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Ok( deep breath), I am going to become living proof of one of those stereotypes that circulate about me, well, to be exact, about me and the rest of my fellow Countrymen. I like ham,to be exact I like the Spanish Ham, known as Jamón Ibérico( apparently everything said in Spanish sounds so much better and sexier), and yes I am a snob about it, I like the good quality one, the extremely delicious one that melts in your mouth at the first contact with your tongue, the one that makes your taste buds sigh in contentment, the one that is the best cure to Hangovers ever known to Mankind.

Well, when I went back to Spain for Christmas I could sneak a package of this mouth-watering product between my copious luggage, and then I had to fight some Americans that after having had the privilege of taste it, could not get enough of it. Continuing this path, you may guess that it did not last long. When I talked to my parents about my longing towards the aforementioned food, they came to the conclusion that if I wanted to keep my sanity intact they must send me some through the mail, and here it is the precious ham grasped by my anxious and excited fingers.

You could think that this is the end of this happy tale, but there are some pesky details that I omitted before because a good story should always have a little bit of suspense and saucy twists on its main plot. As you can see in the image, my mum send me the package February the eleventh, and as you can also point out, the envelope arrived yesterday, March the 14th.

Now I finally grasped that I have lived all my life devoid of contact with the authentic Reality, I have believed all my life that I was born in the Era of technology, Internet and quickness. Apparently not, it was all an illusion conjured by the depths of my mind that prevented me to notice that we still live in the 15th century in which a missive needs more than a month of ship journey, horse carriage and human force efforts in order to get to its addressee. Progress my friends, we live in the era of Progress.

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