After arriving in Begur in 2018, I joined a class to learn Catalán. It was a twice-a-week class that was free and pretty casual and unstructured. The other students were from France, Germany, several Latin American countries, Morocco, and Spain. Over the course of the year, I was out of town a lot with visitors from the States, so I attended as I could. I met some other expats in the class and made a few friends. The teacher was kind and funny and we all loved her. But in the class…I only learned basic vocabulary. Well, you have to start somewhere, but after eight months of classes, I still could not construct a sentence. No verbs were involved and verbs are essential!

Last year, classes were not offered during the pandemic, but when I got back to Galveston, I found a Catalán teacher online and I began taking classes two days a week for an hour each day. My teacher is warm and charming and a very good teacher. I can now make sentences in Catalán!! I know verbs!

This week, my teacher arranged a conversation over coffee (well, they had coffee — it was morning in America, but happy hour for me) with another of her Catalán students. This young man is hoping to attend the University of Barcelona next fall. He’s very intelligent and especially gifted in languages. He is also studying Russian and Thai at the same time as he’s studying Catalán!! My teacher only has one other student of Catalán, but that student was not invited to the coffee klatsch because my teacher said that student was not on my “level.” Not on my level??? What a joke. The young man did know some things I did not in Catalán, but at the same time, I knew some things he did not! It was such fun.

Language to me is everything. Connection with others is what it’s all about. And I love having those connections with people from another culture. It’s my favorite thing. The first time I made a joke in Spanish and a Spaniard laughed, I felt like I had won an Academy Award!

I’m still hoping to brush up on my French a little. I may spend a few days there over Christmas, and again next summer. But Catalán is the priority right now. It’s important to me to pay respect to the people who live here to try to speak to them in their native language, the language that represents this place. It happens everywhere, of course…immigrants come to a country for whatever reason, but never assimilate, never learn the language or the customs. I don’t understand that. I’m going to try…

PS Cassie has always been my “bad” dog – eating things she shouldn’t, but last night I found a dead bird on my bed! Cam must have carried it in inside of his mouth undetected. Nothing to see here! Yuck.

PSS Happy Halloween!! Couldn’t help but share my adorable grandchild.

As if jumping through hoops and living in suspense for months wasn’t enough to get my long-term visa issued by the Spanish Consulate (finally!), I also have to obtain a foreigner’s identity card. To do this, I have to register with the City Hall in my town to get a stamped certificate saying I live here, and then take that certificate, plus passport photos, my health insurance, and multiple forms to a police station in my province to apply for the ID card. When I filled out the online form to get an assigned appointment time, it offered me the choice of two offices — one two hours away in a small town in the mountains! and the other three hours away. Really?? I hope I can figure this out and not have to drive so far, because inevitably, I will be missing some piece of information and will have to return on another four or six hour trip! And the first available appointment in the closer office is in December – so a pleasant jaunt in the mountains in the snow! Yippee. Maybe twice.

Speaking of time, when I turned on my dishwasher for the first time, the panel lit up in yellow, saying “3:30.” I thought that meant the time, but it meant the cycle would take three hours and thirty minutes! Longer than the two hour and thirty minute cycle for clothes! Jeez. And the coffee machine! I’ve mangled so many of the capsules. I keep thinking I’ve gotten it figured out and then I screw up another one. I’m just not good with appliances. Or they’re not good with me!!

This country is endlessly fascinating to me. Today I saw an article about an annual event (now largely symbolic) when shepherds lead their flocks of thousands of sheep through the middle of Madrid. Imagine being a tourist heading to the Prado for an afternoon visit, turning a corner and seeing this! Baaa!

There are various ways to reach me. I still have access to my text messages when I am in my apartment or somewhere with wifi. But the best way to contact me is through WhatsApp on my Spanish number. +34 666 379 917. Obviously, also email, sw6252@gmail.com, and my mailing address is: Carrer Sa Nau Perduda, Apartado Correos 34, Begur, Girona, 17255, Spain.

The mornings here are still impressively beautiful and the nights are still sparkly… Stay in touch !

The first time, I spent 10 months in Begur, and it was a delight and full of advanture….

The second time, I spent 8 months in Begur, and it was interesting… you know, the Pandemic, getting stuck with the dogs, etc.

What will the third time in Begur be like?

I never thought it would be a full year between the time I left Spain in October 2020 and I returned here to Begur, but COVID restrictions/vaccinations, a beautiful new grandson, and getting my visa from the Spanish Consulate delayed my departure.

Getting here was not easy! Although I started the process of gathering the paperwork for my long-term visa application in April, and submitted it to the Consulate in early July, I was told that my FBI background check authenticated by the US State Department was too old. Ay caramba! The rules are complicated and rigid! That meant I had to start over and wait…and wait…and wait…. All of my correspondence with the Consulate stated plainly that my plane ticket was for October 1 and the lease for my apartment, the lease for my car, my health insurance all started effective October 1. I pleaded for information, but the Consulate’s website materials all plainly announce that they will give NO information about visa status by phone or email. And there is no entry into the building without an appointment.

On September 29, around 1:00 p.m., I broke down. I cried. Until then, I had held out hope. I’m an optimistic person and I just hoped and hoped. But at that late hour, I decided that I needed to face facts. Plans would need to be changed. I started to talk myself into acceptance, and that maybe some good things could come out of the delay. Maybe I’d lose the five pounds I’d gained in New York waiting for my grandson to be born! Then, at almost 4:00 p.m., less than 48 hours until flight time, the Consulate called me and asked if I could come to their offices the next day at 9:00 a.m. to pick up my visa. What a surprise! That’s an understatement. I had to re-adjust my re-adjusted thinking and do a million things to get ready to leave!! I was more-or-less packed, but there were lots of details to attend to.

But, we made it – two dogs, me, and my charming and competent dog mule, Melissa.

After a brief stopover in Paris and Rogny-les-Sept-Ecluses to see my friends from last summer, I’m finally here in Begur. It’s beautiful, it’s familiar, and it’s my home for the next 9 months.

My Catalan teacher asked me what I was most looking forward to when I arrived. Making contact with my friends here was number one, of course, but second on the list was to eat some good food, and I have!!

I can’t wait to have more to report and I hope it will be more exciting than Pandemic Week 14!!

I’ve really missed writing my blog entries so much!

Cod with aioli, honey and tomato; artichoke with ham; remains of Catalan paella; anchovies in vinegar with olives!!!

Benvinguts! Welcome back!!

Even though I don’t really want to leave Spain, I do love to pack. I love to organize my things and I pack way in advance, and often unpack and repack multiple times. In advance of travel, I packed a baggie full of enough dry dog food for a couple of days that I could keep in my carry-on bag to be sure I had access to it wherever I was staying along the way. Done. Then I found the ripped up baggie that the food had been in. Cassie had found it in the carry-on and of course eaten it all. So, the next day, I filled another baggie with dry dog food and I put it in the zippered compartment of my carry-on. No outsmarting Cassie!! She unzipped the pocket, extracted the baggie and ate it all. Again. Before I started keeping the door shut to the room where I was staging the packing, she also ate a carton of Knorr beurre blanc sauce. I’d bought it in France and I was really excited to take it home to try it on some Texas Gulf Coast fish! She got the carton totally out of the plastic baggie and ate all of the liquid sauce out of the carton without leaving one drop in the carton and without spilling any inside the suitcase. I think she’s smarter than I am. She is the worst!

I bought a bag of the hot dog potato chips. Really not bad. I could definitely taste the mustard and ketchup as shown in the picture. Also, the flavor of hot dog really came through. I wonder how they do that…I hate to think. I noticed there’s a hot dog in the picture with lettuce on it. Novel.

For good measure, I also tried another new flavor. I don’t know how they keep coming up with so many delicious (tongue-in-cheek) flavors. This one is chorizo AND fried egg. They were pretty gross. My taste buds may not be the most refined, but I couldn’t taste the egg, chorizo yes, unfortunately.

And for your amusement…

I feel totally ridiculous in this get-up (and WAY TOO blond!), but prepared for travel…

This morning I was foolishly feeling confident about getting everything done before leaving when the zipper on one of my suitcases broke. It may have had something to do with being overstuffed, but also it is a bad zipper in a cheap suitcase from the China store. I had to go get another one.

So this is my farewell blog post for a while. This experience couldn’t have been more different from last year when I had 30 visitors and was constantly traveling. It’s been eye-opening in ways. I’m sure you’ve all had some epiphanies. Leaving is sadder this time because I don’t know when I’ll be able to come back due to the virus/border closings/unwanted American passports.

What I do know is that I’m very lucky to have found this corner of Spanish paradise and wonderful friends who will be here for me whenever I can return. Love you all! Un peto.

My whole visit here and uncertain return has hinged on bringing my dogs home safely. Finally, after finding a traveling companion, I thought all was in order. But, ha ha! No! Delta re-routed me from Barcelona through Paris to NYC after cancelling my non-stop flight. That would have been bad enough, but the flight from Barcelona to Paris was scheduled to leave at 6:15 a.m. I’m just not going to do it. After a couple of hours, literally, on the phone with Delta, I’m leaving Barcelona a day earlier, spending the night near Charles DeGaulle, and arriving JFK on my scheduled date of October 11. This whole process is stressful for me because the airlines are in complete control and at any moment they could cancel the flight or say, sorry, the dog carriers are one inch too long, or there´s some detail I missed in the paperwork. It’s humbling and unsettling.

On a lighter note, when I first got back to Begur and saw the balcony at my new apartment, I was THRILLED. Because it’s on the second floor, there’s no roof above me, just sky, and because I’m on the north end, there’s nothing blocking my view of the mountains (where snow fell this week). I really thought I’d hit the jackpot!

THEN, the wind came. I think it was only about 35 mph, but that was sustained for hours and I think there were higher gusts. The table, which is fairly heavy, was moving and the chairs were skating. A couple of the shutters are broken, so I had to tie one to the radiator in my bedroom to keep it from banging open and closed. The dogs were scared and so was I! Maybe if I come back here, the apartment with the balcony with the lovely view of the sea, and a roof and wall will be my pick!

Answering my Spanish telephone has always been a bit challenging. It’s usually someone I don’t know and who doesn’t know I’m not a native speaker and they just start rattling in Spanish and I have to try to grab some key words so I can figure out who it is and what they want. Today I got a call and I swear I thought she said “I’m calling from the Department of Alcohol”! I thought WTF? How do they know? Turns out it was Vodafone my mobile phone carrier. I don’t know how I got it that wrong, but I was greatly relieved for once that it was a solicitation call!

I guess it’s come down to this — I have to admit that I’m a ditz; I can be flaky.

First, whe I was leaving France for Spain, I planned to stop and spend the night halfway because I don’t enjoy long car trips. I made a reservation at an inexpensive European chain hotel in Clermont-Ferrand. I’d driven about 2.5 hours, and I was almost there, when I got a call from Susan that I’d left both of my computers, tablet, and some important papers that were all in the same bag. I had to think fast. I knew in theory that Susan could pack it all up and send it to me, but it would take time and effort, and although the risk was low, there was some risk. So…I turned around, drove back to Rogny, and spent another night. I had to drive all 10 hours the next day, damn it.

Then, first day back in Begur, I walked out of my apartment and left the keys inside. The door locks automatically. Shit. Xavi, my neighbor, said he knew a woman who knew a woman who cleaned apartments there who certainly would have a key. Another neighbor said the same thing. He knew a woman who knew a woman who worked for a company that cleans apartments. After more than a few phone calls, including Xavi calling his mother, we hit a dead end. Both women worked for different companies, and neither was the one that cleans my apartment. Then Xavi remembered that another neighbor had a ladder. That guy was having a soccer lesson or something, but when finally reached by phone, he didn’t have a ladder. Finally, Xavi remembered that the neighbor with no ladder had a key to the upstairs apartment two doors down from mine. So, Xavi climbed over a couple of walls and then the balustrade to let me in.

He’s such a nice guy that it was a terrible shame when two days later I did it again. At least then we knew the plan, but the guy with the key was out of town, so he had to call and get the code for the alarm. Ay ay ay. I had two extra keys made. One is in my car, and Xavi has the other, just for good measure.

The next night my doorbell rang at about midnight! It was a guy who lives across the street. I’d seen him walking with his golden retriever sometimes. He’d locked himself out of his apartment and needed to call a locksmith. Unlike me, he hadn’t left windows open. I took him to Xavi, who I knew would know what to do.

That’s all the stupid stuff I’ve done just in one week’s time!

The most exciting thing that’s happened this week is that I have conquered the garbage situation. When I was here last year, my landlady told me there was no garbage pickup at the apartments. So, garbage became my hobby. It took a lot of time. They are very serious about recycling here and there are five categories of garbage: glass, plastic, paper, food/organic, the “rest.” So, I had to keep five separate containers for the garbage and then haul it all to the recycling bins by car. Now, the town has expanded pickup to the environs of Begur including where I live. I was very confused about the pickup days. The instructions on the refrigerator magnet in English, Spanish, French, and Catalan explain that garbage is picked up FIVE days a week!! Can you believe it? I think some places in the states have pickup once a week or less. But the confusing part to me is that the days listed are for the putting out of the trash, not the picking up of the trash. So when it says “Monday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Sunday,” it really means “Tuesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Monday.” I couldn’t get that to compute at first, but now I’m chugging along…Yeah!

Today at the grocery store I was startled to see there is a new flavor of potato chip, or at least I missed it last time around…

And after a nasty morning storm, this happened. I love the aquamarine…

I’m back to my home that’s not my home. It’s strange to be in a different apartment in the same complex (only 12 units). I arrived on the weekend of September 11, the national day of Catalunya, which has a different meaning here. While most nations celebrate a victory day, the Catalans chose a day of defeat commemorating the fall of Barcelona during the War of the Spanish Succession in 1714. Because September 11 was on a Friday, it was a “puente” (literally a bridge, but meaning a long weekend). I was slightly horrified when I arrived that the town was packed with tourists and second home owners just as it was when I left in July! The parking lot of my complex was full and there were cars on the street and people everywhere. It was disheartening. But then on Monday morning, voila! They were gone!! School started and everyone scattered. It’s wonderful to be here in the peace and quiet and beauty of the place. I couldn’t be happier!

That said, I’m ambivalent about leaving to come home. I’ll be flying out of Barcelona with my new French friend and my two dogs in October, almost five months after my originally scheduled departure date. I hate that there is a murderous virus out there and I didn’t enjoy feeling like a prisoner held somewhat against my will, but it’s been wonderful and dispiriting and challenging and instructive and I wouldn’t change the experience for anything.

I’m dreading the travel back to the States. I bought a face shield, which I’ll wear with my N95 mask I’ve been saving. I plan to quarantine myself in Galveston when I get back. Who knows what kind of people and germs I could come in contact with during the trip!

Hope to see each of you in some safe space very soon!! Of course, I have a few more weeks of adventure before I leave… I love it!

I get emails from a French food company, La Belle-Iloise, because I’ve ordered some products from them. They sell fancy canned tuna and sardines of various types. But, for you Texans, you’ll be glad to know that you can get a jar of your favorite “famous Texas recipe” for Mackerel Chili made of white beans and chunks of mackerel! Yum! Those french have got our number!

As I leave France, I’m not sure how I can ever thank her.  My friend and recent ex-housemate, Susan, gave me a home, and a fabulous home, when I really needed one.  I was stuck in Europe alone with my canine dependents, without a place to stay for at least six weeks (and it turned into eight!).  I tried my best to repay her by cooking dinner often, sometimes successfully, and other times adequately, and being the bartender.  But there was a big deficit to overcome – her cats were forced into their own one-room quarantine for nine hours a day, while my dogs lived free.  If by chance the dogs came into visual contact with one or both cats, all Hell broke loose – running cats, screaming mimi dogs.  Although I’m affable, adaptable, and amenable to most anything, I also have some drawbacks.

Susan, besides being good company and a brilliant raconteur (even though I can’t remember all of the cast of characters in her extensive array of anecdotes), came up with the very good ideas that eventually got me back to Spain and hopefully, by extension to home in the near future.

I can never thank her enough.  And obviously, my dogs were crazy about her.

Au revoir, Susan!  I know I will be back in Rogny again some day…

…

It was a long trip back to Spain, but I have arrived. Same location, different apartment, and slightly different (better) view. I’m looking forward to enjoying it for a few weeks before heading back to the States. More details as they become available.

I eff’ed up again. I accidentally published the above photo last week and when I attempted to update it with the text, the website read it as a revision, not a new post, so it wasn’t sent out automatically on Friday as I had scheduled. Whoops! Some of you have already read it because you went directly to the website. If this is a repeat for you, sorry…

I didn’t move across the street to the Presbytère (explanation to follow) on Monday as planned. One of the neighbors, occupant of the Presbytère, had a dental issue requiring him to stay in the area. So, I moved in on Thursday. It’s nice to have a full-sized bed to share with Cassie and Cam, but I really felt more at home in my nest at Susan’s place. Some of you may know, but I didn’t, that it’s called the Presbytère (Presbytery in English) because it was the rectory or home of the priest in the village. The village is so small, and shrinking, so there’s not a full-time priest living here. The neighbors bought it some years back. The house dates to the mid-1700’s. It’s very charming.

I appears my request for an extension of my visa has been approved by the French authorities!!! I say “appears that” because the person who answered the phone said that it had been approved, but that it was still being processed. He said the person in charge of my application for an extension was not in the office. She is the one in charge of the “W’s” — of course! Anyway, it means that I’ll be legal for the time period while I’m waiting to leave. I’m greatly relieved!

I thought I’d add a couple of humorus photos from the French grocery store.

On my walk the other day, I encountered an old French, I suppose, hippie leading three mules pulling a wagon filled with baskets. The wagon looked like a gypsy wagon, but he didn’t look like a gypsy – just your ordinary door-to-door salesman selling baskets out of a wagon pulled by mules.

Next week, I’ll report from Spain, God willing!! They’re talking about closing the border again. Jeez.

I guess I’m a day late and a dollar short. I thought yesterday was Thursday!!

I’m moving across the street on Monday, still in Rogny, but now I’ll be living on my own. The neighbors left for Brittany for their annual vacation and I’ll be watching the chickens and watering the plants. Now I just have to worry about my dogs killing chickens instead of cats. Ayayay! Two of them (the neighbors) have serious underlying health issues, so we’ve been distancing and I’m wiping down my rooms. I’ll still make dinner for Susan and visit out on her lovely patio every evening, while during the day, I’ll have plenty of opportunity to quietly ponder my uncertain future.

My French dog mule has sent her passport for renewal, so that’s underway. I’ll probably make a reservation soon to come back, but it may have to be “flexible” because we have to wait for her new passport to arrive.

In the meantime, I’ve decided to go back to Begur for a few weeks before leaving for the US. An apartment in my same complex is available! Yeah! And, incredibly, it has even better views than the last one. This apartment is upstairs from my old one and on the end of the building, so it has unobstructed views of the mountains and the coast north of Begur. I’m very excited about driving back “home” although I will be a little sad to leave my friend and the village of Rogny. It’s been such a lovely place to be for almost two months. I’m feeling at home here and sentimental about it.

But this is my spot!! (Below)

PS: Sorry for Lake Charles, but so so glad Galveston dodged the bullet of Hurricane Laura!! It would have been ironic and sad if, now that I’m sort of homeless, I lost my only real home.

So, I have some progress for now, and hopefully I can report on real plans soon. Fingers crossed!