my tree

There is a tree along the goat track that stands out from the dozens that line the path. It sits on a slight elevation, its thick, twisted roots exposed, and the ground beneath hollowed out. I first noticed it a couple years ago, when a group of the old farmers had gathered there, to take in its shade, to smoke a Ducado or two, to rest. One of them had taken a broken terracotta tile and wedged it between two of the larger roots, cleverly creating a little seat for himself. On one particularly hot day, I decided to have a brief pause under the tree. The precious Boo delighted in my choice and reclined by my side. Mr. Beebs took yet another opportunity to have a splash in the irrigation ditch below. I just sat, looking out at the valley, to the mountains a few miles away, and listening to the birds, the farmer's spade hit the dirt. Since then, a short rest at the tree has become part of our routine, the five-minute pause a much-anticipated break in my day. Last year, when Big Jim was still looking for a job, these five minutes were often the only escape from my otherwise overscheduled, overworked days. Sometimes I would look out at the mountainside yet see nothing, my mind racing as it checked down the list of things I had to finish that day. But still I sat, the roots grounding and steadying me, as well as the tree. Thankfully, my daily pace is no longer so frenetic, so frantic. I can sit for ten, fifteen minutes with little worry that I am putting a work deadline in serious jeopardy. And so I sit. Because I can. I try to memorize every crevice on Maroma, following the tree line, the fire breaks downward. I look at the distant houses, perched on the mountaintop, wondering who lives there. I note that the grasses are quickly burning up under the summer sun, changing the color of the valley carpet from green to yellow. I focus on a young bird and try to follow its path as it swoops and soars in search of a tasty breakfast. And then the precious Boo gently nudges my knee and rests her head on my leg. Mr. Beebs has returned from his explorations and is seated on my left. I hadn't even noticed he was there. The p. Boo softly "woofs", tale swooshing, eyes smiling at me. "Who wants brekkies?" I ask. Both dogs jump up and begin their race back home. Quiet time is over. For today. hasta luego, mylifeinspain

1-year anniversary of mylifeinspain

...and as promised, here is the birthday quiz. Please post your answers via comments. The first person with all the correct responses will get a box of local goodies. Almost all the answers are found within the blog; a couple you may have to do a little research or just use Spanish logic to get the answer. :-) Contest is open to everyone except for my mother (sorry, mom). It will run for 1 week, or until someone gets all the answers correct. In the past year, 3,282 people have stopped by for a read. mylifeinspain thanks all of you. :-) And here's the quiz. Buena suerte! 1. C.K., mylifeinspain's diva kitty, is how old?
a. 19 b. 17 c. 15 d. 11 2. What is mylifeinspain's all-time favorite band? Ever. 3. How tall is mylifeinspain? a. 168 cm b. 167 cm c. 166 cm d. 165 cm 4. Spanish law requires drivers to carry all but one of the following at all times. Which item is NOT required? a. spare fan belt and the tools to change it b. extra pair of prescription lenses c. jumper cables d. at least two reflective vests 5. What is this animal?
6. The village's annual wine festival takes place on what day? a. July 1 b. July 15 c. August 1 d. August 15 7. Which of the following has mylifeinspain never visited? a. the Prado b. the bullring in Seville c. the Alhambra in Granada d. the Mezquita in Cordoba 8. What are the names of mylifeinspain's ophthalmologists? (hint: there are two) 9. What model Peugeot do I drive? a. 205 b. 305 c. 405 d. 406 10. What is the name of my niece? a. Cora b. Dora c. Cara d. Dara 11. This photograph was taken where?
12. mylifeinspain's sign is a. Aquarius b. Aries c. Leo d. Virgo

tgif/garden shots

The week has just flown by again, not that I am complaining really. Just means that I will see the Big Jim sooner. :-) Speaking of the Big Jim, when you find yourself complaining about how hot it is in your part of the world, think of the poor guy (and the millions of others in Pakistan) because the temperature today in Islamabad and Lahore is 47C/116F, with winds, so that it truly feels as though one has walked out into a convection oven. Today's photos also are for the Big Jim, who still seems wary that I can pull off a garden with any degree of success. So Husband, please observe the following:
First pepper of the season, top just right of center. I believe it is a Thai bird pepper, but can't be sure because the sun has bleached all of my labels.
Pepper #2, I have no idea what this one will be, perhaps a more traditional Spanish green chili. Will just have to wait and see. :-)
Pretty posies....
The young ones; see Big Jim, we will have plenty o' peppers. There are roughly 150 plants in total. :-)
yet another gratuitous dog picture. mylifeinspain turns 1 on Sunday. I am putting together a birthday quiz, complete with prize for the person who gets the most correct answers (sorry, mom, will have to disqualify you from participation; everyone else is free to enter). I repeat, there will be prizes.... :-) Have a nice weekend, everyone! hasta pronto, mylifeinspain

mission accomplished/summer sighting

As you can see, it wasn't the biggest of nests, so we used the "spray, dash, and slam the door shut" method of removal. No human/canine/feline injuries to report. I did actually check the yellow pages for pest removers, but not surprisingly none were located east of Malaga. I am sure it is the local "why buy a fence when you can use an old bedframe just as well", do-it-yourself resiliency that keeps anyone from setting up shop here. Some of the wasps are still hanging around the terrace and seem to be quite annoyed about their displacement. And who can blame them? I don't care if they decide to build another home nearby; as I said before, we have shared the terrace space for the past two years. The dining table, however, is not an option. ********************************* Gecko update: I had seen NONE for the past couple weeks and was beginning to fear the two young feral cats that recently moved into the neighborhood, Blacky and Twitchy, had decimated the newly born gecko population. But last night, after watching two episodes of "Homicide", season 4, I creeped downstairs to the kitchen to get a drink of water and turn off the lights. I "creeped" because the program had made the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand up. In our corner of the world, I am more likely to be attacked by a wild boar than I am by some homicidal psychopath, and as a result my guard is down, so down, that I routinely forget to remove my keys from the front door, where they hang untouched, sometimes all night, until I stumble across them or Almendena calls up to me "R., tus llaves estan en la puerta!" So I decided I better doublecheck the door last night because, well, you never know. No keys this time, but my eyes drifted upward, first to the almost-full moon overhead and then back down to Almendena's kitchen window, which was softly illuminated by the streetlamp. And there he was. Baby gecko. Just a tiny little guy, but firmly planted to the wall about 12 feet up. A sure sign that summer had arrived for real this time. hasta pronto, mylifeinspain

question

Anyone ever remove a wasp nest? I have a bigger problem than I thought. It seems a colony of potter wasps has decided to build a nest under our dining table on the terrace. This explains my stings yesterday and Mr. Beebs' two the previous Sunday (poor little pup got it first in the ear and then in his paw when he tried to swipe the bad guy away). And today I found the precious Boo with four swarming around her wagging tail, which is what instigated my search for a nest. Potter wasps are not particularly vicious---unless they are defending their home---so I figured they must have expanded their little development to elsewhere on the terrace (they have had a small colony at the top of the roof, under a terracotta shingle, for the past two years). I carefully lifted the edge of the faded lemon-print tablecloth, and I found myself admiring close up (frankly much closer than I cared to) six wasp rear-ends, hanging out of the honeycomb construction they have craftily built into the table corner. I suppose their front halves were being more productive inside the nest itself. Sigh. Tomorrow I will go the ferreteria and see if I can get some nasty toxic thing to do 'em in. I am sad about this because I enjoy watching them swoop down and have a drink from my plant plates after I am done with the watering. I wish I could evict them more peacefully and tell them to move back to their old digs, that Mr. Beebs and I would forget all about our little stings. Oh well.... Any suggestions on their removal are welcome. I am planning my counterattack for early Wednesday morning, before they have a chance to rev up on their morning coffee..... hasta pronto, mylifeinspain

today's garden mishap

Today managed to awaken everyone in the barrio from their afternoon siesta with my cries of "OWWW, fuck, shit, shit, fuck, OWWW, shit, shit, FUCK!"
Please note the evil wasp stung me not once, but twice, the little bastard. Had to remove ring I normally wear on my middle finger as all began to swell up like nasty Vienna sausages...
Its apparent target. Lesson learned: don't use flower-print drinking cups on terrace. Back to my icepack.... hasta pronto, mylifeinspain

happy friday

It has been a good week. :-) For starters, I am actually ahead on my work schedule; the heavier construction next door seems to have shifted to the far side of the house (at least for now), leaving me high as a kite on paint fumes, the sounds of whirring electric saws now only in the distance; and I made my first solo journey to the coast since the eye op in January, reclaiming a tiny bit more of my independence. Ever since Big Jim and I decided that we would begin to explore other areas of Spain as possible settling spots, I feel as though that proverbial weight has been lifted from my shoulders, allowing me to see the village in a new, more attractive, light. Also, since starting my language class, I find every meeting with a local an opportunity to try out a Spanish phrase or two I learned that week (my current favorite, dejar de fumar, to quit smoking, which on day 25 is still going well). And Tuesday, a chance encounter on the goat track with life-long village inhabitant (who was walking not one but two [!] three-month-old puppies, a German shepherd and a boxer) led to my first real substantial conversation with anyone from this village in more than three years. No talk of the weather, the best cleaning product for tile floors, the latest scandal in the family. It was incredibly refreshing. ******************************************* I decided not to buy any air conditioning unit, portable or not. I figured the cost just for the AC, not including the electricity, of which I would need copious amounts to run the damn thing, would be the same as a daily pass to the hotel swimming pool, which is a two-minute walk from the house. After doing the math, the decision was a no-brainer: the pool wins. Last Sunday, I paid my 6 euros, which is the daily entrance fee and includes sunbed and pillow and one of those grass umbrella-y things, and spent the entire afternoon there, alternating between reading, swimming, and just resting my eyes and letting the mind wander. There was one Spanish family from the village there, but other than us, all the others were guests of the hotel, and thus gave me the feeling of being on a mini-vacation as well. Yes, the pool definitely wins. ******************************************* While shopping yesterday, I found caftan-type tunics for sale at Zara. Okay, I admit most times I am not the biggest fan of globalization, but as I have started pricing tickets for my trip to Pakistan in September, this find seemed most fortuitous. Big Jim has advised I can pretty much get around the unofficial dress code by wearing one of these long billowy shirts over my jeans. I picked up two, a white and a pink one, so now at least my travel and arrival outfits are sorted. ******************************************* Anyone know where I can get some of this fake dirt stuff that yuppies are spraying on their SUVs in US cities, to make them look as though they have been offroading instead of zipping around urban centers? Yes, I realize I will probably go to hell for making such a ridiculous purchase, but I have my reasons. You see, here, where my car wouldn't be my car without sufficient dust for the kids to scrawl "Pepe + Pilar" inside a lopsided heart and the ubiquitous "lavame" (wash me) all over the boot, the status symbol, among those who even have time to think about these things, is a pristine car, a sign that someone has sufficient money to have a garage. These are the same people who insist on driving their SUVs into the village, taking up two parking spaces in the aparcamiento, and blocking my Peugeot so that I can't out of my spot until they return from the post office and a cerveza or two at the bodega. Think of the fun I could have with this spray-on dirt while I wait.... ;-) Have a nice weekend! mylifeinspain

monday morning photoblog: from the goat track

a day in the life of martin (4-year-old grandson of almendena, my neighbor)

5:45 am: Wake up. What day is today? Domingo. Yay, we are going to see the abuelos. 5:50 am: Wake up Julia, my 2-year-old sister, and Mama and Papa. Tell them that it is domingo, and we have to go see the abuelos right away. 5:55 am: Cry and throw fit #1 of the day when Mama tells me to go back to bed because we are not going to the abuelos until later. 5:56 am: Pee in my PJs just to make Mama and Papa mad. 5:58 am: Mama makes me take bath. I scream the entire time. 6:15 am: Poke Julia, trying to make her cry, while I wait for Mama to make me my churros and Cola Cao. 6:30 am: Eat half of my churros, but do not drink my Cola Cao. Tell Mama I want it hot, like her coffee, not this cold crap she has given me. Mama yells at me for saying bad word, makes me sit on the bad boy chair. I scream/cry in protest. 6:45 am: Am allowed off of the bad boy chair. I try to wake up Papa so that we can play with my new football. He doesn't seem to want to wake up, so I sit on top of him and scream in his ear. That worked. :-) 7:15 am: Papa and I are kicking around the football, but that damn Julia now wants to play too. No way! I push her out of the way as I run to make my goal, yay me! 7:16 am: I am back in the bad boy chair, crying. It's not fair. I didn't push her that hard. She's just being a big baby. I am going to throw fit #2 of the day, that will show 'em. 8:00 am: Yay! We are all buckled into our safety seats and on our way to see the abuelos. I know they can't wait to see us! 8:30 am: Why do the abuelos and my aunt Maria Cruz look so sleepy? Aren't they happy to see me? I was a good boy the entire car trip, except for the one time I pinched Julia, but she deserved it anyway. Abuela, da me Cola Cao! 8:45 am: Eat more churros that the abuela has made. Hers are better than Mama's, but I can't say that or Mama gets mad. Dammit, though, this Cola Cao is cold! Why doesn't anyone listen to me?! Throw fit #3 of the day, pound on front door for emphasis of my frustration. 9:00 am: Am forced to lie down on Aunt Maria Cruz's bed to take nap. Not gonna do it. Just going to scream/cry until they come to their senses... 9:20 am: Continue scream/cry...can't they hear me? WTF? 9:32 am: Am getting sleepy..... 11:30 am: Mama wakes me up. We have to go to 12:00 mass. Screw that. Begin to voice my disagreement, and the abuela sticks a Chupa lollipop in my month. Cherry, my favorite. Yum.... 12:06 pm: The mass crap is BORING. Will pinch Julia. Hee hee, she's crying. EYEE! The mean Aunt Maria Cruz pinched me back. I am going to cry and throw fit #4 of the day. 12:08 pm: Works every time. Papa and I are off to Perico's, where THEY know how to make me a proper Cola Cao. Papa always get something yucky called brandy with his coffee. Papa gives me a bunch of shiny coins and lets me play the slot machine. 12:42 pm: Mama is here. Mass is over, and she and Papa are having a fight because he's drinking that gross brandy stuff. I take the opportunity to give Julia a smack and then hide under the table where the really old guys are playing dominos. 1:00 pm: Back at the abuelos' house. The abuela is busy in the kitchen; abuelo and Papa are watching football on the tellie; and Mama, Maria Cruz, Julia, and I are singing the TV commercial for Cola Cao as well as my favorite kiddie song, which is all about chocolate. I love chocolate.... 2:00 pm: Which is why I am now throwing fit #5 of the day. Abuela just gave me my plate, and do you think there are any churros or chocolate of any kind on it?! No, what is this pork roast crap? And patatas a lo pobre and carrots?! Are they kidding me?! They must be joking if they think I am going to eat any of this stuff. To show my extreme dissatisfaction, I pick up the plate and throw it on the floor. 2:01 pm: That plate throwing didn't go over too well. Everyone's mad at me now. I must get out of here. Pound incessantly on front door, waiting for someone to hear my pleas for help and rescue me. Where's that nice American neighbor with the two dogs? She'll surely understand my plight.... 3:15 pm: I won in the end, hee hee. Got a hamburger specially made and some nice chocolate-covered bisquits for dessert. Now we are off to the playground, where they have some cool swings, and then we have to go visit great-aunt Conchita, who is the abuela's sister. She can talk almost as loud as the abuela and makes even better churros! 3:47 pm: Back at the abuelos' house. I am in trouble again. Yeah, what's new, I know. I pushed Julia too hard on the swing and she fell and cried. It wasn't my fault, but nobody believed me. So now I am back at the house, supposed to be resting while abuelo and Papa watch more football on TV. And that damn Julia is going to get all of Conchita's churros. It's just not fair. If I had the energy, I would throw fit #6 of the day, but I am just too sleeeppppppyyyyy.... 6:02 pm: Wake up from nap. Abuelo and Papa are now asleep in front of the tellie. Where's the abuela? She'll make me some much-needed Cola Cao. "ABUELA!! ABUELA!! Where are you?" 6:04 pm: Find the abuela on the roof terrace, taking down the wash and chatting to that funny-talking American lady with the two dogs. The dogs are scary, and one of them is like twice as big as me. And all furry, too. I can't hear what abuela is saying because she is whispering, but I think she is talking about me. Probably what a good handsome little grandson I am. :-) I tug on her skirt to get her attention. Abuela, necesito mas Cola Cao! 6:07 pm: Am now throwing fit #6 of the day because Mama and Papa say I can't have any more Cola Cao until tomorrow. Meanies! I will show them. Will pound on the abuelos' front door until their ears bleed.... 6:11 pm: Papa, Maria Cruz, Julia, and I are outside playing with the beachball that the abuelos keep for "special occasions", like when I hit #6 on the daily fit-o-meter. 6:27 pm: Oh no! It's the cousins, Estrella and Rosana. Ugh. I can't stand the cousins. They think they are so big just because they are like 9 and 7. Rosana used to be cool, but since she started the colegio, she's been no fun and all bossy. If they even think twice about joining in on our fun..... 6:58 pm: NOW what is Estrella up to? Crap. She has brought that stupid jumprope with her! She and Rosana like to show off with that dumb rope because they know I can't do it like they can. Mama says I have to wait until I get more coordination or whatever that means. 7:04 pm: I am in trouble again and have been sent inside to the abuela. Estrella stuck her tongue out at me, so I threw the ball and it hit her in the head. I don't know what the fuss is about; it's just a silly beachball and not hard or anything. I cried a little but decided against throwing a fit because I figure if I play my cards right and behave while the abuela reads me a book, maybe I can convince her to give me a bisquit or another Cola Cao. Wink, wink. 7:51 pm: No such luck. I have sat through THREE stupid stories, but the abuela won't give me anything. Says it will spoil my dinner...mean lady. Why does everyone have to be so mean?! 8:03 pm: BINGO! The abuela just gave me a new Hot Wheels car because I have been such a good boy. I knew I could get something out of her! Wahoo, am going outside to show the stupid cousins and Julia my new car. It's red with big fat wheels. 8:05 pm: Am throwing fit #7 of the day because that mean Estrella took my Hot Wheels and hid it and won't give it back. 8:06 pm: Hee hee, that worked well. Estrella and Rosana have been sent home. Good riddance. 8:45 pm: Finally the abuela has made some decent food: fish fingers and French fries. Normally, dinnertime is when I would have fit #8, but the abuela did good for once. 9:14 pm: Mama and Papa say we have to go home, but I am not ready to leave. Have cleverly hidden Julia's diaper bag in Aunt Maria Cruz's bedroom, hee hee. 9:32 pm: "No Mama, I really don't know where Julia's diaper bag is." I love when a plan comes together. :-) 9:47 pm: Crap, they found the diaperbag, and now we really are going home. Papa has gone to get the car, and we are waiting for him outside the abuelos' house. Oh, here comes that American lady with the dogs. Abuela always says those dogs are better behaved than me. Let's see how well behaved that little one is if I just pull on his tai....Oops, abuela caught me. "Abuela, let go of my ear! Mama!!!" 10:02 pm: Wave good-bye to the abuelos and Maria Cruz. "See you next domingo!!!!" I wonder why they always roll their eyes when I say that? 10:40 pm: Insist on wearing my Spiderman pajamas or threaten to throw fit #8. Drift off to sleep, dreaming of endless cups of hot Cola Cao.....

i can see clearly now (sort of), part 1

No, unfortunately, I have not had a dramatic recovery of vision in my right eye. To the contrary, I haven't seen any improvement in recent weeks, and the realization that this truly may be it sight-wise for me has begun to relunctantly sink in. No, this is a "I can see clearly now" figurative kind of moment. While I was on vacation with the Big Jim, I had a revelation of how unhappy I am living in this village. There, I finally said it. And for the past month, I have been trying to figure out precisely why it has taken me so long to just be able to say it. That has been the complicated part. The general feeling that this village and me were not a perfect mix has been growing since day 1, when I walked into the village and found the first bakery to be English-run. Back then, the expat total was about 300; only three years and bit later, it has grown to a staggering 900 (and that's only counting those legally registered). I HATE that I find it near-impossible to go to a restaurant in this village and hear any Spanish being spoken, except by the waitstaff. This is partly because of the influx of foreigners but also because local long-time residents simply can no longer afford the skyrocketing prices. For example, three years ago, Big Jim and I could have a three-course meal, bottle of wine, brandy, and coffee for about 25 to 30 euros. That same meal would easily cost 75 to 100 euros today, depending on how fussy we are about the wine. In past entries, I have also written about the level of alcohol abuse common in the expat set, as well as the incessant development of the nearby countryside and the village itself. I find both of these disturbing. On any given day, it is easy to find foreign residents sitting in a cafe for 12 hours at a time, consuming 20 glasses of wine (each), and not going home until the waiters eventually close up for the day or until they are no longer capable of sitting upright. And the breath-taking vistas that originally drew Big Jim and I to the village? Day by day they are being consumed by the construction of new "luxury" shoddily built villas such that I fear in 10 years, one will be hard pressed to find an olive grove in these parts. I realize that I cannot stop the progress here (although am I a bad person for secretly wishing a giant landslide will carry all the hideous villas to the depths of the valley?), but I DO believe there better ways to go about development than the current "take the money and run" mentality encouraged by our local mayor. Another thing that has been bothering me is that I have no privacy whatsoever. On one hand, yes, it is nice to know people are looking after you; on the other, the degree of intrusion sometimes is mindboggling. Here's a recent example: one day last week, I was in the kitchen emptying the dishwasher. As I did, I was thinking to myself how bummed I am about my eye, how I stumble more often now if I am not mindful, how I now run into people in crowded streets and stations because of my lack of peripheral vision, etc. This recent depression added to PMS hormones resulted in some tears, nothing close to a sob, mind you, but tears nonetheless. A few seconds later, I was startled by a knock on the kitchen window. It was one of the expats in the neighborhood, peering in and mouthing "Are you okay"? For the love of GOD, can a person not have a minor momentary breakdown in the privacy of her own kitchen?!!!! After I assured the woman that I was okay, just hormonal, she went on her way. Knowing this village, I was probably treated with delicate gloves for the next two days: "Be nice to the American girl. She has PMS, you know, and we don't want her to cry again." But after she left, I began to think about what it was about village life in general that doesn't agree with me (besides the fact that everybody knows your business). I find the atmosphere stifling. I hated this aspect of my hometown when I was growing up, and the same emotions have resurfaced. In this village, there is a "file in line" order to the place that does not agree with me. When I have confided in friends here of my unhappiness, I have far more often been admonished than supported. When I detail the reasons of why I don't believe the village and I are a good fit, I have had people try to argue every point with me. It is though "Well, I like it here, so you have to, too!" Ugh. Additionally, I have made no friends who are aged even in the same decade as I. This is mainly the result of the village demographics. Many of the similarly aged Spanish who grew up here have fled for the cities or coast in search of better job opportunities. Clearly, with a husband 11 years older than I and a very close friend of 73 (I am 37 for the record), I am not someone who places a tremendous value on age. However, as much as I care for the friends I have made here, there are times when I long to have a chat with someone who is more close to my stage in life, who can better relate to some of my age-related challenges. I am grateful for the bits of well-earned wisdom my older friends have shared with me; however, although I realize I must seem a child to them, I do not appreciate their at-times incessant coaching, guidance, advice, whateveryouwannacallit, into my (and Big Jim's) affairs. I feel as though I have five sets of surrogate parents, and the kicker is, my own parents are not the meddling sort (thank you mom and dad). They were privy to my stubbornness early on and know all too well that me and being told what to do are not a good mix. I also miss my husband very, very much. Even though we have dealt with long separations in the past, after two and a half years of seeing his silly mug every (bloody) day, I find the 12-week breaks difficult. I now realize that I need him most of all as a leveler to all the insanity that surrounds me. And finally, I know I have hesitated sharing my unhappiness because I know how many people out there think I must live a very charmed life. And don't get me wrong: I would not trade ANY of my experiences here for anything. Had I stayed in Philadelphia, let's see, I would have been laid off from my job 15 months later as my entire department was made redundant, and I probably would have eventually had to move from my apartment when the "Real World" cast moved into the neighborhood. Yes, I miss my very good friends---and Philadelphia will always be my second home---but it was right for me to leave when I did. But the question is, now where? *************************************************** As you can see, I have had a lot going on in my head. It has taken me quite awhile to finish this post, which was written in fits and starts over the past week or so. Big Jim and I are mulling many things over at the moment, so this story is far from over. :-) To be continued.... hasta pronto, mylifeinspain

gecko, gecko on the wall...

Last evening, as I was coming home from dinner with L. and M.A., I spotted my first gecko of the season. He was just a little guy, a youngster, perched outside above the kitchen window. Unfortunately, by the time I went inside to get the camera, he had scurried away. Perhaps he saw C.K. sitting inside, licking her chops at the thought of young gecko. Anyway, tonight I will be armed with camera and on official gecko watch. This morning I am going down to the coast. No, the car still is not finished. According to the woman last Tuesday, it should be ready later this week. Apparently, she went on vacation, and nobody followed her notes to order the mirrors. And then, of course, when she returned, the owner, who is the only person allowed to make the orders, went on vacation himself. Typical. So today I am hitching a ride with D. and U. because, now that the temperature is quickly on the rise, I want to check out these portable air conditioning units. I stopped by one of the electronic shops in the village last week, but their units were totally overpriced, and actually they had none in stock, so I would have had to wait for it to be ordered. And regular readers can guess the outcome of that one....in all likelihood the AC wouldn't arrive until, say August, when two thirds of the summer had already passed. So I must be off. Will write again soon. :-) hasta luego, mylifeinspain

happy friday

In this rapidly passing year, which for more reasons than one I am referring to as the "year of the blur", I have finally managed to cross one item off of my "to do" list. Yesterday I had my first official Spanish lesson with Miguel. From our previous chats, he had very accurately gauged my level and consequently paired me up with another of his advanced students, B., a retired Englishman (who also speaks French and Italian). For 90 minutes, B. and I managed to keep up a conversation that ranged from art history to the EU charter status to the 6-euro "mantenimiento" fee Telefonica charges (in addition to the 39-euro base fee) for ADSL to places we had traveled in the US. Miguel would raise a new subject when we would begin to run out of steam and would gently correct a missed verb conjugation or assist if we ran into a situation where we just didn't have the vocab. The time passed quickly, but I confess, my brain was "frito" after its 90-minute workout. I had a brief chat with B. after the class and was glad to see he had a similar attitude to the learning process, ie, he doesn't get too worked up about making mistakes because he too realizes that they are inevitable. Additionally, he made a good point, which was that the more experienced speaker still makes errors, but just more advanced, technical ones. So I believe the weekly lessons are going to work out really well. And it is a treat to listen to Miguel speak Spanish. He is originally from Peru, so he doesn't speak the whacky village dialect that will always vex me. Sigh. It has been a long week. Mostly good, some bad, but very full, I guess is the best way to describe it. So I am looking forward to the weekend, if for no reason but for the quiet break from the construction next door. It been 6 weeks; the workers estimate they have 6 to 8 weeks to go. :-( Am doing well with the no smoking thing. The manic phase that dominated last week has passed, and I can now go several hours without thinking about a cigarette, which seems like a major achievement. Hope you have a nice weekend. Hasta pronto, mylifeinspain