mylifeinspain

mylifeinspain...

2006-01-29T11:16:00.000+01:00

has moved. Please continue with us on our journey at the new blog (new address: www.mylifeinspain.typepad.com). I am still working out the final kinks, so thanks in advance for your patience! :-) hasta pronto, mylifeinspain

what's new/big jim's birthday

2006-01-25T17:12:00.000+01:00

My apologies for the infrequent posts of late. Have been working to transfer the blog here (http://mylifeinspain.typepad.com/), so if you see the formatting has gone a wacky here, that is why. The next site should be up by the end of the week...will keep you posted. :-) For those of you who don't know, it's Big Jim's birthday this coming Sunday. Have been a tad flummoxed for gift ideas---the man has so much stuff, especially so soon after Christmas and the US shopping opportunities. But as I was perusing the latest issue of the Sur, I saw that Cirque du Soleil (http://www.cirquedusoleil.com/)was on in Seville. Couldn't get tickets for this weekend, but I could for the following. Yay! Just the remedy needed for the winter drearies. :-) The village is so bloody quiet these days. I miss the abuelas sitting on the benches gabbing all afternoon. Alas, they only venture out in January, bundled with their scarves, to buy bread and then hurry back to the warmth of the estufas. Will have to wait a few months for the chatting to resume. Hasta pronto, mylifeinspain

what's new/trip highlights, part II

2006-01-19T17:11:00.000+01:00

Finally finished this book project I have been working on since early September. Good riddance to it, I say. It was a fairly tedious subject, with tons of graphical material, so I am happy to move on to something a bit more interesting. Otherwise, the days are just ticking by. No more news on the job in Prague (for those of you who never guessed the mystery location). From what Big Jim can gather from the agent, the company is hiring many, many people, and the process is taking longer than expected. Bit of a drag it is because Prague would be a great place to spend a year living, giving both of us a much-needed break from village life and the opportunity to gain some perspective. So we shall see. Big Jim has received a bunch of other calls for jobs in other interesting places; just depends now on the timing of the Prague project. The sun has finally returned after days and days of pounding rain. (No complaints as I remind myself the country certainly needs la lluvia.) Because the dreary weather causes many to hibernate and huddle around their fires, we have seen few of our friends since we've been back. But tonight we are having M.A. over for dinner so that we can finally catch up properly. Very much looking forward to seeing her. :-) Must go finish my work before her arrival, but for now here is the second installment of my Nostalgia Trip 2005 highlights. Hasta pronto, mylifeinspain
A Griswald-style Christmas house, albeit a bit more tastefully done than Clark's. *Spending an entire afternoon baking snickerdoodles and Tollhouse cookies...so much butter, but so, so yummy. *Lounging about coffee shops with Big Jim, with all my work deadlines far, far away in Spain.
Too much Christmas fun for my brother, my parents' cat, and my niece. *Eating sushi with M. at Koi in Northern Liberties. Philly people who dig sushi: you must try this place. Awesome lunch boxes full of delicious sushi for $9-10. *Spending time with my friend C. from college and J. from old Philly days and their families. So good to see them happy and enjoying life.
King Dad, with his Christmas cracker crown. *Dinner at Vietnam with S. and M. Thanks again for the great gifts. Big Jim loves his body butter (you know how the guy loves his "products"). *Strolling through the Reading Terminal Market and stopping by the Down Home Diner (okay, twice) for a bite.
M. and T., our fabulous B&B hosts. Thanks again! :-) *Watching "Ice Age" with my niece Cora, oh I mean the tiger (warning: don't argue with her about this point.) *Weird little family things, for example, finding out my sister and I recently purchased almost identical glass frames, me in Pakistan, her in Maryland....same brand, just slightly different color. You can put miles and miles between you, but you can't change certain genetic predispositions.
My dad again, this time on New Year's Eve, seeming surprised to find his Manhattan glass not in his hand. *Staying up until 3am on Christmas, catching up with my brother. *Fabulous NYE's dinner at one of those great old PA Dutch hotels.
A more-sober mother. (Dad, was totally fine, btw. Just a gentle rib. :-) *Amanda, the wonderfully friendly and nice worker at Enterprise Rent-a-Car. *Bagels, bagels, bagels.
Cora, the tiger, and her assorted animal friends. *Pizza, pizza, pizza. *Going for long walks with Big Jim in the cold, fresh air.
Beautiful sunset on the way to my sister's place in Maryland. *Shopping for foodstuffs that we can't find in Spain, things like orzo, Jelly Belly beans (for Big Jim, of course), etc. *Watching the View every day with my mom and Big Jim.
Cora's "puppy" Otis, with his adopted stuffed Lab. *Visiting my sister's place in Maryland. *Getting to know my niece, correction the tiger, better.
My sister and Cora having a little "discussion" about picking up toys. *Seeing my aunt and uncle and cousins, although too briefly. *Pork and sauerkraut on New Year's Day, an old PA Dutch tradition.
Laughing at Cora's silliness, although judging by her mother's expression, it might have involved a "potty word." *Embracing sweatpants as a fashion item. Especially useful if you gain 2 kg (life I did) and 4 kg (like Big Jim) did during a 3-week holiday. :-)

happy friday/trip highlights, part I

2006-01-13T14:26:00.000+01:00

Wow, again another week has passed and I have no idea where the time went! I have been busy catching up with work (still have a teensy bit of unpacking to do...disgraceful, I know). Big Jim has been fighting off the flu while also recovering from a little operation he had in the US (more in this some time in the future), so I have also been doing double duty as nursemaid when required. The pets have been professional sleepers. We did indeed purchase a nifty teepee bed for Mr. Beebs, but of course he won't go into it. (Nor will the cat for that matter.) Because he always creates little tents for himself by sleeping under the furniture covers, we thought the Beebman would dig the teepee. Apparently not. Advice? Have finally sifted through the photos from our US trip (notice how this was a priority over unpacking :-). Here are a few, plus the first installment of assorted highlights, in no particular order. * M's 40th birthday party, held at Isaiah Zagar's awesome studio (if you are not from Philly, learn more about him at http://www.isaiahzagar.org). Much fun, and nice to catch up with so many great people. Plus, the entertainment was fabulous. :-)
* Preparty dinner with Big Jim at one of Philadelphia's great institutions: the Melrose Diner (http://www.melrose-diner.com). Bought a tub of their chocolate cookies to bring back to Spain. Yum. :-) *Hanging out at M's on Sunday, eating bagels, chatting with B., while Big Jim was out Christmas shopping. * Ever need to find a hotel in Philadelphia? Big Jim and I highly recommend the Latham (http://www.lathamhotel.com). Great value, plus it is located right smack in the middle of everything. And everyone was superfriendly. The doormen's equestrian boots, however, might be a bit much.
Rittenhouse Square, all festive. *My parents' cat Gunther. He's 17, too, like C.K. Needless to say, he sleeps a lot.
*Snow, lots of snow. :-)
*Visiting my old drinking places, like Fergie's and the Khyber. Even if the crowds are all new (save Fergie), the people are still really nice. Plus, you can't beat the Khyber's happy hour prices: pint of Yards for Big Jim and a Chesterfield for me = $3. Ah, speaking of happy hour, that time has come to the village, so I must be off. Have a great weekend, everyone! hasta pronto, mylifeinspain

unpacking

2006-01-08T12:10:00.000+01:00

Mr. Beebs, very proud of his new sweater, stealing some time in C.K.'s bed while she's off begging for more cat food. I think it is time we finally get the Beeb man a bed of his own. Have been very busy since we have been back. As I did a final check of my e-mail before we headed to the airport Wednesday, I received an e-mail from my editor titled "Emergency". Turns out he found a bunch of files that should have been sent to me months ago and now needed to be done "immediately". Couldn't get any work done on the flight to Paris because the woman in front of me reclined her seat and was out for the duration. Managed to get some done during our layover at Charles de Gaulle and have been working ever since. Err. Plan to tackle the unpacking today and perhaps spend some time with my new best friend, Clementine, the iPod. And sort through the vacation photos. :-) More later.... hasta luego, mylifeinspain

packing

2006-01-03T15:31:00.000+01:00

I hope everyone has had a wonderful and happy holiday. We have had a fabulous time visiting and reconnecting with people, and I thank everyone who participated in my Nostalgia Trip 2005 as I went back to many of my old haunts to check them out. Great fun. :-) Big Jim and I have a day planned of packing and visiting my grandmother and then we intend to spend one last night chilling on my parents' loveseat recliner, which just sucks you in and cradles you off to sleep. It is divine. My last-minute decision not to bring my laptop has resulted in virtually no postings during our trip, but I will do a recap and put up many photos after we are settled back in Spain. It is always difficult to leave our friends and family here, but we are both anxious to see the pets and ready to get back into our regular routine (and I am itchy to really begin playing with my new toy---yes, the Big Jim surprised me with a super-cool video iPod for Christmas). We have had a wonderfully relaxing vacation, and we thank everyone who put us up along the way. Much love and best wishes for a super 2006! hasta pronto, mylifeinspain

back in the u.s.a.

2005-12-19T17:12:00.000+01:00

Big Jim and I survived one of the most tedious Atlantic crossings and driving to the PA Dutch homestead in an ice storm. CDG holds onto its reputation of the armpit of European airports with a computer system failure and a 2-hour departure delay. We have been filling ourselves with bagels and bowls of coffee and generally adjusting to this novelty of central heating. :-) Spent a fabulous weekend in Philadelphia catching up with a few friends. Not enough time, though, to see everyone, so we are planning a second visit there later during our holiday. Heard from the agent this morning about the job in the mystery location (which we hope to reveal soon to all of you who still haven't figured it out). We are now 98.5% sure this is going to happen....the agent called to confirm possible start date and Big Jim's pay rate, which is obviously a very positive sign. :-) Must dash now as we are off to Target and then to visit my grandmother. Will write again soon. Hasta luego, mylifeinspain

on a jet plane

2005-12-14T20:46:00.000+01:00

...in just a little while. The house seems so quiet without the pups around. We took them to their hotel for the next three weeks, Kosydale Kennels, this afternoon. The precious Boo was more than happy to be there as Pat and co. spoil the dogs rotten, plus she totally digs the social scene. While she introduced herself to the dogs in the neighboring kennels, Mr. Beebs marked his territory, making their temporary home his own. I dealt with the paperwork while Big Jim wiped the tear from his eye. I am almost completely packed, and the husband is off napping. It has been a busy day of running errands, handing off keys and kitty care instructions, and delivering Christmas gifts to friends in the village. I am excited to see friends and family and eat bagels with reckless abandon. So much has happened to us in the past year...my eye problems, my mother's back surgery, hurricanes, the earthquake, moves, the end of a marriage---I just can't wait to give everyone a big giant hug. Will write more from the US when I get a chance. Now it is time to pack up the laptop and sign off. See you stateside. Hasta luego, mylifeinspain P.S. Still no word on the job interview. The agent believes the hiring company is dragging their feet a little bit until the new year, which is typical. We continue to cross our fingers...and toes.

paper

2005-12-11T10:35:00.000+01:00

Yesterday was our wedding anniversary. And Big Jim and I, being nontraditional traditionalists, gave each other the old traditional first anniversary gift of paper.
my anniversary present to Big Jim...an oil painting of his beloved chili papers.
his anniversary present to me...a watercolor from 1903. I love it. Our first year as married people was challenging to say the least, but in the end we find ourselves more in love than ever. And I suppose that is what it's all about. But still we are only at paper, a fragile state that only requires a spark to create a fiery mess. We hug each other tighter, and husband peeks ahead on the anniversary gift chart. And the cheeky bugger's eyes light up when he sees the third-year gift is leather. ;-) hasta pronto, mylifeinspain

happy friday

2005-12-09T11:26:00.000+01:00

Just a quick message to say todo esta bien aqui. It has just been another busy week. T minus 6 days until US departure. My editor sent me beaucoup files to do before the holiday, so I am very busy on the work front. No word on the job interview, but that is because the agent went on holiday this week (and neglected to mention this to the interviewees). So there should be news next week. For those who still have not figured out where Big Jim was last week, a clue lies in the flags. :-) I am also giving computer lessons to one of the retired neighbors. This is going to be even more work than I expected, owing to the fact he has zero familiarity with a keyboard. But we did manage to get him to start up the computer on his own, as well as send a few e-mails yesterday. I also made up a few step-by-step cheat sheets for him to follow, but wow....I had almost forgotten how daunting the Internet first seems. Also, Wednesday was Almendena's birthday, so Big Jim and I and R. gave her flowers. And for the first time ever, I was invited into her house for a glass of wine. Spanish houses in these parts are usually off limits except for family, so this was a very big deal. Okay, I must get back to work. Have a nice weekend, everyone! Hasta pronto, mylifeinspain

where in the world

2005-12-03T10:29:00.000+01:00

was Big Jim this week, you ask? Well, here are some picture hints. The observant will be able to guess straightaway. :-)
Please note the banner for sushi restaurant. How I miss sushi....
Apologies that the pics are a bit gray....snow was in the forecast.

miscellaneous stuff

2005-11-30T15:49:00.000+01:00

I am having a brain dump of things I have been wanting to write about for a long time but haven't gotten around to.... 1. American Express: the credit card that cares. Having deduced from my shopping spree at the Maharaja shop in Islamabad, which I paid for with my AmEx card, that I was in Pakistan, a representative from AmEx called a couple days after the earthquake to see whether I was okay and whether there was anything they could do to help out. How cool is that? 2. British Airways sucks: Be careful of your baggage weight when you travel BA. The allowance on our 7.5-hour flight from Islamabad was only 23 kg (51 pounds) per person. Additionally, their excess baggage charges are huge, about $20US/kg, or essentially $10US/lb. Big Jim and I got hammered. :-( And the staff was incredibly rude to boot. Dude tried to tell me this weight limit was standard among major airlines. Bull! Air France allows 70 lb/person and Lufthansa 100 lb/person on long-haul flights. Also be careful with your carry-on luggage---BA only allows 6 kg (13 lb) per person and will charge you a flat fee of a couple hundred bucks if you are over. Boo hiss BA. Also, before our London-bound plane took off from Islamabad, the flight attendants sprayed the entire cabin with this nasty insect spray. Totally gross. 3. Only 13 days until our annual pilgrimage to the US. Must remember to buy Christmas cards this weekend. 4. One thing I did not like about Pakistan was that when men introduce or talk about their wives or daughters they never address them by name. They just say, "This is my wife. This is my daughter." Not true for their sons. Also, men always shake hands and often hug when greeting one another. Women get a handshake at most. Felt very stifled, especially after all the besitos and hugging that goes on in Spain. 5. I have been suckered into attending the "Olde Time Music Night" in the village Friday night. Think barbershop quartet. Think poor me. Perhaps come down with sudden case of el gripe? 6. Last night I had my first earthquake dream, almost two months afterward. Was sitting in my parents' living room, watching afternoon soaps with my mother, when all the figurines on the shelves above the old platform rocker started shaking. I woke myself up before any more could happen, but the tremor sensations were very real. Spooky. 7. T. brought Big Jim a present last weekend: a round of the stinkiest cheese ever, a Swiss variety call Tete du Moine. I despise it simply because its vile odor permeates the fridge and all of its contents, even when stored in its own proper little (supposedly) air-tight container. Imagine my delight, oops horror, when I came home from Spanish class this week and found that the pups had pulled it down from the butcher block and devoured 90% of it. Hmmm, now who could have left it so close to the edge AND forgotten to shut the kitchen door.... 8. On the subject of pet food choices, have I ever mentioned how much C.K. loves peas? The one sure-fire way to get her to emerge from the kitty basket is to open a can of peas. Or leave a pot of them on the stovetop uncovered. She is insane for peas. 9. No news yet on the job interview. Our friend D. from Munich also interviewed for a position on the same project last Friday; he hasn't heard anything either. Still keeping fingers and toes crossed. Would be fabulous if Big Jim and D. could work together again. 10. Not really sure how much I like the new guy in my Spanish class. He seems too caught up in being perfect all the time, rather than building on what he already knows. He also can't really seem to grasp the conversational lean to the class. He prefers exercises and homework. Am hanging in there for now, but may have to discuss with Miguel come the new year. Hasta pronto, mylifeinspain

exhausted, lessons on how to be a bad guest, and a long-awaited e-mail

2005-11-27T14:51:00.000+01:00

Most of the time when our guests leave, Big Jim and I are sad, and we spend the next couple of days saying to one another things like, "Oh, aren't so and so such nice people? Wasn't it great to see so and so? Oh, I hope they had as good a time as we had!", etc., etc. And then there are the rare times when as soon as the door is shut behind a departing guest, Big Jim and I immediately embrace each other and whisper into the other's ear, "Thank god they are gone," and sigh deeply to release the days of built-up tension. Twenty rupees if you can guess which scenario played out today. ********************************************** Thanksgiving recap: Trouble started on Thursday morning, when our neighbor advised us that the woman who was to host our Thanksgiving meal wasn't feeling well. R. said we could just set up dishes at both of our houses and serve buffet style. "Sure, fine, whatever," we replied. I first made the cranberry relish, which needed to be refrigerated for at least 5 hours. Then Big Jim started in on his veggie courses. Okay, he went a little overboard---sweet potatoes, roasted potatoes and parsnips, brussel sprouts, green beans, and another roasted medley of peppers and zucchini. My other contribution---maple creamed corn---would be done right before we were ready to eat. Our weekend guest T., arrived thirty minutes before we were to sit down for our feast. I called R. to let him know we were running a little behind schedule. Turns out, he was running even more behind schedule, and our 7:00 serving time was now pushed back until 8:15. I popped open a bottle of wine, and Big Jim and T. dug into the German beer. M.A. arrived at R.'s door at 7:30. He was upstairs in our bathroom having a shower; inexplicably, his water had just been shut off. We invited her (and her Waldorf salad and pumpkin pie) in for a glass of wine. Fifteen minutes later, L.---the woman who was the original host---turned up (empty-handed, not even with the agreed-upon bottle of wine). R. then came down the stairs, wearing his yellow terry-cloth bathrobe, and said, "Oh good, everyone's here. I will go get the turkey and bring it over." "Bring it over? We are all eating here?" I answer, practically choking out the words. "Welllll, yeah, didn't you know?" asked R. "But we only have a table for four people." "That's okay. I can bring over a small table and a couple chairs." And this is how Big Jim and I came to host Thanksgiving without even trying. I think our fingers are still shriveled from all the washing up (our dishwasher packed up about a month ago, and we haven't bought another [will cost 100 euros just to have a serviceman sent out to look at it] because we are waiting to see what happens with Big Jim's job interview tomorrow....depending on the outcome, we may be moving.) *********************************************** The weekend: I would like to say that the late-notice hosting assignment was the most stressful part of our weekend ("Doesn't anyone have a proper napkin in this house?!" yelled L. from the lounge. "Well, I would have ironed them if I had known I was having dinner guests BEFORE they actually arrived," I fumed under my breath in the kitchen as I slopped corn onto a plate and Big Jim searched for more champagne glasses.), but that would not exactly be true. Over the years, T. has been a frequent guest, so perhaps the odds are inevitably increased that some visits will be bad ones. He originally told us he was coming for a week. Then it was three days. Then he was bringing his friend N. with him. But she could only come for two days. And they would be booked into the hotel. Whatever. Big Jim and I can "go with the flow". We managed to pull together Thanksgiving dinner with 15 minutes notice, didn't we? In the end, though, T.'s arrogance proved to be too much for Big Jim and I to handle. First, there was the disdain that I had used frozen spinach to make their (still delicious by all accounts) spinach, tomato, and goat cheese omelettes. (The self-appointed food critic's own culinary skills consist of boiling some pasta and tossing it with jarred spaghetti sauce, which makes the comment all the more infuriating.) Then there was his comments on the recent vandalism to our car. In the past five weeks, our car has been keyed four times. The first couple times, kids scraped a big X and some doodly dragon-type picture on the hood of the car. The third incident, when a large penis and accompanying testicles were etched into the paint of the boot, sent a furious Big Jim to the local police. Who shrugged their shoulders and didn't bother to even make the short walk to inspect the damage. "We are too busy fighting the drug problems to make a report." Big Jim and I like to think we are reasonable sorts, most of the time, and so we know that vandalism is a universal problem, and "kids will be kids", etc. But what has stuck in my craw is that only two cars in the area are being targeted---our English right-hand-drive Peugeot and a jeep with UK plates. We are being singled out for being foreigners, and this leaves a very bad taste in the mouth I tell you. ANYWAY, as the four of us piled into the graffiti-mobile yesterday to take the scenic drive from Padul down the old road to Almunecar, T. starts in on how we should not be angry about the vandalism...what did you expect moving to a foreign country...this is the price you pay, on and on, etc., etc., etc. Both Big Jim's and my blood began to boil, and eventually, Big Jim told T. he had better be quiet or he would stop the car and T. could walk home. Lovely way to start an afternoon drive. ****************************************** Which then brings us to the wine incident: I know many of you are losing patience with this very long rant, but unfortunately some background information is required. So hang in there! :-) Back in May, when Big Jim and I visited with T. in Frankfurt, I bought a bottle of wine that he had requested. He provided the following details: it was called Marquis de something, had a browny red label with gold lettering, and cost about eight euros. The Marques de Caceres basic rioja was the only wine that fit the bill, so this is what I brought him. When I gave it to him, I said I hoped that it was the right one. He then said it was not, and then chastised me, saying that clearly I knew nothing about wine, but "thanks anyway." I had to leave the room, tears burning my face. A few days later, T. took us to a Spanish restaurant in Frankfurt. He flipped through the wine list and said to me, "There! That's the bottle I wanted." It was Marques de Caceres, but the picture was of their Gran Reserva rioja. "But you didn't ask for a Gran Reserva, and there is no way a Gran Reserva would cost eight euros." I will spare you all the lesson I then gave him in the Spanish wine hierarchy, but simply put, a Gran Reserva is the top shelf of a vintage. Back to this weekend's "wine incident", T. had asked that I make a reservation at one of our favorite restaurants, the Posada Meson Mudejar, in a nearby village. Over the years, Big Jim and I have gotten to know the owner quite well, so I booked the table straightaway. Our party was five: Big Jim, me, T., N., and our friend M.A. We settled into a corner table in the cozy back room, and I ordered the two bottles of the Marques de Caceres that T. wanted. (As an aside, I am not sure why T. is so wedded to this brand. It is fine, don't get me wrong, but it is not so very, very special. Even the government-controlled liquor stores in Pennsylvania, not known for their superior stock selection, regularly carry it.) As Big Jim and I chatted with M.A., on the other side of the table, an official wine testing was taking place. Noses were plunged deep into glasses; glasses were then rinsed with the bottled drinking water; wine was swished and held up to the light. "Just pour the damn wine," I started thinking to myself. T. finally announced that one bottle would be acceptable, but the second had to be sent back. "Why?" we ask. "It's no good." The rest of us were urged to sample, and yes, there was a subtle difference between the two, but the "bad" bottle was certainly drinkable. I told T. if he wanted it sent back, he was going to have to tell Serafin himself. Which he eventually did, although T. tried to placate me by telling me that the owner should be happy to replace the bottle, that 25% of red wines are "corked", that relations with the patron only become strained when the fifth or sixth bottle is sent back. Man, would I love to be a fly on the wall some time when T. sends back a sixth bottle of pricy wine. Seriously. As it was, Serafin shared my opinion, and reluctantly opened another bottle. I must add Serafin does know wine. He and his father make their own for heaven's sake. And there was a time a few years ago when Big Jim and I did receive a truly off bottle of wine at the restaurant. It was gladly replaced, and Serafin even gave us another bottle to take home with us, to make up for the trouble. Last night, T. was simply being an ass. ****************************************** Which brings me to the point: why be this way? Surely, there are places for wine aficionados to indulge their love of fine wine. You go to restaurants with books for wine lists, you get to know the sommelier, you seek out specialty wine shops (if you live in Philadelphia, you make the illegal schlep across the bridge to New Jersey to fill your car trunk at their independently owned liquor stores) to fill your cellar. But a tiny family-run restaurant in a hamlet in the mountains of rural Spain is not the place to launch into wine snobbery mode. There, the food and wine are intended to satisfy but also take a back seat to the companionship and good conversation that is meant to be center stage. As I puttered in the kitchen this afternoon after the guests departed, I looked into the cupboard and refrigerator, still full of the many supplies Big Jim and I purchased in anticipation of T. and N.'s visit. Big Jim and I have always done our best, even when he was out of work and money was tight, to make our friends and family feel very welcomed and to show them the best that this little corner of the world has to offer. And that is why T.'s behavior stings like a slap across the face. *********************************************** Back to the bird: This morning Big Jim spoke with R. and told him we had given the leftover turkey to Almendena and her family and that he was now making soup from the carcass. This evening the phone rings. It is our neighbor R. Is the soup ready? L. apparently has no food in the house (even though I saw her carrying two bags of groceries back from the market yesterday) and would like some soup for dinner. Big Jim explains he has just added some dried beans to the pot, and it won't be ready until tomorrow. He hangs up and we both cry "UNCLE, UNCLE!" Keep your fingers crossed this job interview goes well on Tuesday, or we may just crack up. ********************************************** And finally, the End: Just as we were both ready to give up on humanity, Big Jim received an e-mail from Nasir's cousin in Pakistan. Nasir has found work with a friend of Big Jim and is doing well, although he misses Big Jim very much. We have thought of Nasir and his family often since we have returned to Spain, so it was wonderful to hear from them. And after the weekend we had had, the timing could not have been better. Even though every last muscle in our bodies ached with tension and exhaustion, smiles came easily as Big Jim read the e-mail to me, and suddenly the world and all that is truly important came back into focus.
Nasir and his family. Hasta pronto, mylifeinspain

happy thanksgiving

2005-11-24T07:46:00.000+01:00

Just a quick post to say Happy Thanksgiving! We are having our traditional dinner with the other Americans in the village. Our friend T. will arrive from Frankfurt in time to fill in as our honorary pilgrim. Last night, Big Jim and I watched "Home for the Holidays" to get us in the mood for today's inevitable dysfunctionality, plus our own trip "home" to the US in only three weeks (yikes!). In other news, I spent quite a bit of time yesterday playing travel agent (I truly am the master of finding cheap flights) for Big Jim. He has a job interview next week. Won't say where for now, but it is a place neither one of us has been to before. And for the worry-warts out there, I assure you it is not in a war zone or along a major fault line. :-) Anyway, flight is booked, hotel is booked, and I will have a couple days alone with just the pups and kitty cat. We are off to the market now...we have been put in charge of the vegetables for the feast, so we will be busy in the kitchen all afternoon....cranberry relish, roasted winter veggies, and creamed corn. Looking forward to see T., too. This will be his first Thanksgiving dinner, so we must indoctrinate him well. :-) If this year has taught us anything, it is to appreciate each and every day, the good and the bad, and to be grateful for the incredibly abundant lives we do have. Have a great holiday, everyone! And if you don't have a copy, run to your DVD rental shop and get out "Home for the Holidays" while you still have time! Hasta pronto, mylifeinspain

friday fotos

2005-11-18T08:43:00.000+01:00

Snow already, eek! Yesterday was the first day this week that the weather cooperated for a proper long walk on the goat track. There had been rain (and snow, depending on the elevation) since Sunday, as well as sickly cold winds. Way too early for winter here; normally this sort of weather doesn't kick in until February/March.
The pups' friend, Chico. He is 7-months-old, all leg. :-)
The young guys play while precious Boo prefers to smell the daisies.
But she eventually decides to get in on the fun. :-) In other news, I am still catching up on my e-mails from the past six weeks, so to those who have written, don't think I have forgotten you! I also realize the blog has been a bit moribund of late and perhaps more than a tad doomy-gloomy. Although I have chosen to write about some of the more difficult aspects of our lives of late, please do not think this is a total reflection of all that goes on here. In reality, I am an extremely private person, and although I try to be completely honest in the blog, what is posted here is a mere fraction our daily life. Some exciting things I haven't mentioned: * Big Jim had a telephone interview this week for a very interesting job in a very interesting location. The company now wants to see him for face-to-face interview, probably sometime in the next week or two. That's all I am saying on the subject for now, but keep your fingers crossed. :-) * In just 4 weeks, we will be in the US to start our holiday festivities. * Our friend T. arrives from Frankfurt Thursday for a long weekend visit. * Received confirmation that the wedding anniversary present I chose for Big Jim was shipped from the south of France this week. (hint, hint, husband) Anyway, I promise to be more cheery in the weeks to come, and I also plan to steer the blog back to its original course. Sometimes, though, life throws a detour or two, and you have no choice but to follow it. Have a nice weekend, everyone! hasta pronto, mylifeinspain

sadness

2005-11-14T22:59:00.000+01:00

Not a good time for the expats---or anyone---in the village. Today we learned that one of us, one of the old-timer "pioneers", had died suddenly at age 46 this morning. We are all still in shock. Tonight many of us gathered to grieve, to try to make a little sense of what has happened, to be there for each other. This night, this sad night, has reminded many of us of why we came to this village. Despite everything that has changed this place in the past few years, we have a strong sense of community here that few of us would find back in London or Philadelphia or Manchester or Copenhagen or Hamburg, or wherever we called home before. This life in the village made friends of construction workers, retirees, police officers, artists, teachers, and freaks like us---people whose circles would never have intersected previously. So tonight we ask that you raise a glass in honor of Mick, a Geordie lad born and raised just a few blocks away from Big Jim in old Newcastle. He would have wanted it that way. Hasta pronto, myilfeinspain

friday fotos

2005-11-11T14:44:00.000+01:00

Very busy here, so here are a few more pics from our trip to Pakistan.
At the camp in Naran.
Dinner at Moeiz's house.
Street shot: chai and spice shops.
Big Jim's attempt to catch a trout. Also, in honor of Veterans' Day, I recommend everyone check out http://www.operationtruth.org. Also, happy birthday to the lovely M.A.! Hasta pronto, mylifeinspain

autumn

2005-11-08T08:10:00.000+01:00

The Rif Mountains, across the sea in Morocco. I know that it has been fall for six weeks or so. But here the season does not pay much attention to a date on the calendar or the phase of the moon. Rather, it is a shift in the winds that announces autumn's arrival. And you wake up one morning and suddenly it is COLD. You scurry about to dig out the packed-away sweaters and do a quick count of the gas bottles. Last Wednesday morning in Spanish class, Miguel threw open the window and declared, "Que calor!" But by Friday evening, as Big Jim and I headed out for dinner, we were wrapped up against the cold as the mountain Maroma had responded, "Que calor?! Well, take that!", and the winds howled and whipped through the narrow streets.
Mr. Beebs, seeking shelter from the cold, inside Big Jim's denim shirt. ************************************** I just want to thank the bunch of other bloggers who have linked my Pakistan pictures to their web sites (as well as their readers who have stopped by here to have a read). Your support is much appreciated! I still have more photos from our trip to post, nonearthquake related, but last week I could not bring myself to look through them. Sometimes I need to look at pictures, to prove the experience real, but other times I cannot face them. Reports from Pakistan are still not very good, and there was yet another aftershock, 6.0, this past Sunday. Someone asked me last week whether Big Jim and I were "over it yet." The initial shock and horror, yes I suppose so. But do any of us ever completely "get over" traumatic experiences like this? We get on with life, sure. We have dinner with friends; we hug the dogs; we gather in front of the tv to watch a DVD. And we let the wind carry us along into a new season. For now, that is the best we can do. Hasta pronto, mylifeinspain

in the bathroom

2005-10-31T19:33:00.000+01:00

Is this the precious Boo freshly showered after yet another "caca" incident, or is she having a final fitting of her ghost costume for Halloween? I awoke this morning early and happy because today I was off work AND Big Jim and I planned a trip to my favorite garden center on the coast. What could be better. After leisurely reading my e-mail over a nice cup of coffee while the rest of the house slept, I headed for the shower. Hot water, soap, soap, ding. Ding? Ding! Mierda! My wedding ring! I slammed off the taps while simultaneously stretching my foot in attempt to cover the drainhole. I felt around the bottom of the tub through the suds, but no sign of the ring. Grabbing my bathrobe and a towel, I went in search of the flashlight to assist later as I peered down the drain. Not a glint of gold to be seen. Mierda! I should have removed the ring when I took off my watch. I should have used that silly little plastic mesh drain cover (but it's such a pain to clean!). I should have known better; my post-earthquake weight loss had made my wedding just a tad too loose. I should have, I should have, I should have.... Now what to do? Do I wake Big Jim, he who is known to bark a terse response to any question more complicated than "How are you? Did you sleep well?" before he has had two cups of coffee and a good hour to contemplate the meaning of life? Yes, I had to risk it. But I took the easier road and sent in Mr. Beebs to wake up his master. ;-) While Big Jim assessed the situation in the bathroom, I went to get him that much-needed first cup of coffee. I returned to find him fiddling with a wire coat hanger and his pliers, fashioning a crude retrieval device. Still wearing his pajamas bottoms, he crouched in the tub, peering down the god-forsaken drain. I sat rather dejectedly on the toilet, my half-washed hair dripping on the seat. "I suppose we could make a trip to the jewelry store since we are going to the coast anyway," I heard myself say. But I really didn't want a new ring. I wanted MY ring back, MY ring that matches HIS ring, that WE had to wait so long to have in the first place. Big Jim now tapped the outside of the tiled bathtub. "I am going to have to take this out to get to the pipes." "Oh no," I thought, "that's going to involve sledgehammers and tile cutters and probably a plumber---all with no guarantee of finding the ring." "No, Big Jim," I found myself saying, "really, it's not worth the bother." He came to me and took my hand and with tears welling up in his eyes said, "No, this is your wedding ring. We need to get it back. We will do whatever it takes. {slight pause for suspense} Bloody good job I found it lying on the floor beside the tub!" {produce found ring to much delight of wife} His acting was brilliant. Especially without the prerequisite two cups of coffee. :-) But my time was still not done in the bathroom this morning. Not only did I have my own shower to finish, but later on the goat track, my precious Boo found another pile of fresh caca to play in. But before her bath, I made sure to store the ring in a safe place. AND use the stupid little plastic mesh drain cover. Just in case.... Happy Halloween, everyone! Hasta pronto, mylifeinspain

another plea

2005-10-26T07:54:00.000+02:00

The article below was published today on the BBC News web site. If you have not yet donated to the earthquake relief, I urge you to do so. And tell your friends and family the same. If your resources are tight, you can still do your part---call your congresspeople, your MPs, your whatever, and demand that they step up. I know, everyone already feels tapped out after the tsunami and then hurricanes Katrina, Rita, and now Wilma. I read of this giving "fatigue". But unless people in Pakistan get help soon, the current official death count of 59,000 is only going to increase. And needlessly so. mylifeinspain and Big Jim thank you. We took this photo from our rescue helicopter looking down into the Kaghan Valley. The landslide-riddled road is the only road. More helicopters are STILL needed for the relief efforts. Rich world 'failing' on quake aid Many of the world's richest countries have so far failed to support a UN appeal for victims of the South Asian quake, a top UK-based charity has said. The charity, Oxfam, said less than 30% of $312m (£175m) sought by UN aid agencies has been pledged. It said the US, Japan, Germany and Italy had given less than their "fair share" and others nothing at all. The criticism comes as donor nations meet in Geneva on Wednesday to try to increase funding for the quake appeal. The UN had earlier warned that a serious lack of funding and practical difficulties, such as blocked roads, were creating what it described as a death trap for some 800,000 survivors. The UN says up to 20% of those affected by the earthquake have still received no help. Pakistan estimates the 8 October earthquake killed more than 53,000 people, most of them in the portion of Kashmir it administers. Some 1,400 people died in Indian-controlled Kashmir, officials say. 'Pay fair share' "The logistical nightmare in Pakistan is bad enough without having to worry about funding shortfalls as well," Oxfam's Policy Director Phil Bloomer said in a statement. HOW TO DONATE Unicef UNHCR Disasters Emergency Committee (UK) World Food Programme Kashmir International Relief Fund Red Cross/ Red Crescent "Governments meeting in Geneva... must put their hands in their pockets and pay their fair share. The public will be shocked that so many rich government have given so little," he said. Oxfam said that the US, Japan, Germany and Italy have given much less then they could have done according to the size of their economies. It also said seven rich nations - Belgium, France, Austria, Finland, Greece, Portugal and Spain - had so far donated nothing at all. Oxfam warned that the gap between an emergency appeal being announced and funds actually being received could mean the difference between life and death for may thousands of survivors. Only about 20% of the money requested in the appeal has actually been given, UN relief agencies estimate. Oxfam also said current UN plans for a special Global Emergency Fund was seriously underfunded. The new $1bn (£561m) fund was approved by world leaders in September. It is supposed to act as a centralised UN pot of money, which can be handed out in emergencies. But so far that too had failed to attract a fifth of the funding it needed, Oxfam said.

life

2005-10-25T08:02:00.000+02:00

One week has passed since Big Jim and I returned from Pakistan, and two weeks since we were rescued from the mountain high in the Northwest Frontier Province. I sit in our lounge with a cup of coffee and Mr. Beebs curled up sleeping beside me, precious Boo stretched out at my feet, gently snoring. Nothing and everything has changed. Yesterday I reread the last journal entry I made before I left for Pakistan. I had been troubled by a sense that something was going to go wrong on the trip, but I was unable to discern whether I was just being agoraphobic again or whether my fears had any merit. I worried about the dogs being orphaned, about my time on earth being cut short. Before I shut down my computer that night, I sent a final e-mail to my mother with contact numbers of everyone here in Spain, "just in case." I told her everything would be fine, not to worry, but it was myself I was most trying to reassure. When we returned from Spain, our first telephone call was from our neighbor here. He told me he had had a bad feeling about my travels to Pakistan that same Friday night. He had gone as far as to dial our phone number, so that he could warn me, but then hung up before the first ring, believing I would think him mad. He asked what I would have done if he had called. I told him I would have done what I did do---despite my own intuition telling me otherwise---I would have gone to Pakistan. ************************************* I had never experienced an earthquake before in my life, and for those readers who have not, I can only tell you earthquakes are incredibly surreal. An earthquake is initially very disorienting and then terrifying, but that is not to say---should one remain conscious and uninjured---that there are not moments of excitement and, dare I say, pleasure. Do many of us not pay good money to be shaken up and thrown about, albeit under the auspices of rigorous equipment testing and safety regulatory boards, in amusement park rides? Are we not trying to recreate in ourselves the same adrenaline rush that follows something like an earthquake but in a safe environment without perilous consequence? But during an earthquake, there is an absolute loss of control of one's surroundings, everything acting as it should not. Mountains are not supposed to move; the ground is not supposed to split open; the terra is decidedly not firma. I had but a few moments to accept that should the roots of the nearby giant pines no longer be able to hold onto the craggy shifting earth, life as I knew it would change dramatically and possibly cease altogether. At some point, however, I found peace in the realization that if my time truly was going to end, I was at least going to die in one of the most beautiful places I had ever seen, that this would be the world's last gift to me. I was originally going to title this post "death", but in the end it just didn't seem right. As I put my fingers to the keyboard, I was reminded of a story Chen related to me at the reunion dinner we had one night after we all returned to Islamabad. He had spent the past few days in Balakot, reporting on the horrendous situation there. He was present when a 14-year-old girl was pulled from the rubble that had once been her school. Although several schoolmates had clung to life for awhile after the earthquake, she was now the only survivor. After five days of being trapped, not surprisingly her first request was for water. Reluctantly accepting the only beverage available, orange juice, it then dawned on her that she was surrounded by press people. She tossed the OJ aside and then begged for a mirror, horrified by the thought that she would appear in print not looking her best. Everything and nothing had changed. Hasta pronto, mylifeinspain

the earthquake: part II

2005-10-21T08:31:00.000+02:00

When the sun rose the day after the earthquake, the rains that soaked the fragile earth during the night had finally stopped. We gingerly pushed back the blankets, for the temperature had plummeted in the darkness. Nasir had already been to the FWO base, and the reports from Officer Shakeel were not good. Landslides spurred by the rain had closed more of the road, although work had already begun to clear them. We could do nothing but wait. We spoke with J-P, the French diplomat. He had planned to sleep in his tent, which he pitched in a clearing at the camp, but the scores of aftershocks that continued to rock the ground during the night did not create an environment for peaceful slumber; so he took his sleeping bag and moved inside his 4x4. Big Jim and I moved a couple garden chairs to the clearing and just sat, waiting for updates from the FWO. Most of the staff at the camp seemed annoyed by our presence, but this was true even before the earthquake. Ramazan (as Ramadan is called in Pakistan) had begun the previous Thursday, so many of the men were fasting and not doing much of anything. The day before, the cook refused to even make us tea in the afternoon, and we eventually commandeered the camp kitchen and made it ourselves. At dinnertime, we were told only daal---which turned out to be more like lentil soup---was available, even though we could smell meat on the grill. Later, Big Jim and Nasir walked in as the staff broke their fast with chicken, lamb, bowls of vegetables, and plenty of tea. Our presence was merely being tolerated. But at the moment, we had nowhere else to go, so we ate breakfast of our own bisquits and washed them down with our own water. By 1 pm, we were advised the road had been cleared as far as Kaghan, a village about 25 km down the mountain. We again packed up the car, and J-P agreed to follow us in the 4x4. Driving conditions were still precarious. We had been about 45 miles from the epicenter when the earthquake struck, and we were now traveling toward "ground zero"---the destruction became even more striking. Having reached Kaghan, we decided to push on, but after another 10 miles or so, we were stopped by a car heading north. Nasir spoke with the driver. He and the occupants---the three Chinese journalists Li, Chen, and Chow, hereafter affectionately referred to as "the boys"---had been at another hotel in Naran when the earthquake struck and (foolishly) set off down the mountain as soon as the ground stilled. They had slept in the car the following night and had now been turned back by yet another impassable landslide. FWO officers had advised them they expected the road to be closed for 15 days. Fifteen days!!!! Big Jim and I counted our money. We had enough with us to stay at the camp for three weeks should that become necessary, but whether the camp would have us was another story. The boys, however, had heard there was one operational landline back in Kaghan, so we headed back north up the valley. It wasn't difficult to find the PCO as a line stretched out the door. Big Jim planned to call the Colonel back in Islamabad, and I hastily scribbled down my parents' number so that the Colonel could try to let them know we were okay. J-P. called the French embassy, and the boys were able to contact their news bureau; we figured between our three avenues we had a good shot of having someone send us help, most likely in the form of a helicopter as Big Jim knew of the nearby helipad, which he passed when he went trout fishing just north of the village. Nasir also spoke with his family and was relieved to find them well. So we all returned back to the camp at Naran feeling positive. When we arrived (again) in Naran at 4:30 pm, Big Jim was still fuming from the shoddy service we had been receiving and had words with the manager. As they talked just outside my open car window, my growling empty stomach spoke up and added its two cents, "I want chicken. And an omelette for breakfast!" The manager was taken aback, and according to Nasir, we scared him a little because a virtual banquet was put out for us that night. Unfortunately, although my stomach was screaming for food, I could get little down but a bit of bread and some rice. Fortunately, however, the boys made up for my lack of appetite, so we didn't anger the chef again. We joked that we needed to add a Russian to our coterie to complete our own little version of the UN Security Council as we already had representatives from the UK, USA, France, and now China. If we had to be two of the only six foreigners stranded in the Kaghan Valley, we could not have asked for better companions. That night, J-P and the boys moved into cabins near ours, and we all prayed for no rain and no more large earthquakes. Big Jim and I both feared another large quake could take down the mountain just across the river from our cabin, and if we didn't get swept away in the landslide, we worried the debris would clog the river and cause a flood, which we had seen on our drive further south. But we also had hope that we would soon be rescued and that our bad dream would finally end.

2005-10-21T08:30:00.002+02:00

2005-10-21T08:30:00.001+02:00

2005-10-21T08:30:00.000+02:00

The three occupants of this car did not survive.

2005-10-21T08:29:00.000+02:00

Complete and utter devastation.

2005-10-21T08:28:00.001+02:00

2005-10-21T08:28:00.000+02:00

2005-10-21T08:27:00.001+02:00

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2005-10-21T08:26:00.000+02:00

The children amazed us with their resiliency. They were frightened, but not enough to not be delighted by the wonders of digital photography.

2005-10-21T08:25:00.000+02:00

This boy could speak some English, so we had a little chat. As he and I watched yet another avalache, he said, "The mountain is falling."

2005-10-21T08:22:00.000+02:00

2005-10-21T08:21:00.000+02:00

People stopping to say prayers.

2005-10-21T08:20:00.001+02:00

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2005-10-21T08:18:00.000+02:00

the baggage

2005-10-18T09:01:00.000+02:00

I woke up early this morning to the sound of raindrops dancing on the roof. My first thought---"Oh crap, this is the last thing the relief workers need." I turned over and tugged on the duvet, causing Mr. Beebs to groan and shift his position as well. It was then I remembered I was no longer in Pakistan but rather thousands of miles away in Spain. Yesterday Big Jim went out in the village to buy bread. He ran into one of our English neighbors, who greeted him with, "Bet you had a fun time then." Neighbor then went on to say, "You guys should make some money here, sell your story to the papers." Big Jim, still jetlagged and still full of much raw emotion nine days after the earthquake, replied by saying there was nothing fun about our experience and how dare neighbor make such a suggestion that we gain financially on the misfortune when so many people are suffering and homeless. Angry neighbor answered back, "Well sod you then," and stormed off. It took several days before I was able to sleep with the lights turned off, and my famous appetite vanished. It is slowly returning, but my loose jeans that barely stay up are evidence of pounds lost. I started smoking again almost as soon as the ground stopped shaking. We both know it is going to take time for our wounds to heal. As we begin to resume the motions of a normal life, we watch each other carefully, looking for signs of the other having difficulty coping. We know how lucky we are to have each other, and our bond strengthens. Still I reach for another cigarette. I know I can't allow this slip to go on much longer, but for the moment it is a needed crutch. I have the luxury of time, something I know too many others, still waiting for food, for shelter, do not. I stub out the half-smoked cigarette and head for the shower, the one place where I allow myself to cry. Hasta pronto, mylifeinspain

the earthquake: part I

2005-10-17T12:40:00.000+02:00

First, just wanted to let everyone know Big Jim and I are safely back in Spain. We picked up the pups from the kennel this morning, so the family is now reunited and very happy to be together again. :-) Our departure from Pakistan was difficult for both of us. On one hand, we are relieved to be back home where we can begin to restore some sense of normalcy to our lives. On the other, it is incredibly hard to leave our friends in Pakistan to pick up the pieces of a shattered country and the countless lives that have been affected by this tragedy. We fear the current death counts reflect only a fraction of those who have been killed and whose bodies may never be recovered. We remain profoundly sad. Another huge thank-you to everyone who has sent e-mails and left comments. Big Jim and I are eternally grateful for your love and support. ********************************************* Just before the earthquake struck, I decided to go to the edge of the river, which was down a small bank below our stone cabin, to take in a bit of the tranquil setting before breakfast, which we were to have at 9 am. When the earthquake began at 8:50, it took a couple seconds for me to realize exactly what was happening, the ground below me twisting and turning like the floor of an amusement park funhouse. There then was a series of very loud cracks as rock began to free itself from the mountain just opposite our cabin and then begin its long freefall into the valley. I watched some boulders fall into the river, realized the danger, and then turned around toward the cabin. The pine trees that lined the bank were moving in such a way that made them appear like figures sliding back and forth on a fussball table. For several moments, I was frozen as I tried to figure out how I was to escape. There was a sensation of being trapped by the falling boulders on one side and the girating trees on the other. Just then, Big Jim came running out from the cabin. He, rather comically, had been sitting on the toilet when the quake began. He first realized something was amiss when the wall in front of him split open a couple inches. And then the floor began to shake. He managed to deal with the immediate issue of getting his pants pulled up and dashed out as debris began to fall inside our bedroom. The stone chimney detached but did not fall; rather, it danced on the roof performing a complete pirouette before finally coming to rest just a few inches from its original mark. Big Jim found me still by the river's edge. He yelled to me to come to him, but I could see no clear path through the trees. He managed to get to the top of the embankment and pull me up. We then ran to a clear area, after which our memories are still a bit blurry. I can recall watching car-sized boulders continue to fall close to where I had been standing, and I remember repeatedly saying "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god." But that is all. When the ground finally became still, there were a few quiet minutes before the valley was full of wails and mournful cries. A teenaged girl had been killed just across the river, and many people were injured. We stood in horror as groups carrying the injured and dead came across the ricketedy wooden footbridge that joined our camp to the mountainside opposite the river. Then we began a frantic search for Nasir. He had been staying in another area of the camp. At this point, we had no idea of the scope and scale of the earthquake's devastation. But from the continuing cries elsewhere in the village, we knew it was bad. We eventually found Nasir. Thankfully, he too was uninjured. When the earthquake happened, he was outside washing the car and giving it a look-over in anticipation of our return to Islamabad later that morning. Nasir was emotionally shaken, having also viewed the bodies being carried across the bridge. He said in a soft voice to Big Jim, "There are dead people, sir." The details of the next few hours also are still a bit fuzzy for us. It was during this time that we met J-P., a French diplomat who had arrived at the camp the previous night. The countless aftershocks also began very soon after the initial earthquake, coming in tortuous waves every two to five minutes. There was little information available at the camp, so after a few hours, we set out in the car to try to get a better handle on the situation. We did not get far. A few miles out of Naran, we were stopped by our previously mentioned hero, Officer Shakeel, who advised us the road was completely impassable just a few hundred yards further. We returned to the camp, where a generator was now providing sufficient power to run a television. It was only then that we learned how far reaching the quake had been. Heavy losses were reported in Mansehra and Balakot, two cities situated at the southern end of the Kaghan Valley. After seeing the fallen apartment building in Islamabad, Nasir was worried about the safety of his family. But of course we had no way to contact anyone outside of the immediate area, and we began to realize our return to Islamabad was not going to happen that day. Although our stone cabin fared better than others, it was no longer structurally safe, and I insisted I wanted to sleep outside in a tent that night. However, Big Jim convinced me that one of the wood-framed cabins at the camp would be okay, as well as much warmer. Nasir moved the car to a clearing on the grounds and bunked in there, too nervous to go inside any building of any sort. We went to bed wearing our clothes that night; I refused to even remove my shoes. I wanted to be ready to run should it become necessary again. Big Jim wisely had brought a flashlight with him, which we left by the cabin door. We planned an escape route and established a meeting point with Nasir. The aftershocks continued through the pitch black of night, and an added fear was the heavy rain that persisted for hours, encouraging more landslides. Not surprisingly, neither of us got much sleep that night. Hasta luego, mylifeinspain Some photos from October 8, 2005:
Happier times in Naran.
Clouds of dust envelope the mountain near our cabin, immediately post-quake.

Our cabin bedroom.
Other damaged cabins at the camp in Naran.

The earthquake struck during the tourist offseason, so fortunately these cabins were unoccupied.

If you look closely, you can just make out a crushed jeep under the collapsed roof. This photo was taken in the village of Naran.
Locals from Naran gathering near the river, where the body of a young boy sadly was found. Out of respect for the injured and grieving, we took no further pictures of personal suffering during our time in Naran and the Kaghan Valley.
On the "road"....Nasir drove while Big Jim and I kept watch for more falling rock.

Perspective is a little difficult to judge here---these two fallen boulders were the size of a block of flats.

october 7

2005-10-14T05:29:00.000+02:00

As Big Jim and I were planning our vacation, my one request to him was that I see mountains, big mountains. There is something about their strength and beauty that always has been a tremendous draw to me. Pakistan is home to five 20,000+ foot mountains, so there is no shortage of tall peaks. Last weekend, we were originally to visit Lahore, which is a city to the south of Islamabad. However, when we lunched with the Colonel and his family and spoke with the travel agents as we booked our trip to Besham and Gilgit, from where we could travel to Hunza and the Chinese border, they all encouraged us to skip Lahore and instead see Naran. I left the decision to Big Jim because it was he who more strongly wanted to visit Lahore; the trip up the KKH during our second week was the part of our travels I had planned. So, the first of a couple last-minute changes altered our fate. We set out early Thursday for Naran, which is a seven-hour drive from Islamabad. It was an amazingly picturesque drive through countryside and small towns, including places that everyone now has heard of, like Balakot, where 95% of its people perished in the earthquake, and Mansehra, which also suffered heavy losses.

Fresh trout---from river to plate on the same day.

Wait for me!!!!!
Arriving in Naran. We were given a riverfront cabin, and that night we dined on grilled trout that the local fisherman had caught from the river that morning. The camp was incredibly peaceful and quiet---we were the only guests that night. Big Jim and I went to bed early because we had booked a jeep to head up into the mountains Friday. The destination was Lake Saif-ul Muluk, from where we would ride horses to the base camp above. Local legend says that the lake is inhabited by fairies. I cannot say for sure, but I would like to think so. It was one of the most spectacular days of my life.

And Nasir enjoyed himself, too!

Stopping for a horse snack.

Cityslickers, Pakistani style. :-) That evening, before we headed off for bed and heavy sleep, Big Jim and I discussed our morning departure time with Nasir. Big Jim said he wanted to set off early, so that we would be back in Islamabad before dark. I said, "Big Jim, we are on holiday for bloody sake. Let's have breakfast at 9 and leave by 10." He relented. My vacation laziness most likely saved us. Had we left the camp early, we would have been in Balakot when the earthquake struck. More on the earthquake itself next time. Hasta luego, mylifeinspain P.S. We continue to urge people to make donations. Big Jim and I have given all the refunded money we received from our cancelled travel plans to the President's relief fund here in Islamabad. For other suggested organizations, see my previous entry. Thank you!

the rescue

2005-10-12T18:47:00.000+02:00

I can now write more of our time in Naran. The posts will most likely be out of chronological order because I will write about different aspects as I am able psychologically. Currently Big Jim and I are perplexed by many of the media reports that portray complete chaos and lack of aid. Perhaps we were incredibly fortunate because we saw none of this in Naran or Kaghan, where we managed to travel to Sunday and get word to my parents that we were okay. In both of these places, the FWO---equivalent to the Army Corp of Engineers---were incredibly well organized and managed to clear roads and repair power lines almost immediately after the earthquake. Our rescue helicopter was packed with tents, food, and water, which we dropped in Kaghan and Mansehra along our way to Islamabad. What is needed is more helicopters, which is now the only way to reach the remote areas. Friends have asked for my suggestions as to where to make donations. I recommend the following: Doctors without Borders International http://www.msf.org/ International Federation of Red Cross and Red Crescent Societies http://www.ifrc.org Unicef http://www.unicef.org/ There also are currently local relief funds being set up in Pakistan; however, at this time I can find no easy way for foreigners to make donations. If I do, I will add the links here. Now onto the most joyous part of our journey: the rescue. Monday as Big Jim and I were finishing breakfast, we heard a helicopter making its way through the valley. We jumped up with tremendous excitement, leaving our half-drunk cups of tea behind. Again, we had the good fortune of being just one mile away from the army helicopter pad. People rushed to the site, although we stayed behind, awaiting word. This helicopter was not for us but rather to take the injured villagers to where they could be treated. There is no doctor in Naran. Obviously, we were all happy to wait some more; the site of the first helicopter was more than enough to buoy spirits. At 2 pm, we received word from our hero, the FWO commander in Naran, Officer Shakeel, that a helicopter would next be sent for us and the other stranded foreigners: a French diplomat and his caretaker, as well as three Chinese journalists. We quickly packed and headed to the helicopter pad. Where we waited. And waited. A few hours later, we heard sounds of a chopper but it never appeared. Officer Shakeel advised us that it most likely picked up injured people in Kaghan and headed back south. The weather was also beginning to turn, so there might not be another rescue attempt until Tuesday. Again, we were fine with this news; just knowing the army was trying to get us out was sufficient to keep everyone's mood high. Two of the drivers walked back to get vehicles to transport us back to the camp, and then we again heard the helicopter. And then we saw the helicopter! It landed just off the pad, and the copilot jumped off, asking whether we were the foreigners. We said we were, and we were told to get on board. He tried to push Nasir away, but Big Jim said he was with us and pulled up Nasir behind him. Once we took off, I allowed myself to cry for the first time since the quake hit. And after we were advised we were being taken all the to Islamabad, not just to Mansehra as we had been told previously, the tears came again. When we finally landed in Islamabad, it was at the VIP section of the air force base. There we were asked to sign a register, and there were many volunteers providing drinks and making sure we and the other evacuees (there was a constant stream of helicopters taking off and landing with people) were okay. They arranged transportation to the airport, from where we could get taxis. By 6:45 pm, we were back at the Nokia house, much to the relief of Big Jim's frantic colleagues, who had not received word of our safety. Big Jim is out with Nasir at the moment---they had to break the very bad news to the car rental agent that the car will be stuck in Naran until next April or May. The FWO team estimated it will take at least two months for the road to be repaired, but because of the harsh winters in that area, this cannot happen until next year. I leave for today with photos from the rescue. Hasta pronto, mylifeinspain
The gang from the camp, just after we had the news that a helicopter would be arriving to rescue us. Big Jim and I are in front; Nasir is standing behind Big Jim.
Waiting for the helicopter.
Our hero, Officer Shakeel.
The helipad at Naran.
The supplies we dropped in Kaghan. Here we also picked up several Pakistani evacuees and took them to Mansehra.
Chen and Li on the helicopter.
Nasir, nervous on the helicopter. Poor guy---we subjected him to his first horse ride, his first earthquake, and his first helicopter ride on this trip.
As we neared Islamabad, the temperature rose dramatically; hence, my strip-off midflight.
Lights of Islamabad as we approached the air force base. :-)

we're okay

2005-10-10T16:28:00.000+02:00

Hi there, I just wanted to let you know that Big Jim and I are now safe in Islamabad. We were airlifted from Naran late this afternoon by military helicopter. Naran is in the mountains near Kashmir and was hard hit. The only road there will be closed six months because of the landslides. We have seen horrible, horrible things. The mountains that I have loved so displayed their dark and destructive side in ways difficult for me to explain. Big Jim and I are eternally grateful to the Pakistan military and their equivalent of the Army Corp of Engineers, who undoubtedly saved our lives, as well as many others. Thank you all for your e-mails. We were worried about your worrying, but we had virtually nonexistent communications. Big Jim and I are going to take a few days to process our experience, and then I will post again. We have amazing photos, not just from the earthquake but also from our previous two days in Naran, one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen. Our driver Nasir, our friend Nasir, was also airlifted with us. His family here in Islamabad is also safe, and they currently are enjoying a most joyous reunion. My only request to you all is to give whatever you can to the recovery relief. The area of destruction is vast and the casualities enormous. In the tiny villages of Naran and Kaghan 175 people have died, 2000 just in the Kaghan Valley, where Naran is located. These people had so little to begin with, and now they have nothing. Until soon, mylifeinspain p.s. Mom and Dad, call me!

days 3 and 4

2005-10-05T12:15:00.000+02:00

I continue to be "wowed" by the sites and overwhelmed with the kindness and generosity of the Pakistan people. Tuesday we spent most of the day with the Colonel and his family. First we met him and his wife at their house in Rawalpindi. The driving alone in 'Pindi capitivates me. For example, the public transport.
And the side panel of a Pakistani 18-wheeler.
Soooo much to look at. Not only do I at times feel like a zoo animal on exhibit but also I find myself staring back---a mutual gawkers' society I call it. The Colonel and his wife were lovely hosts. For those who do not remember, our friend Father Laurence in Brussels put us in touch with Colonel Azam. They know each other from way back, when the Father was here in Pakistan running Jesuit schools. We know Father Laurence because of a mutual affection for the Westmalle Tripel, one of Belgium's finest Trappist beers. Funny how the world works sometimes.... The Colonel's wife prepared sandwiches and cakes for us---this was before we were going to lunch by the way---and we spent a couple hours discussing politics, the media, and ultimately the commonality we all share. We gave them a handpainted plate from the village as gratitude, particularly for the Colonel's help in securing my visa; I was given a beautiful beaded shawl in return. THIS is Pakistan. We then met their daughter and her two children, ages 6 and 2. Adorable and again completely fascinated and curious of Big Jim and me. Lots of big-eyed stares. We ate (again) at a restaurant near the military compound---chicken jalfrezi and daal (spicy lentils) and mounds of hot naan. Much of the conversation was about our life in the village and religion in general. I was educated in the many sects of Islam (it is not nearly as simple as just Shia and Sunni), and they were amazed to find out how many types of Prostestant religions there are in Christianity. Five hours later, we left to return to Islamabad. I was exhausted from all the talking, but not too tired to stop at one of the markets. :-) There I picked up three beautiful silk and cotton, beaded shalwar kameez sets, so I now have gone completely native (and I must have made good choices because today I have had three Pakistanis compliment me on my outfit). Nasir was formerly a tailor, so he looked over everything first to check the quality and also helped to negotiate an even better price. I cannot emphasize enough the importance of a good driver here. And Nasir is fantastic. We then had a little wander about the rest of the market. If the thousands of choices already available don't catch your fancy, the fabrics can be dyed to your liking right on the spot.
The man in the velvety-type painting is Jinna, the father of Pakistan and whose portrait is found on all hard currency here. The market is also filled with all sorts of delicious smells...roasting chicken, vats of curry and chai tea, and cakes.
Here the pans are filled with boiling milk. The cakes, which are piled up next to the boy, are then put in the milk to soften them. Too sweet for my liking but not of course for Big Jim. :-) This morning we went to the Pakistan Tourist Bureau. The Colonel spoke with them yesterday and asked them to arrange the rest of our travel plans. At their urging/insistence, we have decided to skip our trip to Lahore and instead spend the next couple of days in Naran. Naran is a 7-hour drive from Islambad, in the mountains with a large lake and riverfront cabins, one of which has been reserved for us. We have also been booked into hotels for next week: first and fourth night in Besham and second and third nights in Gilgit, from where we will travel to Hunza and, we hope, to the border with China. While we waited, again we were brought tea, and when the general manager found out friends of the Colonel were there, we were invited to meet him as well. It turns out they are old military buddies. If you haven't gathered, the military plays an important role here, and most all of the better jobs are filled by ex-military and their relations. The general manager was also incredibly friendly if not a little eccentric. He shares his office with his three pet pigeons (because his wife doesn't like them flying about their house all day), one of which made my shoulder his home for much of our hour-long stay. More tea, more bisquits, more chatting. One can simply not pop into any shop or make any appointment without expecting it to take at least an hour. So two hours later, we went to the Maharaja for more shopping. I was going to put the link to their web site here, but I tried it first and it doesn't exist. Not surprising really...even the GM of the tourist bureau admitted Pakistan is still way behind the times Internet-wise. Here are a couple shots of inside the Maharaja shop, though, to give you some idea of the countless buying opportunities.

Seriously, how is one to chose from the thousands of silk, cashmere, and fine cotton rugs, bed covers, shawls, table coverings, sweaters. It is just way too much of a visual assault. The men pull out one after another, and finally there is nothing to do but scream "uncle"! In the end, we managed to fill an entire giant green duffle bag, much of which we are having shipped back to Spain. Some of the things are for ourselves, but we also managed to finish much of our Christmas shopping as well. As the pile of purchases grew, I could not help but feel uncomfortable of spending so freely in front of Nasir. We spent a little more than a day's wages for us but a year's salary for an average Pakistani. I was assured this is okay, that he understands this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for us, that HE is grateful for all that we have done for him. But still....The division between rich and poor here is vast and absolute. Connections are everything, and if you are a nonmilitary Christian like Nasir, you are just thankful to have any work at all. Cruel and unfair to me, but this too is Pakistan. Tonight we are off to our traditional dinner with Moeiz's family. Ramadan (which is called Ramazan here) was to have begun yesterday, but because no moon was spotted Tuesday evening, it will begin tomorrow. Therefore, tonight's meal will be all the more special. Hasta pronto, mylifeinspain

where to start....

2005-10-03T17:41:00.000+02:00

Wow, my brain is on sensory overload. We have had a busy day. First, though, the journey itself. Lots of standing in queues. A good four hours worth, first in Malaga, then in London, and finally in line at the Islamabad airport. The woman behind the immigration desk had to call me twice as I had nodded off, and when I awoke from the momentary slumber and approached her, she said, "Can you not believe that it is finally your turn?" and then laughed the friendliest laugh. I collected my bag and then headed through the sliding doors to the sea of shalwar kameez. Big Jim had kindly worn a tangerine-colored cotton shirt so it was easy for me to spot him and Nasir. :-) With Nasir behind the wheel, we deftly exited the chaos that is the airport parking lot, and in no time at all we arrived at the house. One security guard swung open the gates, and before Nasir could finish parking up, another long-bearded man dressed in navy blue was opening my car door. The bags were whisked away in a flash before the first guard could shut the door behind me. For a middle-class girl like me, this was too unreal. Despite my excitement and eagerness to begin exploring, sleep proved to be a more urgent matter, and so off to bed I went. Refreshed from a long nap, Big Jim and I headed out for a bite to eat. We walked to the UN Club, where I had lime juice and soda---awesomely refreshing---some hummus and naan bread, followed by a Thai salad. When the mosquitos arrived at dusk, we went inside to the bar. For those who don't know, Pakistan is a dry country, ie no alcohol except with a special license, so the UN Club is one of a few places to have a beer and some wine. I was pleased to find Big Jim's friend Oroco there. He is the Kenyan ambassador and a good friend of Big Jim's. He also is a jovial person and a good storyteller, so the time with him passed quickly. After meeting many of Big Jim's work colleagues, we took a cab home with one of the housemates, and again I was quickly off to sleep. I slept so well not even the prayers blaring from the nearby mosque at 4:30 am could stir me. And so today began with a tasty omelette prepared by Lucas, who is the housekeeper. Then it was off to the opticians to get me a new pair of eye glasses. The vision in my bad eye has improved since my last visit to the ophthalmologists in July---I can now actually read the third line on the eye chart. :-) In the end, I had two pair because they cost one-tenth the price of in Spain. The next stop was at the cobblers. Because I seriously doubt any reader has ever been to such a shoe shop, I had to take pictures.

piles of leather to chose from....
all handcut, handsewn, and measured to fit your feet perfectly. The "shop" is located in what can best be described as an open-air picnic pavillion. Besides the cobbler, there is also an electric repair shop and a man doing metal work. A few additional men were seemingly milling about, but their function soon became apparent---they are the gophers and teamakers. EVERYWHERE you stop, there are endless offers of Pepsi, 7UP, and tea. I brought along two pairs of shoes that the shoemakers are going to replicate, and I am also having two pairs of boots made. Imran is a master salesman, and despite the appearances of a humble shop, he has very smartly managed to procure the latest Nordstrom's shoe catalog to aid in your selections. While I was contemplating the options, one of the cobblers repaired a strap of a shoe I brought with me. He even managed to find a small piece of pink leather that perfectly matched the lining of the shoe. From there, we were off to Rawalpindi, where we met one of Big Jim's business partners and his son. Wednesday evening we will be dining at their house, traditional Pakistani---no shoes, no smoking/alcohol, and no left hand for eating, which as a leftie will be quite the challenge. While we chatted, suddenly chicken-filled pastries appeared, and more drinks---I am beginning to understand why Big Jim gained weight his first months here. :-) Then it was off to the DVD shop. Wow! The selection is simply unbelievable; the more obscure arthouse flicks, they have them all. And if not, they will get a copy for you in a couple days. I again tried to show some restraint, but it is not easy. :-) Finally, we stopped at a couple of markets because Big Jim was cooking dinner. We went to corner shop-type places, but they were more like what I would consider more upscale gourmet markets given their selection---the best Italian pastas, all sorts of Asian noodles and sauces, organic bisquits and cookies---far more variety than what it available to us in Spain. Driving around is an interesting experience. Most of the stop lights do not work, and at night, the roads are barely lit. Many people do not have or use their headlights. Traffic jams galore, and I am amazed at many folks crowd into one tiny car. Often I find faces pressed up against the glass as young and old steal a peak at me and frequently just stare. People here are always moving. The only people I see sitting are those along the roadside, and they are mainly men who are taking a break from walking as it is not uncommon for some to travel the 8 miles between Islamabad and Rawalpindi on foot. Okay, that's all for now. Tuesday we are to do more shopping and then have lunch with the Colonel and his wife. Our schedule is filling very fast. We are also to have a meal with Oroco and his wife, plus the Imran the cobbler is having a party for us as a sort of customer appreciation Sunday night. Thursday-Saturday we will be in Lahore; Sunday morning we take our flight over K2; and Monday-Thursday next week we head up into the mountains to Gilgit and Karimabad. Hasta pronto, mylifeinspain

islamabad day 2

2005-10-03T09:35:00.000+02:00

Hi there. Just a quick message to let you (my mother) know that I have safely arrived in Pakistan. Big Jim and I are now off to visit the markets, so I will post more later today, assuming that the Internet is still working. The connection has been a bit iffy since yesterday morning. More later, mylifeinspain

5 days

2005-09-26T14:21:00.000+02:00

...until I leave for Pakistan. Yes, this trip snuck up on me, too. :-) I finally have delved into the "Lonely Planet" guide, and I am just overwhelmed with the many travel options. Currently, my first choice is to drive up the KKH (Karakoram Highway http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Karakoram_Highway), which follows the Indus River part of the way, to the Karakoram mountain range and national park. This area shares a border with China and is home to five seriously high mountains, including K2 at 8611 meters. This is the perfect season to travel there, so Big Jim is just checking with the Colonel to see whether we will need any sort of special permission or military escort, etc. But for now, I must remain fully grounded and keep my head out of the clouds just a little while longer. Have at least put together a pretrip "to do" list and even managed to cross off one item already (confirmed dog reservation at kennel). Dusted off the slow cooker, which is handling all food prep for the next few days. Not sure whether I will have much time for regular posting during the remainder of the week, but I will do my best. And I will be posting from Pakistan, thanks to Big Jim's ADSL line. :-) Hasta pronto, mylifeinspain Oh, almost forgot...in a followup to yesterday's rant, I found out where some of our homeland security dollars have been spent---armed dolphins! Read the story here: http://observer.guardian.co.uk/international/story/0,6903,1577753,00.html

NTY's quote of the day

2005-09-25T10:10:00.000+02:00

"We're going back to the drawing board. With an earthquake or a major terrorist attack, we'd obviously have no warning. We haven't looked at mass evacuation or temporary housing for hundreds of thousands of people."SANDRA S. HUTCHENS, chief of the office of homeland security at the Los Angeles County Sheriff's Department. I am going to have to stop reading the news as I attempt to leisurely sip my morning coffee because I come across bits like this that make my blood boil.... What precisely has the Department of Homeland Security and its 150,000+ employees---the largest of all federal agencies---been doing for the past 4 years if not developing evacuation plans and strategies for managing an attack on the "homeland"?!!!! And don't mention the ridiculous color-coded alert system as its stellar achievement; any 5-year-old child could have come up with an equally brilliant plan.... Not that the English are doing much better. http://www.guardian.co.uk/comment/story/0,,1575411,00.html Note to self: Avoid riding London tube as surely will be detained because bad vision requires I look down while negotiating flights of stairs, a sure sign I am terrorist. Is it me or are we not living in some truly strange times? Am off to contemplate the world's future while taking the dogs on a long walk. Hope to finish a more tranquilo composition later today. Hasta luego, mylifeinspain

diary of a (nearly) madwoman

2005-09-21T20:41:00.000+02:00

On the fifteenth ring, she hangs up the phone. No answer. She fidgets in the desk chair. Something clearly is not right. No e-mails, no Skype call last night at the normal time. Just a semi-frantic IM that he was going off with the Colonel to the police station after Nasir was stopped for speeding. And that was midday...yesterday. No, something had to be wrong. He should have been home from work an hour ago. This is so NOT like him. She sits another minute. "You are being silly", she tells herself. "You know how Pakistan is. The Internet goes down all the time, and there have been lots of thunderstorms lately, so perhaps the phone service is just out." She manages to talk herself sane and goes back to work. But not before she checks her e-mail (again). No new messages. Sigh. She looks at the clock and turns back to her editing. After reading and rereading the same sentence five times, she decides to try his number one more time. This time he answers. But he is very groggy. And he can't seem to hear her. "It's me. It's ME!" But he keeps repeating, "Hello? Hello?" The line disconnects. She calls back immediately. But now the phone just rings and rings. "Why is he asleep now? It is only 7:30." She is certain something is very wrong. But what? Perhaps he mouthed off a policeman and is now stuck in a Pakistani jail? Or hit his head and has amnesia and is lost? Maybe he still hasn't recovered from their argument-to-top-all-arguments last week? Or has been kidnapped and drugged---yes, he sounded very out of it---by some militant group? "Call Nasir. That's it. I will call Nasir. He's his driver; he will know where he is for sure. Now where is that number.... " She begins to sift through the bits and scraps of paper stacked on her desk. Again, momentary sanity surfaces. She realizes she is being borderline hysterical. Clearly, he is ALIVE she rationalizes. It was his voice that picked up the phone. There is no reason to call Nasir. Yet. She returns to her laptop and begins to type him another message. "Hello husband, Where are you? I haven't heard from you since yesterday when you were going to the police station. If I don't hear from you by noon my time tomorrow, I will call Nas...." A small white box appears in the right bottom corner of her computer screen; he has just signed into Skype. Before she can hit "cancel" on the e-mail, the shrill ringtone announces his call. The dogs jump up from their sleep and bark their greetings as they always do. "Hi, I'm sick," he says. "Oh good. I thought you were dead. Well, not dead but kidnapped or something horrible." "Whhaaaat?" "Well, you didn't call last night and then you didn't answer my e-mails, and then you didn't pick up your phone...." "I have been in bed for almost two days. A bug of some sort got into my ear, bit me, and the bite got infected. So I am on all these antibiotics and feel horrible. I have to go back to the doctor tomorrow...." She nods sympathetically, but is smiling to herself, "You can be so silly sometimes." Yours truly, the almost certifiable madwoman (aka mylifeinspain)

painting

2005-09-20T15:57:00.000+02:00

This is one of the paintings I bought last week (you can click on it to enlarge). It is of the village, with the square predominant on the right, the plaza deserted except for two playful dogs. When the artist brought this out from the pile in storage, I knew immediately I had to have the painting. And not just because of the dogs! No, the painting depicts the village in a way I always want to remember it....After many dinners that have turned into late nights, we have escorted M.A. home to her house on the other side of the village. The dogs come with us, and because the motos have all been parked for the night, they are allowed to run free through the streets. Up and down side streets in search of kitties to chase, always returning to make sure we haven't strayed too far ourselves, the clicking of the dogs' nails on the cobblestones alerting us to their location. Eventually the street winds up to the plaza, and it is here that I always like to pause, look up at the stars, and take in the stillness, the absolute quiet of a village asleep. Until...galumph, galumph, precious Boo gallop/skips into the square and a few seconds later Mr. Beebs darts from a side street, low to the ground, ears back flying. We are all reunited. Okay, maybe I did buy the painting because of the dogs. :-) Hasta pronto, mylifeinspain

10 things i was going to write about the past week had it not sped by so quickly

2005-09-13T14:24:00.000+02:00

1. This tiny, tiny baby gecko I found in our washroom one night.
Same little guy, but up close. Dig his Spiderman-like grips, so cool. 2. Took off work Friday afternoon to have long lunch with L. 3. Found out Big Jim's contract in Islamabad will officially end September 30, which is good because that means he can be tourist with me during my vacation in Pakistan (can you say "air safari over K2"...can't wait!). Also good because we hope he can find a new contract closer to home. He has started to apply for jobs and brushed off the CV. 4. We added Barcelona to our list of potential new places to move to. 5. Along with the pups, enjoyed clear sunny blue skies.

precious Boo
and Mr. Beebs 6. Went to the post office to retrieve a couple packages I know for sure are waiting (and waiting) to be delivered (and contain some time-sensitive material). After I wait in the queue for 15 minutes, a woman I have never seen there before tells me I have to come back another time because, see like, the package is in the back (yeah, so?) and she is busy waiting on people. As I stomp out perplexed, I spot the huge stacks of late notices from the electric company. It appears no one in the village hss received their initial electric bill again (myself included). This is bull *bleep*. 7. I bought three paintings from an English artist who lives in the village. Will post fotos after S. delivers them to the house later this week. 8. Meet one of the pups' new friends. She (Lady Bird) and her mate have recently moved into a space along the goat track.
Normally, she is up and about and likes to come to fence to greet us. And let me tell ya, Lady Bird is one, big bird. 9. Went to a birthday lunch for my neighbor R. on Sunday. His birthday is 9/11. His brother's birthday is 3/11 (day of the Madrid bombing, for those who have forgotten). Creepy. But the lunch was delicious. 10. My friends I. and R. from Norway have relocated to the village permanently. I. and Big Jim can have contests to see who can talk the most at dinner and who can make the best curry. Competition will be tight. :-) Hasta pronto, mylifeinspain

too much almendena

2005-09-06T11:02:00.000+02:00

The weather has been strange here all summer, and today is no exception. We have sun and a clear blue sky as expected, but it is windy, flower pot-tossing, curtain-flapping windy. As I walked the dogs to the goat track this morning, it became quickly apparent that my wardrobe choice was a mistake; my currently fashionable, multitiered cotton knee-length skirt was the perfect windcatcher, and I had to gather it up at the sides to keep it from sailing over my head. This is no easy feat as one also tries to guide 85 pounds of dog down the street. Fortunately there were few farmers at work along the goat track. The last thing I needed was to do a Marilyn Monroe in front of these already-randy old men. I hurried the dogs back home along the lesser-traveled path, and found Almendena and the Herb Thief chatting outside my front door. I told them I had to go change my skirt, that there was just too much wind for me to easily walk down the street. They chuckled, and then Almendena asked me whether I would like some grapes. I said, sure, of course. She ducked inside her front door and came out with three large bunches for me. Muchas gracias, muchas gracias, I replied. Then she tells me that I should not worry about flashing my underpants to the village. When she was picking grapes out in the campo all weekend, because of the heat, she stripped down to just her bragas and sujetador. For reasons I cannot fathom (perhaps to make sure I understood?), she lifted her skirt to reveal a giant pair of panties and then her knit shirt to display a more than generous bosom befitting a middle-aged woman who had birthed five children. Almendena and the Herb Thief fell into a fit of giggles like little girls; in surprise/shock, I lost my hold on one of the bunches of grapes. What does one do, say when your neighbor voluntarily flashes you their underwear? I thanked her again for the grapes and herded the pups through the front door. When it was securely closed behind me, I threw up my hands and whispered "Dios mio"! And then for the first time in a week, I laughed. hasta manana, mylifeinspain

happy birthday!

2005-09-05T14:34:00.000+02:00

Today is my grandmother's 94th birthday, so Happy Birthday, Grandmom! And I managed to find a picture where you are almost smiling (it wasn't easy!). :-) Will call you later today. Love, mylifeinspain

jabs

2005-09-04T13:08:00.000+02:00

As anyone who has traveled outside of the "developed" world knows, before the trip a series of vaccines is usually required. Although the village is full of expats, almost all are from the West, so I suspected the local medical center did not receive many requests for typhoid fever innoculations. But before I went traipsing around the coast in search of treatment, I figured it would be worth a shot (pun intended) to see whether I could receive them at the consultorio. So Tuesday bright and early I walk down to the health center. The row of chairs winding around the room is full, the womens' folding fans out and aflutter. I explain to the receptionist-type person what I need. She tells me to come back that evening between 6 and 7 and speak with Rafael, who apparently is the jab man. At 6 on the dot I arrive again at the doctor's office. The chairs are mostly full, and many people seem to be clutching small pieces of paper. A gaggle of older women from the far corner yell over to me, "What's your number?" I sputter, "I don't have one." Their heads drop, and from the huddle I can only hear whisper, whisper, whisper. Hmmm, should I have a number I think to myself. I scan the posters hanging from the walls and bulletin boards looking for any additional information on how this place works. My exposure to the national medical system in Spain has been very limited because I have private health insurance. Finally a door opens and Rafael comes out. He's an easily recognized figure because he has long, curly blond hair, usually tied back, and he's often found outside the consultorio, which I have to pass by every morning on the way to the goat track with the dogs, having a cigarette. I jump up and tell him I was told to see him about my vaccines. He says to come in. I explain my situation, that I am traveling to Pakistan next month and need to get a bunch of vaccines. I pass him the list I have jotted down from the CDC web site, with the Spanish translations. He tells me he can do nothing because he is a nurse, that I first need to see the doctor, for which I need a number (!), then go to the pharmacy to buy the shots, and THEN come back to him and he will give them to me. I ask why the receptionist didn't seem to know the correct procedure. He gives me the typical village response, a shoulder shrug, and tells me to return in the morning to get my number from the receptionist. Err. Which is what I do. I am assigned a 9:15 am appointment (and the number 7) for the next day with the most unfortunately named doctor, translated into English, Dr. Kill. To my relief, there are only a few people in the waiting area when I return; the receptionist hasn't even arrived to work yet. An old man sitting just inside the door immediately asks me my number. Finally in the know, I proudly respond, numero siete. A minute later, Dr. Kill's office door opens, and the old man tells me to go ahead; he is number 8. I explain, again, to Dr. Kill what it is I need. She looks at me perplexed. She asks me, "How do you know these are the correct vaccines?" I tell her I had reviewed the CDC and WHO web sites and that these are the recommended vaccines for visitors to southeast Asia. At the same time, though, I am thinking to myself, well you're the doctor, shouldn't you know whether they are correct. Anyway, my answer apparently satisfied her because she scribbled out the prescription, told me to take it to the pharmacy, and bring the vaccines back the next day between 12 noon and 1 pm. I go straight to the farmacia and hand over Dr. Kill's note. The pharmacist tells me she will do her best to get the vaccines, but that she couldn't make any promises. "Come back this evening, and I will give you an update." Ugh, I am beginning to think I probably should have just made the hour-long trip to Malaga, where I probably could have just received the shots at one of the larger clinics. But to my surprise and delight when I turned up at 6:30 pm, all four vacunas were waiting for me. I shell out 75 euros and practically skip home with my booty, which I have been told to stick in the refrigerator right away. Friday morning I look at the clothes in my closet carefully. I need to select something that will allow Rafael easy access to my bottom and at the same time retain the most of my dignity. I chose a cotton skirt that zips up the back. When I arrive at the medical center, the room is packed. I am happy I have my book with me. I see the evil woman from the supermarket, known for giving the wrong change, is waiting with her son. Soon half the room crowds around a baby carriage that is holding a sleeping 5-day-old little one. Very cute. :-) I return to my book. An older English man comes in and stops at the front desk. He says to the man filling in for the usual woman (who is on vacation---after my many visits this week, I know the score) "prescription". Manbehinddesk responds, "No entiendo." Louder, "PRESCRIPTION". Manbehinddesk again says, "No entiendo." I look around the room and find I am the only other expat waiting. I ask the English guy what exactly he wants. He tells me he dropped off his prescription the week before and is looking for his medicine (retirees get this service as part of the national health program). I translate this to manbehinddesk, who then starts looking for the man's medication. I return to my seat; older English man doesn't even say thank you for my help. I shake my head; couldn't the guy have at least looked up the word for "prescription" in an English/Spanish dictionary? It's not difficult, really. And how does he think the rest of us learn another language. Despite my irritation, I decide I must calm myself. The last thing I want to be when my jab time arrives is tense. Rafael's door opens twice, but both times other folks beat me to the punch. Why he's not on his own number system I do not know, but after three and a half years here I know there are certain questions you just don't ask. The third time the door opens, I am the first person up. I hand over the vaccines to Rafael. He mysteriously sits in front of a computer for awhile, punching away at the keyboard. I have no idea what he is doing, but it seems rude to ask. So I wait, and wait, and then find out he has been making me a nice official-looking certificate for my little blue innoculation booklet, which I have been carrying around since birth. Then the time comes to finally drop trou. I barely had unzippered my skirt, then bam, bam, bam---it was all over. And as in many feared and dreaded life events, I find I hardly felt a thing, the shots themselves proving to be one of the most painless aspects of the entire process....well, and admiring Rafael's insanely long eyelashes. (Oops, sorry, BJ. You too have very nice eyelashes. ;-) Hasta pronto, mylifeinspain

broken-hearted

2005-09-02T12:47:00.000+02:00

I have spent most of this week following reports from New Orleans and the Gulf coast. An old friend of mine from Philadelphia, who since relocated to New Orleans, was stranded there in the thick of the chaos. He is now safe in Baton Rouge, but he sadly had to leave behind his two Siamese kitties. His family and friends back in the Philadelphia area are now busy contacting animal rescue groups with the hope that perhaps they can be saved. But I am so, so sad---and angry---that the situation there has become so dire. That people are still sitting on rooftops waiting for food and water, that the federal government has been so slow to react and organize, and that people are dying because of this inaction---I just can't get my head around it. I am sick of survivors being vilified for simply trying to find food, water, medicine, diapers for their babies. The vast majority of "looters" are not criminals---they are simply trying to survive. How can we judge them. Reports are now coming out as well that many of the armed groups of "marauders" are people so desperate to get the attention of rescuers because they have friends and family still trapped in attics, people who are now dying from lack of water and medical attention. It is an absolute disgrace. Call me a cynic, but there is a part of me that wonders what the response would have been had Katrina hit the uber-rich Hamptons or say Nantucket, rather than poor and mostly black southern Louisiana and Mississippi. Would the response have been so slow? Or would Martha Stewart-esque gourmet picnic baskets been dropped, would Davies-Gate toiletry kits been quickly distributed, would luxury hotel chains have opened empty rooms to these refugees? Please do what you can to help. Network for Good http://www.networkforgood.org Red Cross http://store.yahoo.com/redcross-donate2/ For many links and much info: http://www.airamericaradio.com/katrina With every sip of water and bite of food I take, for every cuddle I have with the pets, I cannot help but be immensely grateful. These are everyday things that we all take for granted. But today I cannot. Hasta pronto, mylifeinspain Postscript: In case you were wondering, Cheney is still on vacation in Wyoming. Condie spent Wednesday seeing "Spamalot" on Broadway and buying shoes at Ferragamo's 5th Avenue store. When confronted by another customer as to how she could be shoe shopping at such a crisis moment, Condie had her security people remove the woman from the store.

the standoff

2005-08-29T08:44:00.000+02:00

Big Jim and I were driving up the road from the coast after a very successful shopping excursion to Supersol, Big Jim particularly chuffed to have found (yet another) English bready thing with dried fruit he calls "malt loaf" (seriously, how many variations on this theme are there in English gastronomy). We pulled into town and began the ascent to our home in the El Monte section of the village, passing the Bodega, the museo del vino, and the ferreteria. We made a left onto the street in front of the hotel. After traveling 90% of the stretch made especially narrow because of a row of illegally parked cars on the right (the entire street is clearly marked "no parking" and emphasized by yellow-painted curbs), we encountered a man driving a small white van coming in the opposite direction. Both vehicles stop, and we wait patiently for him to back up the two or three car lengths, to where the street widens, allowing us to safely pass. Except he doesn't back up. He gestures for us to back up. I turn back to reevaluate the situation. We would have to back up about 15 car lengths to allow him to pass. Call me crazy but doesn't common sense say dude who only has to back up a few meters should be the gracious one here?! The Big Jim throws up his hands in a sort of "What gives?" manner. Dude shuts off the van and gets out and approaches---of course---my side of the car. The general line of discussion was "What are you doing?" "What are you doing?" I explain to him it is far more logical for him to back up the few feet required for us to pass rather for us to back up almost the entire street to let him do so. He refuses and then feigns to enter the bar of the hotel for a drink. Conversation ends with the universal "F.U." Because we were on a tight schedule for an engagement that night, Big Jim eventually relented and backed up to let the a-hole pass. As we continued on the climb to our house, I looked over at Big Jim and said, "Do you understand why I can't live here anymore? What the hell is going on with this damn town?" Seriously, this kind of crap just didn't happen in the village a couple years ago. A couple days later, we were relating the story to some friends of ours who live near the hotel. They told us of the day when they became blocked in on the same street because the car in front and the one that pulled up behind them both refused to budge, and one of the other drivers truly did go into the hotel bar and have a drink. Apparently this is now a common occurrence on this stretch of road. Of course, the entire situation could be avoided if the police in the village actually enforced any of the traffic and parking regulations. Call me crazy.... Sadly, this is just one example of how life in the village is changing, and not in a good way. Overcrowding, too many cars, too many big cars and SUVs, not enough parking, soaring prices for housing and basic necessities---like food for example, increasing crime, not enough good-paying jobs for those who haven't gotten rich from the land sales, Spanish and English upset because Moroccans will work construction for lower wages, young Spanish resenting the presence of all foreigners---not recognizing that without the foreigners their parents would never have been able to afford their suped-up four-wheelers and expensive clothes and gold chains, expats drowning whatever sorrows they have brought with them in alcohol...all these bad vibes are now palpable as one walks the town streets. The village has become one big bowl of negativity, and anyone who stays here for awhile runs the risk of drowning in it. Perhaps my language borders on the dramatic; however, the changes are dramatic. Another example: as Big Jim and I returned from our trip to Madrid, we pass by Granada. Since we had been there in March, literally thousands of homes have been built on the city outskirts, all the way to the motorway and beyond. Housing for easily 30,000 to 40,000 people has gone up virtually overnight. The same is happening all along the coast as well. And unfortunately, the infrastructure, the service industries, the utility cpmpanies, the medical and governmental agencies have been unable to meet the increased demands put on them by the surging population. We have a friend who currently is battling bladder cancer. He has his chemo treatments at one medical center in the morning and then has to drive to another facility for his afternoon radiation because the first hospital was already booked with PM radiation patients. Another unfortunate result is that some of the original expats are moving, not just talking about it like we (Big Jim and I) are. Wednesday night I am going to a farewell bash for our friend N., who used to run an art gallery and clothing boutique in the village. She's off to Kiev to help run an English language school. Like us, she has become fed up with dealing with big city problems without the positive tradeoffs city life offers---the cultural events, museums, varied shopping options, the diversity of people and opinions and ways of life. And so she goes. And I go back to researching apartments and housing markets elsewhere. Hasta pronto, mylifeinspain Postscript: Immediately after finishing this post, I went out to buy my daily baguette, as one does. On my way to the panaderia, I was stopped by our friend U., who spent the next 15 minutes venting her spleen about her frustrations with the post office (see also my entry of 19 August 2005). This morning her credit card bill from the UK was delivered; however, the letter had been sent weeks earlier, and her payment was due August 17th! She now has to pay a 20-pound late fee. Some can say, well she should have tracked down the bill earlier (like I had to do with our phone bill), but come on, how many people have the time to do this all the time. Plus, the lines are already long enough with all the people from the campo who have to come to town to pick up their mail; can you imagine what they would be like if the townspeople, who are supposed to have "regular" home delivery, suddenly all queued up as well looking for their bills and other time-sensitive mail? Crazy! The obvious problem is that the post office is now understaffed because of the influx of expats, and clearly the solution is that more employees need to be hired. Simple. But will it happen....

the lost week

2005-08-28T14:36:00.000+02:00

Well at least the fever has passed and I can now breathe again through my nose. I am still eagerly anticipating the day when my diet consists of more than toast and Fanta limon, but hey, at least I am no longer in bed wrapped up like a mummy when it is 90 degrees and sunny outside! Sparing you the intimate details, this has been one of the nastiest bugs I have had in ages, and apparently a bit of an epidemic has spread through the village. Before I had a chance to call Miguel to let him know I couldn't make Spanish class last week, he beat me to the punch---poor guy has it as well. It's hard to believe that the summer will soon draw to its close, but all the signs are the there. The grapes are beginning to arrive at the winemaker's facility at the top of our street, and the youngest children went to school this week for their orientation. And the days are noticably shorter; by 9:30 now the streets are almost dark. Despite the dry, still heat of the day, the cooler breezes kick in at night, curtain flapping in the wind. And all the last-minute football (soccer) wheeling and dealing and player trades---must remember to unsubscribe to CNN's e-mail news updates for Spain; I reckon 90% at least are just football updates. It was wonderful to have Big Jim around for at least a couple weeks of the summer. The season is by far the most social in the village, and for this reason the most difficult for me to manage his absence. When he's not here, one of the things I miss the most after an evening out is the whole chit-chatty analysis of the evening that we (and I suspect all couples) do. You know the whole "Aren't soandso such nice people?" and "God, what was wrong with soandso? They were miserable all night." I think I enjoy this part of the evening sometimes more than the actual social event in question. Although after almost a week in bed, I do look forward to seeing more faces than just Mary, Lou, Murray, and Rhoda (from the classic Mary Tyler Moore Show, for those of you too young or not sufficiently indoctrinated in American TV culture). :-) Hasta pronto, mylifeinspain

i know how she feels....

2005-08-24T23:04:00.000+02:00

For the second night, the precious Boo is refusing to come to bed. Rather, she is lying by the front door, keeping vigil for the Big Jim. :-(

summer flu

2005-08-24T09:35:00.000+02:00

Big Jim is safely back in Islamabad. (The precious Boo waited up for him all night downstairs by the front door :-(.) He kindly left me with his flu. We spent our last few days together making tea (we have these fantastic herbal teas from Germany specifically for bronchial and sinus infections; they are the best!), comparing phlegm, and inhaling Olbas oil, which frankly I believe should be designated a narcotic given its addictive qualities, although according to its ingredients, it is just a bunch of essential oils. So forgive me for writing just a short note now; will resume regular blogging when the fever lifts. Hasta pronto, mylifeinspain

happy friday/another post office rant

2005-08-19T15:27:00.000+02:00

It's 3:30, and I am still in my pj's (although, Dad, it is technically considered "loungewear" so don't have a coronary). Ahh, vacation bliss. It's another overcast day in the south of Spain, so we cancelled the beach excursion so that Big Jim could do some computer maintenance and I could putter. We are going to the garden center in a little while, though, so I will eventually achieve something today. Apparently, the village post office is also lounging about this summer. Wednesday I went there in search of our telephone bill. It is usually due the 18th/19th of the month, and as of the 17th, we still hadn't received it. Eventually, Gabriela dug it out from a huge stack, and I was glad I had gone to retrieve it because the bill was indeed due the 18th. And because the bank accepts payments on only Tuesdays and Thursdays between 8:30 and 10:30 am, I had only one day to pay our factura before the evil Telefonica people would shut off our service. Judging by the remaining pile of similar bills, I wonder how many people in the village are finding themselves without telephone action today.... Anyway, my visit must have reminded Gabriela and Co. to deliver the post to our street because yesterday when we returned from the beach we actually found three bits of mail in our postbox. One was a bank deposit notice dated July 15; the second was a letter from Telefonica announcing increased speed on our ADSL line dated July 18; and the third was our electric bill from JUNE, dated as received in the local post office on July 7, for which I paid after receiving the late notice 3 WEEKS AGO! This has to be violating some sort of postal law, no? And shouldn't these obviously time-sensitive letters be made a delivery priority? Call me crazy, but I think the answer is YES! Gotta go. Big Jim has just announced T-30 minutes regarding our departure to the garden center. I am currently being overrun with pepper plants and need to buy a bunch of soil and many, many more pots. Hasta luego, mylifeinspain

medusa/noche del vino

2005-08-17T22:26:00.000+02:00

Yesterday, August 16, may be the day mas tranquilo of the entire year in the village, the day after the Noche del Vino. Other than the bread shops, everything was closed until the evening, and even then the waitstaff at Perico's still seemed half asleep. (On the subject of bread shops, where do the madrilenos buy bread? I didn't see a one panaderia during our brief trip there.) Big Jim and I skipped the piso (the traditional stomping of the grapes) this year and opted to spend Monday at the beach. We arrived to find few people in the water, but after a little while I decided to investigate. I figured the Sea must be cold, which would explain why most were just wading about to their knees. However, I found the temperature to be quite pleasant and therefore plunged right in. Swam out quite a bit and then down the shore line, looking back at our village tucked neatly into the mountainside. And then my tranquil little scene was abruptly interrupted by pain; nasty sharp pain smacked my arm and then my thigh. Without seeing the offender, I knew straightaway the culprit---a jellyfish, or medusa had entered my path, or vice versa.
Medusa's revenge. I quickly swam to shore and rubbed my welts with ice water from our thermos flask. After ten minutes or so, the pain subsided, and I was able to resume reading of my beach book. But the nasty sting marks are still lingering and probably will for a week. I reckon after my wasp encounter and now the jellyfish, I am now due for a bite by some land-dwelling creature, perhaps a scorpian or some highly poisonous snake in Pakistan. Must remember to stock up on antivenin. Before we went to the beach, I stopped by the town hall to see whether there were any tickets still available for the music in the square that night. The performances are gratis; however, 2 euros buys a seat on a wooden folding chair invariably squeezed up against a fleshy abuela. But nevermind---after a couple plastic cups of the free local wine, the 2 euros is money well spent. We skipped the hour-long speeches from various local dignitaries and instead shared a glass of wine with M.A. on our roof terrace and headed to the square only when the music began. As I commented in my Noche del Vino review last year, there were again very few expats out for the music. I suppose many were done in by the free wine earlier in the day. And what a pity because the performances were all excellent, except for one singer whose performace was just shy of inspiring. Arcangel was back for a repeat performance from last year, and he and his guitar player were simply awesome. As was all the dancing.

Unfortunately, the last dance troupe was missed by half the people, who had stumbled home before their 3 am start time. Many of the abuelas around me lamented how early the performances ended (3:45 am), but I believe this is a result of the changing times. Many folks in the village no longer work in the town and thus Tuesday was not a holiday for them. Perhaps this is something the organizers are going to have to consider in future years. The weather has been strange the past couple days---not particularly warm but definitely overcast and humid. We skipped the beach in favor of a sort-out at home. Big Jim filled several bags with shredded bank statements going back to 1993. It may seem like a strange way to pass time during his visit, but sometimes it is nice just to do typically boring mundane things when we are together. Sitting down at our dinner table, cuddling up on the sofa with the pets to watch a movie, hanging out in the office together---these are the things we most miss when we are apart. The weather looks more promising for Thursday, so we will again try for a day at the beach. But this time I will be on better guard for the nasty medusa. Hasta luego, mylifeinspain

madrid impressions/fotos

2005-08-15T12:31:00.000+02:00

After Mr. C. got over his angst regarding my visa, he proved to be a most helpful man. He spent at least twenty minutes showing us different travel routes for both weekend and day trips out of Islamabad. We talked about Pakistan politics, food, disease, and life in general. I think we parted on good terms. Anyway, we spent the rest of our time in Madrid just being tourists. August visits have their good and bad points, the positive being half the city in down on the coast for their summer holiday/the negative being half the shops and restaurants are closed for the month. I think, though, for first-time visitors, the positives outweighed the negatives. We stayed at the fairly posh Wellington Hotel (http://www.tripadvisor.com/ShowUserReviews-g187514-d228658-r3449197-Wellington_Hotel-Madrid_Madrid.html). The reviews on tripadvisor are mixed, but our experience was excellent. We had a large room (by any standards, but especially by European standards) with a king-sized bed, beautiful (again) large bath, and attentive service. The breakfast buffet is expensive, although the cost is included in some packages, but it was very good regardless, and frankly comparably priced to other similar sorts of hotels in major cities (I believe we paid $20-25 for breakfast at the Algonquin in NYC a couple years ago, for example). And the location is fantastic---only two blocks from the Retiro metro stop and the park itself. I have stayed in all sorts of hotels, from cheap hostels and Motel 6 to the Savoy in London, and the Wellington certainly ranks in the top 10 percentile.
Not only was our bed turned down and chocolates left, a fine-cotton cloth was placed on the floor by both sides of the bed. Never seen this before, not even at the Savoy. We loved, loved, loved the Prado (check this one off my Spain "to do" list; plus I have now been to all the major collection museums except for the Kunsthistorisches Museum in Vienna), as well as Retiro Park.
El Bosco
Retiro
I just loved these pine trees---and they were superfragrant as well. The metro system is fantastic (and surprisingly not smelly---it is August after all) and cheap. We bought a 10-ride Metrobus pass for 5.80 euros. Because our stay was so short, I cannot give a fair assessment of Madrid, just first impressions. People were friendly and helpful, and it was a joy to hear Spanish spoken so articulately. (I know I always go on about this, but if you had to try to translate and then decode our village dialect on a regular basis, you would understand my utter glee of being able to converse in proper castellano once in awhile.) Lots of trees everywhere, which seemed to do double-duty as shade provider and traffic buffer. We were amazed at how quiet the wide avenues were, even during busy travel times. Had a good meal at an old traditional Madrid tavern called La Bola (on c/ Bola). Food was very yummy. I had sauteed spinach with pinenuts and Big Jim had a bean salad as starters, and then swordfish for me and leg of lamb for BJ. We both had flan for dessert. As I said, no complaints about the food; however, the service was too quick, especially for Spain! My entree was brought as I finished my starter, and the waiter came for our coffee and dessert orders while I was still eating my swordfish! Bad, bad, bad. Overall, though, a most-fun minibreak, and I look forward to seeing more next time. For now, enjoy the rest of the pics; Big Jim and I are off to the beach and then back for tonight's Noche del Vino festivities.
Park gates
I love fishy fountains. :-)
Although this rock fountain was also pretty nifty.
After a day of art, a lovely space to relax.
Big Jim chilling at La Bola.
Crusing downtown.
Yet another cool fountain.
Still cruising.
Last shot before hitting the motorway.... Hasta pronto, mylifeinspain

quick message

2005-08-13T19:57:00.000+02:00

Just a quick note to say we are back from Madrid, and SUCCESS at the embassy! After receiving phone calls from the foreign ministry in Islamabad and a fax from the US embassy in Washington DC, Mr. C. was waiting for us (and was not a happy man). But more on that later. Most importantly, I am now proud owner of a 1-year, multiple-entry visa to Pakistan. :-) Am off to the shower now. I do not advise anyone drive across La Mancha in the middle of an August afternoon. More later w/ details of the visa saga and impressions of Madrid (and fotos, of course). Hasta pronto, mylifeinspain

napping husband

2005-08-09T14:45:00.000+02:00

a jetlagged, but content, Big Jim. :-) The wife (as well as the pets) is very happy to have him home. Much enjoying day 1 of summer vacation 2005. Plans for today: nothing, but we are going out for dinner this evening. Our "stressor" for the day is deciding which restaurant to go to later. Okay, back to siesta. Hasta pronto, mylifeinspain

friday fotos/garden (and other) updates

2005-08-05T10:42:00.000+02:00

I haven't posted any garden photos in awhile, and so to prove to those of you who think I may have managed to kill off all of the greenery, I show you otherwise. :-)

and no photoblog would be complete without one cheeky dog pic. Most tend to be of Mr. Beebs; this is because the precious Boo is not too keen on cameras, so I have to be more sneaky. Mr. B., on the other hand, is a ham. In other news, Big Jim is feeling much better after last week's bout of dysentery. He has moved from "fart with caution" to "fart with confidence" status (my apologies for the commonspeak; his terms, not mine). Also, apparently my tourist visa to Pakistan has become a bit of an international incident. Today the Colonel is meeting with a foreign relations cabinet minister to secure written confirmation that my visa will be granted, so I went ahead and booked us a hotel in Madrid for later next week. However, I told Big Jim regardless of what happens with Mr. C., I refuse to let it ruin our little holiday. I will simply tell Mr. C. that I am cursing him and his wife (or husband, for that matter) to many long and miserable separations for the duration of their marriage, and then I'm off to the Prado. Worst case scenarios if Mr. C. refuses to bend, I either make a quick trip to the U.S. to get my visa there (found Air France ticket for 400 euros) or I cancel my flight for October (and lose 200 euros), get my visa when we are in the U.S. at Christmas, and visit Pakistan early next year. Three days until Big Jim is back!!!!! He currently is off gathering me supplies of pretzels (yes, crazy but he can easily buy good ole PA Dutch pretzels in Islamabad) and assorted cheap DVDs. Have a nice weekend, everyone. :-) Hasta pronto, mylifeinspain

stranger, bumps in the night

2005-08-04T10:31:00.000+02:00

Two nights ago, I was in a state of peaceful slumber, dreaming of cool breezes and an endless bowl of tiramisu, when I was oh-so-rudely awakened by first a low but crescendo-ing gutteral growl, followed by a high-pitched, glass-breaking shriek and hiss. Cat fight, I think as I turn over, ready to resume my sleep. Scramble, bang, scramble, bang, crash, crash. I jump back up. The cat fight is in my house! I reach out to the nightstand, patting about for my thick-framed and -lensed glasses, and slip into my flipflops. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I determine the fun is taking place in the washroom, above. As I pass the office, I notice that our kitty diva, C.K., is curled up in her little bed, oblivious to the drama upstairs. Hmmm, interesting. I flick on the light just as a cat tail pops out of the washroom window, onto the roof and terrace below, safe from the antagonizing force also known as Mr. Beebs. I scan the room for clues and quickly deduce the following. Neighborhood kitty cat, probably Twitchy, is out hunting gecko and comes across what he thinks is a public restroom, C.K.'s litter box. He goes about his business, but Mr. Beebs, always an opportunist where the litter box is concerned, hears the scratching about and decides to investigate. Cat/dog confrontation, multiple failed escape attempts by cat, pile of fallen flower pots, and finally success out the window. I restack the terracotta planters, turn off the light, and head back to bed. Mr. Beebs curls up under the covers with me, gets in my nook, and rests his head on my shoulder (this makes Big Jim very jealous, mainly because Mr. B. is supposed to be HIS dog), and is fast asleep in minutes. I, on the other hand, am far from sleep after the hullabaloo. I toss, I turn, well as much as one can with a conjoined dog appendage. I count backwards from 100 and then, discouraged, start again from 1000. I get bored in the 700s and throw back the blanket, stomp into the TV room in such of a DVD with really boring, self-involved commentary, my surefire cure for insomnia. Ahhhhh, success. Back to that endless bowl of tiramisu.... :-) Hasta manana, mylifeinspain

pulling strings

2005-08-02T17:48:00.000+02:00

Was originally going title this entry "Visa Woes", but then I thought two "woes" in two days sounded pitiful. So I went with the more optimistic "Pulling Strings". I am by nature a fairly "by the book" sort of person. But the more I travel and the longer I live outside the U.S., I realize this way of thinking gets you nowhere fast in many situations. For example, Big Jim and I sat for 45 minutes at the Tangier port because I didn't want to hand over my passport to one of the slick, fake leather jacket-wearing unofficial "processors", who walked up and down the rows of cars shouting promises of a smooth and speedy entry if you chose them. After said 45 minutes without moving but an inch in line, I eventually lost my resolve and gave in, and we forked over the payola required for the return of our passports. It's a shitty "system", but regardless it is the system. So when Big Jim asked me to send him a scan of my passport so that our high-ranking friend in the Pakistan military (henceforth referred to as "the Colonel") could write a letter of reference to help grease the wheels at the Pakistan embassy in Madrid, which we plan to visit later next week to obtain my tourist visa for the October trip, my initial reaction was to balk. "I don't need any special reference letter. I can wait in line like everybody else," I said quite huffily. Big Jim got appropriately huffy back, "Suit yourself then!" And the matter was dropped. Until today, after I spoke with Mr. C. at the Madrid embassy. For old-time readers of the blog, you may remember Mr. C. He is the man who charged Big Jim three times the price we were originally quoted for his visa. Refer to this entry http://mylifeinspain.blogspot.com/2004/12/missing-consulate.html and the subsequent titled "more later..." for background info. Anyway, I called the embassy today to verify their hours (how'd you like this workday: they are open 9:30 to 11:30 am!) and the documents required for the tourist visa. Mr. C. tells me he needs a letter from my bank. Now I had already checked the web site before calling, and nowhere does it say banking details are needed for a tourist visa. Plus, I knew Big Jim didn't have to take such a letter for his business visa. So I question Mr. C. about this, and then he asks me where I am from. I tell him I am a U.S. citizen. "Oh, madam. I cannot give you visa. You are not EU citizen. You must get your visa in the United States." So I then go to the Pakistan embassy web site in Washington, DC, and again it lists its only requirements for a tourist visa as the completed application form (which is quite short and basic), two passport photos, proof of my travel dates (i.e., printout of my e-ticket), and $120 USPS money order to cover the costs. I decide to give them a call. I speak to a very helpful man, who tells me he has no idea why Mr. C. won't issue my visa. Normally he issues the visas through the mail, but because I am out of the country, he informs me it is now illegal to send your passport across international borders (who knew!). He advises me to call Mr. C. back and tell him I spoke with the embassy in the U.S., and that Mr. C. should send him a letter stating why he refuses to issue my visa. I of course cannot do so today because the office is Madrid is now closed, and I am also beginning to feel as though I am about to start up some sort of international incident! My next action is to Skype Big Jim and get him caught up to speed. I e-mail him all the details of who I spoke to and their contact info, so that he can pass along to the Colonel first thing tomorrow morning. I hate to have to resort to pulling strings, but unless my friend in the Washington embassy can get Mr. C. to bend his apparently self-written set of rules, the Colonel may be my only hope of not having to make a mad-dash visit to the U.S. in September to sort this out in person. Is it me, or is this just lunacy? And why is it that so many of the folks who work in these offices have such a sense of self-importance? Mr. C. is not the first sort of person like this I have run into embassy offices. The folks at the Spanish consulate in New York are notoriously unhelpful and unfriendly. They never, ever answer the telephone, nor do they ever return messages whether you leave them in English or Spanish. One time I went there, the main building entrance was under construction, and I consequently spent twenty minutes trying to find the loading dock, which apparently was the only way into the place. I sat there with my forms for two hours before I finally asked a woman how much longer my wait would be. She informed me that because I arrived at 12:05 pm, not before my 12:00 appointment, she would not be able to process my paperwork until the following day. My pleas and explanations for tardiness were dismissed with a curt "manana" and shoulder shrug. So let's hope the Colonel can work his magic. He helped Big Jim get the appropriate paperwork for his visit to Kashmir, so how much trouble can a simple old tourist visa be? I just want to go and have some nice curry and buy some wool shawls and blankets and visit some of the ancient Buddhist sites in Taxila and meet all the lovely people Big Jim keeps talking about. Seriously, Mr. C., I will be no trouble. So if you can get off your little power trip for two minutes and sign off on my paperwork, I would be most grateful. Thanks! Will keep you posted.... hasta pronto, mylifeinspain

home office woes

2005-08-01T21:30:00.000+02:00

There are many, many things I love about working from home. So many, that if I can manage to swing it, I intend to do so for the rest of my working years. However, one of the biggest challenges I have had has been with my scheduling, and more specifically, getting my friends here in Spain to respect my workday. I have tried many schedules, but I have found the one that works the best is 11 am to 8 pm, with a 1- to 2-hour break in the afternoon for preparing and eating my dinner. The 11 am start time is good because it allows me to do all my morning chores and errands and bread-buying before I get into my work. The later evening quitting time also works well because this is when most Spanish people end their workday; plus it allows me to work half the day of my clients back in the U.S. I am not always completely rigid with my hours. For example, I have Spanish class from 2:00 to 3:30, so I usually try to get an earlier start on Thursdays. And when I want to go shopping on the coast one morning, I may work until as late as 9 or 9:30 that night. I know this probably sounds insane to those not used to a Spanish workday, but these are not crazy hours here. Most people, myself included, don't have our evening meal (which for me is usually a sandwich or salad or eggs, or on the rare occasion, a bowl of ice cream :-) until 9:30 or 10:00 pm. Personally, I am cool with my schedule and that's all that matters. The previous paragraph was mainly background information for the rant to follow. Because I am "home", I have found many people do not seem to understand that I AM WORKING. Therefore, today out of absolute frustration, I am putting together a "Do Not Disturb" letter to hang on my front door. ******************************************** Dear friends, Despite the fact that I have told you many times of my work hours, you have come by the house/office anyway. I understand many of you are retired or work construction jobs and therefore have an earlier quitting time than myself. However, I apparently need to remind you (again) of the following: As much as I enjoy rioja, it is not cool to stop by unannounced for a glass of wine at 3:00 on a Monday afternoon. It also is not cool to call me on the phone every five minutes because I am likely to launch it out the window rather than pick it up! If you ignore the above and bullheadedly knock at the door anyway, and I do not answer, please do not proceed to shout my name at the office window because if I wasn't answering the door before, I sure am not going to answer it now! Do not wait outside for me to "return" and then say "What, you have been inside all this time?!" when I appear at the door to walk the dogs. If I don't answer the door, it is because I AM BUSY. But "it's 8:01 pm," you say. "It's past your work hours." Well, here's the skinny. When you work for yourself, sometimes quitting time may be 7:45. Sometimes it may be 8:08. You gotta be flexible, people. I punch my own time clock. And if I am still trying to finish up for the day at 8:02, it's my prerogative not to answer the door. [As an aside, I am not normally horribly opposed to answering either the phone or door while I am working. I have only reached this state because I have countless times picked up the phone or answered the door and told people that it wasn't a good time, yet I still had my ear talked off or alternatively found myself with someone sitting in my living room "just for a minute" while I fire up the kettle for a cup of tea or go to open a bottle of wine. And then an hour later....] No, I can't come out with you for drinks on a Tuesday night when I have a deadline Wednesday. Would love to but need to have completely clear head so that I can focus on my work, which as you know, given its very nature, requires said clear head. I could go on, people, so let's get back to basics. If I don't answer the door or the phone, I am either not home or busy with work and cannot be disturbed. If urgent, slip a note for me under the door. I will see it when I go to the kitchen to get a drink, which I do about every hour. DO NOT WORRY; I AM NOT DEAD. If I were, Almendena would have spotted that hours ago because she misses not a thing. And please don't take any of this personally, friends. I do love you. Finally, I have told you all already, but here's another reminder. I am going to be very, very busy this week because I am finishing up a project before Big Jim arrives next Monday. I have tons of other errands to run as well, plus get the house cleaned. So I may not have much time for socializing. We will all have plenty of time for that when he's back for vacation. But that said, don't you all get any crazy ideas and stop by unannounced then either. I may be off work for two weeks, but if anyone knows my husband, we will be busy (wink, wink). Got it? Good. ******************************************* Whew, feel much better now. I suppose many people who work from home face these issues, although perhaps my situation is a little different because there is such a high percentage of retired people living around me. Plus, telecommuting is still a bit of an oddity here in the village. Anyway, if any of you are work from home people or own your own business, how do you cope with the balance? Am sincerely interested in ideas as I don't seriously think I can post the above letter, no matter how tempting. :-) hasta pronto, mylifeinspain

amebic dysentery

2005-07-29T14:14:00.000+02:00

Eww, Big Jim was just sent home from the doctor with the above (read all about it at http://www.emedicine.com/ped/topic80.htm---a warning, it ain't pretty). He should be back on his feet in a few days. Just another notch in his "Gastrointestinal Protozoa of the World" scorebook....

"Pope Laments 'Dying' Churches in West"

2005-07-29T09:50:00.000+02:00

Hmm, I just saw this headline, and it reminded me of something that has been eating at my craw all week. In past years, the priest of the village church has always served at the host and emcee for all the festivals. This year, the village council contracted the work out for the feria to some local dj outfit. Why? Because certain people in the village did not approve of the priest's enthusiasm; he was too "animated", especially when he, heaven forbid, danced! (But how is one to dance a sevillana if not with animation?) I constantly hear churches lament how difficult it has become to keep young people involved these days. Our village, fortunate to have a young, energetic priest who can engage many of the children and youth, however, has decided to curtail his interactions with them. Interesting, though, how no one complained a few summers ago when the priest and his group of musicians played shows down on the coast to raise money for the new roof on the church. No, then his love of music was applauded. From my perspective, there was nothing inappropriate about the priest's behavior. To the contrary, I was happy to see his usually serious, although friendly, self relax and enjoy the moment. It's a pity there won't be more of them (although I'd like to think he still is popping in a CD and having a whirl in the rectory). hasta luego, mylifeinspain

friday foto

2005-07-29T08:46:00.000+02:00

Big Jim's latest photo, taken on his way to Lahore yesterday. Have a nice weekend, everyone! hasta pronto, mylifeinspain

back to normal

2005-07-26T08:47:00.000+02:00

I have decided that after four ferias in this village, that what I find most interesting is walking through the village early Monday morning as all except for the most diehard of partiers sleep. The final rocket shots are set off at about 5:30 am, signaling the official end of the feria and waking every already traumatized dog in the valley. But the party continues regardless. Yesterday I heard the amusement rides finally turned off at 7:00 am. I gathered up the pups and took them on their first anxiety-free walk through the village since last Thursday. They spent most of the weekend huddled together under the bed.

Three whole days of peace, before the feria moves to our neighboring village and the fun starts all over again. hasta pronto, mylifeinspain

and so the feria begins

2005-07-22T08:41:00.000+02:00

The time is 8:42 am. We have already had a barrage of fireworks and rockets (to let people in neighboring villages know that indeed our feria has commenced), and a parade led by the always-out-of-tune village band (but we love 'em and would have it no other way). Oops, here we go, the second round of rockets just started (mass scramble of puppies under the bed). More later.... Hasta pronto, mylifeinspain

diet

2005-07-20T19:35:00.000+02:00

So after a fitful night of sleep---you know the kind where you wake up every hour in a panic, thinking you have missed the alarm and overslept, only to look at the clock and see it is 2:37 am---I made it to the bus in time. I got to tell you, I am going to be using this bus more often. Get this, a one-way ride to the coast costs 1.31 euros; don't know what's up with the penny bit, but regardless that is crazymoney. And this isn't some rickety Franco-era bus; this is a full-sized coach, with AC and cushy seats. My kind of public transport. Anyway, I arrived early, so I stopped at a cafe near the ophthalmologists' office for a coffee and tostada. One of the things I do love about the coast is that one can actually purchase a coffee and tostada at 8 am. In the village, the earliest anyone is prepared to make you a simple breakfast is 9:15. People-watched for awhile and then made my way to the doctors. After all these visits, my name continues to confuse the receptionist, who always greets me by inverting my surname and my first name. She puts in my drops and then I sit and wait. And wait. Today's music selection: the Evita soundtrack in muzak. So here's the good news: my vision in my right eye has improved, to 20%. But even more exciting, the macula's functioning has improved fourfold. The doctors expect this can continue to get better with time. The floater I noticed in the left eye is a bit of vitreous that has detached, but did so without pulling on the retina; therefore, nothing major to worry about. However, Dr. Rubio is concerned about the overall health of my vitreous; so he says to me that he is putting me on a diet. To which I must have responded to him, a man with a major overlapper clearly indicating a fondness for churros, with a nonverbal, "huh?" He quickly qualified, "Oh no, not a diet to lose weight. A diet to promote eye health." He prescribed me heavy-duty vitamins, plus I am to eat as many fruits and vegetables as I can tolerate. Now I know there are some people in PA Dutchland who find this amusing because it is I who is always telling certain members of my family that they should eat more fruit and vegetables. At a minimum, I have to have one fruit smoothie and one giant vegetable salad a day...tomatoes, carrots, spinach, melon, berries, pineapple, the more colorful the better. I told him I do eat plenty of these; he said, "Mas, mas, mas." Will probably turn into oversized pumpkin (also high on my "must eat" list). Truthfully, I look forward to playing around with the juicer, which has been tucked away, still in its original box. I have tried to eat healthily for many years now; this is just pushing it up a notch. Now, off to look for smoothie recipes on the Internet.... hasta pronto, mylifeinspain p.s. I didn't get to have my swim. Plenty of time, but because of the eyedrops, I had zero tolerance for the bright sunshine. Had to curl up in the back of a dimly-lit bar for an hour, but did have a freshly squeezed orange juice while I waited for the bus. :-)

early to bed

2005-07-19T21:54:00.000+02:00

It's still hot. I am amazed at how the Spanish neighbors, who one would assume would be used to insane summer temperatures, can talk for hours about the heat. Granted, I think I have acclimatized quite well, considering I only start moaning about it when the thermometer hits 105 to 110 F, which it did yesterday on R.'s terrace. The streets are deserted in the afternoon, everyone inside seeking shelter from the sun. So I am sitting here now, nursing a tinto de verano, hoping it will coax me to sleep in about an hour. When it is hot like this, I usually don't think about going to bed until at least 1 am, when the house cools off and sleep becomes possible. But tomorrow I have to catch the 7 am bus for my morning eye appointment with the Drs. Marcos and Rubio. I can't drive myself because they load me up with all sorts of drops, plus I am hoping to maybe get in a Med swim before I have to catch the bus back to the village. I haven't noticed any dramatic improvements in the right eye, although I think perhaps the vision is a slightly better. I can actually read "Yahoo" on the home page, which I couldn't before. I also want them to look at the left eye though because I have a new floater, which could be nothing or it could be something. Either way, I would like to know and have it taken care of if need be. Twenty days until Big Jim is back in the village. Much to do before then workwise, plus the village feria kicks off Thursday, which means absolute hell for the dogs and me, who has to attempt to walk them through the day/night-long barrage of rockets and fireworks. Actually, the time from now until the end of the year is going to busy. I bought my ticket to Pakistan yesterday, so I will be there from October 1 to 16. So, while Big Jim is home in August, we have to go to Madrid so that I can get my travel visa. And I need to get all my shots; hope this is something I can get from the local pharmacist and doesn't involve a trip to Malaga. After my Pakistan adventure, Big Jim is going to come back with me to the village for a week or so (K., if you are seriously thinking of visiting w/ the little Cora, this would be a good time; we'll talk.). Officially his contract with Nokia should be up then. But given the state of the project, it looks as though another six-month extension is in the works. I had hoped to make a visit to the US before Christmas this year, but it is not looking very possible. Perhaps if I can find a cheap flight in September, although I don't know how patient my work clients will be, considering I will only be working half of August and half of October, plus plan to take off two weeks or slightly more for Christmas. Okay, don't mind me, just trying to get a handle on all this myself. (And I only feel slightly guilty about taking this much vacation, considering Big Jim and I had no vacation for the years he was job hunting. Just using up my "banked" holidays, I figure.) Yes, the refreshing, slightly alcoholic drink has worked its magic as I am beginning to get dozy. Now must just remember to set the alarm...... hasta luego, mylifeinspain

hot

2005-07-18T01:11:00.000+02:00

It's 1 am. I just checked the thermometer. It's 30.7 C in the house, and I am too hot to do the conversion to Fahrenheit for Americans (when will you all get with the metric program?!!). Take my word for it, as I am sitting here in my underwear with my ice packs, it's still hot. Spent a lovely, albeit eventful, evening with M.A., eating cold salmon and homemade sorbet and watching the helicopters and airplanes fight the wildfire that was inching eerily close to the village. Seems to be under control for now as the wind has died down considerably. Big Jim and A. managed to avoid kidnapping and all other assorted badness on their weekend trip to Kashmir and the Khyber Pass (http://www.afghan-network.net/Culture/khyber.html). They got as close to Afghanistan to be able to see the soldiers lining the border. Overall, an amazing experience says Big Jim. Can't wait to go myself in a couple months.... Okay, am taking my sun/heatstroked self to bed. More soon. hasta pronto, mylifeinspain

shopping in tangier

2005-07-13T00:26:00.000+02:00

No, I have not run off to Tangier. :-) These are from a trip we took a couple years ago. But as I am swamped with work at the moment, which is leaving little time to write a proper blog entry, I figured I would post a couple photos for now. Big Jim will be back in the village in less than four weeks (yay!), and I am furiously trying to finish a book project so that I can spend our two-week break completely free of work thoughts.
Big Jim currently is entertaining his son A., who arrived in Islamabad from the UK bright and early (5:50 am) Sunday morning for a two-week visit. Safe journey, although understandably security at Heathrow veryveryvery tight. Today they visited Taxila, which is a nearby ancient Buddhist site, and a trip to Kashmir is planned for the weekend. Now before anyone freaks out, they are going with a military escort, which has been arranged by a vg friend of our vg friend Father L., who is a retired Jesuit priest we know from Brussels AND who spent several years in Pakistan building schools. So all will be fine. :-) hasta pronto, mylifeinspain P.S. For friends awaiting e-mail responses, they will come as soon as I get pass this wave of work. Thanks for your patience. :-)

agoraphobia

2005-07-08T08:05:00.000+02:00

Like many people around the world yesterday, I spent much of my time glued to the streaming BBC webcast on the computer. Although Big Jim and I had often discussed London as an obvious target for terrorism, the reality proved to be no less shocking or horrifying. The village remained subdued all day. The many English expats were fixated on news reports and attempting to reach loved ones back in the UK; the Spanish were sadly reminded of their own terrible bombings, particularly last year's in Madrid. And I often found myself being transported to Philadelphia, 9/11/2001. The shock, the fear, the silent streets. And then somehow, we managed to get out of bed the morning of 9/12 and carry on, just as many, many Londoners are today. ***************************************** Three times in my life I have had to face agoraphobia. The first time was after a car accident when I was 18. The second was after I was carjacked in Philadelphia 14 years ago. The third is now, anxiety being a common result of vision loss. I have learned that agoraphobia seems to be my way of dealing with any sort of trauma. This time, I first recognized symptoms as M.A. and I were planning to go to Priego de Cordoba. Currently, day to day, there are no overt signs because the fears do not surface as long as I am in the village. It is only the thought of putting any distance between me and the pets that makes my heart beat faster, my skin tingle. However, the rational part of me knows that the only way to get passed this is to go, desensitize myself, to prove that nothing "bad" is going to happen. Today I think of all the people in London, and in too many other parts of the world, who must just want to shut their doors to the world, be safe within their homes. And so I, in recognition of their fears, must put mine aside, and after listening to my relaxation tape am off to the coast for the morning. hasta luego, mylifeinspain

horoscope

2005-07-06T12:06:00.000+02:00

Hmmm, I usually don't give much credence to astrology, but my horoscope today made me jump. After thinking about making changes for so long and not mentioning it to anyone, the obvious solution has suddenly dawned on you: If you really want to change, what could possibly fulfill that urge more dramatically than moving, long distance? After all, that would mean you'd have to change your home, your job, all your relationships and all your habits. If all this sounds invigorating rather than frightening, better get busy, because it's obviously time. Confession: I spent two hours yesterday searching the Brussels real estate web sites, looking for an apartment for me, Big Jim, and the BBC.

manolo

2005-07-06T07:43:00.000+02:00

Manolo, the village house painter, arrived smack on the dot at 7 this morning (who says that Spanish are not punctual). I had to get up at 6:30 to move all the planters out of his way. Aurelio and I discussed having the house painted weeks ago, but I had heard nothing more about it, until Manolo stopped by last evening at almost 9 to let me know he would be here in the morning. Despite having to struggle out of bed while still dark, I remind myself how Manolo's work will please Almendena and the Herb Thief, who regularly complain under their breath about the state of our house as they sweep up around my plants (because I receive an F as a Spanish hausfrau). If all goes well, he should be done by lunchtime. And then I am left with the clean up, although perhaps if I ignore the fallen paint bits just long enough, the ladies will take care of it for me. ;-) *****************************************
We got a little flag crazy for the July 4th picnio. First, R. asked if he could borrow our American flag. And then he decided to also hang the Spanish flag. Five minutes later, Pepe brought us an Andalucian flag as well, so all bases were covered. The menu was very traditional: grilled hamburgers and hotdogs, potato salad, cole slaw, and raspberries and cream for dessert. All superyummy. We had our own fireworks as well, when L. started in on R. for leaving two copies of her Opera News magazine at a friend's house. Nothing like a little dysfunction to make a holiday party more authentic. *******************************************
Anyone ever seen one of these? It's not a tiny creepy crawly, about 2 cm long, and I found it on my mustard greens, which I don't think is a good thing. ******************************************* Torie, you win! If you e-mail me your address (you can find my e-mail under my profile), I will send off a little package of prize goodies from the village. Thanks for playing. :-)
Gratuitous precious Boo picture. Look at that ridiculous tail.... Off to see whether Manolo needs another coffee.... hasta pronto, mylifeinspain

happy friday

2005-07-01T15:51:00.000+02:00

I am proud of people in my adopted country this week. First, on a national level, the rights of marriage, inheritance, and adoption have been extended to same-sex couples in Spain. This has been covered widely in the media, so I won't go into detail about this new law, just a big "yay" to Zapatero and everyone who worked so hard to get this passed. :-) Second, on a local level, people in the village took a stand against the Junta de Andalucia and their continued lack of attention to the condition of the 5 miles of road that lead into our town. It is difficult to explain how bad a state this "road" is in, but I will try. Potholes, deepdeep potholes, large enough to swallow my 55-pound precious Boo. Everywhere. Completely eroded shoulders. Car-length sections where the road has slid down the mountain, shutting down an entire lane. Maximum speed reduced to 5 mph. No joke. I typically travel to the coast every two weeks, and every time I am amazed at how much worse the conditions have become since my previous trip. Six weeks ago, the village was finally granted just over one million euros for the repair of the road, and work was to begin in June. We were overjoyed. Except that the work wasn't done. Frustrated, three members of the town council organized a rally of business owners and residents. They brought their own equipment, intending to fill the larger potholes themselves. The townspeople had been warned by officials not to do so because the ownership and maintenance responsibility of the road falls in the jurisdiction of the Junta. But they were not deterred. The Guardia Civil was called in. The people from the village stood firm---for 11 HOURS they blocked the road, demanding a meeting with the provincial authorities. Finally, they were granted an appointment for the following day. The Junta has agreed that the most serious repairs would be made within one week, and the rest of the work addressed within three months. If the urgent repairs are not completed, the town has promised it will organize a second rally. The Junta should remember that this village was one of the last Moorish holdouts during the Inquisition, and the people still have strong convictions. Should be a couple of interesting weeks around here....at the very least, I am looking forward to a much-improved road. :-) Americans out there, enjoy your long holiday weekend. I have been assigned potato salad for the local US contingent's July 4th picnic, which neighbor R. has agreed to host. hasta luego, mylifeinspain

my tree

2005-06-29T20:40:00.000+02:00

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

2005-06-26T10:35:00.000+02:00

...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

2005-06-24T10:24:00.001+02:00

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

2005-06-22T11:05:00.000+02:00

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

2005-06-20T18:59:00.000+02:00

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

2005-06-19T18:29:00.000+02:00

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

2005-06-17T08:32:00.000+02:00

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

2005-06-13T10:35:00.000+02:00

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

2005-06-12T21:57:00.000+02:00

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

2005-06-09T22:52:00.000+02:00

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...

2005-06-06T07:49:00.000+02:00

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

2005-06-03T07:58:00.000+02:00

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

part III: brussels

2005-05-31T07:18:00.000+02:00

Finally some sort of recap of the third leg of our recent (okay, it's been two weeks) holiday. Quick flight to Brussels, but not before stopping at the Dahlmayer's restaurant at the Munich airport for a spot of weisswurst before takeoff. Yum. :-) Just photos for now, but I will write more about Brussels soon.
As we walked from Gare Centraal to our hotel, we passed through the city's Gay Pride parade. I liked this sign...
Au Bon Vieux Temps, where Big Jim and I met all those years ago....It has not changed a bit. Many of the same characters, but also a wonderful revolving door of new ones (now that the Lonely Planet has included ABVT in its guide....)
The Grande Place, with its near-permanent gray sky.
City museum, where you can go see all the Mannekin Pis's costumes...
Always flowers for sale.
On the grounds of the Africa museum, in Tervuren.
Designated poop spot in the park....
And of course, a closeup of the sign... :-)
The Africa museum. We saw a fascinating special exhibit on the Congo.
Momma bird on her floating chaise.
Lots of little bunnies, too.
Back at Aux Bon Vieux Temps...ancient stained glass panel from monastery.
FRITLAND! Conveniently located on the way from ABVT to the hotel, excellent fries with huge selection of toppings. Just don't ask for ketchup. :-)

where am i?

2005-05-30T08:19:00.000+02:00

It is gray and dreary, and every now and then rain spatters on the roof. I woke up this morning and thought, "Yes! Rain! A day without incessant banging and whirring of electrical saws! Wahoo!" No such luck. Loli and his team are at work. Like they are every day. Ugh, deep sigh. As I mentioned previously, the houses in the village are put together like jigsaw puzzles. For example, to stand in the ground floor (1st floor American) below our bedroom, one would go outside, down the steps, make a left, enter a house halfway down the street, walk to the back of that house, and finally one would be under our bedroom. So that's the killer about this house with the construction: I never even noticed it before because its front door is completely around the block. But what the owners have done/are doing is to completely gut the place, AND they are adding an entire new story to the top. AND they are putting a door in the narrow wall that separates our house from R.'s house. This door will lead into their 17-year-old son's bedroom. Apparently the mother is tired of him and his friends waking the family with their late hours, so he gets his own door. R. has done his bit and gone to the ayuntamiento to complain. The new door is literally six inches from his front door. But the village architect came to look at it and couldn't see what the fuss was all about. (Mind you, this is the same man who was leading the distinct projects of a new swimming pool and a new sports complex for the village, and it was only when the designs were near completion that he realized both were drawn to occupy the same [still] empty lot at the edge of town.) My hands are tied at the moment because the owners of the house are also the owners of the only auto garage in the village, the very one that seems to be holding my car hostage. M.A. took me to the coast Saturday, and on the way back, we drove by the garage. My car is sitting where I left it two weeks ago, collecting dust, while apparently nothing has been done to it. So, when the rain clears, that's another item on my "to do" list: walk down there and find out what the hell is going on. ************************************************ I had a much-needed three-hour conversation with my mother Friday. Topics included everything that has been bothering me, which I will get to writing about when I am feeling up to it. For now, I have to get to work. I am feeling a bit overwhelmed with all the editing and keeping up the house. I just don't seem to be able to work as fast as I used to. :-( hasta pronto, mylifeinspain

fifth attempt

2005-05-27T11:16:00.000+02:00

Don't think I haven't been wanting to blog because that is not the case. I have four drafts sitting here, but I haven't been able to finish any of them for one reason or another. But this morning's bombing in Islamabad has given me reason to complete this post, just so that everyone knows Big Jim is fine. He and his coworkers were advised earlier in the week to stay indoors today because there is a protest planned in regard to the now acknowledged "mishandling" of the Quran by those lovely people at Gitmo. Well done, folks. You certainly are making the world a safer place. (So when exactly is the Pentagon going to apologize to "Newsweek", that's what I want to know.....) Today's bombing, though, had nothing to do with any anti-American sentiment that may be felt by some Pakistanis. This appears to have been a Sunni/Shia conflict, although both were praying at the mosque when the suicide bomber(s) managed to get inside. But because of the recent events, Big Jim and I have had to put together a fairly complex "plan B" should the situation ever truly get hairy. Nasir (Big Jim's driver) has instructions; some very good Pakistani people have agreed to house BJ if necessary; and I have the contact numbers/e-mails of everyone. It is crazy that we have to think about these things, but as long as we Americans continue to be disrespectful of others, continue to imprison people without charging them with a crime or giving them access to legal representation, as long as we continue to listen to people like Bill O'Reilly, who recently said that Hitler would have been a card-carrying ACLU member---what can I say. We are not making friends on the playground. So another thing going on, I am trying really hard not to smoke. Other than a minor digression last night, I haven't been smoking since Monday. The first couple days were hell, but I'm doing better now. Rather than thinking about cigarettes constantly, I now only think about them every 5 or 10 minutes. However, I do feel like I am on speed or hyped up on lots of coffee. And I am saying "fuck" a lot, which is a word I typically reserve for the occasional added emphasis and is not part of my daily vernacular. So I don't know what that's all about, but I am being "gentle" with myself and not sweating it. I decided to do this while Big Jim was away, sparing him my withdrawal and associated side effects. I do love my husband. :-) And I promised my smoking friends here I will not become one of the horrible reformed smokers. In my heart, I will always be a smoker, and should I live to be 75 or so, I may start again, assuming of course that one is still allowed to smoke 38 years from now....like I said, I will always be a smoker. Even when I am not smoking. True smokers, even reformed ones, understand what I am saying. Those who don't, well, you fall into the non-true-smoker category, and you will never understand the appeal. And that's okay. Just don't anyone try to encourage me, or tell me that if I have willpower this should be a cinch. Or that smoking is disgusting, unhealthy, etc., etc. Given my current propensity to curse, I will probably tell you to fuck off. I appreciate the support, really, I do. But do me a favor and keep it to yourself. If you want to help, send me boxes of Altoids and Big Red gum. They are my new best friends. :-) Okay, I must get to work now, as the construction workers next door appear to be on break and there finally is QUIET. Have a nice weekend. hasta pronto, mylifeinspain

just in from pakistan....

2005-05-24T22:20:00.000+02:00

Big Jim sent me this photo today from Rawalpindi. :-) Hope to get back to regular blogging soon. hasta pronto, mylifeinspain P.S. You can click on the photo to enlarge. By the way, the man is grinding spices using a mortar and pestle. Although there is an open sewer just behind the spice cart, the man is NOT relieving himself (though this would be the correct position given his style of dress). (My mother wasn't quite sure what was going on, hence the need for explanation.)

happy friday

2005-05-20T13:54:00.000+02:00

Just a quick message to let you know I haven't fallen off the earth (apparently my lack of postings had the parents worried; bless 'em for calling and checking on me today). I have just been busy with editing and catching up with the housework all week. I finally finished the entry on the second leg of our trip (started Tuesday) this morning. But all deadlines have been met, so I am taking the afternoon off to have lunch with a friend and to enjoy the gorgeous sunshine! :-) Hope you all have a nice weekend. hasta pronto, mylifeinspain

part II: munich

2005-05-17T11:44:00.000+02:00

Wednesday morning Big and I got up early and again went to Coffee Clatch---the third time in 36 hours---for breakfast. I can understand why T. loves this cafe so much...I could move in and live there. The giant bowls of coffee, the comfy chairs and sofas, the good music, and the large windows ideal for people watching. Not to mention the tomato and feta cheese omelettes. Breakfast is very simple in Spain, usually toast, so it was thrilling to receive a menu with so many tasty options. We then made our way to the Hauptbahnhof to catch our train to Munich. The previous day we checked the schedule, so we knew there was a train leaving at 1:00. We used the handy machines to buy our tickets, although this train was unreserved seating, so we knew we had to be there plenty early. First, we had a coffee and then went to the large press agent to stock up on reading material for the three-and-a-half hour journey. I picked up my usual New Yorker but was also surprised to see they stocked Bust, which is sort of the anti-Cosmo, and had to have a copy of that as well. The last stop before the train platform was to pick up sandwiches and fresh juice for the train ride. The route south to Munich passes through pretty quaint country towns, as well as some of the bigger cities like Stuttgart and Ulm. The time of the trip is almost equal to flying, with travel to the airports and boarding times included. With the added bonus of picturesque scenery, the train has become our preferred route of travel. At 4:30, we arrived in Big Jim's former home city, made our way through the bratwurst stands, and crossed the street to our hotel for the next three days, the Eden Hotel Wolff. I highly recommend this hotel to anyone traveling in Munich. The accommodations are topnotch, plus its location to the city center, as well as U and S bahn stations just on the corner, cannot be beat.
Our first evening Munich, we were treated to something I had never seen before, a double rainbow, just outside our hotel window. :-) After a brief rest, we went out for a walk, in search of food. We chose the Augustiner beer hall as the earlier rainy weather and coolish temps did not make a beer garden a viable option. Little time was required for us to decide on wurst, sauerkraut, and weiss beer, yum yum. We then strolled back toward the hotel, stopping off at one of Big Jim's old watering holes, the Schiller Cafe. This would be the place where Big Jim took my brother for "one" beer a few years ago, only to return at 3:30 am, after hitting the schnapps. The Schiller Cafe never closes; they get around the law by moving patrons to one side of the bar for 30 minutes, shutting half the bar for cleaning, and then shifting the barflies back as they tidy the other side. Charlie, the old-time manager and former boxer, was delighted to see his old friend, and we were rewarded with more weiss beer. Tired, though, from the day's journey (being a tourist can be very tiring!), we were back in the hotel room before 1 and quickly drifted off to sleep. Until 4 am, when Big Jim woke me. He was sick, very sick. Will spare the details, but suffice to say, it wasn't pretty. After a couple hours, he managed to fall asleep again, and I didn't wake him until almost noon. We were to be at the wedding party in seven hours. Big Jim seemed to feel much better, and he no longer had much of a fever. We decided a walk and some fresh air would do him good, but first we unpacked our clothes for the wedding. It was at this time that we realized the tuxedo shirt we bought only had one cufflink. Ugh! Normally, this would not have been a problem; we could easily pick up a pair at one of the myriad department stores in the center of Munich. But no, it was a holiday, so everything was shut. My thoughts drifted to the entire dresser drawer full of Big Jim's cufflink collection back in the village.... On our way out of the hotel, we stopped to ask the desk manager if he had any suggestions; he recommended we try the tourist kiosks, as well as the shops in the Hauptbahnhof. Encouraged, we set out in search of cufflinks. But none were to be had. Anywhere. We even walked to the Four Seasons Hotel, thinking they would have a men's shop that would certainly be open. Nope, it would shut for the day. By now, even Big Jim was hungry, so we stopped off for a sushi lunch at an excellent place right across the road from the Hofbrauhaus. As I watched the stream of tourists entering this beer-drinking tourist mecca, I got an idea: the HBH gift shop would certainly sell cufflinks. Wrong again, but we came up with an alternative, the souvenir tackpins. We bought two matching ones, chuckling at our brilliant, albeit tacky, solution. Celebrated by having a coffee and decadent cake. Except that at 6:30 pm, 30 minutes before the wedding party was to start, we realized that the posts were too short for the double cuff on Big Jim's shirt. Frantically, we searched the room and our bags for anything that could pass as a cufflink. For some reason, Big Jim had two plastic whistles on red cords (left over from New Year's Eve) in his backpack. First, I thought I could make little fasteners from the strings, but then we noticed the wire rings, not unlike those on a keyring, attaching the whistle to the cord. Yes, these would work. Wahoo! We slid them through the holes in the shirt and dashed for a taxi.
Fruit display at Kaufhof's. The wedding party was held at the Hilton at Tucher Park. We rushed into the lobby and what did we find? A men's shop. And it was still open. :-) We asked the startled saleman if he had cufflinks, and he led us to a glass case. Big Jim picked out a nice pair, as he told the older man our story. He chuckled when he saw our makeshift cufflinks, but gave us kudos for creativity. We made our way to the fifteenth floor and were relieved to see the cocktail hour was in full swing...and that we weren't the last to arrive. We were seated at the table reserved for the distant relatives and assorted friends, but as it turned out, we could not have had better people to spend the night with. E. and R., American and German now living in Ventura, CA, were really nice, interesting, and well-traveled people. The others seated with us were a younger couple from England and their two daughters, aged 2 and 4, who were incredibly cute and particularly well behaved, considering they had gotten up at 5 am for their flight and only napped for an hour in the afternoon. They partied with the grownups until 1 am. Big Jim had worked with most of the people there, so he had a good time catching up on their news. The guests were a complete mix of folks from all over Europe, South Africa, and the Americas, so many languages and accents could be heard. We stayed until the early morning, after the Cuban cigars had been brought out but before the second meal was served at 2 am. I was glad I had gone with the black dress. People kept telling me I was silly to follow black-tie wedding convention and that I would feel the fool when I turned up and everyone was dressed in springy floral frocks. Not the case at all. There were only two younger women not in black, and they seemed to feel out of place. Contrary to M.A., who said a room full of women in black dresses would look like a funeral, the effect was of a party full of posh people (and somehow Big Jim and I had fooled them into letting us join them!).
The famous Alois Dahlmayers.... Friday was all about food. After having a bit of a lie-in, we were off to the wonderful food halls of Munich....Hertie, Kaufhof, and the granddaddy of them all, Dahlmayer's. I feel like a wide-eyed child again, perusing the giant Sear's Christmas catalogue, so many amazing potentialities. Our shopping baskets quickly fill...Italian cheeses, Asian noodles, tofu, Crisco (yes, Crisco, which can't be found ANYWHERE in the Iberian penisula). I think twice about the Pop tarts, only because my mother and I were recently discussing how long it has been since we have eaten one of these disgusting breakfast sugar jolts, but decide no, as they don't have the chocolate fudge flavor. That evening we spent with our friends D. and S. D. is a fantastic cook, and we chowed down on duck, stuffing, asparagus (twas spargel season in Germany), roasted potatoes, his homemade bread rolls (two kinds), poached pears, and cheese, all while catching up on their lives. At 1 am, we reluctantly pulled ourselves away from the fun to make the last U bahn ride back to the center. Saturday morning we would leave Germany for a few days, returning to Brussels, the scene of the "crime", ie, where Big Jim and I met eight years previously. :-) hasta pronto, mylifeinspain

trip recap: part I, frankfurt

2005-05-14T18:22:00.000+02:00

View from rooftop cafe in center of Frankfurt. I particularly like the clouds here....we saw many clouds on the trip. I arrived in Frankfurt right smack on time and was greeted at arrivals by Big Jim, our friend T., and his friend the other Big Jim (henceforth referred to as the other BJ). I had heard much of the other BJ and was extremely curious to meet him in the flesh. He recently returned to living in the UK after working for Amnesty International in Japan. However, even more interesting about the other BJ is how he supplemented his AI income while there: he became certified as a "Christian priest" at a wedding chapel. Apparently, there is high demand for Vegas-style weddings in Japan, and thus the other BJ was much sought after. After eventually finding T's black BMW in the sea of black BMWs that is the Frankfurt airport parking garage, we went back to his place, dropped off my bags, and then headed out for a beverage (or two). The first stop was right around the corner from T's apartment, the previously mentioned Coffee Clatch, which in the evening becomes a terraced restaurant serving mainly veggie meals. Just before midnight, though, we had to make a mad dash to another bar a couple blocks away. One of T's friends was celebrating her birthday at 12:00 am, so the free champagne was a major draw. :-) The women told us there had never been so many men present at the place before (was a lesbian bar), but took it in good stride and then proceeded to whip the boys' butts in fussball (or as the English call "table football"). At 1 or so both Big Jim and I started to flag as the day of traveling was catching up with us, so we called it a night. The next morning, we accompanied the other BJ to breakfast at the Clatch and then to the tube station for his flight back to the UK. Would have been nice to spend more time with him, but then again I still had the original Big Jim to amuse me. We set out on our wedding attire search as I mentioned in a previous entry. The dress I eventually found was purchased at a store called Peek & Cloppenberg. Should you ever find yourself in one of these shopping meccas, there are a few critical items you should know. First, after you have selected an article you want to purchase, don't expect to just take it to a cashier and pay for it. This is not how P&C works. You need to find one of the handful of never-present or always-occupied assistants, turn over the item to him/her, and take a receipt to the single register and pay for it there. While you wait in the inevitable long queue, the assistant will deliver the item and place in a cubicle behind the register. It is also better to do all your shopping first before going to pay. As Big Jim waited in line, I made the mistake of browsing the accessories section and finding a wrap that went perfectly with the dress. It then took fifteen minutes to track down one of these assistant people, during which time the check-out queue grew even longer. Okay, we finally are next up, and here is the second important thing to know about P&C: despite being a large department store chain in the banking center that is Frankfurt, they accept neither Visa nor Mastercard....only a German debit card or American Express, which is what we used in the end (after Big Jim threw a "I can't believe this" sort of hissy fit, which fortunately the cashier didn't understand much of because she spoke Russian). After paying, you are still not done. You then take your "paid" receipt and join another line to pick up the packed and bagged purchases. I don't necessarily have a problem with the system per se, but in a country with near 12% unemployment, P&C hire more staff!
A happy Big Jim, after one of our "coffee and cake" lunches. On the way back to T's apartment, Big Jim & I stopped at Cafe Wacker for a beer (BJ) and a glass of wine (me), and later we joined T and a couple friends at an Italian restaurant called Golfo di Napoli. Get the carpaccio and anything fish. Skip most pasta unless you like it overboiled....true for most pasta I've had in Germany actually. But I figured at this place, with owners from Rome, I'd give it shot. Unfortunately, my plate of lovely handmade ravioli was soggy, soggy, soggy. Everything else, though, including our dessert of tiramisu (my favorite) was supergood. Had an early-ish night because Big Jim and I were off to Munich the next day. To be continued.... hasta pronto, mylifeinspain

vacation over

2005-05-13T12:21:00.000+02:00

Am back in the village, although I am admittedly a bit ambivalent about it all at the moment. Postvacation blues I suppose.... At this time yesterday I wasn't sure where I would be today. Lufthansa had severely overbooked my flight, by like 40 seats or so, and despite purchasing my ticket well in advance found myself on the waiting list, which was one step up from standby in the seatless hierarchy. After patiently queuing as I was taught to do as a preschool student, I eventually got fed up of being pushed aside by the masses and shoved myself to the front desk, only to be told for the third time that there still was no seat for me. I gave up and went to the conveniently located smoking area just across the corridor and waited there. In the end, I got on the flight, but not without losing two days worth of vacation relaxation bliss from the stress of it all. Was lovely sunny and hot when we touched down in Malaga. Francisco the taxista was waiting for me at the arrivals gate, all cheery. The ride home was painless as he filled me in on the latest town news. As we started the climb up the mountain, however, the warm sun was replaced by dense rain clouds and a dramatic drop in temperature, and we just made it to the front door with my luggage before the heavens opened. C.K. awoke from her sleep to greet me and then demand more food be added to her already-filled bowl. When the shower passed, I went out to buy necessities: milk, juice, and bread for my breakfast. I came home to check on the plants and was sad to see they were neglected while I was away. Several were completely dead, and most looked starved for attention. :-( I understand now why Big Jim was angry with me when I didn't look after his peppers properly a couple years ago when he was away for a job interview. Some of these I had raised from seed, and this being my first serious foray into gardening, I was quite pleased with their progress. And now I find myself having to start over. C. owes me a trip to the garden center! (minus 1 more vacation bliss day; total remaining, 8). This morning I woke early and went out to inspect the road works. Various bits of the village are torn up because, get this, the electric company is finally putting the cables underground. I must take some photos before the work is completed so that you can see the current setup. Although that said, Big Jim's photos of the same from Pakistan make our wiring look extremely sophisticated. In other sections of town, streets have been dug up to replace water/sewage pipes. This too is a long-needed improvement because---how can I say this delicately---the village can be a bit smelly at times. So anyway, the purpose of my walk was to plan my route out of town so that I could pick up the pups at the kennels. Our normal way out of the village is currently cut off, forcing a normally one-way "street" to become a free for all. It would not be easy, but it was doable. Managed to get to Kosydale without event and was knocked over by two incredibly delighted dogs. It is so good to have them back. :-) On the way back through the village, however, I tried to pull over to allow another car to pass and instead hit the curb, hard enough to flatten the tire (minus 4 more vacation relaxation bliss days; total remaining, 4). Fortunately, I could park up easily enough and walked the dogs home. But ugh...got all upset with myself for doing something so stupid. This was the first time I drove since the eye problems started almost four months ago, and I didn't need it today. Sent off a pitiful e-mail to Big Jim and then went to the garage to arrange for them to tow it and check out the car, replace the tire, etc. I am also going to have them put on some additional mirrors to help me with seeing the curb. As I walked home rather dejectedly, cursing my feeble eye, I passed through the village carpark. I went up and down the rows, admiring the dents, the scrapes, the duct-taped bumpers, and could not help but smile. Yes, it is going to be a big adjustment for me to learn to drive again with my lame eye, but it was nice to be reminded that these minor accidents are daily occurrences in this village. Plus, Big Jim later skyped and reminded me that the tire in question had been a bit iffy anyway, so no worries (0.5 vacation relaxation bliss day restored; total remaining 4.5). So now I am off to deal with the unpacking and the laundry. The sun has returned, so it is looking like a more promising wash day. The pups are fast asleep, exhausted from their kennel play. Will sort out trip photos and post soon. And I will cling to these last 4.5 vacation relaxation bliss days like nobody's business. hasta pronto, mylifeinspain