That was a slogan for Spanish tourism in the 80’s, together with the Miró sun. The slogan from the 1960’s was Spain is different. It surely is.
I bought a car last year and I realized when I returned that it needed to be inspected. Just about that time, a warning light came on in French. Because the car is French, a helpful repairman put the car’s language to French. The light said “defaut de la system electrique” which isn’t hard to understand – defect in the electrical system. It took me a while to find the right repair shop to address the problem, get an appointment, have it fixed. In the meantime, I couldn’t get it inspected. You know that feeling when you see a cop and you’re praying under your breath that they don’t stop you?
Once the problem was corrected, I went to have the car inspected. You have to go to an official outlet of the ITV – Inspecciòn Técnica de Vehículos. I was a little nervous because I’d never done it before and I didn’t know the process. I found out that they take the inspections VERY seriously. It was a big establishment (not a Jiffy Lube kind of place) with several lanes of cars and trucks being inspected. I was required to stay in my vehicle while they took photos of my car and me in my car. Then a man who spoke like he had rocks in his mouth started barking orders at me of things to do. In the States, I would basically hand my car over to someone, and five minutes later they would say I was ready to go. In the Spanish scenario, they wanted me to turn on the windshield wipers, use each of the turn indicators, apply the parking brake, etc. The problem was I didn’t know those words in Spanish. There had never been a reason to learn car vocabulary. It was embarrassing and humbling, and in the end, my car did not pass the inspection!! Apparently, the car had previously been outfitted for a handicapped driver. The car was later retrofitted back to its original state, but the car’s paperwork that I had been given when I bought the car did not show that the work had taken place. Buff! as they say in Spanish. Needless to say, I’m still trying to obtain the proper documentation so I can get the car inspected and drive fearlessly again!
I don’t receive mail at my apartment because I’m outside the city in an area where there are very few full-time residents. I rent a post office box at the Post Office in town, but I had not done so yet, and there were some envelopes waiting for me in the general delivery. There were two from the State of Catalunya. I drove home with them unopened because I was terrified and certain that they were fines for driving too fast because there are radar and cameras on the highways. I finally opened them and one was a letter and the other a follow-up asking me to go online and take a survey. It said I had been chosen randomly. I can’t imagine such a survey in the US! It asked about my politics and religion and other personal questions. There were a number of scenarios where I was supposed to choose between two sets of adults who were seeking to adopt a child. Based on brief descriptions of the couples, I was asked to choose to whom I would give the child. Most of the couples were same sex, with varying degrees of education and commitment. Many were in “open relationships.” Wow. There were lots of questions about my feelings about gays and transgenders. It was very interesting.
A café opened in my grocery store and it advertised bagels. There was one that looked like an everything bagel, which is my favorite. I went to buy one to take home where I planned to toast it and put cream cheese and chives on top. I was told that I could not buy just a bagel. I could only buy one of the filled bagels, like sandwiches. I chose the one that I thought had the least amount of stuff on it in case I wanted to strip it off and start over at home. I ordered the nordic one – it had cream cheese, salmon slices, and PICKLES! It took the guy about 15 minutes to make. I think the bagel must have been frozen. He sliced it open and put it on the grill with OLIVE OIL! Then he slathered a shitload of cream cheese and salmon on it. The pickles were quite a surprise. Not Zabar’s in NYC!
I doubt any of you have cards, letters, or packages you want to mail to me, but if you should…I now have a PO Box.
Susan White
Carrer Sa Nau Perduda 28, #7
Apartado de Correos #19
Begur, Girona
17255
España
Susie's Senior Year Abroad 