I’ve said it before, but it’s odd to feel so completely at home in two places, and two places that are so different from one another. I think the key is that I have people I love in both of them. So I’m always happy to be at each – Catalunya and Texas.

It was very special to celebrate Christmas and New Year’s with my family, especially now with the three little ones (aged 1, 2, and 3!). We had Christmas (dinner and presents) on Christmas Eve as is the tradition with my son’s family. In Galveston with all of my family present, we had our traditional fondue dinner (both cheese and beef) on New Year’s Eve, and pigs in a blanket and mimosas for breakfast on New Year’s Day, followed by a lunch of black-eyed peas (for luck) with cornbread and sausages.

It was wonderful all the way around, although chaotic in a small house with five adults, three toddlers, and a large dog. There was lots of activity, cooking, opening of presents, and most of all, for me, joy. After such a wonderful visit I was blissfully happy and at the same time ecstatic about my return to Catalunya.

I’ve already shared the following personal “announcement”with some of you, but if you haven’t heard, the day I was returning to Spain, on a layover at the Atlanta airport, I received news from my gastroenterologist that the suspect small growth in my stomach he discovered during an endoscopy was cancerous – that hated word. I’m told that this type of cancer is one of the “good” kinds. I don’t say this here in order to garner sympathy, but just as a statement and an explanation of why I am returning to the US this next week and may not write again for a while. I am scheduled for further tests and treatment as soon as I arrive. Trying to keep this diagnosis private would not be natural for me. I’ve always been open about my life and this is just one more experience I’m sharing with my friends. There is no need-to-know basis. All my peeps need to know.

If you’re medically-minded or just curious, the type of cancer is called gastric MALT (mucosa-assisted lymphoid tissue) lymphoma and it’s a rare subtype of non-Hodgkin lymphoma. It’s a slow-growing lymphoma that typically affects people 65 and older. There are treatments that put it into remission, but the condition can come back. Early on, it may not cause noticeable symptoms (it hasn’t). In some cases, people receive a MALT lymphoma diagnosis while undergoing tests for unrelated medical issues (yes, that’s what happened to me). People may live for many years with MALT lymphoma (I hope so!), even if the condition recurs after treatment. The prognosis seems to be good.

I’m trying to continue my life as if nothing has changed, but it has, and I haven’t quite gotten my bearings. I feel little topsy turvy. I know some of you have experienced this type of challenge.

On a happier note, I had a proud moment in the supermarket recently. I placed the placard on the checkout counter between my products and those of the man behind me to separate them. One side of the placard had an advertisement and the other side said “Caixa Tancada” – meaning this checkout lane is closed in Catalan. Because the placard facing him said “Caixa Tancada,” I turned it around so he would not think the lane was closed. He indicated that the placard should go back the other way. I pointed out to him the word “tancada” (closed). He asked me if I spoke Catalan and I said I speak some. He asked if I was English and I replied that I was American. He called his wife over and exclaimed loudly “here is an American who speaks Catalan!!!” Made my day!!!

So, hang in there with me…I hope I’m back in the saddle again soon…I plan to return to Spain with a vengeance for languages – Spanish, Catalan, and French; exercise – walking, tai chi, yoga, pilates; eating well and drinking less (a little less).

I’ll try to post an update(s) as I learn more. Stay tuned. Hearts to all! ♥️♥️♥️♥️

Going in with a smile!

An update on my visa nightmare in a future episode…

I’m off to the U.S. for a month of seeing friends, doctors’ appointments, and loads of family time with the kiddos. But first, I had a stopover in Barcelona for the night to enjoy some of my favorite tapas, shopping at the big Corte Ingles, and holiday lights! I did the same last year and it was a very special way for me to head out to America.

I read in someone else’s blog about a fantastic holiday light show at the old Hospital of Sant Pau in Barcelona. I have seen the hospital from the outside before and I knew it was designed by Lluís Domènech I Montaner, an important architect of Art Nouveau in Catalunya. But I discovered that it is not just one hospital building. There are a total of 27 buildings over 9 blocks. The outlier buildings were hospitals designed to hold various specialties. The lights on the beautiful buildings were spectacular! A true wonderland!

Shamefully, I have to report that I left my carry-on bag unzipped on the bed in my guest room where I was packing two nights before leaving. I forgot that there were some chocolate turrón bars in it. She (Cassie) of course found it. It looked like this (below) and she ate the WHOLE thing and she only weighs 11 pounds, tops. The vet said the dosage could have been fatal. Luckily, I discovered the evidence within a couple of hours of ingestion and the Vet was able to give her a vomit-inducing injection to get the chocolate out of her. There were about 10 piles of dark brown goo that came out of her. I won’t include the photo, but it looked really bad. The Vet said he thought they had gotten to her in time, but he suggested she stay overnight. I was happy to have her be under observation! All this of course took place around midnight, so I got little sleep that night. She is thankfully back to normal, no thanks to my forgetfulness. I would never have forgiven myself if she had not recovered.

I hope everyone has a lovely, merry Christmas time and a very happy new year…cheers to 2025!!!

Not all of you know this, but I have a true passion for mushrooms – not the eating of them, though I do like eating them – but I’m fascinated by their colors, textures, and shapes. Different types can grow right next to each other. I like finding them and taking pictures of them and seeing photos of them taken by others. They just blow my mind!

You can imagine I was in absolute heaven last weekend when I attended the annual mushroom festival in a small town near me. There was an exhibit of about one hundred varieties of mushrooms found in this area of Catalunya. They were marked as edible, inedible, toxic, and VERY toxic. This is the time of year Catalans go to the woods with their baskets to collect edible (hopefully) mushrooms. Check out the colors!

Some of the names of the mushrooms below are descriptive, such as “devil’s egg,” “soft wolf fart,” “donkey’s ear,” “narrow rat’s foot,” and “pine cauliflower”…

And my favorite name is velvety relative killer (as in parent, sibling, etc.), below. The ones to the right look like little men!

Educational posters at the exhibit show which mushrooms to avoid and which are most poisonous.

The festival itself was a typical Catalan party with food and wine and music and dancing. It was THE BEST day ever! Sublime.

The band played “Country Roads” (a John Denver song) in Catalan…and then of course, there was the traditional Catalan dance, the Sardana, where everyone makes a big circle (it was a really big circle) and dances and sings. Oh, and check out this old hippie (on the bottom)!

I know this has been a long post but this day was so fun and so much the epitome of why I love being here. I actually cried a couple of times just because I was so happy. And because I’m such a mushroom nerd, I bought a book about mushrooms in Catalunya and the author signed it!

I found out later that I appeared three times in a local news report on the festivities. Once I was caught running past the camera trying not to be interviewed!

The night before the mushroom festival (it was a weekend of culture!), I attended my second Carmen Amaya festival in Begur celebrating a famous female flamenco dancer who lived her final years here. This was a “jazz” flamenco group with a keyboard and drums, which is not traditional, but very fun!

Reporting from Sant Sadurní de l’Heura…

I’m sure all of you have read about and seen horrific pictures of the recent flooding in Valencia. The loss of life and the immense efforts necessary for the clean-up in the aftermath of the storm are heartbreaking and overwhelming. This type of climate event is called a “DANA” – a Spanish acronym for a high-altitude isolated depression episode (whatever that means!). The DANA which hit the area around Valencia was the deadliest in modern Spanish history and the most catastrophic flood-related event in Europe in decades.

But, the real story for the people of Valencia is the incredibly slow and inadequate response of their government. The public safety alarm which goes out to all residents via their mobile devices did not sound until 8:00 p.m., after the storm had already reached catastrophic proportions. And recently it was made public that the President of the State of Valencia, Carlos Mazón, on the afternoon the city was flooding was having a three-hour lunch with a female journalist (I don’t know if there is any importance to her gender, but just saying) supposedly to discuss the possibility of her taking over the State’s television channel. Mazón was two hours late for a meeting where the state of the emergency was being discussed, and so was late in approving the emergency notification.

It was also reported that Spain’s military emergency unit (UME), which can be deployed by the central government, was on standby the morning of the storm ready to assist in rescue efforts. Protocol, however, dictates that the regional government has to request any such support. That responsibility fell to Mazón, who at first declined the offers of assistance from the UME because he said the rains were ending. There are plenty of recriminations to go around regarding who is at fault. There have been protests and calls for Mazón to step down.

The people of Valencia are very angry. The King and Queen of Spain who arrived to offer the government’s support and convey condolences, were pelted with mud. Over 130,000 people protested in the city’s streets this past weekend. Over 200 people have died and there are still 80 people missing. Seven people died in an underground garage that was completely filled with water at a mall.

In the absence of a meaningful government response, farmers with tractors and workers with brooms took to the streets to search for victims and begin the massive clean-up. Volunteers have arrived from all over. I read that some French soldiers arrived in Valencia ahead of the Spanish soldiers. In at least one instance, a human chain of about fifty people carried water from a pool in the center of the town to the main street, where they dumped it to break up the mud. There were incredible acts of charity throughout the area.

The veterinary clinic here where I take my dogs was taking donations for pets. I took some dog and cat food on one of the first days. Later that week, there was quite a lot collected! It doesn’t look like that much, but small towns and groups of people and individuals all over Spain are contributing to the cause.

In other news, my car broke down on the freeway last week on my way to Girona train station to pick up a friend. All of the dashboard lights were flashing and the car declared in Spanish (its native language) that it was experiencing an epic fail and was going to shut itself off. Luckily, I was able to coast to the shoulder, and luckily I was near a friend’s house who came to assist and give moral support and ultimately drive me to Girona! It was scary! The car is still not fixed after a week…

I did a(nother) stupid thing. Since last summer, when renters were in my apartment, three of the six wine glasses went missing and I wanted to replace them. They looked like they came from Ikea, so I ordered three glasses. They came in a huge box with three BOXES of six wine glasses. I now have 21 wine glasses! I guess I need to have a party!

And I made a cake for the first time in years. I’m not a baker, but it came out pretty well! Carrot cake with cream cheese frosting… Cheers!

“Love Among the Ruins” is the title of a poem, a novel, an album, and a movie. The title came to mind because last week the Begur International Film Fest was held here beneath the one thousand-year old castle in ruins. And I love movies! A red carpet was laid out on the cobblestone walkway between the main plaza and the old Casino building where movies are held. Although I’ve seen advertisements for the film festival in past years, I’d never attended. I went this year on opening night. The theatre was packed with locals. The mayor spoke, the organizer of the festival spoke, as well as the director of a documentary film about a man from the village who was known as the Photographer of Begur. He chronicled in photos Elizabeth Taylor’s stay in Begur during the course of making the movie “Suddenly Last Summer” in the 1950’s. All of the speeches and the documentary were in Catalan. Then came TWO additional short films (each about 30 minutes in length), in Catalan, before they finally got to the feature film, “The Miracle Club,” which was in English. But by that time, my friend (who spoke no Catalan) and I were exhausted and left. It kind of took the fun out of it, but hey, I participated in a local activity!

I girded myself for what might await me at the closing of the Film festival, and with good reason. Fifth graders at two area elementary schools made some “creative” films. Besides sitting through those, we sat through the introduction of each of the students from both schools – some two dozen kids. Small town life! But it was worth it. The movie that closed the festival, “Tramuntana,” tells the story of my town, Begur, in days gone by through the eyes of some of its elderly residents. It was a beautiful film and made me cry. If you have any interest, here is the trailer for the movie.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b0xOLrWf5V4&t=204s

During the festival, the castle was lit up in red!

I bring up the ruins also because I recently visited some ruins in Empuriès, about 30 minutes’ drive north from my house. The remains of one of Spain’s earliest cities prove that it was a thriving market town with places of worship, salt factories, irrigation, art, palaces for the wealthy, and stone dwellings for the poor. Greek traders were sailing around this area as early as the seventh century BC before they established a settlement a century later and took advantage of trading routes with inhabitants of the peninsula. The Greek/Roman ruins at Empuries were considered to be the gateway to the Iberian Peninsula for the classical cultures and is the only archaeological site in the Iberian Peninsula where the remains of a Greek city coexist with those from a Roman city.

The Greeks called the city Emporium, meaning “market,” and it was an ancient port city that thrived for some 300 years. By 195 BC, the Romans were building their own city adjacent to the Greeks’ Emporium. They renamed the site Emporiae, and for roughly 100 years it was occupied until the more accessible ports at Tarragona and Barcelona led the Romans to abandon it. The stunning location backdrop to the city was the sparkling blue Mediterranean.

The Empuries ruins were discovered in 1908 and excavations are still ongoing. Only 25% of the large site has been excavated to date. The most renowned feature of the ruins are the beautiful roman mosaics floors you can see above.

A crazy thing happened to me last weekend. I was trapped in my apartment. The door wouldn’t open. The lock, which is somewhat medieval, has a metal bar that goes into the ceiling and down into the floor. When I turned the key, the part in the ceiling came down, but the part in the floor did not come up. My landlady talked me through dismantling the whole thing. Tasks like that are not really in my wheelhouse, but I successfully removed the lock. It was the secondary lock, so I’m perfectly safe without it until they get the replacement part, but it was a little scary not being able to get out. I suggested to my neighbor, who was trying unsuccessfully to unlock it from the outside, that I lower the dogs down in a bag from the balcony. They’d been waiting, mystified, for a couple of hours to go out for their morning pee and poop. He declined to take part in that I Love Lucy plan.

Before returning home to Begur this week, I took a trip that I’d always dreamed of – to the Canary Islands. It was both more and less than I had imagined. I really had few preconceived notions of the islands. I just thought they sounded exotic and unique. They definitely lived up to that. I have not been to Africa, except to the northern part of Morocco many years ago, so I cannot make many meaningful comparisons, but the four islands I visited (Gran Canaria, Fuerteventura, Lanzarote, and Tenerife) seemed very much like I would envision Africa to be. The words “barren” and “stark” seem invented to describe the terrain. The acres of lava that cover these islands precludes much growth of vegetation. The lunar-like landscapes are stunning, especially in contrast to the acres of golden sand dunes and the vast expanse of the turquoise-blue sea of the Atlantic that is always within close range.

The beauty of the landscape lived up to my expectations. Yet it seemed strange that these islands, so far from mainland Spain, are still a part of that culture, and yet not. The language is the same and many of the customs, but there are differences which are beyond the scope of this post and also beyond my understanding from such a short visit. Some of the foods were different from food on the mainland and some of the words, just as regional dialects exist in all countries. I tried the native wrinkled potatoes with mojo, but I passed up some of the local goat cheese offerings, because I really can’t do goat cheese.

The tourism trade here reminded me again of how lucky I am to have chosen the northern Costa Brava. Elsewhere in Spain – in Mallorca, in the southern part of the Costa Brava, or on the coasts near, between, and beyond Valencia and Alicante, and on the Costa del Sol especially, there are literally hordes of tourists, overwhelmingly Brits, who invade ginormous hotels for weeks at a time. Most do not speak Spanish or try to, and they book at all-inclusive resorts where they can have ·English style breakfast, eat fish and chips and have the comforts of home.

Though it makes me feel like a snob, I admit to in this instance. These tourist destinations are sort of horrific. The food is not good. It’s not local and probably not even acceptable as English fare. So, I’m happy to have had the experience, and now I’m glad to be back to appreciate my chosen plot of paradise.

Each year, as I get older and I acquire more things, it takes me longer and longer to settle back into my apartment – organizing and putting things away. My landlady surprised me by making some small upgrades, so I can’t complain: an electric awning and new lounge chairs on the terrace, a ceiling fan in the living room, a new showerhead (yeah!!) and best of all, screens on my bedroom windows. In the summer and really year round, I like to sleep with the windows open to hear the sounds of the wind and the waves, but waking up scratching because of mosquito bites is a drag!

So I’m very happy, and I’ll always have the sunrise…

The trek back to Texas in June wasn’t an easy one through Charles de Gaulle airport, but we made it and arrived Stateside safely.

I had additional air conditioning issues in Galveston when I arrived (I replaced both the main A/C unit, a window unit, and the A/C in my car last summer!!), but all solvable with money. It’s always something! Then it was smooth sailing for two weeks before Hurricane Beryl made her presence known.

I was very lucky. A tornado which spun off of the hurricane hit a house on one side of my house and a business on the other. Both buildings lost their roofs and both were within a block of me. The only damage I had was part of the fence blew down and I lost an Amazon package (in the wind??). It was also very lucky that I decided, on the advice of my son, to leave Galveston before the storm hit. It had been predicted to be a fairly weak hurricane and also predicted to hit farther south than it did. It would have been frightening to be in my rickety little house as the tornado passed over me! The power was out for almost a week afterward, but after cleaning out the refrigerator (there had been fish in the freezer!! ewwww!) and fixing the fence, all was back to normal.

For those of you who don’t follow me on Instagram, my son took the photo below of the beach house in Galveston late one night. I do love my house. I’m glad it survived this hurricane and hopefully there will not be another this season!! Fingers crossed. We’re not out of the woods until November 1.

While I was in Spain and away from my house for five months, various family member and friends used the beach house, and I was happy for that. The only issue was that one of the guests took my electric toothbrush and left her electric toothbrush in its place. When asked about it, the “guilty” party refused to admit to the switch, but I know my toothbrush!!! Yuck. I only had to change the head, but I will forever feel weird when I use it! 

I spent some time and had some adventures with the three grandsons. I have a lot of admiration for my friends who care for their grandkids on a regular basis. Mine are good kids, well behaved and good sleepers, but still it’s exhausting and humbling! When I chose Zsa Zsa as my grandma name, it was partially a joke because I figured that the sound would be difficult for children to make. BUT, the two who are verbal have mastered the sound and call me Zsa Zsa. It is so exciting to hear! Below, left to right, are Gordie, Monty, and August (“Goose”). Pretty damned cute all.

I am happy to be back now on the other side. The transatlantic trip is always an ordeal because of the dogs – the organization, the expense, and just getting them through the airport. This time, prior to leaving Texas, Cassie got into a baggie of my beloved marcona almonds in my unattended backpack (yes, it was my fault). She pooped twice in Intercontinental Airport in Houston and once in Charles de Gaulle in Paris! The poop contained full-sized un-chewed almonds! Luckily, neither dog soiled their diapers during the nine-hour flight.

It’s very strange to me how I feel at home in both places. Having friends on both sides certainly makes a big difference during entry and re-entry. Thanks to all, and I’ll write more when I settle back into Catalan life!

Maybe some of you were Girl Scouts (which I guess nowadays is just Scouts), but those were the lyrics of a song we were taught. “Make new friends, but keep the old, one is silver and the other gold.”

I always become nostalgic as I’m preparing to leave Spain for the summer, and this time I’ve been thinking about friendship. When I first came to Spain six years ago I knew exactly no one. After a couple of years, I wrote in a blog that I had seven friends. It’s taken some effort, but I have a lot more now. Joining the U3A expat group was a big help. I did that after the pandemic when I, like many people during that time, felt lonely. My neighbor and I would chat in the garden 10 feet apart once or twice a week, but that was it. Then one day I met a man who was living nearby in his second residence during the confinement. We were walking in the same direction and started chatting. After that we walked together every day for a couple of months. I feel like he kind of saved my life. Plus I got to practice speaking Spanish every day. I rarely see him these days, as we’ve both returned to our regular lives, and he’s younger and working and busy.

I say it’s taken some effort because I had to join the U3A group on my own to meet fellow expats. A few are American, but others come from countries in the UK, the Netherlands, Iceland, Canada, Norway, and France. I’ve also met a coterie of international characters in my Catalan class. My Catalan coffee buddy has introduced me to other Catalan learners in Begur, and I’ve also reached out to other neighbors. I am fairly extroverted, but it’s taken A WHILE!! I finally feel like I have a community here. I love it! These are my silver friends and those in the States whom I will see soon are GOLD!!

The other day in front of the grocery store I met a guy walking his pet goat named Xavi. The goat has his own Instagram page…Xavigoat.

I’m off to the States for a couple of months to see friends and spend some quality time with those grandchildren!! This is probably my last post until September when I return to Begur, so have a good summer everyone!

I may have mentioned that I’m a somewhat avid and competitive Scrabble player. Ok, I do have a few of my own rules that don’t coincide with the traditional ones, but that’s the way I play and so do some of my friends.

I didn’t realize how competitive I was until the day I threw the board against the wall. My opponent was already 50 points ahead, which was getting under my skin, and then he played all seven of his letters for a word with a lot of points plus the extra 50 points one gets for using all seven letters. I couldn’t handle it. So, if you play with me in person, beware!!

I play at least twice a week, sometimes more. On Saturdays I play with some ladies from the expat group. If the Indian woman isn’t there, I win. If she’s there, I sometimes win. She’s very good! I play online with a friend another time during the week. There’s a website (maybe more than one) called Internet Scrabble Club where you can play against a friend when you both log in and choose to match one another, or you can play against a stranger, which I’ve never done, yet anyway. We’re pretty evenly matched so it’s a good challenge.

My neighbor was curious about all the Scrabble I was playing so I bought a Spanish board from Amazon. The Spanish game has some different letters like double “l” and double “r,” the “ch,” and “ñ”. There is no “k” or “w” because these only occur in foreign words and therefore are prohibited. There is a different letter distribution, and some have different values, for instance, the “q” is only worth 8 points versus 10 points in the English version. Probably no one reading this is interested, but I stumbled across a weird Wikipedia page that describes the letter distribution of the game in all the languages in which it is available. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Scrabble_letter_distributions

Because my neighbor had never played Scrabble before, I won handily. The next time we played though, he’d gotten the hang of it, and I didn’t have a chance. Then, my Catalan tutor discovered a Catalan version online, so we played and the same thing happened. Because she’d never played Scrabble before, I won. Mind you, I won using some two and three letter words like “me,” “de,” and “per.” But a win is a win and in another language, I think it should count twice.

The expat organization here has a new Wine Appreciation Group and we had a private tasting led by one of the sommeliers at the giant wine store near me. I may have mentioned in previous blogs that about 10 minutes from Begur is a ginormous wine store. I’m not sure why it’s here in the middle of nowhere, but we’re lucky to have it! It’s a family-run business and the store and warehouse operate as a distribution center for wines throughout my province of Girona, and all of Catalunya and Spain. One of my favorite places! and the people are so nice.

A couple of years ago, when the store was packed with customers, some thieves entered the exclusive area where the super expensive stuff is kept, broke into the secure glass vault, and stole nine bottles of some of the world’s most expensive wines worth a total of about 120,000€. Some staff members discovered what was going on and chased them through the store. There is store video showing one of the three robbers vaulting Tom Cruise-style across the counter of one of the store’s checkouts to escape. Store personnel actually ran after them through the parking lot and across the street to where the three thieves hopped into a getaway car. It’s thought that the robbery was commissioned. It was definitely one of the most exciting things to happen around here in a while! And needless to say, no guns were involved.

Besides noticing all of the comings and goings at the Russian’s house, the other day, I saw a man on the balcony of the house two doors down from the Russian, wearing a giant unicorn head. Yes! And I always thought I lived on a quiet cul-de-sac!

It looked sort of like this! It creeped me out. The only explanation I could think of was children’s birthday party, but there are no kids there.