There’s a scene in “The French Lieutenant’s Woman” where Jeremy Irons sees Meryl Streep at the end of a breakwater where the waves are crashing high and the wind is whipping and she is standing near the edge wearing a hooded cloak.  It’s a very dramatic scene of their reunion, made more dramatic by the setting.

I think of it often as I stand on my balcony.  Today the wind is steadily blowing at 35 mph, presumably with stronger gusts.  With the wind comes the salt blowing up from the Med covering everything, including my car in the parking lot.  I can hardly see out of the windows to drive.  And this will keep up for the next couple of days with no relief.  It’s truly beautiful.  The wind chimes are going to town.  All of the pillows from the couch have been blown out of the furniture and several small flower pots have bitten the dust.

The roaring, non-relenting wind is confusing to the dogs.  When we set out on a walk, they mainly just want to go home.  And when we get home,  we all look like we’ve been riding in a convertible all the way from Houston to Galveston!

Mother Nature is a powerful force here!!  La Costa “Brava.”

Wikipedia says “Mule train” may refer to: a connected or unconnected line of mules, pulling or carrying cargo or riders. Mule Train also is a 1949 popular song sung by Frankie Laine (PLEASE click on the link!).  I think of it almost every day when I’m walking my dogs.  I feel like I’m trying to steer mules!  For all of their lives with me, Cassie and Cam either have had a big backyard or a huge dog run to freely wander, sniff, and relieve themselves.  Now, however, because I live on cliffs overlooking the sea, they must be walked on leashes.  It’s a long way to the water and they don’t like to swim.  It would be all over.  So, I hold them tight and don’t let them get too near the edge.  There are several problems with this scenario — that they’re not very well trained is the biggest of these, but also I suppose there are many different and VERY interesting smells here.  They constantly pull as hard as they can trying to get into the bushes to get to God knows what.  I’m out there hollering at them like a crazy person and I have to practically drag them home.  It’s nuts!  It reminds me of taking the kids to the mall when they were toddlers.

That means I am the queen of the lower mountain in Catalan, I think!  I feel that I am.  My only neighbors on the mountain, a pretty large hill, actually, are moving to Barcelona next month.  After that, I’ll be the only one living here full time, probably until spring.  There is an older woman who lives at the top of the hill, but it’s just me below that.  When some of the apartment owners come on the weekends, I feel like they’re invading my space!

I used to say nature smature, because I didn’t care all that much about nature, or have time to pay much attention to it.  But here, now, I am surrounded by so much incredible beauty, especially  the constantly changing hues and rhythms of the sea.  Sometimes, it is calm like a lake with hardly a ripple.  At other times, it is like a washing machine, all fury and whiteness.  And it can change so quickly!

The colors of the sunrises in the morning over the Mediterranean and the sunsets in the afternoon, and the moon rising over the sea at night — I am endlessly amazed.  At night, I sleep with the window open and feel the sea breeze, sometimes more like a tornado, and listen to the waves, which can be almost deafening when it’s rough.  That’s why this area is called the Costa Brava – because the sea can be so “brave” and wild.

Covering my hill and elsewhere, there are pine forests interspersed with cacti and palm trees.  I hear the seagulls call and the doves cooing in the mornings.   I’m constantly overwhelmed.  Maybe it’s because I have time now…but it’s just too beautiful for my words.

The sea also provides endless entertainment.  There are all types of watercraft — from kayaks, wave runners, and paddle boards to sailboats, motorboats, fishing boats, and ferries, ocean liners, and freighters.  I always have my binoculars and camera at the ready!  At night, I can see the twinkling lights of Pals, L’Estartit, and Roses, the lighthouse on the Illes des Medes, and other lights farther away, which I believe are in France.  Yes, I can see France from my balcony!

 

My father was known for his love of and insatiable curiosity about food.  Maybe that was because of his upbringing in East Texas where he had plenty of fried chicken and chicken fried steak, but nothing “exotic” like spaghetti or Chinese food (until he met my mother)!  He was also known for choosing the most unusual item on the menu, just to try it.  He was probably the first person I knew who tried squid in it own ink in Spain.  The strangest to me and the one that made me gag a little was the dish of sparrows he had in rural France.  Those tiny, bony bodies…yuck.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, I inherited that love of food.  I often follow his lead, outside of organ meats or strong cheeses, to try the strangest thing on the menu.  Lots of menu items are unusual here or different, but “guacamole with mussels” seemed truly odd!!  When I inquired of the waiter as to what exactly it was, he said “ah…secrets of the chef.”  Then it came, and lo, it was a bed of guacamole with chopped cooked mussels on top.  Bizarro.   I would have taken a photo of it, but my phone was dead!

Another strange dish that is popular here is “migas,” which are not like Tex Mex migas, but a big bowl of bread crumbs with a fried egg or something else on top, and, strangely, grapes.  I had to order it just once, but I couldn’t believe I was eating a bowl of bread crumbs!

Another menu item that caught my eye was on McDonald’s billboards –french fries with bacon.  You can get just bacon, or bacon and cheese, or bacon and barbecue sauce.  I haven’t been to McDonald’s since my kids were small, but I am going to have to try fries with BACON!! I just read they’re coming to the US in 2019!

I’m certain there will be an update to this entry before the end of my time here!!

PS I’m proud to say this love of food was inherited by Fred’s grandchildren!

No, not tan cat, tancat!  I’ve not learned much yet in my Catalan class, but I know this word because it means closed.

At the end of September it started — a restaurant here or there would be closed.  Then, my favorite restaurant closed until April; stores stopped opening in the afternoon or opening at all.  The most convenient parking garage in town stopped opening in the evening.  Recently, they took all of the recycle bins at the stop near me away completely!

There are pro’s and con’s to living in a resort town in the winter.  There are fewer choices for dinner, but those of us who are left are the locals, and I feel like there’s a certain camaraderie developing.

I hate the word tancat now, but I know it will be exciting in the spring when all the signs begin to say obert!

My dogs at “camp:”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Addendum:  This is an addendum to my post of November 2018.

Can you believe it?  I had another freaking flat tire today when I ventured out to take my trash to the recycling.  The garbage men were there emptying the bins.  One of them noticed my tire was flat.  It was pretty flat.  I can’t believe I hadn’t felt it when I was driving.  Then, they changed it for me!  One of them jokingly made a gesture of showing his muscles and said “see, men come in handy sometimes!”  to which I said “YES!  sometimes!”  That was sooo nice of them and they certainly didn’t have to do it.  I made them each take 5 euros and said to please have a couple of beers.  Thank God.  Now I just have to get a new tire.  They told me car repair shops are essential, so, I’ll need to do that.

After I wrote the post below, I had another flat tire in June 2019.  That was an ordeal.  They didn’t have my tire in stock anywhere in town and it took two days to get one, all while I had guests in Barcelona waiting for me.  

November 2018:

The second day in Spain in my new car, I hit a curb on a curve going faster than I should have on a dark, narrow and winding road, and punctured the tire.  It entailed an expensive cab ride home from town and a trip to the repair shop the next day.  Peugeot, the lessor of my car, will reimburse me for the tire, but I must return the original tire when I return the car.  I’m storing the tire in the storage closet at my apartments.

Last week, in Barcelona, multiple people on the street, drivers, and motorcycle drivers let me know that I had a flat tire.  I called Peugeot and the guy they sent to change the tire told me the tire had been deliberately slashed by a knife.  He said that it is common that a motorcyclist will puncture your tire with a knife and then indicate that he will help you if you follow him.  I was too busy negotiating traffic to pay attention to what he was trying to say, so fortunately, I avoided being robbed!  The tire store where I replaced the tire confirmed that is what happened.

I am starting a collection of tires in my storage closet!

 

 

 

 

 

 

What a delightful and unexpected surprise to meet my daughter in Hamburg for three days in October!  Trip Advisor ranked the Miniatur Wunderland the top attraction in the city — miniature scenes of Venice, Rome, Switzerland, the Arctic, Las Vegas, etc., each created in great detail with people, trains, swimming dolphins, and even a working airport.

The other attraction I wanted to see was the recently completed ultra modern concert hall on the river.  Coincidentally, that evening the hall was hosting a concert by a famous flamenco singer, Diego El Cigala.  It was quite a show in a beautiful setting!  Here’s a nice clip of him https://youtu.be/K8HGzhsUuiY.

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Another must-do was an early morning visit to the fish market where vendors hawk their catch to the highest bidder while visitors drank beer, ate fish sandwiches, and danced to a classic rock band singing in English with a thick German accent.

Sausages, sauerkraut, and beer…what could be better?

 

 

Although I’m on the water, if I go down to the sea from my apartment, it’s just rocks, really big rocks.  There are several beaches in the vicinity, within about ten minutes’ drive, which you’ll see when you come visit me!

The closest beach to me is Sa Tuna, a small rocky beach like the French Riviera.  The next closest is Sa Riera, a nice wide sandy beach.  Aiguablava is a very popular beach with good beach restaurants.  The beach at Pals is huge.  I don’t know if there are ever enough tourists to fill it up, at least not in September!

In contrast, I visited the Costa el Sol in October and it was insane.  Tourists of every persuasion were swarming everywhere.  When I lived there in 1976, there were a series of towns between Malaga west to Marbella.  Now, it is one continuous strip of shops, hotels, restaurants, and all businesses catering to the foreign masses.

I know now that I made a very good life-style choice in coming to the Costa Brava versus the more familiar Costa del Sol.  It would have been easier and probably better weather-wise, but I feel like I live in a town that tourists visit versus a tourist destination.

Good move!

Sa Riera

The beach at Pals

Sa Tuna

Aiguablava

Yeah, that is the question.  This may be rambling and self-indulgent, but being alone in a country not your own makes you think about stuff like learning to just be, not for anyone else, not for pay, not for anything in return, but just being one’s self alone.

It takes time and getting used to.  Probably many retirees have contemplated the question of just who they are without a job, a title, or duties.

It will take more time yet.  Maybe I never will have an answer or have it figured out, but it is nice as the end of life approaches to be at peace with one’s self — the failures and the successes, and of course, the regrets.

The remoteness of my apartment and the absence of friends and neighbors at least for the moment, is affording me the time to contemplate these questions.  And being surrounded by infinite nature compounds the questions.

I’ll let you know if I figure it out!  But for the time being, I’m happy.  Cheers!

Not long after I spoke with my landlady about the washing machine, I was flushing my toilet (only toilet) and the handle came off in my hand.  Immediately, the rod attached to the handle sank into the bowels (ha ha) of the toilet.  It is still flushable — see ingenious McGuyver-like flushing apparatus — but, not optimal.  I was and still am embarrassed to tell her something else has broken!  This one was definitely not my fault. I have the names of two plumbers, so hopefully it will be fixed by the time YOU come to visit me!

Fingers crossed everything else remains operational!