Trump’s travel ban sent me into a tizzy.  News reports were unclear and confusing.  If I wanted to return to the US should I do it before 12:00 midnight on Friday??  Then, it became clear that the ban did not apply to US citizens.  What a relief.  But what are the procedures and guidelines for returning?  It’s unclear.

My dilemma seemed to be where would I rather be sick/where was the greatest chance of being infected with the virus.  I truly believe that the Spanish healthcare system is among the best in the world, at least equal to the US – so that isn’t a concern.  However, the lack of a support system here is concerning.  Communicating with doctors and navigating the Spanish healthcare system could be daunting alone.

On the other hand, I don’t want to leave, and are the requirements for returning to the US under the terms of the ban also daunting?

My daughter pointed out that where I am living I am virtually quarantined.  I’m miles from other people.  Why would I want to leave my gorgeous perch?

For the moment, I’m taking a wait-and-see position.  I am going to stock up on food and booze and prepare to wait it out.  I’m sure I’ll have plenty of Netflix, Amazon Prime and Acorn time to come.  And the dogs and I will be together.

Write me!  I’ll be in isolation!

FlashBack:

I found this on my computer from last summer, but I never posted it:

So, I’ve been back over a month and it just now hit me.  I’m here and nothing’s changed. 

But I’ve changed. 

It’s been fun seeing all the friends I’ve missed, driving on the freeway, drying clothes in a dryer, eating foods that are so familiar, and watching stupid TV shows in English.

But I miss the exotic and new.  I miss writing this blog.  I miss hearing Spanish everyday.

I don’t know what to do with myself. I mean I do know what to do with myself – yoga, Catalan online, Spanish conversation meet-ups, time with friends. 

But, do I want to be here?  Time will tell. 

FlashForward:

I think the answer is I did and I do want to keep the connections and familiarities that I have in Texas.  I don’t think that will go away, but neither will my love for Spain.

This morning was my first day here alone.  Just out of bed, I saw a school of dolphins off of my balcony — is that a sign of a wonderful day to come, or what?  Then, I drove myself to Palafrugell (the next town over, which is bigger and actually offers services that people need) without getting lost, and I bought a printer.  The printer works and I’ve already been able to print and do some work for the hospital.  Yeah!  Then, I went to the Post Office and purchased a PO box so I can use Amazon Spain to order other stuff I need to live, like snacks I can’t find and binoculars so I can look at ships passing by and dolphins swimming past.

Yippee!  Another glorious day…

So, I’m back.  It feels like home, it feels like I never left, and it feels “normal.”  Every other time I’ve come to Spain (actually, that would be 11 times), I’ve felt an enormous lift, a happiness that filled me up.  It seems strange that I haven’t felt that this time.  I can only imagine it’s because it’s “normal” now.  I live here part-time and I hope always to do so.  Or maybe it’s because I had a crushing case of jet lag.  OMG.  I slept too much, woke up too early, and generally felt incredibly foggy.  Finally,  I’m back to myself.

It’s only just begun, and yet I feel that three months will fly by.  I’m trying not to look at the end when I’m only at the beginning, but it’s hard not to do.

I have missed being here and I’ve missed writing to you all.  I hope to have some adventures that will be of interest.  We’ll see…hang in there with me!

The pups seem very happy to have arrived!  Video is from arrival in BCN…

 

 

 

So, at the end of my senior year abroad, I’m left to reflect on what I’ve learned and to contemplate what’s ahead…

I’ve learned that I can remain calm and competent in a crisis, I can drive almost anywhere, I can climb almost anything, the winter is not my enemy, and I look forward to the future whatever it may be!  I can also confirm that my sense of direction is for shit!  Even with GPS and paper maps!

I’ve also come to realize that Spain is my heart’s home.  That doesn’t mean I don’t care about Houston or my friends in other places, but I can’t deny or begin to describe how happy I am just being here.  I hope I can find the balance that is right for me.

Stay tuned, there may be future volumes to come of Susie’s Senior Year Abroad!! The post-grad years!

Hasta luego!

[photo of Barcelona]

Amazing!  Over the past 40 weeks here in Spain, I’ve hosted 30 friends and family!  I feel very blessed to have so many good friends who would take the time and effort to visit me here and allow me to show them my Spain.

Spain has always been a special place for me.  Many of you know this story, but some may not.  When my father was a resident he contracted tuberculosis.  In those days, recuperation required a lengthy bedrest.  An occupational therapist suggested to him that he choose something he could study while he was bedridden.  He began to paint and to study Goya.  Years later, when he had the money, my Dad wanted to go to Madrid to see Goya’s paintings in the Prado, and the whole family went.  Boom!  It was just like that – I was in love.  Just a year or so later, I declared Spanish to be my high school major and decided I would attend Newcomb College where I could take advantage of the Junior Year Abroad program to study in Spain.  The rest is my history.

I cried when I left Spain after my junior year, and I cried when I left Spain after Ellen and I spent a year on the Costa del Sol, and I’m crying now.  I suppose I feel a bit like what I read transsexuals feel (I don’t mean to trivialize their issues), but they say they feel they were born with the wrong body.  I feel like I was born in the wrong place.

I’m sorry to leave my lovely apartment, the town of Begur, and the friends I’ve made.  I’m certain I’ll be back!  Hasta luego…

This past 10 months I have seen a huge amount of Spain, a fair amount of France, and a small corner of Italy.  Some of my favorite places/things are, in no particular order:

• Greek and Roman ruins together at the same site in Empuries, Spain
• Blocks and blocks of ceramic stores in Bisbal d’Embordá, Spain
• Toc al Mar beach bar (chirringuito) at Platja d’Aiguablava, Spain
• The parador at Lleida, Spain (paradores are government-run inns, usually in historic buildings at scenic locations)
• The bullring in Pamplona, Spain where the running of the bulls is held every July, and where Hemingway wrote “The Sun Also Rises”
• The gorge in Ronda, Spain, especially at sunrise
• “Como Bailen los Caballos Andaluces” in Jerez, Spain, it’s called an equestrian ballet
• The top of the Rock of Gibraltar
• Gran Viana restaurant in Barcelona, where everyone knows my name
• Mussels in olive oil with TONS of garlic in Biarritz, France
• The prehistoric caves at Santillana Del Mar, Spain
• The Painted Forest by Augustín Ibarola in the Basque Country of Spain
• La Boqueria Market in Barcelona – this make require repeating
• La Boqueria Market in Barcelona
• The island of Menorca, Spain – everything, especially the town of Ciutadella
• El Hogar de Pollo in Menorca where they serve chicken, but also the very best seafood
• The Alcazaba in Segovia, Spain – I think it rivals the Alhambra
• New Year’s Eve at Les Quatre Gats in Barcelona
• Terraza Martinez on Montjuïc hill in Barcelona – good views and good paella
• Seeing “Westside Story” by myself in Madrid
• The Miniatur Wunderland in Hamburg, Germany – a model railway and miniature airport
• Sleeping on an airbnb boat in the harbor in Sitges, Spain
• The view of the back of Gaudi’s Casa Milà from my room at the Hotel Actual in Barcelona
• The feeling of awe and being totally overwhelmed by the beauty of the Sagrada Familia church in Barcelona
• Picasso’s Guernica at the Reina Sofia museum in Madrid
• The castle in Begur
• A three-hour lunch including lobster paella in Cadaques, Spain
• A totally local lunch in Valencia, Spain at the Alquería del Pou
• The mirador on the hill above my apartment
• A modern flamenco concert at Gaudi’s Casa Batllo
• A tribute to the flamenco guitar music of Paco de Lucía at the Palau de la Música Catalana in Barcelona
• Touching the orb held by the black Madonna at Montserrat, near Barcelona
• The windy, spectacular drive to Cadaques, Spain
• My teacher, classmates and my class in Catalá
• Seeing three people I knew from Begur in Peretallada, Spain in one day
• Wine tasting some of my favorite wines from the Bodegas de Juan Gil in Jumilla, Spain
• The massive Canfranc station in the Spanish Pyrenees, which provided an escape route into Spain for some Jews and Allied soldiers during World War II
• Rogny les Sept Ecluses, France with friends
• The Eiffel Tower, even in the rain
• Corinne’s Airbnb in Carcassonne, France
• Visiting on old friend at the O Mamma Mia Pizzeria in Fuengirola, Spain
• The city of Málaga
• Ullastret, home to ancient archeological Iberian remains
• Walking the fishermen’s paths near my apartment
• Huge shrimp in marinera sauce in the Cinque Terre, Italy
• Completing the walk between Riomaggiore and Vernazza, Italy – a killer
• ANCHOVIES
• Revisiting the island of Formentera, Spain, and the incredible views from the cliffs there
• The Sant Joan festival throughout Spain, where children and adults are drenched in water and then run through the fire coming off of burning logs!
• But mostly hearing and trying to speak Spanish successfully any day

And I could go on!

 

The Boar(s)

Twice I’d spotted a wild boar in the evening near my place. So ugly! I worried that some night I would take the dogs out for a walk and they or I would be attacked. So I always carried pepper spray and a big flashlight, which I flashed to alert any boars who might be nearby that there was a bigger predator.

Then one day, when I returned to Begur after being away for more than a week, I saw that the common yard was totally torn up by the boar(s). It frightened me a bit, but I was sure the boar(s) struck when I was absent – when there were no lights or activity.

A week or so later, the yard guys showed up with fresh dirt and grass. Voila- done! A few days later, however, when I got up, they had struck again…while I was there. I had not heard a thing, but I do sleep soundly. Thank you, red wine. So now, I’m VERY careful in the yard!

 

The $500+ Chocolate Bar

It was all my fault! I left the giant chocolate bar in a trash bag that could be and was breached by my dog Cassie, my always hungry hunter.

I had gone for a walk and was away from my apartment for about an hour. When I returned, I noticed immediately that the trash bag was in tatters on the floor…and then I saw it – a chocolate turd, which was what was left of the bar.

I normally would have poo-poo’ed the scary alerts about dogs and chocolate, but the bar was VERY thick, VERY dense, and VERY dark. I did not want to drive two towns over to see a vet I had never met and have to explain the situation in Spanish, but I did. Fear of being the dog-mom who ignored the risk was greater than my dread of dealing with strangers in a strange situation.

Thank goodness I took her! The vet gave her charcoal to make her throw up and then pumped her stomach. He said there was A LOT of chocolate in her. She stayed two nights at the veterinary hospital. I was told that the first night she had several episodes of brachycardia, a slow heart rate. The vet made it clear that she was in danger, that it could potentially be lethal.

She made it! I am so happy to have my baby back! And so is her brother, Cam! And I’m very grateful to Costa Brava Hospital Veterinari.

*The reference is to lyrics I heard in a song by Jakob Dylan (son of Bob), and I have to agree.  Besides the metaphorical, it seems true literally — my dog walk, the castle in Begur, and especially the mirador (lookout) above my apartment.

Recently, I took some guests up to the mirador to impress them.  A Brit who was in a van parked at the spot told us that he had retired from his job in England, sold his belongings, bought a van, and set out to see Spain and all of its coasts.  He started in San Sebastian and headed west, following the coastline of Portugal to the southern Spanish coast, and ultimately north to the Costa Brava.  He declared that this view was the finest he had seen in all of the Iberian Peninsula.  I heartily agree!

Each person who has visited me at my apartment has said that it is more beautiful than my photos.  Sorry I can’t capture it all for you to see…

From the mirador…(make sure your device is on mute – I recorded on a day when it was very windy and it’s quite loud).  Of course, this does not capture the full view!

Bonus photo of my most beautiful sunrise to date!

 

I noticed in the grocery stores that there is a wide variety of potato chips that we don’t have in the US.  Those flavors include:

• Ham & Cheese
• Chicken
• Iberian Ham
• Fried Egg
• Caviar
• Olive & Anchovy
• Black Truffle & Sea Salt
• Goat Cheese & Onion
• Worchestershire
• Bacon & Cheese
• Paprika
• Prawn Cocktail

I held a blind taste test of these flavors with my guests as the unwitting judges.  They were not informed of the flavor of the chips prior to tasting — and strangely, they often could not identify the taste even after being informed of the name.

Some were judged to be truly grotesque – the chicken, the caviar, and the fried egg flavors were especially revolting.   I thought the Worchestershire chips weren’t bad, but no one else agreed.  The Paprika were tolerable.  Prawn-flavored??  Yuck!!!  Even though bacon and cheese sounds like it could be good, after all it has bacon….forgeddaboutit!  Not that we (in the US) don’t have some unappetizing chip flavors, but just sayin’… I think I’ll stick with my Marcona almonds as a snack!!

 

 

 

Actually, I think they are called “shitters” in Catalan.

This strange Catalan customs pays tribute to the traditional shepherd who relieves himself in the field.  The typical figure wears a red hat and squats with his pants down, taking a dump.  These figures actually appear in Christmas nativity scenes!!

Non-traditionally, other characters have been made in the same stance — usually political  or pop culture figures.  I actually saw one of the Virgin Mary — which I really thought was going too far.

Additionally, at Christmas, there is another tradition in Catalunya of a shitting log called the Tío de Nadal (Christmas log).

Beginning with the Feast of the Immaculate Conception (December 8),  the tió is given a little bit to eat every night and is covered with a blanket so that he will not be cold. In the days preceding Christmas, children must take good care of the log, keeping it warm and feeding it, so that it will defecate presents on Christmas Day or Eve.  I’m not making this up.

I think they are a little obsessed with shitting, personally.