Putting in the work at the gym but not quite seeing the results? Chances are you need to improve your nutrition and start consuming more protein find low calorie alternatives. Take a look at some of our top picks High Protein Low Carb Bars and our easy Protein Brownie Mix
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Q. What is TPW™ Protein Pancake Mix made from?
A. The main ingredients in a TPW™ Protein Pancake Mix are Whey Protein 80, Milk Protein 85 and Egg Protein 80, low GI carbs from Pure Fine Oats and MCT powder.
Q. When is the best time to eat a TPW™ Protein Pancake Mix?
A. They're best taken for breakfast or as a snack.
Q. What are main reasons for eating TPW™ Protein Pancake Mix?
A. Because they are so versatile they can be used by those looking to lower their body fat.
Q. Are all protein pancake products the same no matter what brand you use?
A. As with so many things in life, if you don't ask the right questions, you won't get the right answers! The quality of ingredient can vary significantly and therefore the potency will do too. In addition, just because a product may be called pure it doesn't mean that it necessarily is. We recommend you read the ingredients and nutritionals on the label to better understand exactly what you are buying. We can assure you that our products are 100% pure.
Q. What if any side effects will I get from taking TPW™ Protein Pancake Mix?
A. We haven't heard of any nasty side effects from taking TPW™ Protein Pancake Mix.
Q. Can I use TPW™ Protein Pancake Mix with any other supplements?
A. Yes most definitely. TPW™ Protein Pancake Mix can literally go with any other supplement
Q. Who should take / benefit from using TPW™ Protein Pancake Mix?
A. Anyone seeking healthy, nutritious food choices to support a lean physique by lowering overall body fat.


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Published at Tuesday, July 09th, 2019 - 12:23:36 PM. Wedding Venue. By Amo Frank.
Is taking pictures allowed? If you want to stage your first look or just snap some of the party portraits before the event starts, can you do the same and when and where in your venue? Can you visit there before the wedding?
If you have decided a few of your favorite wedding venues and you are almost there to sign on your final venue, there are certain things you need to look for. Here are some of the important questions to ask when picking your wedding venue.
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This is my first encounter with the work of Sedrick Huckaby, and I found that it challenged my capacity to pay attention. There was so much to see that even after I looked at the more than 100 works installed on the walls and in a vitrine, I knew that I did not see them all. It was good but also painful to be reminded that we cannot literally see everything that's going on, in whatever circumstances we find ourselves in, which means we need to make choices. And you can rest assured that someone somewhere will tell you that the choices that you made are wrong or not good enough. Such is the pain of trying to be alive and responsible in today's world.
In the exhibition Sedrick Huckaby: The 99% at Steven Harvey Fine Art Projects, his solo debut in New York, the artist shows the 101 lithographs that comprise The 99% Project (2012-2013), a series of portraits and figurative works, as well as drawings and paintings. The paintings, which are built up with thick impastos, sometimes to the point that the figure becomes three-dimensional, are often displayed in clusters, especially when Huckaby is portraying every member of a family. As the exhibition's title suggests, Huckaby wants to make visible the invisible and demonized.
All of the lithographs are based on loosely rendered drawings, which are relatively small and done in sketchbooks. Placing acetate over a drawing he wants to turn into a lithograph, the artist copies the earlier work, making additional marks in the process. All of the prints in The 99% Project are hung on one wall of this narrow gallery. Huckaby's portraits are casual, and they include brief written remarks based on something his subject said to him. Some of the men are bare-chested. Everyone is at ease and seems to know the artist: he is their friend and he draws.
One ink drawing is of a man in a sleeveless undershirt relaxing on the couch, legs stretched out, hands folded on his belly. He is wearing glasses and looking at the artist. Huckaby has paid most of his attention to the man's upper body and head, where intense crosshatching evokes light and shadow, and less attention to the legs and the wall behind him, where everything is sketched in with a few lines. Beneath the drawing, which is largely confined to a rectangle the artist has drawn on the sheet of paper, Huckaby has recorded something the man said: "You thought that was a cigarette in her hand…ha, ha, ha… that was a blunt." The tenderness of the artist's attention includes the capacity to accept his subject's gentle chiding over how inattentive he has been.
If you get the feeling that Huckaby — who got his MFA at Yale — is not trying to be arty, it is probably due to what the artist has said about his work:
I believe my paintings are done in a language more closely in tune with my soul than the language of my tongue. For me, the act of painting is not just a means to a product; it is also a meditative process of communication. At the end of life my greatest hope is that God is pleased with all of the prayers I left behind in the form of paintings.
He has said about his large portraits, none of which are in this exhibition, that he wants to monumentalize the ordinary person — that "ordinary people matter," deliberately echoing the rallying cry, "Black Lives Matter." Huckaby, who lives in Fort Worth, Texas, where he was raised, and teaches at the University of Texas at Arlington, draws people he knows: family, friends, and neighbors in the African American community: he makes the local become something more.
With a few exceptions (think Lucian Freud and Alice Neel), the idea of the artist as a chronicler of one's tribe — whatever that group may be — has been scorned for being provincial, or old-fashioned, or not modernist. Besides, didn't photography, not to mention digital media, take care of all that? But it is one thing to take a photograph, as they say, and another to make a drawing or painting: it is a difference between instance and time, between the passing moment and the prolonged exchange. Huckaby's art is the result of his desire to give his subjects a face and voice, which is why he writes down something they have said to him during the sitting.
The paintings' thick paint imbues his subjects with a physical presence. Most of the portraits focus solely on the head, the person's distinctive face and skin tones. In "Antwone's Family" (2016), there are five portraits, with the women depicted in oval formats and the men in rectangular ones. The impasto surfaces vary, with some built up a great deal and others not at all. The youngest child is blurred, as if his personality has not quite come into focus yet. Without knowing who these people are, it is still possible to read all kinds of feelings into their expressions. Clearly, Huckaby knows his subjects and they know him. They trust him and are not afraid to let their guard down.
Despite his need to document his family and friends, Huckaby is not, strictly speaking, a realist, because, in at least one work, he addresses his own deep-seated apprehension about being black in America. In the painting/sculpture hybrid, "If Perhaps by chance I find myself encaged" (2016), two paintings flank a man built out of painted Celluclay trapped behind bars. In the panel on the left, a woman — presumably the man's wife — looks on, helpless. In the painting on the right, there are two young children, who are apparently his son and daughter. The boy, who is closer to the man, looks at his father, his hands thrust into his jacket pockets. The young girl, standing off to the right and slightly behind the boy, is looking out toward the viewer, one hand clasping the other.
Huckaby conveys a lot in the distance he places between the boy and the jacketed girl, and between the girl and the picture plane. Which is to say that he is able to plumb the daily anxiety and powerlessness that many people of color feel every day of their lives, and he does this through nuance rather than didacticism. Even the fact that the painting's surface is not entirely covered with paint conveys the artist's urgency, his awareness that America is in a crisis that shows no sign of being resolved. We do not need to know what got the man encaged because we know that it might have been nothing, and, in the eyes of some, that is a crime.
Sedrick Huckaby: The 99% continues at Steven Harvey Fine Art Projects (208 Forsyth Street, Bowery, Manhattan) through April 23.


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Jamaican teens have pregnancy prevention info at their fingertipsAll Woman Monday, April 16, 2018
"I became pregnant at 14 years old," Angie told the United Nations Population Fund (UNFPA). Now 19, she lives with her son in a low-income area on the margins of Peru's capital, Lima, in the densely populated Villa El Salvador District.
Angie recalls that she did not have the information she needed to avoid pregnancy.
"I did not know about contraceptive methods. At high school, I still had not been given talks."
As we read Angie's story on the UNFPA website, it struck us just how fortunate Jamaica's adolescents are whether or not they realise it. A common thread linking adolescent pregnancy worldwide is the lack of information, health care services that do not meet their needs, and poor socio-economic circumstances.
Think about it. South America really isn't that far away, but it is difficult to imagine that in this day and age, high schoolers are not exposed to information as crucial as avoiding pregnancy and this exclusion blankets them in ignorance and steers them on a course that can change their lives for the worse.
Considering that ours is not a society where there are restrictions on either sex attending school, and/or being exposed to the health and family life education syllabus, we should ensure that every adolescent is made aware of the opportunity and knowledge that is widely available, grabs it, and runs with it so as to realise their goals.
To help direct students, some schools already have the Hold-On-Hold-Off, Abstain, Get the Skills Intervention Programme (or Hold-On-Hold-Off Programme) which was conceptualised and established in 2009 by the National HIV/STI Response and the National Family Planning Board (NFPB). This was with the general goal of promoting the importance of abstinence as a viable option for teenage students. Appearances by the NFPB's counselling staff at schools and community events have undoubtedly allowed for further information acquisition and sharing. Millions of dollars have been spent on mass media advertising to reach large numbers of adolescents and young people of childbearing age to arm them with this necessary guidance.
If they never thought it applied to them before, then having an appreciation of Angie's situation may just be the formula for them to sit up and pay attention to what several government and private sector companies have been trying to tell them all along.
Knowledge of their anatomy and physiology, contraceptive methods and how they work for maximum effectiveness in pregnancy prevention, knowledge of condom use, avoidance of sexually transmitted infections, and identifying ways of engaging in overall responsible behaviours are all rightfully available to Jamaica's adolescent population within the school setting.
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Originally published in The Evening Standard, 2 July 2013
It was a cynical and extravagant manoeuvre — and one which met with rapturous applause from the masses who saw it unfold.
Shortly after announcing what was effectively a threat to mount a military coup, Egypt's generals dispatched five helicopters to the skies above Tahrir Square.
Tethered to each chopper's undercarriage were a series of giant national and military flags. As the pilots glided in formation over central Cairo, the message to Egypt's embattled Muslim Brotherhood appeared clear: the army would back the opposition in any confrontation with the Islamists.
The result is that today, president Mohammed Morsi, the man who was democratically elected only one year ago, woke up staring down a gun barrel being pointed by his own generals. Faced with nationwide protests which are threatening to plunge Egypt into the most serious bout of turmoil since the 2011 revolt, his top brass have handed him an ultimatum — reach an accommodation with the liberal and secular opposition, or we will step in and fix the mess for you.
But the president's opponents seem in no mood for compromise. They have committed themselves to an anti-government insurrection which has uncanny echoes of that which toppled Mr Morsi's predecessor two and a half years ago.
Over the past two days towns and cities across the country have been brought to a standstill as millions of Egyptians — driven by falling living standards and a series of highly divisive political decisions from the president — have taken to the streets.
So far most of the demonstrations have been largely peaceful, but since Sunday at least 16 people have died during clashes. In Cairo, scores of women have been sexually assaulted in gang attacks.
In perhaps the starkest illustration of the dangers facing Egypt, the Brotherhood's own headquarters came under a sustained attack in the early hours of yesterday. Several people were killed as assailants in the streets around the six-storey building hurled petrol bombs and exchanged gunfire with those holed up inside.
When the Brotherhood's supporters were forced to flee, looters broke in and began ransacking the premises.
By midday there was virtually nothing of any value left in the still-smouldering building: and this in the national headquarters of the elected president's political group.
There were no police and no troops. A Brotherhood official told the Evening Standard that they were called several times, but nobody showed up.
Early this morning Cairo was ecstatically abuzz with hooting car horns and exploding fireworks like at no other time since the fall of Hosni Mubarak.
Opposition protesters, some of whom once called for the downfall of the military regime which followed the ousting of Mr Mubarak, are now eagerly hoping that the very same military will deliver them from Mohammed Morsi.
This morning Egypt's president issued a statement which appeared to rebuff the warning issued by his generals. For the Muslim Brotherhood, a group which has waited nearly a century to get its hands on power but now feels grievously betrayed, it seems beyond belief that they will back down without a fight.


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Big Cat Designs brings you fun, whimsical and beautiful cat art by L. A. Berry.
By signing up our newsletter you will be directly connected to Big Cat Designs and will receive updates on what is coming up during the year.
This is the BEST WAY to make sure you don't miss out on new art or specials because you will get emails from Big Cat Designs delivered straight to your inbox.
(Don't worry, you won't get bombarded with emails, just the good stuff now and then.)
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Be sure to open our emails when you see them or you may miss out on something super special reserved just for you!


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Thursday, November 22, 2007
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
I just discovered that we get a pretty strong wireless connection in our bathroom. Our internet woes are solved!
Posted by Lisa H. at 12:54 PM 7 comments:
The Marvelous Misadventures of Captain Flapjack!
I just saw that my brother's upcoming show is now on Wikipedia!
I'm so excited for THE MARVELOUS MISADVENTURES OF CAPTAIN FLAPJACK to come out in 2008 on Cartoon Network! My brothers are very talented (Jonny is also working on this show). I'll let cha'll know the official air date as soon as I find out. Now I've just got to talk Dan into letting us get cable (he's still in denial about us having a little TV set hidden under our desk)...
Posted by Lisa H. at 11:14 AM 7 comments:
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
*The Three of Us*
So a few months ago, there was this great episode of This American Life called "The Break-up" in which contributor Starlee Kine wrote a break-up song for her ex-boyfriend (inspired by none other than Phil Collins!).
I cannot get this song out of my head. I sing it in the shower, while I'm doing the dishes, and even very quietly while I'm walking in the grocery store. Dan sings along, too.
It was a great episode, anyhow. You should listen to it in the archives. Starlee is funny.
And while we're on the subject of This American Life, one of my fellow Warren-Wilsonites, Rachel Howard, was on the show last week talking about the unsolved murder of her father.
And yes, I will continue to plug This American Life until everyone I know is a dedicated listener. And RadioLab. And Radio West. I listen to these shows while I'm stocking the bread at Trader Joe's in the morning. I have come to love those three precious hours of the morning before the outspoken but lovable Bostonians come shopping when I can listen to my favorite podcasts and make sure we have enough Ezekiel bread and Tuscan Pane for the masses.
Posted by Lisa H. at 5:55 PM 1 comment:
Monday, November 12, 2007
Wanna Live By An Apostle?
This seems so wrong.
Makes me ashamed to come from such an "exclusive nieghborhood" [sic].
Posted by Lisa H. at 3:13 PM 8 comments:
Saturday, November 10, 2007
New York City, You're So Pretty
Last weekend we took the bus to NYC with our good friends Chelsi and Eric. The bus ride was only about four hours and it took us straight into Times Square. We had a fantastic time. Dan has family in Brooklyn and they were kind enough to let us stay with them. We walked and walked and walked and walked and walked AND walked like good little pioneer children. AND Chelsi is six months pregnant.
Here are some pictures of the awesomeness. I wish I could put a slideshow on here, but I'm not advanced enough to do that yet. I bet Aimee would know how. Aim?
Here are some pictures of the awesomeness. I wish I could put a slideshow on here, but I'm not advanced enough to do that yet. I bet Aimee would know how. Aim?
Posted by Lisa H. at 1:36 PM 6 comments:
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NTTC's Savannah Cargo Tank Workshop
May 22 – 23, 2018
Savannah Marriott Riverfront Hotel
Savannah, Georgia
The NTTC, U.S. Department of Transportation (DOT), and Federal Motor Carrier Safety Administration (FMCSA) co-sponsored workshops are designed to train cargo tank testers and inspectors to comply with current regulations to transport, design, certify, or repair cargo tank trailers. Register now for the Savannah, Georgia workshop.
Registration rates are $375 for NTTC members or $475 for non-members. The two-day workshop runs from approximately 7:30 a.m. to 5:00 p.m. each day. Attendees will receive a 200-page workbook, the 53rd Edition NTTC Bulk Hazmat Compliance Guide, breakfast and lunch will be served on both days. Certificates of attendance will be issued to those who complete the full workshop.
Training Requirements
Course Overview
Hotel & Travel Information
(Hotel room block closes Tuesday, May 15, 2018)
Tracy Henke
Director of Education and Publications
National Tank Truck Carriers
950 N. Glebe Rd. Ste 520
Arlington, VA 22203
(703) 838-7914


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Posted: Feb 14 2007, 12:00am CST | by Shane McGlaun , Updated: Aug 10 2010, 9:05am CDT , in Desktop Computer
This story may contain affiliate links.
Packaging & Specifications
Alienware products all come in the same big black box. The components in all the Alienware systems I have looked at have been well packaged and the Alienware Area-51 7500 was no exception. The Logitech G5 gaming mouse and the G25 gaming keyboard were packaged in their own box along with the users manual, power cord and SLI connector should you wish to upgrade to SLI.
The system that I am reviewing has just about everything that you can get on an Alienware Area-51 7500 desktop save a second 8800 GTX for SLI and the PhysX card that is of questionable value anyway. The CPU in this rig is the beastly Intel GX6700 Core 2 Quad Extreme edition that I run in one of my test machines which is the fastest quad core CPU around right now. Alienware cooled the CPU in my review sample with tier AlienIce liquid cooling system and integrated their AlienFX lighting system as well.
The AlienIce 3.0 video cooling system sounds like it puts liquid cooling on the graphics card, which it does not. The card cooling comes from vents in the side panels while the CPU gets liquid cooling with an internal radiator that uses ¼" tubing to route water from the radiator through a small CPU cooling block. Those into overclocking know that small-bore tubing on liquid cooling systems limit the performance, but to be honest hard core overclockers are not likely to be shopping for pre-built systems. The AlienFX system is a series of LED lights that illuminate the Alienware case badges, side vents, and the drive area on the front of the case.
This system allows you to change the color of the illuminated areas as you wish between eight different colors with each color having three different shade options. This is a cool system to allow you to personalize the look of your case. The AlienIce 3.0 system with liquid cooling and AlienFX adds $300 to the price of the computer.
Alienware chose the fantastic NVIDIA 680i mainboard for the Alienware Area-51 7500 computer. They also equipped the system with 2GB (2x 1GB) of DDR2 RAM running at 800 MHz. The 680i mainboard will run ram much faster than this set so if you need to upgrade in the future to some 1000MHz or even 1200 MHz RAM the system is up to it.
My test machine was also equipped with dual hard drives. The system drive is a 10,000 RMP WD Raptor 150GB unit with a 250GB Seagate 7200-rpm secondary drive for storage. On the optical drive front, there are two dual layer DVD burners up front. Alienware made a good sound card choice and used the SoundBlaster X-Fi Xtreme music card in the system.
To power all of the goodies inside the Alienware Area-51 7500 a 700 watt multiple GPU power supply is used. It is important to note here that the reason the 700 watt PSU won't work with 8800 GTX SLI even though the Alienware site says it is multiple GPU approved is because each 8800 GTX requires two PCI-E power dongles and the 700 watt PSU only has two of them. The 1000 watt PSU has the four dongles required for 8800 GTX SLI.
Now we will move onto the performance aspect of the Alienware Area-51 7500. To test the gaming prowess of the Alienware Area-51 7500 I chose to test with 3DMark06, FEAR, Oblivion, and Quake 4. These games should give a good idea of how well the machine will perform for gaming.
The first test up was 3DMark06, which I ran at default settings in the application and in the NVIDIA control panel. Alienware benchmarks each system they build with 3DMark06 before it leaves from the factory and the total 3DMarks when my test machine was benched at the factory were 12,250 3DMarks. When I ran 3DMark06 on the system, it scored 11,636 3Dmarks total. The details are as follows:
I have seen variance in 3Dmark2006 from run to run before, though I am surprised by the difference in the scores that I saw in testing and Alienware quoted in the documentation supplied with the system. The machine should be configured exactly the same now as it was during their testing. I simply can't account for the performance difference, I have not seen this big of a score difference on 3DMark2006 between two runs before on the same machine. I have seen gains like this from over clocking the CPU from one run to the next, but the Alienware Area-51 7500 is running box stock right now and I would assume the machine would have been when tested at the factory too.
The next test up was with FEAR which I ran at a screen resolution of 1600 x 1200, all settings on max with 4x AA and 16x AF. Using the in game test loop I recorded the following frame rate performance data.
The next game test up for the Alienware Area-51 7500 was with one of the most graphically challenging games on the market, Oblivion. For testing with Oblivion, I used a screen resolution of 1920 x 1200, HDR, and a texture size of medium. All sliders were set to max and I used Fraps to record frame rate data in a large outdoor environment on the other side of the lake from the exit to the sewers next to the ruins.
This environment offers a combination of all the most attractive and demanding graphics that Oblivions holds form moving trees and grass to water with reflections and ripples, moving clouds and NPC characters. This scene has bought many a machine to its knees while playing Oblivion. Fraps recorded the following frame rate data:
Quake 4
The final game test I ran on the Alienware Area-51 7500 was with Quake 4. I ran the game at 1600 x 1200 screen resolution on ultra quality setting and 16x AA. I used Fraps to record frame rate data on the start level, which I played up to the point where you meet the medic to escort him to the remainder of rhino squad. Fraps recorded the following frame rate information:
Overall, the Alienware Area-51 7500 is a high performance Pc for sure that can play any game on the current market with ease. The cool part about the Alienware Area-51 7500 is that not only can it play all current games, but it is ready to play tomorrows DirectX 10 games as well. It is rare that you can get a machine that excels at current generation gaming that is also so ready for future games without the need to update. However, if you do need or want to upgrade the NVIDIA 680i mainboard and top notch components of the Alienware Area-51 7500 are ready when you are.
If you are looking for a pre-built gaming computer it is really hard to go wrong with the Alienware Area-51 7500 it performs very well, is ready for future upgrades and looks fantastic. The only real drawback is the price, the system I am reviewing here is about $5200, but this machine uses top-notch components, which aren't cheap, meaning the price isn't out of line for what you are getting.
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Shane McGlaun
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Published: 8:19:59 pm, 01/26/2020


text:
The A-1 national highway in Spain heads north from Madrid straight over the Guadarrama Mountains, the peaks jutting like jagged shark teeth that cut the rest of the world away. And then you're floating, up through one last ear-popping puerta, or pass, perched above the upper Meseta Central, the football-shaped highlands that cover most of the country's northern interior, the silted land below glinting with flecks of red, gold and green.
In that moment, you're no longer American, or anything at all. It wouldn't be surprising to see the entire flow of history illuminate that stage: megaraptors skittering after prey; savage packs of prehumans hoarding meat; the Romans building their roads across Hispania, and the Visigoths plotting and conniving; and, after them, the marauding Moors and marauding Christians, pillaging in the name of Allah, God or chivalry; and then the huge, undulating flocks of sheep, whose wool became a source of Spain's wealth in the 15th and 16th centuries, spurring the grand imperialistic designs of Isabella and Ferdinand that brought the first caravels to the New World . . . and so on.
Harsh and given to extreme weather, the meseta of Castile isn't exactly Tuscany or Provence. It doesn't welcome a traveler with the same fecundity and open arms. From a tourist's perspective, it's a little like visiting South Dakota. You can drive miles on the meseta wondering if you've landed on the most lonesome patch of flash-baked clay in the world — past an abandoned car in a field, past a single tree in an ocean of nothingness — and then from a far hill comes the outline of a church tower, the silhouette of a castle (the reason that this land is called Castile), the clustered homes packed tightly together against what the wild night might bring.
On my first visit to the area more than a decade ago, I spun off the highway at Aranda de Duero and headed northwest through vineyards and sunflower fields, looking for a village I'd only heard about — a place called Guzmán (population: 80). I asked for directions in one small town from a group of old men wearing black berets on a shaded bench, then proceeded lost for half an hour, eventually cloverleafing back to that same exact spot. Finally, I found a thin serpentine road that narrowed as I drove, leading upward again.
And suddenly: tiny Guzmán on its hill, its skyline a cubist jumble but for the bell tower of the church and the square turrets of the palacio, as the 17th-century manor house is known. Some of the houses were so decrepit they appeared split open, as if by the fist of a giant. You could see a strewn book, someone's bloomers, artifacts of a lost life. Let there be no doubt, time had had its way here. You might have looked upon this place — and its detritus — and moved right along.
But something happened to me. Even now, I'm not exactly sure what. I have a friend who once told me about the first time he ever took a ferry to an island off the coast of North Carolina, and how he knew, right there on the ferry — with the salt spray and the light off the ocean — that he'd come back to this same spot every year. He'd come to relive that feeling of leaving his old self behind. That annual renewal, the reacquaintance with the person he felt himself to be on that island, was something he wanted to organize his life around. Similarly, Guzmán instantly and improbably became my place. It made no sense, practically speaking. Even if I didn't live 3,000 miles away, or if I spoke Spanish, or didn't have a baby at home, it wouldn't have made sense. And that was part of its tug too. I was certain this town had secrets to tell — and that maybe my best self was there to be found. Sometimes, travel is this elemental: the desire to replace the old molecules with new ones, familiarity with its opposite. To find the kingdom on the hill and stand in awe in its gold-paved streets, even if those streets are strewn, as Guzmán's were, with sheep poo.
You may be reading this on a beach right now. Or in a cabin in the woods. You may be visiting at a friend's cottage. Or you've just returned from Montauk, the Adirondacks, Tuscany. Maybe you're packing to go, checking a list (bathing suits, fishing rods, novels), waiting to board a plane, anticipating what has been a year in the offing: your summer vacation.
It's possible you've found your "place," too, the one to which you return, however temporarily, however near or far. When I was a kid, my family made an annual August pilgrimage to Cape Cod, where we rented a cottage in a little colony that brought the same families back each year. For that week, sometimes two, my father didn't commute or wear a suit and tie to his job, didn't wash the cars or regrout the shower on weekends, or sit at his desk on Sunday afternoon, paying bills, listening to opera. My mother didn't have to pack lunches or crisscross the county with her four sons, ferrying us to practices and music lessons and school events.
Even at the time, I realized my parents were somehow different on vacation, airier and at ease, youthful in their goofiness and laughter, more attentive of us — and each other — for during that one time of year, we mostly had ourselves, without distraction.
There were familiar vacation rites, too: the Sunfish we rented, the board games we played, the custard stand we walked the sandy road to each night. During the day, my father sailed with us, played football on the beach with us, swam with us. We, his sons, would ride his back into the piling waves.
What I now realize as a parent myself is just how much was really at stake on those getaways. And what inordinate disappointment could be evoked if things went wrong. I understand now how desperate my parents, like all parents, really were to "get away," to hit reset and slip into new skins again — and then bring those people back in the Ford LTD station wagon with us. They talked about their hopes. They read the Cape real estate fliers, dreaming of ownership. And it was sort of the same with us kids: we banded together, arguing less, wore sailor hats bought at some taffy shop, found ourselves jumping off the dunes with other kids from other families. And the picture-taking was another cue: this was who we were on vacation — happy, absorbed, alive — lest anyone forget.
And then, it was over.
At the end of the vacation, on the last night, we always built the same U.F.O. Two thin pieces of wood nailed into an X, candles affixed to the crossbeams. A plastic dry-cleaning bag was attached at the four points of the X. The candles were lighted, filling the bag with hot air, and then the whole thing rose and was blown out to sea, all of us onshore watching it go.
Even the next day, as our packed station wagon followed the jammed highways home, I kept envisioning that U.F.O. aloft, off the coast, over an island, alighting in some foreign country, England, maybe, where everyone wore Beefeater costumes and said, "Pip, pip!" I remember my childish defiance, and having a thought that would return to me over and over as an adult, though now that small loss was connected to a much larger one. The question was: Who says this has to end?
How I came to touch down in Guzmán, Spain — and to think of it as the place where there would be no end — is, like all good travel stories, a tale of going in search of one thing and finding something else, of what happens when you become the U.F.O. and allow yourself to float away.
In 1991, I picked up some part-time work proofreading a monthly newsletter at Zingerman's Delicatessen, an exalted foodie haven in Ann Arbor, Mich., where the rabid clientele lined up early on football Saturdays to buy their corned beef and pastrami sandwiches. In that era before we could carry on deep conversations about the virtues of Humboldt Fog versus Pleasant Ridge Reserve cheese, the newsletter was a gourmand's playground — and an argonaut's, too. Ari Weinzweig, the author and one of the deli owners, spanned the globe finding unusual and delicious victuals — and the newsletter was packed with culinary stories and histories. October of that year turned out to be "Spanish celebration month" at the deli, and the newsletter sang the praises of various olive oils, sherry vinegars and Sephardic Jewish cooking, but there was one entry that seemed most remarkable, about a unique, otherwise anonymous Spanish cheese called Páramo de Guzmán. Until that time, it was the most expensive cheese the deli had ever sold, a house cheese from Castile that tilted toward Manchego. "Rich, dense, intense," Weinzweig wrote. "The result is . . . sublime."
According to Weinzweig, it was entirely handmade from an old family recipe, by a farmer from the small village of Guzmán named Ambrosio Molinos. He produced the cheese from the milk of his herd of Churra sheep, in a stable across from the house in which he was born (and his father before that, and his father before that). Ambrosio cut the curd into very small pieces, a time-consuming process that increased the density of the cheese, then aged it in a cave for up to a year, eventually drenching it in olive oil. In keeping with its idiosyncratic, outsider status, the cheese came sealed in a white tin.
At that time, I was monastically broke, too broke in my mind to try even a smidgen of this cheese, but I did rip out and save that four-paragraph entry, and nearly a decade later, in the year 2000, working as a magazine writer, I carried that ripped piece of paper on assignment to Spain, where I went to profile the futurist chef Ferran Adrià, whose culinary innovations and 30-course meals, each new dish served in three-minute intervals, seemed to embody the digital speed of our times.
On that trip, I had Sunday off, so I flew from Barcelona to Madrid, then drove up the gut of Castile and back in time to the cheesemaker's village of Guzmán. It was a lark, perhaps, but it was also a pilgrimage of sorts, my adult self enacting a dream of my younger, poorer self, to try that fabled cheese in that little Castilian village. As I drove, the radio reported more Basque bombings, and the day was so hot, the car tires actually began to melt on the pavement.
I found Ambrosio in the cool of his family cave, or bodega, the place where he aged his cheese. In Guzmán, there existed two dozen or so caves burrowed in the hill that marked the village's northern boundary. Some of the bodegas were said to date back as far as the Roman occupation of Spain. In a time long past, the fruits of the harvest were brought to the caves and stored — grain, apples and, in particular, cheese and wine, the latter transported in casks made from cured goat carcasses — to be accessed during the harsh winter and spring. Legend had it that a man would sit in a room built above the cave and itemize what went down into the cellars, to report it all back to the lord of the land. This room became known as el contador, or the counting room.
As the families in the village built or inherited bodegas, they also added to these counting rooms, sometimes sculpturing a foyer and perhaps stairs that led up to a cramped, cozy warren that included a fireplace. Soon, people gathered at the bodega to share meals around a table and pass the time. And as the centuries unfolded and the caves came to serve a purpose less utilitarian than social, the room took on the other definition of contar, "to tell." The contador, then, became a "telling room." It was the place where, on cold winter nights or endless summer days, drinking homemade red wine and eating chorizo, villagers traded their secrets, histories and dreams. In this way, the bodega, with its telling room, became a mystical state of mind as much as a physical place, connecting the people here to their past.
At that first meeting in the telling room, over the course of eight hours, Ambrosio told me a fantastical story. He was a hulking man with mournful eyes. His voice rumbled along, seemingly without breath. Working closely with his mother, he claimed to have recovered the old family recipe (it hadn't been written anywhere, of course), and when the villagers first tried that Molinos cheese, they found it so good that they were transported back to their own mothers' kitchens. As the cheese was passed along, more and more people fell under its sway, until a cheesemonger from Madrid began to sell it in the capital. From there the legend grew: Páramo de Guzmán was sold at Harrods in London, won medals at cheese fairs, and later arrived at Zingerman's Deli in Ann Arbor. It was said to have been served to the Spanish and British royal families, to Ronald Reagan and Frank Sinatra. Julio Iglesias was a fan, and Fidel Castro liked it so much, he tried to buy Ambrosio's entire stock.
As the demand for Páramo de Guzmán increased, it was nearly impossible for Ambrosio to keep pace — milking, boiling, harping the curd, cutting it in fine pieces, etc. — and now there were complicated business concerns imposed on what had, at first, been a very simple act of creation. As Ambrosio unspooled the story that day in his telling room, he said he'd asked his best friend from childhood, a corporate lawyer named Julián Mateos, to help him with the logistical complications of a growing operation, and to help him finance a move to a new cheese factory in a nearby village. Somewhere in all of the expansion plans, Ambrosio, the bohemian creator, claimed (though I would later find out that this claim was contested by Julían with equal insistence) to have been duped, tricked into signing his name to a contract and relinquishing ownership of the company.
That is, he'd actually had his cheese stolen.
So, no, I wasn't going to get a chance to try it, Ambrosio said bitterly. Because he no longer made the cheese.
And then he said he was plotting to murder his best friend. For that seemed the only fitting thing to do.
There was more, of course. As compelling as the legend of the cheese was (had I really walked into the middle of a murder plot?), and despite the fact that my pilgrimage to eat Páramo de Guzmán had been stymied, I was riveted by something else, something that illuminated a deeper need I hadn't identified before. Ambrosio spoke with such authority, stood so stubbornly in opposition to the world I lived in, that I could feel him lifting me, however momentarily, from the unceasing current of my other life to the shore of his. His words were prophetic, aphoristic, instructive, bawdy, hilarious. He was an amazing storyteller. (I knew this because my friend Carlos had accompanied me there to help translate it all.)
I left and then came back again, three months later, having roped another friend into playing translator, to make sure Guzmán and Ambrosio were real. There was the village, in its worn, November splendor, the wide, empty fields stretching away in robes of ermine and gray — and Ambrosio was exactly as I found him the first time, salt of the Castilian earth, adding more axioms to what he called his filosofía grandísima.
"The problem with modern life is that nobody knows how to defecate anymore," he said. "This is the most important thing." Then he held forth on the topic for an hour.
"Divinity, not machines," he said at one point, referring to the need for people to raise their animals with care and love, instead of leaving it to the brutal regime of industrial meat farms.
"Pigs need to eat beautiful acorns," he said. "And you need to converse with your chickens." He talked about how the impersonal machinery of modernity had destroyed the values and sensitivities, the tenderness and powerful connection that came from living close to the earth.
I couldn't get enough of this. I returned to Guzmán again — and again — making excuses at home, cashing in frequent-flier miles or using work as a way to jump the Atlantic, with a side trip to the village. And there I sat for any cluster of days I could get, up in the telling room, like a toadstool, passively absorbing every conversation. The more Ambrosio talked, the more I realized that perhaps I hadn't ever known what I really yearned for. He was sunk into the here and now, while I seemed to spend a great deal of time in my deadline life racing through airports, a processed cream-cheese bagel in hand, trying to reach the future. But here in the telling room, I sat noticing everything, infused with mindfulness: the pallor of light, the still life of the smooth glass porrón — the device from which wine was drunk here — on the grooved wooden table, the oversize man sitting in his shadow, occasionally revealed at angles or by the rumble or ragged passion in his voice.
In Guzmán, where everyone was so welcoming, I didn't feel like a dope for taking the unironic view, or stopping to say hello to the old women who swept out their houses each morning, and then pantomiming the rest. I stood in the middle of a sunflower field at midnight, and it wasn't weird at all. I could hear the hum of stars under that huge Castilian sky, and located the sound of myself thinking. How long had it been since I'd had that kind of clarity or peace? Standing there, I had — call it what you will — a fibrillation of insight, or a crumb-size epiphany.
The intervening voice was simple, almost corny, for it felt so good: Belong to this. But to what — a sunflower patch? Or the silence of the Old World? And did I already belong, or was I supposed to belong, aspire to belong, change my life to belong?
Scenes From a Village
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Guzmán: The old people here walked so slowly, they seemed to move backward. Besides a handful who worked in the fields, it was hard to tell if anyone had jobs, or deadlines. There was only spotty cell coverage, so eventually I turned off my phone altogether. Besides a bar, there were no stores to speak of (except one bakery run out of Marcos and Elena's house), so money, at least in the town itself, was mostly useless. In conversation, the people constantly invoked the past, and so it was mashed up in and intertwined with the present.
Even the way they said goodbye here — "Ta l'o," which was percussively short for hasta luego, and translated as "until later" or "see you later" — suggested timelessness, for it meant the following, all at once: hello . . . so long . . . howareyouagain? . . . untilwepass . . . wearepassingagain . . . oh, hello! . . . goodbye! . . . again? . . . again! . . . and round we go!
At first you might have thought everyone here had short-term memory loss, but it was a rat-a-tat adaptation that captured the circularity of life in a small village and a reminder that, though very much alone and seemingly shipwrecked in the world, these sun-scorched orphans of Castile could at least depend upon seeing one another one more time.
On the wall of my office back home, I pinned a photograph of Ambrosio. Though I'd taken it myself, it looked as if it could have been from a hundred years ago. During our first visit, he led me down 13 steps beneath the earth, to a close, tight space, clean and dry and well ventilated, with PVC pipe running to the surface for air. The floor and walls were stone, and several electric bulbs hung from the ceiling. Along one wall was makeshift wooden shelving where his world-famous Páramo de Guzmán was once kept. Now the planks sat empty. Back in the left corner was a cubby with more rickety shelves where the family stored its homemade wine in unlabeled green bottles. Even as Ambrosio talked on and on, he ducked into the corner, rummaged a little and returned with an old wooden box. A handgun perhaps, to kill his old friend? Bilbo's ring? He unclasped its hook, reached in and lifted out something wrapped in chamois — one white tin emblazoned with the black script and gold medal of the original Páramo de Guzmán, all that remained of Ambrosio's grand cheese experiment, of the greatest thing he'd created in his life.
I asked if he'd let me take a picture. He pulled a wooden chair into the middle of the cave and sat, holding the tin in one hand and the oversize key to the bodega in the other. He gazed directly into the camera, conveying measures of pride and sadness, nonchalance and seriousness. In explaining the cave's former function as a storehouse, Ambrosio had conjured "the Old Castilian," the mythic figure in this land who planted and scythed wheat by hand, who endured hailstorms that, in a blink, might viciously erase a year's work in the vineyards. The Old Castilian was guided by a chivalrous code long past, never buckling under the failures heaped upon him by nature or relenting in the face of the enemy. He carried those heavy casks of wine up to the caves on his shoulders, singing a jota, where they were counted by the man in the telling room.
Meanwhile, there I sat in my attic, tallying — words on the page, hours until deadline, measly amounts in the college fund. I sat attached to my machines, typing to keep my editors at bay, forfeiting time, staring at the photograph of Ambrosio, day after day. How to explain what it made me feel? It went beyond yearning now. Was it discontentment, the creep of some low-level depression? It was 2002. The world was at war, and I pitched a book proposal about Ambrosio Molinos and his cheese — about betrayal and revenge and happiness — so I'd have a reason to go back to the village. When it sold, I did.
Instead of taking my kids to Disney World, I brought them to Guzmán. For my "job." Instead of meeting my mom in some bucket-list destination a mother has spent a life dreaming of, I made her come to Guzmán too. Thankfully, my wife loved the place as much as I did. We had another baby, and in the summer of 2003, we rented a house there. Our little girl took her first steps in Guzmán, and uttered her first words, agua and hola. Our son, walking through the streets one day in the Yankees batting helmet he never took off, was surrounded by sheep heading out to graze on the páramo, and the look on his face in that sheep cloud — two parts astonishment, one part Daaaaad? — is one a father never forgets.
In the telling room, I heard the legends, about the great Castilian knight El Cid, and the Spanish Civil War, about the local scandals and triumphs and a man who actually flew over the village one night, called to flight by the bones of his grandfather. There was Fernando, neatly dressed in chinos and polo shirt, who stood beneath the tree across the street from the church and never uttered a word. There was Crees, the stonemason, who had vowed that, if by the age of 40, he wasn't a millionaire, he'd only do the minimum work required to feed himself, spending his days sculpturing naked women from stone in his studio in the fields.
Was this a Gabriel García Márquez novel? Anything seemed possible in Guzmán, even that I'd get to eat that last tin of the real Parámo de Guzmán. Every visit became stranger, deeper, more real — until I imagined I belonged. When I asked the mayor in the village — a woman with her own stories — if it seemed weird that I kept coming back, she said, "No, we're honored."
Honored? At home, in a melee of diapers and tantrums, sweetness then tossed-over dinners, no one ever said they were especially honored by my presence.
So who were these good people anyway? And how was it that I'd come to need them more than they would ever need me?
Every year we arrive at this, the season of Facebook travel-trills and vacation photos. However envious, I will never say no to viewing my friends' vacation photos, primarily because one of our tacit promises when we travel is that we'll bring back a good story — of our heightened state of living and the exaggerated adventures that befell us — and hope to let others live vicariously through it.
In Guzmán, I wanted the story to last. I wanted to freeze my life inside of it — and that of my family — for as long as possible. No matter what the speed of our American days, no matter how quickly we grew and aged, we'd always have that out-of-time Castilian village on its hill.
As delusional as this false everlastingness was, it gave me unreasonable comfort for some reason. And I had help in prolonging things, from Ambrosio himself. After telling his story of the cheese, he became less interested in talking about the various complicated aspects of it. "Why would you want to ruin a perfectly good day by going over that again?" he asked.
Exactly! There was time to revisit the legend of Páramo de Guzmán some other day. But first, I was happy to follow him out to the fields where he irrigated the crops. Or to help him harvest the grapes. Or to cruise from bar to bar, and town to town, meeting his friends. Here was Pinto, who made the best rabo estofado, or oxtail stew, from his mother's old recipe — and the Cristóbal brothers, who served the best roast suckling lamb. Here was Luís, who created antique keys patterned after ones he'd dug out of ruins — of nickel and brass and gold plate, some jointed or with fantastically ornate handles — though they opened no doors, for the doors they might have opened were all gone, lost to history.
If Ambrosio's story was a Slow Food tale gone awry, then what I was doing was Slow Reporting, Slow Thinking, Slow Storytelling, Slow Living. I was doing, I believed, what we all want to do, which is find a way to capture things before they dissolve, to not lose our lives to the relentless pace that keeps us from knowing who we are and what we want.
Not everyone was so charmed by my embrace of the Slow.
I missed the contracted deadline for my book — and then, having been granted a two-year extension, I missed that one too. Soon, I found myself like Pluto, downgraded from planet to icy rock, orbiting erratically, elliptically. I tried everyone's patience, even that of my wife, who never once doubted the necessity of Guzmán — as a place and an idea — in our lives. But now we'd had our third child, and the book advance had evaporated long ago. And she had a career, too.
At my lowest, I was full of self-chastisements: Why did you ever believe any good might come from chasing a piece of cheese? I couldn't quite square my incomplete attempts to bring Guzmán vividly to life on the page with my attempts at reimagining my own life.
I have another friend who begins his annual vacation in Kiawah with a flurry of text messages — a close-up of the sweating gin-and-tonic on the porch railing, a sunrise beach stretching to some infinity — including triumphal, goading lines like, "Still snowing in Maine?" or "You hit that deadline?" But then, after the first few days, something else begins to happen. The photos are no longer of, say, the perfectly grilled sea bass, or some other marker of his escape, but of his kids. His messages grow forlorn: "Three more days . . . might as well pack up now." "What am I doing with my life?" And always, from the airport before flying home: "I'm dying." It's a joke, of course, but the truth too — and it's what I was feeling after my protracted time in Guzmán.
I fell into inertia and frustration. I was struck by a Slow Epiphany that the real hindrance to writing this book was that all books, like life, eventually have an end. There's a last sentence, concluding with the report of a bullethole period. And then we float into white space.
Somehow the one thing I hadn't considered was that when this story was fully told, then the trip would be over — and I would render myself locked out.
Which is sort of what happened. Though not entirely. The story got told, and Guzmán gave me more in that regard — stories to tell — than any place I've ever gone or, I imagine, will ever go. I continued to wish I could find any excuse to go there, to sit with Ambrosio in the telling room one more time. But it was harder to justify now. My kids were getting bigger. Life here was intervening. We went as a family one last time.
The Guzmán of all these years later was now a place where there were modern streetlights (gack!), a refurbished palacio with actual hotel rooms (but who would come?), a seasonal influx of foreign field hands (mostly Romanians and Moroccans) packed into a couple of houses, eating out of a place that had once been a bar. The bar itself had moved three times, for even a tiny village needed its bar, even if it had nothing else. Ambrosio's beloved father had died — and was buried in the cemetery, where he'd been laid to rest with his head to the south and feet to the north (as opposed to everyone else, who was buried east to west) so that he could keep his eye on the telling room and all the wine drunk there.
Part of coming to the end, then, was allowing it. And coming to an admission: Where the village of Guzmán had been disintegrating on its rise of land that surveyed the meseta, I had harked upon it, Quixote-like, and saw a lush paradise on its witness hill. Where its inhabitants were all dying their own slow deaths — lung cancer from smoking, failed livers from drinking, bodies beaten by farm labor, psyches weighted with sin and grudges — I'd seen a compelling tableau: kindly old men wearing black berets, women cane-clomping with dignity, all concealing light-filled truths within their secret hearts. If someone coughed up half a lung, graphically cursed the creator and spit out some foamy substance at the side of the road, I conceived of it as a sentimental gesture full of hidden meaning. In this world I'd found dusty-booted Ambrosio and fallen in love with the ideal for which he — and his cheese — stood.
I was happy to believe in it, for this is what travel is too: a kind of childlike wonder — and this sort of woozy love that doesn't contemplate loss — that, when pushed further, becomes life again. There you are, with all your familiar dreams and conflicts, the constant skirmishes between frustration and transcendence, your best and worst selves. However far you go, there you are, with your same fear of mortality, and this deep desire to hold on to your kids forever.
Anyway, I'd like to imagine that Guzmán was in us, that it was no longer only a physical place. Our children remained fondest of stories told out loud. So, our telling rooms were the car, the kitchen, the dinner table. They were the moments after turning out the lights, when we lay next to each other in bed, in whatever combination of parent and child, in tangles of arms and legs, and poured out the last tales of the day in a hush meant to coax sleep but that often provoked the admonition "One more — please?"
At least this was how it felt on the best days, that we could build this little fortress against the crummy things of the world. And I could tell myself that more than a decade spent chasing a piece of cheese had been for a good reason, too. That I'd brought back a new ethos, or an ancient one, and tried to make it work a little in our lives. I still could be seen running through airports with a processed cream-cheese bagel in my hand, but on weekends, it gave me great pleasure to turn off my phone for a while, to be unreachable. At those times, on a soccer sideline, I was randomly struck by the idea that life was loss, there was no escaping it, and so the best I might do, though never with the same flourish as Ambrosio, was to try to plant myself in the here and now.
It was November when we came into the village just before twilight, the sun sinking beneath the ceiling of clouds to light the land, the thin green murk of day giving way to a brilliant golden glow. We drove to the palacio, where we were staying, and when we parked, the children went sprinting off in the direction of the fields, eager to explore and play soccer. My wife and I unloaded the bags and then went ambling along the road down to meet them, one we'd traveled many times that first summer long ago.
There was no one around for this particular homecoming. Not a soul. And perhaps this was most fitting of all. The houses were shuttered, and not a single window was lighted from within. The air was cool and clean. The village was all ours, until we came to the track that led to the Molinos barn.
As we approached, a huge figure loomed over our youngest, talking rapid-fire in that gravelly baritone. Our boy was looking up at him, head cocked, laughing, uncertain what to make of the giant he'd just met in the twilight of a Castilian village thousands of miles from home.
Ambrosio did what he always does, then, afflicted as he is by that great Castilian generosity: He let us in again. He showed the kids his barn, let them drive the huge tractor. He ferried us up to the telling room, and then out in the fields, to his house there, for a late dinner. Driving us back to the palacio, at midnight, he veered to the edge of that serpentine road as it climbed to the village, and then he was out in a vineyard, waving for us to follow. He stood there under a bright moon, with his finger to his lip. "Shhhhh, listen," he said. "If you listen, the silence has a lot to say."
The kids were rapt as my wife and I tried to translate, but sinking together into that earth, I had a feeling I'd had at least a hundred times here. It was that feeling of being a child again, of watching the U.F.O., of being told the story that would never die. The kids stood clustered around Ambrosio, as he pointed up the hill to Guzmán.
"I think there's something a little bit magical about this place," he said, then drew in a deep breath, and we let it be.


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Loading: Ghostbusters Game, BioShock Holiday Surprise
Guitar Heroes of Warcraft? In a juicy bit of always-thrilling, business-type news, Vivendi Universal, owners […]
Guitar Heroes of Warcraft?
In a juicy bit of always-thrilling, business-type news, Vivendi Universal, owners of Blizzard and the World of Warcraft properties, and Activision, proprietors of Guitar Hero, Call of Duty, and (for old-school Atari fans) Pitfall, have decided to get into a money-lined bed together and create an entirely new mega-company called…Activision Blizzard.
Awful name. But what does the whole thing mean for the average gamer? Not a whole lot. No Night Elves in Guitar Hero. No Rolling Stones songs in WoW. Wait, that might be awesome….
At any rate, the move seems to have affected the whole industry positively, as shares of almost every other big company have risen in anticipation of other such mergers, from Grand Theft Auto makers Take-Two Interactive to Ubisoft, the French force behind Assassin's Creed, which has been rumored to become part of EA for some time now. Even long-suffering Atari has seen its shares rise almost 8% as investors look for the company to get absorbed (read: saved from a miserable demise) in a similar move.
Yay, money!
Ghostbusters to Cross Streams Again
Last January, some footage of what appeared to be a new Ghostbusters game appeared online. And it was, quite simply, awesome. It seemed the game was a sure thing but Zoot Fly, the company behind the video, said it was simply a demo and that they had not acquired the rights to the Ghostbusters property from Columbia Pictures. After a few months of trying, it appeared they couldn't make it happen and the game seemed dead. At least, their version did.
Fast-forward to now, and the internet is abuzz with the advent of another Ghostbusters game from Sierra–a real one. This one not only has the blessing of Columbia Pictures, but it was written by Dan Aykroyd and Harold Ramis, and has the voice talent/likenesses of both men, along with Ernie Hudson and Bill Murray!
The game is scheduled for release in fall 2008, and each version–for the Xbox 360, PS3, PS2, Wii, and DS–will be somewhat different than the other. The 360 and PS3 games will be more realistic, solo adventures, and the Wii, PS2, and DS games will be a bit more cartoony, focusing on multiplayer.
William Atherton (Walter Peck), Brian Doyle Murray (the boy's psychiatrist), and Annie Potts (Janine) have all signed on as well. No word on Rick Moranis, though Sigourney Weaver is confirmed to not be in the game.
While a script for a third Ghostbusters film–in which the team goes to Hell (seriously)–has been rumored for years, Dan Aykroyd has confirmed that the games will have nothing to do with that storyline. However, he stated that the game is essentially Ghostbusters III and plays out like a direct sequel to the first two movies.
A Holiday Gift from BioShock
This week 2K is giving BioShock owners a little incentive to give the game another go (which we fully intend on doing) by offering some brand-new content. Nothing too wild here, but a few things may add some spice to the child-killing (or saving, if you're boring) antics of one of the year's most popular games.
Here's what you're looking at:
– Sonic Boom: Hurls objects and foes with a blast of force
– EVE Saver: Plasmids use less EVE
– Vending Expert: Reduces prices at the vending machines
– Machine Buster: Increases the damage you deal to machines
– A new Xbox 360-only 100 pt. achievement called Brass Balls if you beat the game on 'hard' without dying
– A new and improved widescreen option


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May 18th-20th, 2016 | Shanghai New International Exhibition Centre
China's International Trade Fair for Solutions and Trends for Retail
China's International Trade Fair for Solutions and Trends for Retail
Show Website: http://www.c-star-expo.com
Frequency: Yearly
Exhibitors at last show: 162
Visitors at last show: 5721
UK Contact: Brigitte Shepherd
C-star is a satellite event of EuroShop, the world's leading trade fair for the retail industry.
C-star 2016 has a clear structure with four sectors that are tailored to the needs of the Chinese market:
Just to make it crystal clear: China is a huge country with over 1,300,000,000 consumers and all these people go shopping! Exploit the opportunities in this huge market to successfully build-up or expand your business in China.
Do not leave such business potential to your rivals.
The shopping habits of the Chinese are becoming increasingly sophisticated.
The growing middle class is willing to buy and has money to spend. As far as the highest number of middle-class households in the world is concerned, China is likely to have overtaken the USA in 2013. Even in the countryside or outside the major cities, more and more Chinese are purchasing everyday necessities through retail outlets.
To conclude, there is a high demand in China for services, products, technologies, solutions, ideas and innovations related to every aspect of retail – and this is set to last. This market needs you! Exploit this opportunity for new business at C-star!
Visual marketing and merchandising C-star at a glance
C-star 2016 has a clear structure, with four sectors that are tailored to the Chinese market's needs:
Shopfitting, Lighting, Refrigeration, Store Design
Retail Technology
Visual Merchandising + Marketing
Stand Construction
C-star – Shanghai's International Trade Fair for Solutions and Trends all about Retail
One of the secrets of EuroShop's success is the excellent supporting programme. To ensure that C-star also offers a power package consisting of a trade fair and a first-class information platform from the outset, the programme will include a retail conference with a truly exceptional panel.
Offering simultaneous Chinese-English interpretation, the lecture programme will feature, on the one hand, national market leaders delivering a summary of recent developments and future trends in the Chinese retail landscape, and on the other hand international speakers offering the Chinese audience a rare and coveted look over the rim of their teacup with presentations of their global success concepts.
When 13 - 15 May 2015
Where Hall N5, Shanghai New International Exhibition Centre
Interval Annual event with accompanying specialist conference
The visitor target groups cover the key sectors in China, including the following segments:
C-star – Shanghai's International Trade Fair for Solutions and Trends all about Retail
Tap into the advantages and get your free trade fair ticket easily online!
Your advantages:
Ingomar Stöller
Tel: (+86-21) 6169 8386
E-Mail: email@example.com
Messe Düsseldorf (Shanghai) Co. Ltd.
Unit 307, Tower 1, German Center for Industry and Trade
88 Keyuan Road, Zhangjiang Hi-Tech Park
Pudong, Shanghai 201203, P.R. China


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Smart devices that better understand context and might even be divorced from the traditional carrier deals are the future of mobile, Google Ventures' Rich Miner has predicted, teasing that the search giant's finance arm is almost ready to announce an investment that might help deliver some of the carrier-cutting intended with the initial Nexus project. Asked during the Mobilize conference today whether Google was considering rebooting its goal to push unsubsidized smartphones and relegate the networks to dumb pipes, Miner argued that the average consumer "still prefers a subsidized device" right now, but that Google Ventures is hoping to change that. "We've made an investment in one company that we're not going to make public right now" Miner revealed, "that is going to affect that space."
Miner, who joined Google as part of the original Android acquisition, wouldn't be drawn on which company was receiving an injection of Google cash, nor indeed explain the business model it intended to use. However, he did point out that it was increasingly commonplace for technology enthusiasts to buy unsubsidized phones – like Google's Nexus 4, which the company offers direct through its webstore alongside apps and media downloads – and that even the carriers will usually hand over a device without service or a minimum agreement if shoppers are willing to pay the full price up-front.
The Android innovator was more open about the future of mobile, dismissing suggestions that innovation in the segment has stalled. In fact, he argued, there's still plenty of room for the devices we carry – whether they be relatively independent, like phones and intelligent wearables like Google's own Glass headset, or more akin to peripherals performing a small number of specific tasks – to improve, not least in how they recognize and utilize context.
[aquote]There's a lot of innovation still to be made even at the platform level[/aquote]
"Let's talk about knowledge and context: the fact that I'm moving, the fact that I'm in a meeting, that I'm talking to you" Miner suggested. "There's a huge layer of information in that context which could be used to make those devices and applications smarter … knowing your calendar, knowing who you call, knowing which restaurant you're in, knowing who you're with. I still think there's a lot of innovation still to be made even at the platform level."
For instance, the venture partner pointed out, his current phone knows when he's traveling in the car and automatically switches into speakerphone mode on an incoming call. That's a feature we've seen on the Moto X, which uses a battery of contextual sensors to better understand the environment it is being used in, and tailor the way it reacts accordingly.
Miner also commented on fears that fragmentation was leading Android to a more precarious place, where the spread of platform versions across different devices – even devices sold alongside each other in stores today – was becoming detrimental to users and developments.
Asked whether he believed manufacturer modifications were the wrong direction for Android, Miner pointed out that flexibility had been the goal from the start.
"I don't think it was ever in my mind a bad thing if people took Android and used it for their own purpose. We wanted OEMs to know they could change it to suit their requirements" he said. "I think what would be dangerous is if OEMs changed it in a way that broke applications across the platform. And so far you haven't seen that happen: whether it's a Samsung device or an Android device … it's one ecosystem and manufacturers respect those boundaries."
It's a topical subject, given recent rumors of HTC working with Amazon on a range of customized "Kindle phones" that could launch in early 2014. Amazon has been one of the most eager re-writers of Android, tasking its engineers to change every level of the OS to best suit the retail-centric focus of its Kindle Fire tablets, and ousting Google's own Play store in the process.
The key differentiator, Miner suggests, is whether the changes made break compatibility along the way, something that, he highlighted, is yet to have happened. "I think Samsung knows that it would be a bad idea to change something that breaks a million apps," he concluded, "and that they'd need to have a million apps change some code to make those apps work on their devices."


text:
Shenzhen Shennanyi Glass Product Co., Ltd. is a large manufacturer of processing glass at Nanshan District, Shenzhen, Guangdong, with a plant area of 15,000m2. Since 1997, the company has been devoted to R&D, manufacture and market expansion of different kinds of processing glass and has won a good reputation from customers around the world. The leading products contain hot bending glass, magic glass, bullet-proof glass, flat/curved tempered glass, laminated glass, craft glass, or any composite product of all above.
Through more than ten years of efforts, the company has rapidly grown into a powerful glass deep-processing plant, with an annual production capacity of 500,000m2, and has accomplished over 500 projects involving spherical glass, cone glass, large-sized lighting ceilings, sightseeing lifts and curtain walls at home and abroad, which witness powerfully the trust and support from customers all over the world in these years, and quality of our products.
The company will provide the best products and sincere services for you in the principle of "Credit Utmost, Quality First"!


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Buy South Indian Groceries Online at Veenas
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Burpy Grocery Delivery Service
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Do you like delicious food? Do you want to enjoy it even in the office or at home without having to prepare it yourself? Choose Foodpanda! We offer a supply of food from your favorite restaurants. Order your serving now!
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Tiramisu Recipe
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Taco Bell Mexican Fast Food
Taco Bell is a leading US Mexican fast food restaurant chain. Taco Bell serves tacos, burritos, signature quesadillas, Grilled Stuft Burritos, nachos, and other specialty items
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ifood.tv - Easy to Make Indian Recipes
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Buy grocery online at efooddepot.com
We offer a large variety of Asian, European, and Middle Eastern food and drink products
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Welcome to Homemakers.com : Living the life you want
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Tea Orient for a large selection of Teas
Website offering a large range of teas such as Puer Black Tea, Dragon Well Green Tea, Jasmine Green Tea and Oolong Tea. Tea Orient is a tea shop based in the centre of London.
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Order online here! Our Gourmet Homemade Tamales are a Texas Tamale Tradition. These Mexican-style Tamales are the perfect Christmas Tamales across the USA. Homemade and handmade Pork, Chicken, Beef
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Chinese Takeaway
Offers online Chinese Takeaway delivery ordering across the UK. Choose from over 1000's of local takeaways and restaurants.
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MoreCoffee! | Green Coffee Beans and Home Coffee Roasters!
Roast your own green coffee beans. New bean selections arriving weekly. Buy Home Coffee Roasters and Coffee Starter Kits. Free Shipping on orders over $59.
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Gourmet Cookie Bouquets
Sells gourmet cookies in cookie bouquets, bouquet arrangements and tins for delivery.
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Top 100 food sites .
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Chinese tea manufacturer and wholesalers
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CandyWarehouse: Nostalgic Candy Shop
Online candy retailer specializes in bulk, retro, and old fashion candy for nostalgic gift giving.
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Catering Company
Make My Caterer your caterer. A selection of Sydney's top caterers all in one place. Get a FREE Quote on catering today!
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Gastronomic Spain buy spanish food online
Gastronomic Spain is a spanish food online shop with more than 800 spanish products and Free delivery to Europe for orders over 79,99. Al the spanish food you can not find outsite Spain. Serrano Ham, Iberian Ham, chorizo serrano, fried chorizo, et
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Buy Indian Spices & Grocery Online USA, Free Shipping | Baza
Welcome to USA largest & famous Indian grocery & Indian food shop on the web! Only on BazaarPrime.com. Choose over a variety of Indian grocery with free shipping from our Indian store includes best selling Indian spices & groceries in the USA.
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Keurig K-Cups and the Revolutionary Keurig Coffee
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Easy Italian Recipes
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Mexgrocer online Mexican food store
Mexgrocer is an online grocery store specialising in Mexican goods, such as dried chillies, sauces, tortillas, frijoles and tomatillos.
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Sheese - vegan cheese - non dairy cheese - dairy f
Bute Island Foods specialise in producing Sheese - a variety of non dairy and dairy free cheese subs
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text:
Home page of magic mushrooms net
Psilocybin & Psychedelics Research
Growing (cultivation) of magic mushrooms
Picking and identifying magic mushrooms
Psychedelic art
Magic Mushrooms: religion and spirituality
Magic mushrooms: not a party drug
Disclaimer & links to sites not about magic mushrooms
Contact www.magic-mushrooms.net
Check this!
Video: Tool - The Pot by williamryanmilam
Unofficial Music Video. I made this video for a final cut pro class project out of a list of generic and boring clips of people dancing that were provided to ...
Go to the magic mushrooms community chat page. Talk online to other visitors of magic-mushrooms.net
Psychedelic images and art from drugs-forum.com
Cick your story at planet story; a hyper graphic adventure for children from 3 to 93
Video: clips made of sheer madness and video-letters from India
Paintings by Rita Nada. In her paintings she shares the precious. In her paintings she shares the profound. In her paintings she shows the unspeakable.
A gallery of Psychedelic Surrealism with animated backgrounds, by William George Bashford. The site includes almost 300 images of paintings, drawings, photography and digital art. The question that most concerns the artist is this- "How is the multiplicity of subjects and objects generated from non-being?". This central concern is expressed in the work.
Collection of drawings, paintings and commercial art derived from 'a deep cultivation of conscious meditation on contextual relationships'.
Enter the world of Elfs. Nice psychedelic site with mind-blowing and humorous flash movies
A collection of psychedelic art by blofish.net
Art by Daniel B. Holeman
Sacred mirrors and other works of art and writings by Alex Grey
Download psychedelic and hypnogenic screensavers
Digital hallucinations by Kronic Studios
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Shop for magic mushroom books, psychedelic music and DVDs. Powered by Amazon USA
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Shop for magic mushroom books, psychedelic music and DVDs. Powered by Amazon UK
Check this!


text:
College of Education
Learning and Performance Research Center
International teamwork
A team of researchers investigated how to truly help teachers. The stunning survey results were aided by an LPRC team.
Helping ease dropout rates
Jenny LeBeau has been a main contributor for a community research grant aimed at helping Spokane kids stay in school.
Methods Workshop
The two-day workshop covers measurement, latent profile analysis, structural equation modeling, and more.


text: Cornell has been building Hydro Turbines for more than 50 years. Our Hydro Turbines can be found in Industrial, Municipal, and Agricultural power generation projects around the world. With our wide range of turbines you can generate power with heads as low as 55 feet and flows as low as 90 gallons per minute.