Week 12 — how did this happen?  How did my three-month retirement version II turn into a four-month (so far) navel-gazing experiment in self analysis and self-enter-tainment?  We all know how it happened, but we don’t know how it will end, if ever.

I’ve been expending psychic energy over how and when I will get back to the US.  Update to taking dogs in the hold:  they won’t accept them in the summer.  That’s because although the hold is temperature controlled during flight, the pets may sit in the hold for quite a while prior to takeoff.  So, I’m back to square one waiting to find out if and when Americans can come here so I can get an escort back home with both dogs.  All of my MULTIPLE leads on finding a travel companion who is already in Spain have led to dead ends, though I am most appreciative to everyone who has tried to help!!  I still have one potential iron in the fire.

It dawned on me yesterday, that while I have begun to think of Begur as a second home where I might spend some months each year, when I leave this time, who knows when I’ll be able to return, or feel comfortable returning.  Carpe fucking diem, I tell myself!

The thing that keeps me here, wanting to stay here and wanting to return is so simple.  When I go for my walk, I pass other walkers and bikers on the street or path and we say “Hola, bon dia” in Catalan — that just makes my day right there.  Interacting with Catalans, Spaniards, and who-knows-what other nationalities with those same words of salutation in a language that is not my native one hits me – I’m living here.  “We’re” all in this together.  We’re all on the Costa Brava because we were born here or we adopted it and we love it.  And when life returns to “normal,” I’ll get to speak Spanish and a few words of Catalan to shopkeepers and waiters and townsfolk!!

Today’s excitement has been that while I was out walking, my dogs decided to knock a box full of green packing peanuts off of a chair.  When I returned, Cam had one dangling from his “beard”  and they were all over the floor.  Who knows how many they ate!  I took the peanuts and other trash to the recycle bins and when I got back (spoiler alert – I should have done this FIRST!), I looked up on the internet to see how dangerous it was for dogs to eat packing peanuts.  It said there are different kinds.  If the peanuts dissolve when put in water, they’re relatively safe.  But if they do not dissolve, they could cause a blockage because they are not digestible.  So, I headed back to the recycle bins to retrieve a peanut to test.  Yeah, you guessed it – the trash had been taken away.  It had only been 10 minutes.   I looked up pictures of the different kinds.  I think the ones I had were good, but I’ll be monitoring… Jeez.

What if I had waited a year to retire?  Oh, man!  I am sooo lucky!  or smart!  September 2018 through June 2019 was just about the best time ever, save when I was young and totally carefree and living in Spain!  But, that’s another story.

Last year I entertained nearly every close friend and family member I have and was able to show them Spain, in many cases, and travel to other parts unknown!  I’m sooo grateful!  After spending some days here together, or longer, I feel like I really got to know them in another, closer way (just one bathroom!).  It was grand and very fun and satisfying.  What if all of those plans had been for 2020?

There must be so many people who were looking forward to something in 2020 – a wedding (my daughter’s), a graduation celebration, some touchstone event that was abandoned or delayed.  I know that doesn’t compare to losing a loved one or being out of work, or hungry, but it still hurts I’m sure.

What a wonderful pleasure it will be when we are able to share meaningful experiences again and everyday ones in person!

Life is coming back around me whether I like it or engage in it or not.  The pleasure craft usage on the Med has shot up.  Again there are kayaks, paddle boards, jet skis, sail boats, and motor boats going by all day.  Last week there were NONE.  The hikers are back and the van-life people on the cul-de-sac are probably not far behind.  It’s reassuring and yet frightening.  Of course the folks on the ocean are not threatening to me, but what they represent is —  people, possibly infected people, are proliferating.  I’m normally a risk-taker to a degree and a germ non-believer (per my physician father), but this one’s got me believing and spooked.

In all the time I’ve spent at this apartment I’ve lamented not being able to see the sunset from my balcony, even though I have a fabulous sunrise vista.  It took me a while (duh), but I finally figured out that I could get a view of the sunset from the Mirador (lookout) on the next hill just above me.  I’d already taken a long hike yesterday, so I decided to drive to the top.  Just as I turned on the road, wouldn’t you know it, a cop pulled behind me and followed me all the way up.  When we arrived, one of the policemen came to my car.  I thought since restaurant terraces are opening and stores, why wouldn’t an outdoor lookout point away from everything be “open”??  Well, again, rules are rules.  According to the policeman, I could have walked there because it’s about 1 kilometer from my apartment and that is supposed to be the maximum you can walk for exercise.  Or, I could wait until next Monday when we go into the next phase of reopening.  He kind of gave me a wink, not literally, but letting me know that he thought it was ridiculous too, but that I needed to move on.  I guess I’ll find out about the sunset on Monday.

Re the babies next door, it’s the weekend and I’m starting to want to kill them.

 

I was going to write something different today, but then THIS happened.  First it was the toothpaste (harmless), then the champagne (not harmless)!

I’ve avoided going to the grocery store or anywhere in the public realm since March 14, except when I had to get a new tire.  I decided to go on Tuesday wearing mask and gloves and I intended, and I hope I achieved, buying enough food to last me until July, so I don’t have to go back again, maybe at all, depending on when I leave.  The liquor store opened on Monday, so I placed an order for pick-up and I made sure to get enough wine and Aperol to last until July.  I guess it was a “substantive” order because they threw in for free eight bottles of Cinzano spumante – I guess you’d call it a sparkling wine.

Eight bottles!  I asked my neighbors (pleaded) if they wanted some, but they declined.  I put a bottle in the fridge for a while and then tasted it.  It’s fine, but I just don’t think I’ll drink it.

Then suddenly, while I was minding my own business, luckily in my “spot” on the couch with all of my devices, there was an explosion – really loud – so loud the neighbors came running to see if I was all right.  One of those bottles of Cinzano spumante EXPLODED.  There was glass and sparkling wine everywhere in my kitchen.  Luckily !!! I wasn’t in the kitchen when it happened.  I’m taking the eff’ing spumante to the dump tomorrow.  I don’t want it in my house!

The worst part was I had to mop the kitchen floor.  And I don’t mop.  I’ve always depended on the kindness of roommates, husband, maid to take care of the mopping.  Yes, I’m spoiled, but I’m also terrible at it!  And my kitchen still smells like booze!

Another bullet dodged.

I looked up on the internet and “experts” seem to agree that bottles of champagne rarely explode anymore:  “Even though I’ve heard stories of bottles of Champagne exploding, those stories are rare now that glass bottles are machine-made—thick and quite structurally sound.”  Well, not so rare.  I took the remaining six bottles to the recycling center.  As I dropped each bottle in, it made the now familiar sound of a glass bottle hitting other glass bottles and shattering.  But at least three of the bottles I dropped in the bin exploded too.  I’m never going to feel safe again with one of those things in my house!  Such a shame.  I hope I get over it.

First, an update on my dilemma:  nothing new.  I did find out that should I choose to put one or both dogs in the hold of the plane, I’ll have to fly on a different airline than Delta, which is the airline that issued my original ticket.  Delta has an embargo right now on dogs in the hold and there is no clue as to when that will be lifted.  I can probably fly Iberia, but it may cost me.  I’m still waiting on a lead on a possible “dog mule”… but until then, I’m just going to forget about it for a couple of weeks and see if anything changes.  It seems like things are changing rapidly.  You never know…

At the moment, my immediate concern is that the babies are back!  Damnit.  Besides my lovely friends who live in the complex, there is a family directly across from me.  The adults are very nice.  The man owns a fiber optics company, so he is very helpful with computer/wi-fi issues.  The woman is very friendly.  But the children are screamers!  I think they’re like two and four.  The four-year-old squeals a fair amount, but the baby cries so loud so often, it’s unnerving.  I was thinking of starting a log to keep track of how often/how long he screams.  I think as an adult he may suffer a loss of range or strength in his vocal cords from overuse.  I know it’s been a long time since I’ve had a baby in the house, but I honestly don’t believe either of mine put up near this much fuss.  The other neighbors agree – we talk about it all the time.  I thought maybe there was something wrong with him.  But, there’s not.  My other neighbors and I commiserate and console ourselves by saying  the crying is at least reassuring that there is life outside our doors.

I don’t know if it’s a cultural issue that I have not observed, but I don’t think they pick him up when he’s crying.  They seem to ignore him.  I don’t hear them trying to calm him or placate him in any way.  He’s just a baby.  Why don’t they give him a pacifier for God’s sakes?  I really can’t overstate how much crying there is.  And because they’re Spanish, the kids don’t go to bed until after dinner, which is like 11:00 p.m. or so.

Last week, they disappeared.  They went back to their first home because the dad still has a lot of business and now that the virus has calmed down a bit here, it’s more convenient for them.  I was ecstatic.  It was so quiet here.  But they came back.  I hope it’s only going to be weekend torture from here on out.

 

It’s been a crazy week.  I may lose some of you as this is long, complicated, and probably boring, but I’m going to explain my dilemma about leaving here.  When the lock-down occurred, I probably could have gotten out of the country, but it would have required someone flying over here to help me transport the pets; it had to be done fairly quickly; and it would have been a MAJOR hassle.  So, for good or for bad, I decided to stay.  I had been planning to be here for three months; the car was paid for that time; and my rent was paid for that time.  It’s beautiful here and safe and I love it.

About a month ago, Delta cancelled my reservation for May 17, 2020, and so any hope I had of actually leaving in May was dashed.  I’ve been pondering since then how/when I could get back to the US.  This week I found out for sure…it’s not going to be easy. 

I called Delta.  There are currently no flights scheduled from Barcelona to the US until July 3, 2020.  I explained to the agent that I have two dogs and that the rule is one person-one dog to bring the dogs along in the cabin, but that I don’t have anyone already here to fly back with me.  I asked if it might be possible to get an exception made.  I’d asked this before and been told no, but I thought it might be worth asking again as times have changed significantly.  The agent made a provisional reservation for me on July 3, and gave me a number to call for Delta corporate to discuss a possible exception.  I must admit that as content as I am here, I had a momentary glimpse of what it might be like to get back and hopefully see friends I’ve missed.

It was momentary.  The Delta corporate agent listened to my story, checked with her supervisor, but the answer was the same — no exceptions.  I explained that it seemed unnecessarily risky to have a friend or family member fly to Spain just to escort a dog to the US.  She said understood, yada, yada, yada…

My next move was to contact the Embassy.  I’d been keeping this potential for assistance in my back pocket.  I wrote an email explaining my situation and that I needed an answer quickly because arrangements would need to be made, one way or the other.  I asked if they might be able to put me in touch with another American citizen who is waiting to fly back to the US, because I did not want to put my son, or anyone, in danger of potentially contracting the virus by flying here to retrieve me.  There are so many disclaimers on the Embassy’s website that I feared I would not hear back, at least for a while.  But hours later, they did respond.

I wasn’t expecting the response I received.  The email said that they could not give me the name of any US citizen who might be headed back because of privacy concerns.  Secondly, they said, my son would not be allowed to enter Spain as he is neither a Spanish citizen nor a resident.  So even though international flights would again be entering and exiting Spain, no US citizen in the States could come to my rescue.  This could change, but no one knows when.  Interesting article: https://www.thedailybeast.com/with-coronavirus-american-travelers-are-about-to-find-out-what-its-like-to-be-the-pariah?ref=scroll

That was a blow.  And that’s where it stands.  There are two alternatives that I briefly considered — either to leave my dogs here with a friend or to send them back in the hold of the plane.  I just can’t do it.  Besides that I love them very much, they’ve been my companions through this and I feel like I owe them, to protect them.

Basically, I’m stuck here until non-Spanish citizens/residents, specifically Americans, are allowed back into Spain — when might that be??? or even less likely, until someone I know or accidentally come across wants to fly from Europe to the US with me to take one of my dogs.  I’ve reached out on expat websites and to friends of friends who are living in Spain.  Hopefully one of these possibilities will come through.  So, that’s where it stands.  I’m trying to stay positive and mostly succeeding.  I love my adopted country, but I feel a need to be in my native one now.

Any viable alternative accepted. 🙃

PS:  Late today I talked with my neighbor here who told me his dog flew in the hold of the plane from Mexico City to Spain, and also that his vet said that hundreds of dog fly in the holds of planes everyday.  Although I’m skeptical and I’m going to continue to try to find a “dog mule,” as a friend referred to it, to help me take mine in the cabin,  if that falls through, I think I’ll consider it in order to come home.  I wish there were a better way… who freaking knew?

 

I think I need to go home now.  The lowest of blows, my relatively new MacBook Pro laptop just stopped.  No flashing light, no warning, no error message, nothing ….  The only reason I’m not starting to swim home is that I at least have a Methodist laptop with me.  I’m sure I’ll discover relatively soon that there is something I desperately need that is ONLY retrievable from my Mac.  Can’t worry about that now.

An interesting aspect of this pandemic which I have read about and I have also experienced is Covid dreams.  I rarely remember my dreams, but I have had three very vivid dreams involving flying – presumably because I am worried about getting home with the pups.  This week, I dreamed about a woman breaking into my garage to try to sell me life insurance.  When I ran next door for help, I found that they had opened a terrace where they were serving food.

Random comment, but recently I had to contact American Express because someone in Queens, New York had purchased $91 of food from Popeye’s on my card.  That’s a lot of chicken!

 

The weather here is curious to me.  In Houston, when there is a winter, the temperature nevertheless yo-yo’s between cold and pretty warm.  You wake up and it’s in the 40s but by afternoon it’s approaching 80.  And this can happen any month during winter, some years more than others.  It makes dressing for the day very difficult.

Here, it seems more consistent – lows in the 40s/highs in the 50s during winter, which gradually transitions to lows in the 50s/highs in the 60s.  Then, suddenly, one day it becomes summer.  And that was May 2 this year.  On May 1, I was still wearing three layers – long-sleeved shirt, sweater, hoodie.  On May 2 – shorts and a tee shirt.  Just like that.  Same thing happened last year.  Now, it’s low 60s to high 60s.  So far, it’s perfect walking weather.

I found these quotes that seem appropriate:

All things seem possible in May!  (Edwin Way Teale)
May, more than another other month of the year, wants us to feel most alive              (Fennel Hudson)

Now, my door onto the balcony is open most of the time, which brings bugs – flies and mosquitoes inside.  I thought there was a flyswatter here (matamoscas in Spanish) but I couldn’t find it.  It was an essential purchase!

Yesterday, the family next door went swimming in the pool.  I wouldn’t do that except maybe in August…hope I’m not here then…

 

Nothing much new this week, except I got to walk further than I have previously been allowed (reasonably close to home with dogs).  Now, we’re allowed to go one kilometer from home, but I went closer to 4.  If the cops stop me, I’ll plead ignorance.  I listen to podcasts while I walk, mostly “This American Life.”  If I don’t have something playing, my mind starts to wander and that isn’t good right now.  At the house, I keep it under control with my word games and jigsaw puzzles.

I ordered a guitar from Amazon.  I bought one a year or two before I retired, but I never found time to try to re-learn how to play.  I figure I have time now and I think it will make me feel like I’m accomplishing something, if I actually do it.  Maybe before I leave I can record something for you.  Ha!

I said in an earlier post that I was doing my hair and make-up every other day.  Well…that didn’t last.  Besides becoming lazier as this goes on, I’m also becoming more accustomed to seeing myself without makeup.  At one point in my life I wouldn’t have gone to the 7/11 without makeup.  My how times have changed.  Fuck it.

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Besides the obvious need for attention to my hair, my toes are in dire shape.  I took extreme measures last night and gave them a bath in olive oil, due to a lack of anything else!  It helped, but they smelled oddly and were very slippery for a while.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There’s a bench near the top of my hill on a promontory with a splendid view.

When I walk the dogs sometimes we stop and sit and I just look out at the vista.  Today I was thinking about Elizabeth Taylor.  She was here in 1959 making a movie of the Tennessee Williams’ play “Suddenly Last Summer” with Montgomery Clift and Katherine Hepburn.  It is probably the most exciting, news-making thing that has ever happened here.  Shortly after I arrived in 2018,  when I was at Begur’s City Hall finalizing my resident’s visa, I was told I wasn’t the only American to come to Begur.  No, they had Elizabeth Taylor!  I don’t know how long the filming lasted, but it made a big impression on the town.  In the camera shop in town, there are photos on display that the owner (I think deceased now) took of Liz and the crew while they were here.

I was thinking of her and how it must have looked to her then – the view she had was the same as I have everyday.  So we have that in common!  Plus I also loved Richard Burton!  I wish she were still alive.  I’d write to her.