I had planned to take lots of photos of the Christmas lights in Barcelona the night before I began my trip back to the States. Last year I wrote about the lights at the Sant Pau Hospital (link to Lights! Camera! Action!). This year I went to see them again and they were beautiful, but I should have opted for just wandering the streets. That’s next year’s plan. The City recently announced that Barcelona was elected a European Christmas Capital 2026, recognizing its Christmas customs combining tradition, innovation, and sustainability. Here is a link to a video produced by the City of Barcelona: Barcelona Christmas Lights.

A photo of the tree lighting in Begur is below. There were more people in the main square this year than I have seen in the square ever for anything. It was really fun to be out with all the locals.

Even more exciting news is that I ran into the Russian at a local IKEA-type store. He and I have waved hello in the past, so I know he knows my face and that I am a neighbor. But when I saw him in Jysk, I said hello and he embraced me like I was his long-lost cousin. I mean he hugged me tightly! I’m not sure what would have happened next after I picked my jaw up off of the floor, but just then someone “encouraged” us to move out of the main aisle of the store. He went one way toward the counter to pay and I went the other to continue my shopping mission. How bizarre! Maybe he’s being nice to me to throw me off the trail of whatever crimes he has been committing!!

I’m writing this post from my home in Galveston, Texas where I’ve come to hang out for a few days before and between flying to visit my kids and grandkids in Florida and California. I had planned to leave both dogs at my friend’s house in Spain over the month I would be gone, but after Cassie passed away, I didn’t have the heart to leave Cam alone. He wouldn’t have been literally alone as he has other pets to play with there and he gets plenty of attention, but I felt that at this moment in his life, he needed to be with me. This was my first time flying transatlantic without a friend handling the second dog. It was hard getting all of my luggage plus Cam around with no assistance, but we survived. The only complication along the way was that my baggage was sent through to Houston from Barcelona and was not available to me for my overnight stay in Paris the next night en route to the US. The Air France agent in Barcelona had assured me that I could pick it up in Paris. But no. I had no toiletries, no clean clothes, no nightgown, and worst of all, no dog food. The Air France agent in Paris gave me a goody bag with a few things – toothpaste, oversized tee shirt, deodorant, etc., which helped. I got Cam a breakfast bar and a pack of small sausages from the hotel’s shop. Poor thing.

I hope everyone has a lovely holiday!! I will be back in January, hopefully after a stress-free, glitch-free return flight. Ha ha, like that could happen. And fingers crossed for my medical tests!

BONES FESTES!!!

I’ve been thinking about this for a while. I’ve called myself Susie Catalana or La Reina de la Muntanya Baixa (Queen of the low mountain), and lately I was given the moniker of Empordenca or dona de l’Empordà (woman of the Empordà). The Empordà is the far northeastern corner of Catalunya bordering France where Begur sits. I don’t know if I believe in past lives (sorry Shirley MacLaine), but if there is such a thing, I think I may have had a past life here. How else would the feeling of belonging be so strong? I used to think I had a past life in Spain, but to be a Catalana feels right.

The Catalan people are known for many qualities, generalizations, of course – they are cheap (savers), proud, stubborn (a burro is the symbol they stick on the back of their cars), guarded, and cliquish. They say Catalans are “closed” at first, but that once you’re friends, you’re friends for life. I hope that is true! But the traits I see most, and would like to say I identify with, are determination, a love of freedom, and bravery.

Maybe all countries/cultures have as many shared symbols, customs, and past-times, but I think the Catalans have more! Look at this video…it’s in Catalan, but the images are meaningful without words…all the things that make Catalunya Catalunya!!! Watch till the end, it’s less than three minutes. It’s so good I’ve watched it many times. I tried for hours, literally all day, to insert the video directly without having to include a link, but surprise, I am not a techno-nerd. Hopefully one of these two links will work for you.

Link to the video Visca Catalunya (Long live Catalunya)!! A post shared by Sos Català (@sos.catala)

Catalan history explains a lot about the characteristics of its people. I won’t go into it here as it has been my experience that when I load up a blog with history, I get fewer “likes”! I guess your eyes are glazing over. I try. I’ll just say that the Catalans have experienced their fair share of repression over the centuries, and yet the culture endures. There is a pride, a defiance, a shared national identity and spirit that holds them together and that I find inspiring. Trying to learn the Catalan language and learn about and participate in their culture have definitely been the most rewarding parts of my senior year journey!

Probably the most well-known symbol of Catalunya is the Sagrada Familia. A couple of weeks ago, they added part of the Cross of Jesus, which is among the finishing touches to the Basilica, scheduled to be completed in 2027. The completion date has been delayed several times, most recently by the Pandemic! It’s such a marvel and all paid for with private funds. I’ve added another video showing the placement of the cross on the top. If you have time to watch, it is cool! This is the BBC’s coverage on Youtube. Sorry for the commercial at the beginning.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3UqL_5eLh30

I’ve written about the human towers before. I may even have mentioned this particular event in Girona that takes place during the city’s annual Festa Major every November 1, but it bears repeating. These people are amazing! Please watch the video here from youtube; 3cat – Pujada del pilar dels Marrecs a Girona (01-11-2025). I’m sorry there is a commercial at the beginning. The child (child!!!) on top falls, but they start again to climb to the top of the long flight of stairs, and when they reach it, turn to the crowd triumphant. It’s amazing enough that they do it on flat, solid ground, but to mount an enormous staircase at the same time!! I’d like to see this in person one day. There are other festivities related to the Festa Major. When I was visiting Girona for other reasons, I ran across a display of the figures of the giants that are worn by townspeople in parades for the delight of children especially.

This past weekend was the Carmen Amaya Flamenco Festival in Begur. This was my second or third? time attending the local flamenco show. The flamenco guitarist, below, was fantastic. But it was my first time attending the Sardinada – a celebration of the sardine! that ends the festival. Luckily there was more to eat than just sardines. I want to like them, but the tiny bones bother me. There was a band playing music that I learned was the Catalan Rumba, a musical genre that originated in Barcelona in the 1950’s in the city’s Catalan gypsy community, and is a fusion of flamenco rumba with influences from Cuban music, rock and roll, and other popular styles. It was great fun. There were expats there but lots of locals celebrating probably what was our last warm day of the year.

Just to let the Cassie lovers and other just plain animal lovers know, Cam and I are slowly adapting to life without her. I’m still sad. Our apartment is quieter and more tranquil without the mischief-maker in chief around. Cam has always been more aloof – he isn’t standing at the door whenever I come home, he doesn’t follow me into the bathroom (I used to give Cassie a neck massage when she would put her paws on my knees while I peed. TMI?) and no little hot dog body snuggling next to me at night. Poor Cam was always dog #2 around here, so I’m hoping we can bond more deeply and that he can be my little buddy. We’re going to take longer walks together and go more places as it will be easier with just one.

We had an episode of some pretty extreme wind this week and it knocked one of the heavy metal shutters off of the wall. That was bad enough, but when I tried to close the other shutter before the wind could blow that one off as well, it slammed on my hand. Ouch!! It could have been worse!

AND…drum roll…the Russian is BACK!!! I saw him on his balcony. He lives alone, mind you, but he was talking with someone I couldn’t see. Already there have been two odd cars parked nearby or in his garage! The intrigue continues. I’m so excited!!!!

That’s what I called Cassie. At least when I wasn’t accidentally calling her by my daughter’s name. She seemed like a daughter. She also had hair the color of Donald Trump’s (no political commentary, just fact). She passed away yesterday – I had to put her down. She had a brief battle with cancer, but aside from a few moments of listlessness towards the end, she was jumping, hopping, and running, ready to eat any kind of food that might come her way.

She came to me as a rescue. My mother, who was 91 at the time, had always had a dog. In fact, a friend of mine said she wanted to come back in her next life as my mother’s dog, because every dog my mother ever owned was pampered and was constantly at her side being petted. When I was a kid, we had wire-haired dachshunds, so when my mother lost Jennie, a lab/German shepherd mix she acquired because my now ex-husband’s dog had an unplanned litter of TWELVE puppies, I found Cassie on a website devoted to dachshund rescues. She had been on the streets of Midland in West Texas. She was transported to the Houston area by helicopter through a program created by several oil companies to transport dogs for “humanitarian” purposes. From the moment I saw her, it was love at first sight. She stood on her hind legs, as she would always do, and pawed the air, as if to say TAKE ME!! I knew she was the one.

She was a notorious attention whore. If anyone dared to pet Cam (my other dog, her brother in spirit if not in blood), or God forbid take him into their lap, Cassie would jump in or worm her way in between them. Petting Cam was not allowed in her world. She was the princess! And she demanded all the adoration.

Cassie had a full and adventurous life. Not only did she travel on transatlantic flights, including one in which she managed to unzip her carrier and run down the aisle of the plane towards the crew area where the food is kept, but she visited France many times, and even walked (and pooped) along the Seine in Paris. She hiked in the mountains of Switzerland, where she drank water from a beautiful waterfall. She stayed in hotels and AirBnB’s across Spain and France; this past summer she stayed with me in a fancy hotel on the grounds of Chambord castle!

Along with the good times, there were the not-so-good times, including when she ate 1/2 of a brick of chocolate and spent two nights in the hospital. Or the time she ate 1/2 a jar of peanut butter and I had to administer charcoal medication to get her to poop it all out. Not to mention when she ate a good portion of a baggie full of melatonin chewies the day before flying back to Spain, and I didn’t know if we’d make the flight! Oh, and the time she either jumped or fell from the balcony of my apartment here, a pretty healthy drop, and then turned up at the front door! But during all of those crazy times I was never afraid she wouldn’t pull through. She had a constitution of steel! She was iron-willed and she was never deterred! I thought she was invincible…

Cam and I must carry on. He has always been looking over his shoulder to make sure she was near. One time she managed to get herself locked in a friend’s pantry closet. As we looked everywhere inside the house and out, Cam was on my heels crying loudly until we found her. He was beside himself. I always said if the tables had been turned, she wouldn’t have noticed he was gone, or she would have shrugged her shoulders and said oh well! They did play well together, chasing each other around my beach house in Galveston or my apartment in Spain. But she was always the Alpha and she never let him forget it. I think he was afraid of her and kept his distance especially if she was eating or had a treat. Who will hoover up all the crumbs in the kitchen or under the dining table now? That was her job.

Although Cam and I are bonded, it is different. He was the second to arrive in my life and always seemed the second in command. He is more aloof, or as I always describe him, contemplative and deep. She was not contemplative nor enigmatic, but “out there” bursting with personality. PET ME CONSTANTLY was her motto. She was something! And she was lovable, or “amorosa” as a Catalan friend called her. What an endearing bad girl she was!

Cassie was well loved by many and will be well remembered. That is some consolation to me. It’s the end of an era. It’s just me and Cam now.

This is one of my favorite photos of the two of them, keeping an eye out for danger in the neighborhood.

I’ll write something a little more uplifting next time. Until then, here is a photo taken from the garden today of our first snow of the season in the Pyrenees. I think it fell for her…

I am a little bit beside myself. I’m pretty certain the Russian is gone. If you haven’t previously read about my Russian, see Suspicious Minds…

What am I going to do now? Who am I going to watch, track, monitor, report on? There was a young couple in his place recently who had a car with French plates, but they’re gone now. In the past, the cars have come and gone and whatever people may have been in the house besides the Russian himself have kept a very low profile. The presumed French people were walking around the neighbourhood, not stealthily.The same bicycles are in the garage, but I suppose they could belong to the actual owner, if not the Russian, or maybe he just left them behind. Or maybe he’s coming back — but it’s been over a month.

It is interesting to me that both the Russian and his German neighbor next door left the area during the two and a half months I was in the States this past summer. I wonder if they realized I was getting too close. I guess I’ll never know uness his photo ends up on the front page of some newspaper. Damn. I feel like I’ve lost some of my raison d’être!! I rather fancied being a modern-day female Sherlock Holmes. Maybe it would be more accurate to aspire to be Jason Bourne or Jack Ryan, famous spy hunters!

One of the few con’s of living here is that I don’t have a clothes dryer. Many, if not most, people do not. It simply uses too much electricity and is expensive, so my landlords have not installed one. I don’t know where they could put it anyway as the washing machine takes up the whole closet where it resides. So I hope for sunny days!! The sun works well for clothes-drying in full summer. They dry pretty quickly and fully then, but the rest of the time it’s a challenge. When the sun is out on my balcony, I put them out on a rack. They start getting dry but if I leave them too long and the humidity rolls in, they get wetter again. Then I have to move the rack indoors and hope they will dry out more inside before I put them back out in the sunshine the next day. Then it happens again. All of my clothes these days are damp. I sometimes resort to putting them piece by piece on the radiator. This is probably dangerous and not the radiator’s best use, but radiator drying is all I can do unless I want to cart everything to the washateria. At least now there is a washateria in Begur! It’s actually very nice with large, efficient machines. Before it came to town, I had to drive 30 minutes to get to a washateria. It’s the small things!

I jumped out of bed for a couple of really good sunrises last week:

“If it wasn’t for bad luck. You know, I wouldn’t have no luck at all” is a line from a song – Born Under a Bad Sign. Link to song is included. Great song.

I’ve always thought of myself as lucky. I’m an optimist. I’m positive. I’ve been spared a lot of pain experienced by others. I feel lucky that I had loving and supportive parents, that I was born a free woman in the United States, that I was given opportunities for a good education and rewarding employment. And I have the best children in the world. Sorry, but it’s true. For better or for worse, I’ve gotten most of the things I’ve ever really wanted.

Looking at my life through an objective lens, however, there have been some things…Shit seems to happen to me, small things, but they add up when looked at in their totality. Just in the past couple of years I’ve had the my car robbed; I’ve had all sorts of trouble with my car (s) – my Peugeot just got out of the shop AGAIN after it died on the highway: I’ve had so many faulty air conditioner(s); and I’m sure there’s more…Just saying that sometimes I look up and see that small cloud following me. But I just gotta keep going and smiling.

I recently received some more bad news, devastating news really. My beloved dog, Cassie, has a cancerous tumor in her kidney and metastases in her lungs and lymph nodes. She is not a candidate for surgery, but we are going to be treating her with a cancer medication used to shrink cancer cells. First me with my stomach cancer, now her – we’re a pair – a pair of tough, old broads. Cassie is 14, and I know it’s not curable, but I’m hopeful we can have a little more time together. She’s my girl.

Speaking of aging and death, have you heard of Maria Branya Morera? She was a Catalan woman who when she died last year at the age of 117, was the oldest human on earth. She was born in the U.S. to a family of Catalan origin who moved back to Spain when she was young. She made Barcelona her home and died in Olot, Spain, a town not far from where I live. She identified as Catalan, using the name “Super Catalan Grandma” on social media. 

Lots of medical professionals studied Maria before her death, trying to determine how she managed to live so long. Clearly, part of the reason was heredity – she was simply born an incredibly durable woman with a fantastic immune system. But one of the factors to which Maria herself attributed her long life was that she ate plain yogurt three times a day. Scientists have agreed that having a healthy, effective microbiome is definitely a booster for good overall health. She ate a certain brand of yogurt, Fageda. I read that its sales skyrocketed when this information about Maria became known. So I’ve started buying it too. I’m not sure if strawberry-flavored counts, but I can’t stomach (ha ha) the plain. It looks and tastes too much like milk. Horrors. And I’m not going to eat it three times a day. But maybe once a day with fresh strawberries will bring my life expectancy closer to 100!

The array of available potato chips in Europe (and I assume around the world) is seemingly endless. Americans seem pretty satisfied with the regular ones plus sour cream and onion, barbecue, salt and vinegar, honey mustard, and a few others. I wrote about my potato chip taste test in my “Chips Ahoy” post (link included) a few years ago, and I’ve commented on a few other ones since then. A friend shared photos of some really crazy ones from Asia! My all-time favorite weird flavor is hamburger! I tasted the separate flavors of beef, onion, tomato, maybe pickle? It was surprisingly good!

On my way to Spain through France this September, I discovered some more luscious varieties, others when I was in London, and even more here that I hadn’t seen before! I haven’t tried them all, but I’ve listed the ones I did try in order of preference:

• ketchup (#1)
• grilled beef (#2)
• camembert (#3)
• yakitori (#4)
• pepper roasted chorizo (#5)
• bacon & cheese (#6)
• pili pili
• Paris mushroom
• French fries and sauce (?)
• pesto mozzarella
• aioli
• summer truffle
• cheese and black truffle
• curry sauce
• blue cheese
• mushroom
• Tex Mex chicken
• Thai beef
• cheese naan
• goat cheese with espelette peppers
• tapenade
• Sobrasada and honey (sobrasada is a raw, cured sausage made with ground pork, paprika, salt, and spices)  
  

I wish I could have bought and tasted them all, but my car was already packed tight and there was no room for bags of chips! I expected that bacon and cheese would be the winner, but it was pretty gross and the ketchup variety definitely won this round!

Toward the end of my journey to Begur, I spent a couple of nights in Sitges, a beach town just south of Barcelona. To my surprise, it was Bears Week. If you don’t know what it is, look it up. There was quite a party atmosphere in the streets. But I am glad I missed the partying at the nude beach!

When I got back to Barcelona from a jaunt to the UK, I discovered that my car, which I’d left in the airport garage, had been ransacked. This is the latest in my list of petty crimes experienced in Barcelona. (See my post “Crime and Punishment“). Everything was strewn on the seats and the floor that had been in the glove compartment, the console, and the door pockets. There was nothing of value and they didn’t even take my mini boxes of Werther’s caramels. But they took one thing – my car title!! I had been told not to leave it in the car, but I really thought it could be a problem only if the car was stolen, and I didn’t expect that to happen, especially with all its dings and dents. My immediate worry was that I would have to make a Police report, and I am scared of the police. I don’t have a driver’s license for one thing. Well, I have my international driver’s license, but supposedly after six months here you are supposed to get a Spanish license. I’ve heard it is expensive and difficult to pass, so I’ve been avoiding police as much as possible and gambling on not being caught. The police are often stopped at the side of the road by a roundabout – usually at least two or three of them and a couple of police cars. They pull people over, presumably for having expired registrations or maybe just looking funny, but I always hold my breath and so far I’ve always been waved on. When my registration was out of date (actually this happened a couple of times for perfectly good reasons), I would take another route if I saw them ahead.

I haven’t seen any evidence of my Russian neighbor/spy since my return. No movement of the window shades (closed) or cars on the street or in the garage. I don’t know if he’s moved or is just away. If he’s gone, I wonder if I blew his cover!! In addition, his next door neighbor, a German, is also gone and there is another family living in that house. I always expected that he and the Russian were colluding. The German told me he had a wife and a baby but I never saw them. Hmmm….

I’ve had a bad cough plus congestion for a month! I’m VERY tired of coughing and blowing my nose. This has slightly coloured my usual excitement at arriving back in Begur. Hopefully, at some point soon, I will recover!! And on the pro´s and con´s list of USA vs Europe, Europe is winning in cough syrup. It tastes good!!

I always fly out of Paris non-stop to Houston every summer, and I leave my Peugeot 505 with a friend in France, so my return trip to Begur in September involves picking up my car and driving through France with the dogs, and sometimes my dog mule. I like to pick a different route each time. France never disappoints. This year included visits to Saumur (below below), Chambord (1), Rocamadour (3), La Roque Gageac (4), Saint Cirq Lapopie (5), and a repeat visit to Carcassonne because the snails (2) were soooo good last time!

The Mushroom Museum in Saumur which was billed as the largest in Europe, was a disappointment. I love to see colourful. mushrooms of all sizes, shapes, and textures. The ones below were interesting to see, but not as spectacular or numerous as I was expecting! The Mushroom Festival celebrating the mushrooms of Catalunya that I attended last year in a very small town near me, was far superior. Hope I can make it back there for it again this year.

I’m moved back in and I was excited to try the new air conditioner, but lo and behold, the weather has been just about perfect and there is no need. Too bad, right?

A bizarre thing happened to me. It’s one of the scariest and most frustrating aspects of old age – I can’t remember shit! A few years ago, I ordered a Revlon hairdryer that Is a brush dryer. I really like it and I ordered a second one in Spain that has the correct voltage and a European plug. I usually leave my Spanish hairdryer in Begur when I fly to the States because I have the other one with US voltage and an American plug in Galveston. This past summer I decided to bring my Spanish one with me when I left Spain because I was going to be spending time with my daughter and her family in St. Jean-de-Luz, France, and I wanted to look nice. When unpacking everything recently in Begur, I discovered that I had two hair dryers in my luggage – one European hairdryer and one American – both black and pink. The one I have and keep in Galveston is black and turquoise. Cue eerie music!!

How did I end up with three hairdryers? I know this isn’t a major international incident, but WTF? If I have stolen your hairdryer…if it is missing…please let me know!! Above is a photo of the “Extra” hairdryer.

Happy to be home!

The trip back to the US in July was challenging as usual, but this time I was accompanied by my daughter and her family, so there was the additional complication of traveling with two toddlers – my grandsons – plus the two dogs, stroller, luggage, and my backpack with the strap that broke at the last minute. Then add in the eight-hour delay at Charles de Gaulle airport! My eldest grandson took a little stroll with my dog Cam. Luckily, they didn’t get on the moving sidewalk!

I had two positive experiences in the midst of this. The gruff Air France ticketing agent actually told me my French was good (a total lie, but very appreciated). I thanked him for speaking French back to me because many times service personnel will reply in English. I’m sure it’s easier for them, but it robs me (the person trying to speak their language) of a useful learning experience and occasionally a feeling of accomplishment. The other bright spot was when the French border agent looked at my passport and told me in French that I looked much younger than my age and winked at me! That made my week!

We finally made it to Houston at midnight and had to spend the night at the airport hotel, making our return a day late. Maybe next summer’s trip will be easier. We’ll see. My daughter and I mutually agreed that we’d never travel together again on a transatlantic flight with our dogs and children.

The summer flew by – time spent with kids and grandkids and good friends. But I spent way too much time with medical professionals. The bottom line after various tests is that something other than cancer will probably kill me. My heart is showing some wear and tear, along with most of my other parts, but nothing dire or urgent. The cancer in my stomach is one-half its prior size. It’s unclear if it remains malignant and I won’t know until the next check-up in January. Living with uncertainty is difficult, but life is uncertain, isn’t it? I’ll probably die in a car wreck (you’ve seen my car?!) or falling down and hitting my head, which I accomplished once this summer – I had a bump on my head and scabs on my knees to prove it.

Throughout my life, I’ve been called variations of the name Susan and other sundry nicknames, including Dorsal and Shrimp, but by far my favorite one is Zsa Zsa. Of course it’s my favorite because that is what my three grandsons call me. I’ve explained before that I chose the name because it is the Hungarian version of Susan. But also, it’s so FUN! No Granny or grandma for me! And Zsa Zsa Gabor, the only other Zsa Zsa I am familiar with, is such a fabulous role model. She was a Hungarian actress, socialite, and former beauty queen. She was a star of movies and television and famously was married NINE times. Her ex-husbands included Conrad Hilton and the actor George Sanders. And she lived to be 99! My goal!

It’s been seven years since I started my adventure in Spain. This month is the beginning of my eighth year. That is hard to believe! The trip went pretty smoothly this time. No dogs lost! ! I’ve only just arrived on the other side this week and I haven’t made it down to Begur yet. I CAN’T WAIT!! My landlady surprised me when she let me know that she had installed air-conditioning in my apartment – something I NEVER imagined would ever happen!

Every year the road trip from France (where I leave my car with a friend) to Begur is interesting and different. This time I stopped at the Mushroom Museum in Saumur, France !!!! More about that in the next episode!

Lagniappe: I read this description in a real estate ad here – “There is a small storage room ideal for storage.”

My French tutor sent me a news article she thought might interest me. Of course she knows about my Russian neighbor because she reads my blog posts, and we have discussed him (in French, of course) many times. The article is based on a report by a Latvian intelligence service which includes a list of tips for spotting potential Russian agents within its borders. A practical guide like no other!

Besides being re-published by Le Parisien, the information was reported by the Associated Press and The Guardian. Latvia is a member of the European Union and NATO, but it is increasingly concerned with the threat from Russia, with which it shares a border of nearly 270 kilometers. The Baltic country is warning its citizens of the potential presence of spies sent by Moscow. Taking this information to heart, I have applied it to my Russian neighbor.

The first piece of advice given by Latvian intelligence is to monitor the suspicious person’s physical appearance. They say that a slovenly appearance and “insufficient hygiene” could be telltale signs of a clandestine saboteur. My Russian looks clean, although I haven’t gotten very close to him. Their second clue to spotting a Russian spy is to assess the agent’s behavior. Intelligence reports suggest an increase in “overly indiscreet conversations with locals, or equipment inconsistent with their claimed occupation.” I can’t speak to that, but I do know that his behavior is unusual, merely based on the comings and goings of the different cars, people, and dogs into and out of his house and garage. And the third clue is that the agent may sport a short, military-style haircut. BINGO!! My guy definitely has very close-cropped hair. The Latvians warn that Russian agents have recently improved their strategy by using disguises to make them harder to detect. “Their members may no longer visually correspond to the classic profile of a reconnaissance-sabotage group,” explains the report. They say if a Latvian citizen believes they have identified an agent, they should not intervene and should contact the police or the military, who are better qualified to act in cases of suspicion. I’m still monitoring…

But I do feel pretty justified now in my suspicions!!

I knew about the vessel above – I’ve seen them around. Apparently this simple olive oil receptacle found in virtually every Catalan kitchen, is considered an icon of Catalan design. The Marquina non-drip bottle (in Catalan: setrill antidegoteig de Marquina, in Spanish: aceitera antigoteo de Marquina) is traditionally a transparent and conical glass cruet designed to contain oil without dripping or dirtying, and was designed by a Catalan, Rafael Marquina, in 1961. The premise of the anti-drip-system bottle is that the little cone catches the drips and returns them to the reservoir in the bottle without leaving the bottle greasy or a spot on your table. Its success has led to countless copies of the design in metal and plastic as well as glass. I learned about them in my Catalan class along with other Catalan “inventions” such as the Chupa Chup. I recently tried the ever-popular Coca-Cola flavor, but they come in other fruitier flavors.

I was hoping to report on a fantastic celebration of St. John’s Day on June 23, also the summer solstice. I wrote about this day in an earlier post, “So Many Holidays.” https://susiessenioryearabroad.blog/2022/07/02/so-many-holidays/.
Begur’s celebration paled in comparison to the one I went to by accident, basically, a few years ago in Arties, a small town in the Pyrenees. It was still fun to be out amongst my fellow Begurencs. You can see the flames from the bonfire through the trees. Not a big crowd!

That’s all for now, folks. I leave for the U.S. from Paris on Tuesday, in keeping with my customary summer schedule. This time, besides visiting friends and family, there will be medical tests to check on the progress of my stomach cancer, or hopefully the lack thereof !

See you in September, unless something interesting happens! You never know!