Amazing!  Over the past 40 weeks here in Spain, I’ve hosted 30 friends and family!  I feel very blessed to have so many good friends who would take the time and effort to visit me here and allow me to show them my Spain.

Spain has always been a special place for me.  Many of you know this story, but some may not.  When my father was a resident he contracted tuberculosis.  In those days, recuperation required a lengthy bedrest.  An occupational therapist suggested to him that he choose something he could study while he was bedridden.  He began to paint and to study Goya.  Years later, when he had the money, my Dad wanted to go to Madrid to see Goya’s paintings in the Prado, and the whole family went.  Boom!  It was just like that – I was in love.  Just a year or so later, I declared Spanish to be my high school major and decided I would attend Newcomb College where I could take advantage of the Junior Year Abroad program to study in Spain.  The rest is my history.

I cried when I left Spain after my junior year, and I cried when I left Spain after Ellen and I spent a year on the Costa del Sol, and I’m crying now.  I suppose I feel a bit like what I read transsexuals feel (I don’t mean to trivialize their issues), but they say they feel they were born with the wrong body.  I feel like I was born in the wrong place.

I’m sorry to leave my lovely apartment, the town of Begur, and the friends I’ve made.  I’m certain I’ll be back!  Hasta luego…

This past 10 months I have seen a huge amount of Spain, a fair amount of France, and a small corner of Italy.  Some of my favorite places/things are, in no particular order:

• Greek and Roman ruins together at the same site in Empuries, Spain
• Blocks and blocks of ceramic stores in Bisbal d’Embordá, Spain
• Toc al Mar beach bar (chirringuito) at Platja d’Aiguablava, Spain
• The parador at Lleida, Spain (paradores are government-run inns, usually in historic buildings at scenic locations)
• The bullring in Pamplona, Spain where the running of the bulls is held every July, and where Hemingway wrote “The Sun Also Rises”
• The gorge in Ronda, Spain, especially at sunrise
• “Como Bailen los Caballos Andaluces” in Jerez, Spain, it’s called an equestrian ballet
• The top of the Rock of Gibraltar
• Gran Viana restaurant in Barcelona, where everyone knows my name
• Mussels in olive oil with TONS of garlic in Biarritz, France
• The prehistoric caves at Santillana Del Mar, Spain
• The Painted Forest by Augustín Ibarola in the Basque Country of Spain
• La Boqueria Market in Barcelona – this make require repeating
• La Boqueria Market in Barcelona
• The island of Menorca, Spain – everything, especially the town of Ciutadella
• El Hogar de Pollo in Menorca where they serve chicken, but also the very best seafood
• The Alcazaba in Segovia, Spain – I think it rivals the Alhambra
• New Year’s Eve at Les Quatre Gats in Barcelona
• Terraza Martinez on Montjuïc hill in Barcelona – good views and good paella
• Seeing “Westside Story” by myself in Madrid
• The Miniatur Wunderland in Hamburg, Germany – a model railway and miniature airport
• Sleeping on an airbnb boat in the harbor in Sitges, Spain
• The view of the back of Gaudi’s Casa Milà from my room at the Hotel Actual in Barcelona
• The feeling of awe and being totally overwhelmed by the beauty of the Sagrada Familia church in Barcelona
• Picasso’s Guernica at the Reina Sofia museum in Madrid
• The castle in Begur
• A three-hour lunch including lobster paella in Cadaques, Spain
• A totally local lunch in Valencia, Spain at the Alquería del Pou
• The mirador on the hill above my apartment
• A modern flamenco concert at Gaudi’s Casa Batllo
• A tribute to the flamenco guitar music of Paco de Lucía at the Palau de la Música Catalana in Barcelona
• Touching the orb held by the black Madonna at Montserrat, near Barcelona
• The windy, spectacular drive to Cadaques, Spain
• My teacher, classmates and my class in Catalá
• Seeing three people I knew from Begur in Peretallada, Spain in one day
• Wine tasting some of my favorite wines from the Bodegas de Juan Gil in Jumilla, Spain
• The massive Canfranc station in the Spanish Pyrenees, which provided an escape route into Spain for some Jews and Allied soldiers during World War II
• Rogny les Sept Ecluses, France with friends
• The Eiffel Tower, even in the rain
• Corinne’s Airbnb in Carcassonne, France
• Visiting on old friend at the O Mamma Mia Pizzeria in Fuengirola, Spain
• The city of Málaga
• Ullastret, home to ancient archeological Iberian remains
• Walking the fishermen’s paths near my apartment
• Huge shrimp in marinera sauce in the Cinque Terre, Italy
• Completing the walk between Riomaggiore and Vernazza, Italy – a killer
• ANCHOVIES
• Revisiting the island of Formentera, Spain, and the incredible views from the cliffs there
• The Sant Joan festival throughout Spain, where children and adults are drenched in water and then run through the fire coming off of burning logs!
• But mostly hearing and trying to speak Spanish successfully any day

And I could go on!

 

The Boar(s)

Twice I’d spotted a wild boar in the evening near my place. So ugly! I worried that some night I would take the dogs out for a walk and they or I would be attacked. So I always carried pepper spray and a big flashlight, which I flashed to alert any boars who might be nearby that there was a bigger predator.

Then one day, when I returned to Begur after being away for more than a week, I saw that the common yard was totally torn up by the boar(s). It frightened me a bit, but I was sure the boar(s) struck when I was absent – when there were no lights or activity.

A week or so later, the yard guys showed up with fresh dirt and grass. Voila- done! A few days later, however, when I got up, they had struck again…while I was there. I had not heard a thing, but I do sleep soundly. Thank you, red wine. So now, I’m VERY careful in the yard!

 

The $500+ Chocolate Bar

It was all my fault! I left the giant chocolate bar in a trash bag that could be and was breached by my dog Cassie, my always hungry hunter.

I had gone for a walk and was away from my apartment for about an hour. When I returned, I noticed immediately that the trash bag was in tatters on the floor…and then I saw it – a chocolate turd, which was what was left of the bar.

I normally would have poo-poo’ed the scary alerts about dogs and chocolate, but the bar was VERY thick, VERY dense, and VERY dark. I did not want to drive two towns over to see a vet I had never met and have to explain the situation in Spanish, but I did. Fear of being the dog-mom who ignored the risk was greater than my dread of dealing with strangers in a strange situation.

Thank goodness I took her! The vet gave her charcoal to make her throw up and then pumped her stomach. He said there was A LOT of chocolate in her. She stayed two nights at the veterinary hospital. I was told that the first night she had several episodes of brachycardia, a slow heart rate. The vet made it clear that she was in danger, that it could potentially be lethal.

She made it! I am so happy to have my baby back! And so is her brother, Cam! And I’m very grateful to Costa Brava Hospital Veterinari.

*The reference is to lyrics I heard in a song by Jakob Dylan (son of Bob), and I have to agree.  Besides the metaphorical, it seems true literally — my dog walk, the castle in Begur, and especially the mirador (lookout) above my apartment.

Recently, I took some guests up to the mirador to impress them.  A Brit who was in a van parked at the spot told us that he had retired from his job in England, sold his belongings, bought a van, and set out to see Spain and all of its coasts.  He started in San Sebastian and headed west, following the coastline of Portugal to the southern Spanish coast, and ultimately north to the Costa Brava.  He declared that this view was the finest he had seen in all of the Iberian Peninsula.  I heartily agree!

Each person who has visited me at my apartment has said that it is more beautiful than my photos.  Sorry I can’t capture it all for you to see…

From the mirador…(make sure your device is on mute – I recorded on a day when it was very windy and it’s quite loud).  Of course, this does not capture the full view!

Bonus photo of my most beautiful sunrise to date!

 

I noticed in the grocery stores that there is a wide variety of potato chips that we don’t have in the US.  Those flavors include:

• Ham & Cheese
• Chicken
• Iberian Ham
• Fried Egg
• Caviar
• Olive & Anchovy
• Black Truffle & Sea Salt
• Goat Cheese & Onion
• Worchestershire
• Bacon & Cheese
• Paprika
• Prawn Cocktail

I held a blind taste test of these flavors with my guests as the unwitting judges.  They were not informed of the flavor of the chips prior to tasting — and strangely, they often could not identify the taste even after being informed of the name.

Some were judged to be truly grotesque – the chicken, the caviar, and the fried egg flavors were especially revolting.   I thought the Worchestershire chips weren’t bad, but no one else agreed.  The Paprika were tolerable.  Prawn-flavored??  Yuck!!!  Even though bacon and cheese sounds like it could be good, after all it has bacon….forgeddaboutit!  Not that we (in the US) don’t have some unappetizing chip flavors, but just sayin’… I think I’ll stick with my Marcona almonds as a snack!!

 

 

 

Actually, I think they are called “shitters” in Catalan.

This strange Catalan customs pays tribute to the traditional shepherd who relieves himself in the field.  The typical figure wears a red hat and squats with his pants down, taking a dump.  These figures actually appear in Christmas nativity scenes!!

Non-traditionally, other characters have been made in the same stance — usually political  or pop culture figures.  I actually saw one of the Virgin Mary — which I really thought was going too far.

Additionally, at Christmas, there is another tradition in Catalunya of a shitting log called the Tío de Nadal (Christmas log).

Beginning with the Feast of the Immaculate Conception (December 8),  the tió is given a little bit to eat every night and is covered with a blanket so that he will not be cold. In the days preceding Christmas, children must take good care of the log, keeping it warm and feeding it, so that it will defecate presents on Christmas Day or Eve.  I’m not making this up.

I think they are a little obsessed with shitting, personally.

I’ve always felt safe in Spain, and I still do, in spite of having now been involved in three separate criminal incidents, all in Barcelona.  It is a big city and tourists make easy targets, I suppose.

The first incident I wrote about earlier — my tire was slit by a motorcyclist hoping to persuade me to let him “help” me repair the tire — a ruse to rob us.

The second and third incidents occurred within 24 hours.  My friends Don and Doug, owners of the highly rated bed and breakfast, Oakhill Inn in Natchez, and I were returning to our Airbnb apartment in the Gothic Quarter after dinner, when we were approached by a man who appeared to be drunk.  He said he wanted to dance the rhumba with us!  Pretty quickly, my friends deduced that it was a scam.  At the same time another guy appeared, seemingly to warn us that we were about to be robbed.  The first guy then grabbed a rubber hose from a nearby trash bin and swung it at Don, missing.  I got the door open and we leapt inside, but we were shaken.  Don thought the two might be working in concert, but we’ll never know.

The next morning when we went to retrieve my car from the parking garage on our way to Montserrat, we discovered that the driver-side rear window had been shattered.  Nothing was taken – I had left a leather jacket and another coat in the car, along with a few other things.  Only my time was stolen — my punishment, I suppose, for being a tourist with a foreign license plate.  My car is leased through Renault Eurodrive and so bears red French plates, different from all of the other EU plates.

It took almost 6 hours to be on our way, having to change all plans in order to report the incident to the garage management, report to Renault Eurodrive, make a police report, take the car to the Renault Dealership for repair, and go to the airport to rent a temporary car.  What a day!  It was tedious, sometimes confusing between English, Spanish, and French, but in the end, accomplished.  The highlight was meeting Ruth, an internal auditor for Renault who happened to be at the dealership.  She took it upon herself to help us through the process — though it was in no part her job — and then take us for beers next door while we waited.  She even had a beer herself and a few cigarettes and then went back to work!

In the end, it was only a loss of time, but I may not take my car into Barcelona in the future.  Live and learn!

We finally made it to Montserrat!

Below is the abbey built on the mountain of Montserrat (meaning serrated mountain in Catalan) founded in the 11th century to enshrine the image of the Black Virgin, the Virgin of Montserrat.  It was rebuilt in the 19th century.  The Abbey is beautiful, but the mountain is spectacular!!

 

 

I’m definitely not a race car driver like AJ.  I tend to drive just above (or below) the speed limit.   I believe now, however, that I could drive the Le Mans in my spiffy Renault.  I love driving the winding roads leading from Begur to my apartment.  The roundabouts no longer intimate me.  And I’ve driven several high mountain roads with no railing and no middle line. You have to trust that your fellow drivers will be in their own narrow lane when you turn the curve.  In Menorca, I drove down some extremely narrow roads, cursing most of the way — usually, Holy Shit!! There have been other single lane roads where I turn a curve and meet a car going in the opposite direction and it becomes a game of chicken as to who will go in reverse until someone can pass.

This past week in Sitges, I not only drove on and over several sidewalks, but at one point, I had to maneuver around a family sitting at a table on the sidewalk eating lunch!  And it was totally legal!

I believe I have become an AWESOME driver!

I miss everyone!!

Pre-retirement and for the last 35 years, I have lived in a constant hurry.  There was never enough time!  I had little patience for those who drove too slowly or walked too slowly!  I always used to say that I did not understand people with no sense of urgency.  I LIVED with a sense of urgency all of the time.

It occurred to me recently, that I’ve lost it!  One day, I planned to catch the train to Barcelona for the day, but I overslept.  I could have hurried and made it, but I dismissed that thought.  I figured I’d go the next day, and I did.  I know this is a by-product of retirement, but I never figured it would happen to me.  I lived on adrenaline and stress!  More coffee, please!  Now, I cannot even imagine hurrying.  I don’t know if I can.  I’m curious to see if the pace back in the US will awaken my prior time clock when I return.

And the siesta is still a thing here!  Bigger stores and businesses stay open all day in the larger cities and in tourist areas, but in Begur, even the gas station closes for several hours in the afternoon.  Can’t buy gas during lunch!! What’s confusing is that they all have different hours.  Some close from 1:30 to 4:00 or 2:00 to 4:00 or 1:00 to 4:30.  How’s a person to know?  That’s the point.  They don’t care.

So, I’m living more slowly on a day-to-day basis, but I’m still in a hurry to do everything I can in the time I have left.  Onward!! At my pace…

 

I’ve always valued my friendships and have made an effort, which did not feel like any effort at all, to maintain those friendships.  I feel very fortunate to have a lot of close friends and a stable number of very close friends.

I feel profoundly the lack of friends who are present in my life now – few new friends to interact with day-to-day, or less frequently by email or text.  That being said, it makes me seriously appreciate those of my friends who have reached out to me through means that are not always easy or rote.  A WhatsApp or FaceTime video call makes my day!!

I am at the halfway mark of this adventure, and I feel pulled from time to time to consider what form my next adventure will take, but I am trying to stay focused on the now and leave the future for the future.

Thanks to those of you who have reached out.  I am grateful and I look forward to renewing our ties when I return…

Love.