my "glamorous" life

When I tell Americans that I live in Spain and that Big Jim is English, I often get a response along the lines of "Oh, that sounds so glamorous!" No doubt, the past few years have been exciting and a bit of an adventure. "Glamorous," though, would not be an adjective I would use to describe our life or the lives of many of the people who live in or near our village. The majority of expats I've met come here to have a simpler life than they did in the UK, Germany, Holland, or Denmark. They have given up many of the comforts they had become accustomed to in their previous lives. For example, heat and air conditioning. Last year, we had one of the hottest summers on record in Europe. In our village, we had three weeks of temperatures over 105 degrees. Big Jim and I live in a typical village townhouse, designed to stay cool during the heat. During the heatwave, the temp hovered around 95 during the day in the office. Because of the additional heat coming off of my laptop, I developed prickly heat all over my hand, with hundreds of tiny blisters under the skin between my fingers and palms. Because I was the sole money earner at the time, I had no choice but to keep working. When the itching became unbearable, I made an oatmeal paste, which I kept in a bowl on my desk. I would dunk one hand in the mix while I typed with the other. If only my former coworkers who had the misperception that I now worked poolside as the Big Jim served up endless pitchers of sangria could have seen me then. On the plus side, Big Jim and I both lost about seven percent of our body fat during the period, just from sitting and sweating all day. As I mentioned, the houses in this area have been constructed to keep cool during the long summer months. Unfortunately, there is no magical switch to turn off this feature during the autumn and winter. We use a couple gas-powered estufas, or heaters, to warm the house. There are electric versions of these as well. When I first came to Spain as a student, I remember being perplexed why the family I was lodging with were sitting at the dining table with the long table cloth draped over their legs. It didn't take me long to realize that the only estufa in the apartment was under that table. Several of our neighbors here use the old style estufas. During the winter, every afternoon after lunch, Rosaria and Iluminata are on the steps outside building olive wood fires in their heaters. When they fire is hot and dies down a bit, they will carefully take them indoors and place them under their tables, with the heavy velvet tablecloth. This is their only source of warmth for the evening hours. Modern conveniences are slowly making their way to our village. Quite a stir was caused about 15 years ago when the first washing machine was delivered to a resident. Dryers are still uncommon; washlines hang from every roof terrace. Dishwashers---only for foreigners. We were some of the first people in the village to have a permanent Internet connection, which Big Jim and I need for our work. Our house didn't even have a regular phone line before we moved in; the waiting time for a phone installation can be years. Until recently, when younger villagers began moving elsewhere, there was probably little need for phones---all relative news could be gained by word of mouth. One tradition that remains today is the ringing of the church bell when a resident has died. There is a distinctive pattern for men and women, and when it sounds many women head to the church to learn the identity of the recently deceased. The word then quickly spreads as the women return to their homes. These are just a few examples of why I sometimes feel as if I'm in a timewarp. Tradition is big here, and it is one of the reasons Big Jim and I love Spain. But is our life glamorous here? No, decidedly not. Life is about hard work and sweating and a constant battle with the dust that blows in from the nearby countryside. It's about the electricity going out at the mere chance of a rainstorm and dodging the mopeds as they speed through the winding narrow streets. Love, family, friends are what make it all worthwhile. Next time, gazpacho. Hasta luego, mylifeinspain