“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.

And the lettuce!! These babies are enormous! The one below is a small one. I almost can’t get them into the plastic bag! And I love the locally grown pink onions. The town markets are obviously the best source of fresh, local produce, but even the grocery stores offer a very good selection and our newest store, Ametller Origen, a kind of Catalan Whole Foods Market, is my go-to now.

Randomly, I was at the hardware store looking for some kind of kitchen device, when I saw this. It’s for quail eggs! That should come in handy. Bet the manufacturer is making a fortune!

My town, Begur, has four big festivals a year, the Festival of Indians in September (I wrote about this annual homage to the families of Begur who made their fortunes in Cuba and returned in “Departure/Arrival” https://wordpress.com/post/susiessenioryearabroad.blog/28), the film festival in October where the main street in town is covered by a red carpet all week, the Carmen Amaya festival (I also wrote about this flamenco festival in “Culture and Dysfunction” https://wordpress.com/post/susiessenioryearabroad.blog/3070), and

the most recent, the Rockfish festival, which lasts for the whole month of May. Area restaurants offer special menus featuring rockfish in every conceivable form, from croquettes to grilled to puréed (like hummus). I love to take part in the local festivities! Especially when food is involved. Wink.

Update on the Russian spy: his car (the primary car in play) now has Spanish plates. This is not so suspicious as it seems any car from outside of the EU owned by a resident of Spain would need to be registered. But, later on the same day that I noticed the new plates, it was gone and a SEAT with Spanish plates was in the garage. Also, last week I saw a woman, two teenagers, and a dog on the balcony, and I saw the woman later parking a different car in the garage. Then, in two days they were gone. Writing about it is giving me a permanent record of the events should it ever become necessary for evidence!

Update on the arm: My doctor agreed that my arm is sufficiently healed that I can lead a “normal” life, but he suggested that I continue to take advantage of the physical therapy sessions he prescribed, which I am doing. I’d say I’m probably 90% there and at last I can put my hair up when it’s bothering me!!

Note right arm raised and hair up!

April 23rd is Sant Jordi Day in Catalunya. It’s been called the Catalan Valentine’s Day, but it really isn’t. I told the story in a blog last year, “Feliç Diada de Sant Jordi.”(https://wordpress.com/post/susiessenioryearabroad.blog/2022). It’s different from Valentine’s Day in a few ways, but in one striking way. It’s not commercialized, or at least to the extent that the U.S. commercializes holidays. I went to Barcelona coincidentally the Sunday before Sant Jordi Day to spend the day with a friend. I knew Sant Jordi was coming up the following Tuesday, so I expected to see book stands and flower stands throughout the city. But no, they only celebrate it ON THE DAY. Shoot, in the States they start advertising for Valentine’s Day as soon as they take the Christmas decorations down! Cards, flowers, candy, lingerie, are advertised on TV, billboards, online, everywhere for weeks or months in advance. (Don’t get me started on Christmas!). This may be changing somewhat, at least in Barcelona, where booksellers are going to be required to pay a relatively high tax for their stalls making it more difficult or impossible for the small book dealers.

Some of the flower stalls set up on the street currently are operated by non-profit groups. Whoa. Are the businesses missing out on cashing in!! Of the total amount of roses sold, about 40% are sold by professional florists, and the remaining 60% are sold by associations and charities for fundraising purposes.  The day does generate considerable economic activity for authors, publishers, and booksellers, but the emphasis is on the books – physical books. Sant Jordi is a celebration, but above all it is a booksellers’ festival. In Catalonia almost ten percent of a year’s revenue from book sales comes in that day. And the act of giving books isn’t just for couples: parents give books to their children, friends give books to each other. No longer gender-based, friends, couples, and family now give one another books. As one journalist put it, it’s Valentine’s Day for nerds.

April 23 has also been designated International World Book Day. The date coincides with the death of Miguel de Cervantes and William Shakespeare both in 1616. During Franco’s regime, Sant Jordi celebrations were prohibited in Catalunya. I think that is one reason why the tradition is so beloved by Catalans now.

The weather here has been very mild all winter, so when we had a couple of warmer days about a month ago, I packed up my coats and most of my sweaters. April Fools! Winter returned. Someone recently told me – never put your winter clothes away until after Sant Jordi Day. They were right! It’s warming up now, a little.

Coincidence??? After I wrote two weeks ago about the suspicious Russian man living nearby, I haven’t seen his Russian car. There was a car with French plates for a couple of days during which time I saw two guys on the balcony (neither was “the guy”) and they were speaking to one another in British English (native), which I heard when I was walking my dogs. Where does the Russian go? and his car? What are the other cars about? Then yesterday, the car with Hungarian plates was back. This is far from over, but I’ll refrain from overdoing the surveillance and reporting …I did use binoculars the other day to look from my kitchen window… Obsession? I hope I can crack the case one day!

My arm is way better. I can pull a suitcase, carry groceries, and walk the dogs on their leashes. Pulling my hair back is still slightly out of my reach! But I am hopeful. My doctor, an orthopedist, who is referred to here as a traumatologist, told me early on that my arm would never be the same as when I was younger and that I would have to ask for help to put a lightbulb in the ceiling. The timing of multiple visitors here prevented me from being able to fully take advantage of the physical therapy sessions he prescribed. When I told him all my travel plans, he said that it would be bad for my arm, but good for my soul. OMG, what a charming European thing to say! At my last visit, he reassured me that it was not too late for me to improve my range of motion. I hope to report further progress soon!

I say dangerous because I’m back on the road and I received several traffic tickets. I think they are actually from before the broken arm, but I’m quite beside myself. Traffic cameras are ubiquitous…it’s not fair! I think I’m going to contact a “gestor” here – a person who is not an attorney but who deals with administrative bureaucracy on behalf of a client. Their fees are reasonable. I definitely need help. The certified letters I received are all in Catalan, and although I can carry on simple conversations, the legal/bureaucratic language is beyond me.

The drought is still happening here in Catalunya. We have the sea, but there’s been so little rain that pretty severe restrictions are being enforced. The reservoir that serves a big chunk of Catalunya was at 16% of its capacity, but since receiving some rain recently, is up to 17%.

The town that was flooded when the reservoir was created is now fully visible.

Emergency restrictions have been implemented in over 200 municipalities, including Barcelona.  The maximum amount of water allowed per person per day was reduced to 200 liters. Watering your garden with water from the mains is prohibited and you can no longer wash your car or top off your pool. In agriculture, irrigation was reduced by 80%, and livestock water use was cut in half. Water use for industrial and urban purposes was reduced by 25%. For recreational activities water use is prohibited, with some exceptions. Irrigation of public or private gardens will be allowed only if groundwater or recycled water is used. Public pools may be partially replenished if the water used is offset by water conservation measures. Trees will only be irrigated with residual waters to guarantee their survival.

Below on the left is the swimming pool at the apartment complex above me. It looks like poop water! I’m not sure why ours still looks so good, but I’m not complaining!

40+ years later

In the 1970’s I lived in Fuengirola on the Costa del Sol for a year. Life was fun and carefree. Every day began between noon and 2:00 p.m. with a few hours on the beach baking in the sun, reading, and working the International Herald Tribune crossword puzzle. After dinner meant drinks with the owners, employees, and friends of O Mamma Mia Pizzeria, followed by dancing at the discotheque till dawn and breakfast at the hotel café afterwards. Those were the days!

Those were also the days when the town of Fuengirola had far fewer inhabitants and tourists. Fuengirola then was hardly a small fishing village, but now, it seems like an extension of the British Isles! So many Brits! Some of my best friends are Brits! Ha ha. But all of the Costa del Sol now feels like a foreign place, not a part of Spain. It just made me so thankful I made the decision to move to Catalunya and the Costa Brava! I hope I’m not offending any readers with ties to or a love of Andalucía. I still love it too, but I need to be far from the madding English-speaking crowd! It’s such a shame because there is so much history, beauty, and culture in Andalucía – the Alhambra in Granada, the Mezquita in Córdoba, the Alcázar in Sevilla, plus the fairs, the flamenco, the sun. But unbounded tourism has really hurt it and I think it has lost a lot of its appeal, at least to me.

But my recent trip to the south also included several highlights: an odd museum in Málaga that combines classic cars and fashion (weird combo to appeal to women?)…

The cars were fantastic. It reminded me of the exhibit at the Houston Museum of Fine Arts a few years ago that I saw three times because the cars were so beautiful and I wanted to show it to friends.

Then there were the lush green, rolling hills in the province of Cádiz, with Africa in the background..

And there’s an out-of-the-way wind-surfing spot in Tarifa at the Straits of Gibraltar where the Mediterranean meets the Atlantic. In March, it was almost deserted…quite the opposite of the Costa del Sol…

As you can see below, it is still green here in Catalunya, but the drought is enduring. We’ve had some rain, but not enough to make up for three years of drastically reduced amounts of rainfall. In Barcelona, I saw signs everywhere, many in English, to remind residents and tourists to save water, but especially tourists who may not be aware of the situation. Residents are aware of the restrictions in place and the strong penalties for over-use of water. As they say, water water everywhere…

P.S. My arm is better. I can finally drive myself and I can take the curves just as fast with one arm as I can with a fully functioning two!