Life: Idiotropic

Ahhh. I've found my beach. Just 25 minutes from my house in a nice village with a long boardwalk with small vendors that set up each evening selling ice cream and imported clothing and jewelry. The beach and it's boardwalk seem to stretch out forever, long and wide with silky soft sand and aqua water shallow enough to wade out into as far in as the dunes are away - it's wonderful. Gentle waves with no undertow. Lifeguards. People in all shapes, sizes, and colors playing paddle ball, jumping in the waves, reading in lawn chairs, and walking. I've never seen so many people just walking the beach. I am a beach walker. Sitting still has never appealed to me, and here, I will not be alone. As I watched the girls play, I saw in the constant flow of people obscuring the view from my lens, many people walk by once, then return, and some even walk back and forth several times in the time we were there.

Topless is the norm. And while I cannot imagine the pain of a sunburn, well, there. I also am learning to just not notice, or not be bothered. It's just normal here. So there they are. Bouncing, hanging, swaying as the ladies walk. Brown, white, red. And though I don't think it's particularly attractive, eh, it's their country and if my little ones have noticed, they must not care. No, I won't acclimate here quite that much.

So far Luci and I have been disappointed by the scarcity of shells, but we were able to find a handful. Jut a handful, but that was enough to console us, the beach combers of the family. Leaving a beach without a shells is like returning from a trip without a single photo.

Not to leave without a bit of "strange" - not that the beach attire wasn't strange enough - we returned to our car parked just in front of a stage now congested with an ecclectic assortment of sweaty people wearing some sort of shoe elevated from the ground on a bouncy oval. Aerobics in funny shoes. Sweat, the handful of awkward ladies who were clearly lost, the girls who couldn't concentrate with their tongue in their mouth, and the instructor wearing a thong under the ill chosen white yogi (not yoga) pants clinging damply.

We watched that for a good 10 minutes before driving away, then laughed hysterically later at the photos I took... the facial expressions and the women who really needed more support. :)

Loving Spain.

PHOTOS: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=131455&id=674507268&l=646d88e2b5

This is Alex. She was a stray cat that lives in the gardens at the place that we're staying. From the first day we arrived, the girls have showered her with love, affection, and a name. Arianna is the one that named her. Elise picks her up and carries her all over the place. Alex just goes limp in her arms and tolerates it all. She purrs, she follows us around. She is absolutely wonderful. Within a week the girls were campaigning to keep her. Kirk thought yes. I said no thinking that Misha is old and shouldn't have to deal with another cat. Two days ago I noticed that her belly was getting big and her teats were swollen. Alex is pregnant. I thought yes. We need to make sure these babies have a chance. Kirk said no. But then, he saw Alex laying on "her" chair on the porch. He saw how the girls loved on her. He likes tabbys anyway. Then he fed her all the leftover scampi. That was it. There's no going back now. So, we now have enlarged our family by 4 paws. She'll have her kittens in a couple weeks (I think) which will be a wonderful experience for the girls. Then, when they are old enough, we will find homes or take them to the shelter with the hope for a happy outcome.

Misha is still with us. She's 21 and starting to really show it, but she did wonderfully on the move and I think she likes the small accommodations where she can't get lost and always find someone to snuggle with. Still affectionate, she is slowing down which worries me. Her hips are arthritic to the point that she her hind end falls over once in a while. We want to get her into our house and see how she does there when the stress of this move is over and she's in her permanent home. But we'll see. I'm worried and don't know if she'll make it to Christmas. I don't want her to suffer. So, we're all enjoying these moments. The littles argue over who gets to sleep with her and Tiara enjoys her quiet presence while she chats with friends on MSN. How she'll deal with Alex? I think she'll be ok. She's dealt with a lot of critters in her life and wold rather curl up on a bed than battle with another cat.

On Saturday our house will expand again, by another 4 paws, this time canine. We saw a puppy last Saturday that was adorable, but the situation was odd. We thought we were going to go see a little of puppies and had read about how to pick one. We were prepared to see the mother, watch the puppies play, then hold and play with our favorites. We arrived, were led inside the gate, then Esther went inside her home and brought out one darling white golden puppy and set her on the table. We didn't see the little, the mother, or where she slept. No choices. Just, here's the puppy. We all liked her ok, but didn't feel bonded with her. We wanted choices. So, this Saturday I'm driving to Barcelona (3.5 hours away) to see a breeder who has 3 puppies left for us to see and choose from. She's very nice, understands well what we want to do, and also guarantees the health of the puppy which the other breeder doesn't do. So, I think we'll come home with a puppy - a dog that Tiara's been wanting for years. At the top of her birthday and Christmas lists for, oh, probably the last 8 years or more.

The 25 minute walk in the hotter than hot heat of San Antonio just about killed me and instantly squelched any itchy-footed guilt about spending so much time lounging by the pool. Oh no. There is NO WAY I could have done sight-seeing today. It is "face of the sun" hot. Should have known by the empty streets that 3pm is not the time to be out. Shady poolside, here I come. I'll explore in September.

Over 100. Restless and grouchy. The kids are grumpy. It’s hot. Did I say that already. Kids play. Swim. Come in. Complain. Swim and play. I’m in and out. Trying to read, but it’s hot. Even too hot to tan. Sweat and flies - not my cup o' tea.

The one good thing about this heat of the laundry that dries in just a couple of hours where it was days before. Of course, the water is so hard here, I think my clothes will sprout calcified skeletons and walk off the racks themselves. Ugh.

PHOTOS:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=129891&id=674507268&l=e1426b5d30

Paraguayos. From Paraguay? I don't know. I looked these up on Wikipedia in English and Spanish and couldn't find anything. Paraguayo - as far as I know is a word referring to something from the country of Paraguay, but here, in my local grocery, these little fruits resembling squatty peaches are labelled by this odd name.

They taste, to me, a bit like a mild cross between an apple and a peach with flesh a bit crisper than a peach, but not quite as citrusy. The girls don't like them, but I think they are kind of nice. Not as sweet and sticky as a peach. A bit cooler - more refreshing.

Began my day watching synchronized swimming with the girls on TV. Spain won. Luci thinks she can do that. I don't doubt it. The US and Japan weren't there this year because of the "crisis." Crisis is a word that I'm hearing a lot here in random conversations. It's at the forefront of people's minds here and the scapegoat for anything going wrong.

I need new makeup, but all the foundation and press powder colors at the Mercadona are a lot darker than me. Either I tan significantly, or I will be ordering my "makeup for pale people" color translucent, online.

Other than the quick grocery run with Luci, we stayed home and played. I lounged in and out of the sun with a book, we watched the tremendous downpours of rain broken intermittently by shining sun, and the girls pretended that they were fish. Convincing little things. I think they are about to sprout gills. Elise went so deeply under water that the top of her snorkel was at least 1" below the surface, so she came up sputtering. I told her that if she took off the snorkel and just took a deep breath, she could swim without it. The rest of the day she swam all by herself in the deep part of the pool, following Tiara all over the pool. She's tireless and determined. Fun to watch.

All three little girls spent half the day playing with the large group of British youth here as a part of a church camp. They're learning to speak with a certain non-American inflection that is kind of funny to hear. And those long foam floatie things we Americans call noodles in the pool - in Brit speak, they are woggles. Elise likes the purple woggles best.

Tiara played ping pong and "hung out" with the French kids today. They speak very little English and she is too shy to try out her French, but they smiled and were polite together. A quiet group. The guitar player with his Beatles haircut told her he was going to sing in English. "Just the two of us. We can make it if we try. Just the two of us. You and I..." "Did you understand it?," he asks after? "Oui," she says and he beams with pride that he was able to sing in English. I wonder if he even understands the words. We don't know their names, so we talk about them mostly, according to the shirts that they seem to never change. Purple, the twin brother keeps staring at Tiara and watching her, but he's the quietest one. Dark hair and bright pale blue eyes. She's watching him too, but they mostly just smile at each other. Green is guitar boy - longer hair. Twenty is the older friend who speaks more English and made the mix up thinking that Tiara was in college. And "sister" is 12 and shy. Tiara smiled at her one day and "sister" just ran the other way.

Oh this Spanish schedule... at midnight walking through the gardens you can hear the clinking of silverware on plates and the quiet conversations. Coffee as my hydrant makes 0130 feel like 10. Sleeping until 10am, up until 2am. The lazy days of summer are liquid in Spain.

About a year ago I joined my Spanish friends for coffee at Noemi's house, a friend from Madrid. She's traveled a lot and is a bonafide foodie. Her husband had just returned from Spain with a few boxes of these, one of her favorite treats, something that she was gracious enough to share. It's always fun watching Noemi eat. Her eyes light up, the edges of her lips curl up as she takes a bite. She laughs and mmmms and just makes food look fun. So when I went grocery shopping and saw this familiar box on the shelf - here of all places, I was thrilled! A specialty of Leon, these flaky flower shaped pastries are made from layers of flaky pastry doused in powdered sugar. They are light and sweet and extremely messy. Must have coffee on hand.

Today (two-day)
n.
1. A period of time from about 10am until sometime after midnight on what was mostly 15 July, 2009 spent almost entirely under palms with a good book occasionally splashing into the pool just to cool off in which I acquired a bit more tan, ate some really good ice cream, and played ping pong and badminton with Tiara to the conclusion that it will take A LOT more practice to actually have a game, though all that bending over has GOT to be good for the abs.

2. A good day with minimal stress and a bit of humor and yes... drumroll, hysterical laughing. (Yes, by me, not at me)


The humor began ironically by accident first thing in the morning when Kirk sent me a note and signed it, "'Irk." I thought that he was making light of our moods, stressed and confined in a tight space these last few days. It was purely accidental, but amusing to me nonetheless. Kirk = irk.

Not to point the finger to him only, I did look up my "nickname" (not one that I really like much, but that's another story) for Tiara just to give us both a chuckle. The definition is mostly why my mother and I always hated the name "tiff."

tiff (tf)
So Kirk irks me and in a "fit of irritation" a "petty quarrel" begins. Sometimes names are way too telling. Like when I named Arianna thinking of the lovely musical "arias" and she was the one to first perfect the high pitched scream. If I only knew.

The hysterical laughing occurred tonight during our not-so-heated badminton match between Tiara and I... I serve, she hits it, I miss. She serves, I hit it back, she misses. Or she swings at the air twice, then serves it into a tree. That wasn't the funny part. That was the sad part. Elise was the humor being the "fetcher" girl, setting the rules with hands on hips and her most determined tone, not once, but three times because Tiara and I clearly didn't get it (and didn't obey.) So, if I miss it, Elise grabs it from my side of the net and runs it to Tiara. And if Tiara misses the birdie, Elise grabs it from her side and runs it to me. Fine. But then Tiara was hot, so Elise offers to get a hair band for Tiara "IF" we wait for her and "STOP playing until [she] gets back." We watched her walk behind the bushes and when she was out of sight, I served the birdie. Tiara went to serve it back and there was Elise standing there with her hands on her hips. "Guys!!! I will NOT get a air band for Tiara if you keep playing!!!" The next time we waited until she was inside, volleyed it back and forth a couple times, then made sure that the birdie was securely in my hand where Elise left it. "Oh good," she said when she returned, "Mom still has it." We got looks from passers by we were laughing so hard through this all. But this is Elise! She's 5. She's very small. And she has this sweet face with a dimpled smile that looks so non-threatening. Her hands on her hips and tone of voice are so commanding though that she can actually almost stop a game of volleyball over a hair band. Crazy.

Small successes to be proud of: ALL THREE of my little girls ate the same sauteed chicken that I made and... LIKED IT!!!! And, better yet, Luci and Elise who have been carefully nibbling the flesh out of their peach wedges as if it were watermelon, FINALLY TODAY decided that not only was the skin ok, but according to Elise, "is healthy and calms a sick tummy." When it comes to parenthood, there's nothing to small to celebrate.

Today = 3.5 hours at Caxton College to test all four girls because may be they might be able to find places for all four after my landlord spoke to a personal friend of hers who happens to be the director. We had NO idea that the kids would be tested. Tiara felt ambushed, but did well. We got a nice tour. They'll be in touch.

+ 3 or so hours divided into two different trips to our new house to see it, talk to the landlords, be social, and pick out paint colors. Will post more photos when it's cleaned, painted, and I'm in (around Aug 5th possible furniture delivery). Can't say enough about how amazing Manuel and Begonia are. So kind. They have antiques, art, and pottery that they are leaving in the house for us to use as we want. They are repainting the entire house inside and out. Begonia wants to take me shopping when we're ready to show me all the best markets/shops around and introduce me to shop owners that she's known for 20+ years. She'll teach us paella. They are SOOOO kind. It feels great to be there.

Reading, cleaning, cooking a little, shopping at the Mercadona, a store that I'm tiring of quickly...

I'm surprised and irritated by the high number of chocolaty, unhealthy foods. Half the cereals are chocolate. Most of the bread items are filled with chocolate cream. The fish selection is amazing. Of course, local Spanish ham is amazing. French and Spanish cheeses are available. Produce is fine. But I can't find the spices I want/need. Where are the crackers? I only see toasted bread and cookies. Many vegetables seem elusive as well. I need to broaden my shopping horizon and see some other grocers because this one is only ok for this hotel living thing where I don't cook anything fancy. When I do want to have more fun with cooking, the shopping part might become a mouse maze with shifting cheese.

They have Old El Paso tortillas on the bottom shelf at the end of an aisle and Oscar Meyer bacon in a tiny package. Philadelphia Cream Cheese is very popular in Europe, known at least, so I can always get that. Did find our favorite shampoo brand. Cornflakes. No cheerios. I'll have to get those shipped. And Bisquick. I need that too and can't find it here. At the end of it all though, it's the spices that will kill this... I NEED spices. Gotta go search the other stores. Or start a spice farm in my back yard.

Relaxing by the pool, jumping in, filling some time with random photos of the place.

Luci and Arianna are becoming more fish like by the day, finally tossing their snorkels to the side and plunging under water with only the masks. They're doing great.

Went for the beach for the first time today after arriving here just a week ago. Tried the Puzol beach, "our beach," that will be just 10 minutes away from our new house when we move in next month.

It's a long stretch of beach with long rocky strips protruding out to the deep water for the fisherman. Most of the waterfront is lined with a sidewalk and a continual line of attached beach homes with open patios where people sat talking and playing card games. At main entrance points there were a few restaurants with more outdoor seating than in.

The sand is gritty and coarse, more than any other beach I've been to with larger rocks randomly strewn about and no shells that Luci or I could find. So Elise built a tower of rocks and Luci collected a seaweed headdress for it. Tiara and I read under the umbrella and Kirk played in the waves. The waves are small and gentle along the long stretch of shallow water, so it's easy to walk out a ways and just play in the waves. A lot of families had floating devices that they'd ride the waves with and occasionally tip over. All the little girls tried to walk out into the waves a little, but all three got nervous and stuck to the shallow edge.

I'd like to find a better beach. This one was ok, but not fabulous. Luci and I need shells to satisfy our inner beach comber.

Walking back to find a restaurant, we saw a huge group of young, well-endowed, topless women. Something I'll get used to, but I think I prefer the older French women sun bathing to these "perky" Spanish woman playing sports.

At 6 then I was starving, had not eaten enough and needed food. At 6, all the restaurants here are stripping tables, washing linens, mopping floors, and cleaning up after the lunch hour not to reopen until 9. "?Esta abierta?" answered only with a strange look and a rigorous swish of the mop.

Plans foiled by the Spanish clock. Home for food after being set on a hot meal out. Gotta plan better here. Snack at home to tide me over. Dinner tonight served on our patio at 10. Kirk grilled and I made a cous cous salad.

Our rule about birthdays is that the birthday kid can pick pretty much what ever they want to do/eat - within reason.

So, Tiara picked French toast for breakfast which I had to prepare with a real whole vanilla bean since the Mercadona didn't carry vanilla extract. I'd never done anything with a vanilla bean before. It was strange. But I opened it up and scraped the thick black insides out and I think it worked. The kids didn't complain.

The Mercadona didn't carry sesame oil either for the beef bulgoki that she wanted for dinner. I should have taken this as a sign that today wouldn't be easy.

Tiara's requests were:
a) sleeping in which she did get to do a little more than we'd planned,
b) chatting online with her friends which she did late into the night while I read my book,
c) swimming which she did with her sisters when we got home from the city, and
d) going to Starbucks in Valencia which I didn't think would but hard, but was.

I've been to Valencia and know how the traffic and parking can be, so I thought it would be less stressful and more fun to take the train. We jumped into the van, programmed the GPS for the nearest Renfe station, and drove the 15 minutes to the station just 5 kilometers up the road in Riba Roja. Hmmm. There was a dusty dirt road that ended at nothing between two industrial looking buildings. Renfe station number 1, a bust.

So I programmed the next nearest station, also in Riba Roja, this one in the direction of the town center. Oh good! Of course, it makes more sense for it to be in the town center. We drove there, down really narrow two lane roads that had room for exactly one car, rounded corners that were almost too narrow for my car to clear, drove around a tiny square three times by the station until I finally parked illegally briefly just to run up to the station and get more information. The windows were boarded up with particle board and cardboard. The doors were locked. I rounded the corner to see that where there should be track, there was a smoothly bricked surface and a lively cafe fully of people having lunch. Renfe station number 2, gone.

So I asked someone walking by. He told me that the line had been cut short. The nearest renfe station is in Manises. Ok. So it took me a good 15 minutes just to get out of the town given the tight corners, strange signals, and one-way streets. Got out with my GPS programmed for the closest Renfe in Manises. The photo on the right is it. Down a forest lined road with nothing on either side. "Arriving at destination on right." And there it it. On right. A long strip of cement. Pipes on the side. No track. No train. No station. Renfe station number 3, elusive.

We'd been on the road almost an hour. Ok. Let's try just one more. We programmed yet another Renfe into the GPS - another one in Manises. This time we were hopeful. It is near the airport. It does make sense to have a station there. AND we saw a sign that said Renfe and pointed to the right. We turned, looked, drove all the way down one side of the street and back with several people honking at us. Finally turned around again then parked quickly to ask where it was. A man kindly pointed to the black building in the middle of the road. Parking? Anywhere there's a space, he said. There were no spaces. We drove by a rock concert gearing up. A crumby, dirty street. Not a place I felt great about parking. And nothing, so we pulled off onto another street, even shabbier, looked at each other, and parked praying our car would still be there when we returned. Got to the black building. It was a metro station. I asked the lady working there where the train is. There's no train here, she explained, it's down the road in Manises. A man in a orange shirt and an older heavyset woman in an embroidered floral skirt both stopped to talk to us and help us. I explained that it was Tiara's 14th birthday and we were just trying to get to the Valencia centro. They all talked together about the best way for us to go. Finally we got two round trip tickets - 6.60 total and a slow 25 minute ride to the Xativa station right in front of the main Renfe station and the Plaza de los Toros. So, Renfe station number 4 - still elusive, but at least we were on our way.

The train was slow - very slow, so that the lights in the tunnels were visible separately and barely blurred. The signs inside were all bilingual written in the local Valenciano and Castellano, the Spanish language that we are mostly familiar with.

Arriving 1 hour and 45 minutes after we left, I probably could have driven it in 30. Oh well. We learned something. At least in my village, I know where the train station is.

I remembered Valencia well and the streets and directions. Tiara, of course, remembered exactly where the Starbucks was, so it was a quick walk until we were inside the spacious cafe where just a handful of people sat with their coffee. We both ordered Venti frappuccinos then both decided that Venti is too big and these particular ones were a bit sweeter than we cared for. Next time we'll get Grandes and add an extra shot.

From there we wandered in and out of clothing shops. July is a big sale month in Europe, so almost every window had large signs with "Ofertas" written in bold print. Disappointment. The first shop had tons of badly organized, picked through styles for dirt cheap prices, but nothing that was even worth trying on. Another store, Zara, had a few things that were ok... some basics, but a lot of crazy colors and styles that were just not us. Sfera at Corte Ingles had us down right terrified and convinced that we'd only be shopping online from here on out... bright neons, crazy patterns, 80's style hammer pants, lots of ruffles. We walked all the way down the Calle de Colon and back. Even went into H&M and found nothing. Finally, happily, we found Massimo Dutti - an amazing store that looked very high end, but had an amazing sale and beautiful clothes in colors that we could wear!!!! Yeah! We each got a couple things and then felt like ok, coffee and shopping complete, we could go home and feel like we've been successful in our outing. Stopped at a delicious gyro shop before we got on the Metro and lucked out with a train that actually made the lights blur on the way back.

Happily, our car was still there when we got back to Manises and rounded the corner. We'd been seriously worried. Made several wrong turns in and out of the airport loops trying to get back to the house. Kirk called. "We're at the airport. On the way home." I'm sure he thought that was strange. Got back for a swim while Kirk made bulgoki stew and then we had a chocolate mousse cake from Mercadona under protest because I'd forgotten the candles and according to Tiara, it's not a birthday without the candles. I'll make my chocolate espresso torte when she's 14 years and 14 weeks and we'll have 28 candles then. :)

PHOTOS: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=126822&id=674507268&l=98693ec66f

An entire day spent inside my oasis, this little compound sitting, reading, relaxing, and enjoying the last few sips of a bottle of wine we opened on Wednesday night. A day of small pleasures needed after yesterdays drama.

1. An amazingly good wine. I wanted a good wine for Wednesday's company, but the most expensive bottle I could find was only 6 Euros. Yes, I realize that price and flavor aren't always connected, but still, knowing nothing about the local wine, it was all I had to go off of. 6 Euros got me a full-bodied, fruity red reserve from 1999. Delicious. Not to dry, nor sweet. I'd buy another bottle or two just to have around. We finished it tonight. Still good.

2. A book that is easier to finish than begin. Finding time to read is precious but here I've renewed my interest in a book that quite frankly lost me at the last read. The Zookeepers Wife - great story lost in bad writing that, thankfully, is picking up here towards the end.

3. Familiarity. Although I enjoy adventure and never actually eat the pancakes that I cook, it gave me joy to smell the familiar smell of my pancakes and to watch the girls rapidly pick them off the plate. A little taste of home in this new place that just isn't yet.

4. Joy in confidence. Arianna and Luci got out their snorkels and face masks tonight, jumped into the pool, and started swimming really well back and forth confidently. Smiling from ear to ear, excited and joyful. A joy to watch. Infectious energy. Tiara also helped Elise on the noodle until she mastered it paddling herself all over the pool by herself.

Warning: This blog post contains a bit of whining and a pity party. After 8 months, I need to vent. Don’t worry. This will not become the norm.


That was typed this morning. Things are calm and happy now. But this is how the last 8 months have been since we found out we were coming here. It has been almost a daily flip from a plan to no plan. To having support and a place to having everything fall out from under us. Schools, cities, houses, money, support, even orders and if we’d actually go... every issue in flux and still, still after arriving, the flux continues. We still don’t have a housing rate established and won’t for a while. Going off faith in the face of “it’s not my job” and “I don’t know” and a lot of “you need to talk to so and so” who tells you “you need to call so and so.” This has been my life and while for the last 8 months I’ve prided myself almost on being mostly calm and positive about this all, there are moments when I just lose it. That was this morning.

After A LOT of research, talking to people, reading, and discussing what city we’d live in, and why. After A LOT of talk about schools, contacting them and looking at printed information, and discussing what was best for our kids. After A LOT of arguing, making a decision, then going back over all of the information with people to re-justify our choices over and over again. After all of this AND a trip to Valencia, we made a choice that we were going to stick with. A choice that made me feel secure when nothing else was. We had a house. So at the end of all the changes and flux, I had a nice house with a nice landlord in an area that felt safe.

Then this morning we went to the NSE - our tiny support unit here. Kirk signed in. I talked to one of the ladies there who kindly offered to call ASV, the American school, suggesting that sometimes she gets a better response. She called them, then came back with the answer - that not only do the little girls not have slots there, but that Tiara, who had a slot just two days ago when I went there in person, no longer had a slot either because somehow in that last less than 48 hours they realized that one of their 9th grade students didn’t pass and now needs that 9th grade slot again. Did they call? Nope. Were they going to give me that courtesy? Doubtful.

So I felt like I’d been hit over the head. We are living in Valencia BECAUSE of Tiara - because she’s starting high school and will be going to college in 4 years and we want her education to be good, her credits easily transferable. We don’t want to push her into a Spanish immersion experience for these critical years.

But I was coping just fine knowing that they all had slots at Cambridge house, a fine school, but with no bus service to our area, until one of the men there pulled the carpet from under me. “You don’t have a contract signed for the house... you could look for another house, one closer to Cambridge house.” And Kirk seemed to agree. I felt like I’d been punched really hard in the stomach, the wind knocked out of me. There may be better houses elsewhere but I like my house and the area and I had a verbal agreement with some really amazing landlords. I didn’t want to break that. I didn’t want to start over. I rounded the corner and stood alone. The guys kept wanting to talk about it. I just couldn’t talk any more. Needed time to process. Got my pass photo taken. I didn’t smile and didn’t care. I look like a felon.

Then we got home. I had quiet. I had time to think. I’d agreed to see more houses closer to the school, but I also had time to look at a map. Cambridge house is between my new house and the place I’m in now. It’s 20 minutes from where I am to my new house, so how can this school be farther? Looked at it on mapquest. 15-20 minutes, not 30. Let’s rethink this.

We had dinner plans at our new house tonight and a plan to meet the landlords there as well, Manuel and Begonia. One moment we think of canceling. Then we think we’ll go, but need to be upfront - may be we won’t be taking their house. That kills me to think about. And then I say wait. This isn’t just a house. It’s nice landlords and a secure neighborhood. It’s a safe place when Kirk is gone all week.

We got to our new house, a deep breath of relief for now, hoping this was really it. The girls ran off to play with Francesca, the youngest daughter of the current residents. Tiara and Faye went to the club to swim a bit. Joung Mai cooked an amazing Korean dinner while I talked at length with Begonia, toured the house again, sketched tacky drawings on sticky notes so I can think about furniture placement, and looked at the state of the curtains in each room. Kirk visited with Manuel and Paul. When dinner was ready about an hour later, Manuel and Begonia left and we enjoyed a fabulously relaxing evening with the currents residents of our house.

And when we left, Kirk said what I so needed to hear. “We have to take that house.” Thank you. Relief. At least one thing is certain. We may pay more for it that we’ll get. I may have to drive a bit. But it’s one thing done. One less thing to worry about. And at this point, I really need that.

Wednesday.

I don’t remember... did I do anything today? Uh. No. Not really. Kirk was in Albacete for meetings the last couple days and coming home this afternoon, so I did make an effort to unpack the rest of our things here in our guest house and rearrange the racks of laundry not drying on the racks outside.

It was a slow morning, but I’m still in that need to take things in slow mode. May be alone I’d be more adventurous. Leaving Germany, I had so many regrets of things I didn’t do, the feeling that may be there were moments wasted or not fully used... but now, I just can’t seem to motivate to get out there - anywhere - even though I speak the language enough... it’s still intimidating.

The housekeepers came which was fun just because I was able to speak Spanish with them a bunch. It was nice to relax while these two ladies swept, mopped, changed all the sheets, and did our dishes speaking high pitched sweet talk to Misha, our 21 year old cat constantly.

Kirk had to pick up the IT guy at the airport and offered him dinner, so Tiara and I ran to the Mercadona to pick up a few things. Bread with local ham and cheese with tomate for an appetizer. Cous cous salad and chicken skewers. The meat guy kept trying to help me pick out something good, but I explained to him that I was in a temporary kitchen and didn’t have my regular kitchen to cook in. The skewers were perfect.

Anyway... that was it. Did we even swim? Probably, but I didn't even take photos - that's how lazy my day was... so I have no proof either way.

Summer is a good excuse to slide into the crazy Spanish schedule. Sleeping until 9 (or later), getting the kids down at 11. Seems strange when I look at the numbers, but it’s natural here, at least now, in the summer before the reality of the school year begins. Eleven (yes, pm) is a perfectly acceptable dinner hour here. Restaurants open for dinner at nine. A friend didn’t get seating last night until 11:15. It’s dark then, but cool with a nice breeze and people are out.

I read the rules in our guest house guide today... quiet hours are, appropriately, from 9am until 11pm. Funny. But it’s quiet most of the time here with mostly happy voices of kids playing on the trampoline near our bungalow.

Today was slow. I was irritated once again by these tiny bodied black flies that look like specks with wings. They don’t bite or fly at you, but they are funny looking and just there. In the shower. Sitting on the wall. It’s like spiders on the ceiling. They may be well intentioned, but I still don’t trust them.

Tuesday now, it’s been 48 hours since we ran our first load of laundry here with a washer that does a barely adequate job and still, we have things, even cotton things, from that first load that aren’t dry on the racks outside. About three loads now sit on my patio... in the view of anyone who cares to walk by. Not my idea of privacy, but damp undergarments are also not an option. I miss a drier - the softness of the clothes, the light fragrance... the clothes on the rack are stiff and smell, well, not horrible, but not like the dryer sheets I like which translates into not clean smelling to me whether they are or not. But the water is hard here... a thick layer of white covering the walls of the bathtub among other things, so I think I’ll keep the washing to a minimum.

I did accomplish one thing today - to make a few dozen wrong turns onto and off of strangely intersecting highways that doubled what was supposed to be a quick drive to the American school where I finally arrived to find out that Tiara who was supposed to be the hardest to place, has a slot and the other three don’t. I’ll call again next week as I was told, and try to hold out hope, but if they don’t go there - in our neighborhood, then they’ll go to Cambridge house who has been the kindest on the phone and has slots for all 4, but don’t have bus service which translates into about 2 hours a day driving back and forth for me, not impossible, but not how I want to spend this next couple years in Spain either.

We (meaning I) tried to do something touristy today - to see an enormous castle ruin that sprawls out across a hill near our home, but 5 minutes away in full view, the kids whining got unbearable with all 4 in revolt, so I gave in to allow them a carefree evening of swimming and eating ice cream under the palms. Rough life they have.

My first experience with a celsius oven, I completely burnt the girls pizza. The coffee pot; however, was easier to manage and so I successfully made my first pot of Spanish coffee, a brand that I got at the Mercadona with a label of 4/5 - one of the stronger brews meant only for about 4 in the afternoon, but something I’ll drink any time I’m awake. Refreshing after the last few years of the bitter German stuff that is only good in macchiatto form or when Tinny makes it.

Typing this on my mac to post later or move later to Kirk’s computer hooked up on the island in the kitchen. We seem to have a WiFi cloud following us around Europe where we only book places with WiFi/internet and strike out almost every time. The computer guy was here over an hour just in my bungalow tonight. Couldn’t get his computer to work either. Finally told the owner that the WiFi is too old (3 years old) and can’t communicate with newer computers. May be by Monday, it will be fixed.

After 6 days of traveling, though only half were spent in the car, my desire to avoid a car at all cost has won out over the curious photographer in me. By 1030, mine and 5 other gurgling stomachs forced my exactly 60 second drive across the street to the Mercadona. Tiara and I perused the isles there looking for what we know and what odd things we could discover. Shopped a bit. Tried some new things... random breads of which one of each daughter would like while the others wouldn’t. Loved the fruit. It’s delicious and cheap. But citrus. No berries, not even strawberries which really disappointed Luci. The deli meats are not what I am used to and there was no cheddar, but I’ll be able to get a good selection of French and Spanish cheeses as well as Feta and a few others. No pepper jack. No paprika paste which I use in my Hungarian and Turkish dishes. But this is one grocery. I’ll look at others as well.

A few hours at home. Pool for the girls and jumping on the trampoline. Me pretending to be productive, but dragging my feet. After 3.5 years of full speed ahead, this couple days of slow is nice. I know it will speed up soon enough.

Met the landlord and the current residents at our new house at 5. Getting there was fast and easy and included a narrow pitted road through the orange groves which is quite the norm here. The house was sort of what I remembered, but empty changes things. I’d seen it first liking it, but thinking that it was too small and wouldn’t work. Then with a lot of time and thinking with a limited supply of houses and from Germany, saw photos of the house again which helped in making our decision. The landlord was the clincher. He’s known as wonderful and has proven that already.

So, the house is nice. And will be nice. But seeing it mostly empty and a bit dirty was sort of discouraging. Manuel is going to paint for me though and I get to pick out the colors. He’s also giving us a new dishwasher and leaving some of his nice furniture in the house (if we want, or he’ll throw it out!). He’ll put a nice stone patio area in front of the BBQ where a dry weedy garden now sits. So I’ll have a small manageable garden area for vegetables, but not something so big and hard to maintain.

Dinner afterward with Cami who’s interior decoration skills and good taste make any other house look horrible... probably not the best place to see after seeing mine in dingy disarray. Oh well. The company and food was great. Burgers and a green salad with feta, craisins, and caramelized walnuts. Mmmm.

The girls got to bed about 11. Exhausted enough to sleep in the hot. I miss my pillow.

More Photos: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=126238&id=674507268&l=15399d8a07

Oh, of course, I have something to say here, was quite an interesting 6ish hour drive to Valencia, but it's midnight on the eve of Tiara's 14th and so instead of getting completely caught up on this blogging thing, I'm going to use this as a place holder and call it a night. Must get up early tomorrow and make French toast for my special girl. Will be caught up by this weekend's end, photos and all. :)

Ok... so here's the deal. I have wonderful children who are finally at the age of the road trip where one can drive 6-7 hours with out whining, fighting, or the well known "are we there yet?"

It's amazing. Just a couple years ago we did a 6 hour drive to Normandy that is renown amongst us three elder as the end to all road trips. The "never again will I do a drive of this length with all these kids" kind of road trip when at least two of them were still in their screaming phase.

A couple months ago I did a long drive to Berlin and the kids were near perfect. So I shouldn't have been surprised on this one, but pleasantly, still am. Each little had her Reisenthal bag of goodies including her sunglasses and ipod shuffle. Each vehicle had another bin full of art supplies, paper, books, learning stuff, and little dolls.

And not one of our three long driving days did they whine, least of all this one - the 6 hours from Beziers, France to Valencia, Spain.

So, the drive was fairly uneventful. The south of France for us looked quite a bit like Spain, so there wasn't any dramatic shift in scenery. We enjoyed each time the Med came into view. I particularly enjoyed the way our drive took us completely to the side of Barcelona and completely out of any significant traffic. Tolls were expensive and embarrassing - one credit card line didn't accept any of my card, so I felt the honking wrath of the French behind me in line until I could get help, pay, then wait for my change during more symphonic honking. The next time it didn't work, I offered cash saying "keep the change." And finally learned to go in the "manual" lane where an attendant took the money. We paid over 50 Euros in tolls. Tiara took hundreds (literally) of photos of clouds and highways signs marking the shrinking distance between ourselves and Valencia.

We stopped once for gas. This was interesting because of the bins by each pump full of disposable gloves. "Use guantes." Some patrons even brought their own gloves and aside from Kirk and I, everyone who pumped gas had gloves on. Is this a rule? I'm not sure. I don't usually have a problem with gas smell on my hands, so I'm not sure why gloves would be important here.

There was absolutely no place to park for food, so though I grabbed some brioche that Luci loved, some paprika chips for Arianna, and some wafer cookies at the gas station, we weren't able to stop there for food. The kids still didn't whine. Thirty minutes later we pulled into another rest stop, this one a large one with the building acting as a bridge that went from one side of the highway to the other allowing a you to connect to amenities on either side.

As Kirk put it, this was a "sea of humanity." We parked nearest the entrance by the grassy area and some picnic benches, so we had to pass through 5 long shaded parking rows to get to the complex that housed a grocery store, restaurant, and bathrooms.

Cars parked sticking out of the lane facing each other allowing space for people to spread out blankets, towels, and rolled up clothing between them in the shade where many people slept sprawled out. People of all nationalities from everywhere. A lot of Dutch sleeping. A lot of large families with kids picnicking, playing, and sleeping in the shade of the bushes at the edge of the place.

We picnicked too. Sat out in the heat and allowed Misha to have some water. I don't remember what time we began to pull away, but as we waited for Tiara and Arianna I saw a man get out his prayer rug, place it beside his van in the shade, and begin his prayers. His wife was out of sight and his children played right next to him.













The rest of the drive went quickly and finding our temporary house wasn't hard. We're staying in a small gated complex of private bungalows on palm filled gardens, a gym, and two pools. There's a trampoline next to our place - a nice one, sunken in to the ground so that its jumping surface if flush with the grass. The little girls jumped until exhausted, Kirk and I played ping pong, and we finished our night on the bit of fruit and crackers in the welcome pack because I just couldn't bring myself to get back into the car and didn't want to try to call for delivery - not ready to speak Spanish yet.

And I totally forgot that it was a holiday. Not until I went online and saw several "Happy 4th of July" messages, did I realize that it was THE 4th of July. We were just thinking of it as a happy continuation of our "vacation" and Arianna's 8th.

So, unable to find cake yesterday, I asked the reception at our apartment where I could find a good bakery. The lady took out a map of Beziers, highlighted the two main streets, and told me of several "famous" bakeries there. She forgot to tell us about the French "siesta." Just 5 minutes from our place we arrived in the center of town near the main street lined with trees, a wide pedestrian walkway in the middle of the street with cafe tables spilling on to it so that waitresses have to dodge the teens with their boom boom music to serve their guests their espresso drinks.

We walked down one end of the street through a few blocks of antique vendors looking and curious, but not seeing anything at "give away" prices and with no space in our vehicles to haul anything mid move. Walked back to the end in the other direction looking for a patisserie, but finding none, stopped for lunch at Cafe du Theatre. I had a delicious salad with marinated chicken, pineapple and grapefruit, then tomatoes stuffed with beef and herbs. Absolutely delicious.

The entire area was empty when we arrived at 1, but by 2 was getting busy. Shops were supposed to re-open at 2:30, but apparently not the patisseries. We walked again down the other main street, found several bakeries, but they were all closed.

There is one pretty square there with a fountain, statue, and merry-go-round, a long pedestrian walk lined with trees, but that was it. I think the pedestrian area off to the left might be nice, but we didn't go there and the other main road that we were told to see was fairly dirty, full of Chinese restaurants, and certainly not nice to look at by any stretch. There is something to be said for the user friendly, overly clean German city centers that I've been accustomed to.

So we left, rested at our apartment, then went to the beach again this time I went shopping a bit while Kirk and the kids played. Vias had a nice patisserie, and being a touristy beach town, it didn't close, so I found a delicious cappuccino cake that I knew Arianna would like, bought some baguettes and small groceries for dinner, a bottle of local wine, then headed back to the beach to play leaving it all in the car.

Sat next to a nice British couple who spend 3 months driving around Europe each summer in their camper. Watched Kirk build sand castles with Elise, then bury Luci and Arianna almost completely in sand.

Home for dinner, cake, and some packing up before our last long drive to our new home.

Boy, our lives are rough. If the girls ever whine about moving, I'll have to remind them of days like this... lounging on the beach in the south of France with out a care in the world. Surely this balances some of the stress of a crazy move.

A slow sleepy morning. We were told that most of the beaches clear from 1-4 because it’s so hot. By 11 were were ready, but wouldn’t have enough time at the beach, so hungry with nothing to eat, we ventured out to Vias, to see the beach, walk the strip, and find a good birthday lunch for Arianna’s 8th.

The narrow two-lane strip of road into town ended at a parking lot at the beach side. Each side of the road lined with restaurants, tacky gift shops, and expansive open-front shops of ice cream and slushies. All very typical of a beach town any where in the world, other than some of the signage, it didn’t seem particularly French. Just beachy.

Reading placards on the sidewalk, we stopped at El Jardin. Arianna got the fish menu - Formule Mer avec Couteaux, St. Jacques, Brochette de gambas, rouget et capitain, taboule et salade verte. Kirk and I got the duck menu which was amazing. All stuffed and happy, but roasting in the sun, we bought groceries for later, then had quiet in the cool of the apartment until about 4:30 when the breeze had picked up enough to cool us.

The Med reminds me of the gulf in Florida - tiny barely there waves, long beaches, lengthy shallows... But shells are sparse, so the beach comber in me didn’t collect much. Long rocky bars stretched out to the edge of the shallows each 100 feet may be all the way down the beach as long as I could see. Some of those ended in Ts built up so that fishermen could reach the depths where the larger fish swam. We didn’t see any fish in the shallows - just lots of people of all ages swimming, playing games, and relaxing in the sun. Even Elise walked quite a ways out into the water comfortable in the baby waves and shallow water.

Tiara spent most of her time on towels under our huge umbrella. I helped Elise body surf in the beginning, then joined T under the umbrella to rest and gather some sun. Normally we enjoy the people watching, but I think the number of older topless ladies put that to a halt. It didn't bother me as much, but T wasn't quite comfortable with it. She'll have time to adjust in Spain.

Tired for the beach, stopped for a scoop of “birthday” ice cream before heading home. I got coffee (good) and vanilla (below average). It felt amazingly good, natural, relaxing... to walk casually down the sidewalk towards our car slowly enjoying our ice cream until it was gone. I don’t think I had relaxed at all until then, but at that moment, the car was loaded, every one was happy, and I just felt the tension fall away. We got back after 8 and snacked on the groceries we’d bought before. Divided up into the two rooms we'd booked, and crashed until morning, one more day of beach left before another long drive.

PHOTOS: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=126234&id=674507268&l=5107008410

One LONG morning doing the Paris traffic crawl, an hour, may be more until we could drive normally. Played the alphabet game through it with Arianna and Tiara using the rule that while in France, we could use French vocabulary as well as English. That made the letter X a lot easier.

One stop for gas, a 10 minute power nap, and some snacks for the road to get us through. It was needed. After field upon field of bright sunflower fields, we hit the heaviest rain of my life, blinding rain so hard I couldn’t see the lane markings or the guard rails and navigated only by the fog light on Kirk’s truck and the faint shadow of the semi-truck beside me praying we wouldn’t collide. 2 minutes of terror.

That broke into sun, a river, and a lush green canyon of winding roads that reminded us so completely of Oregon then we crossed the mountain to the stark contrast - dry hills, sparse trees - where even the architecture changed dramatically looking more like what I know of Spain and no longer France... like California and not Oregon... that same line of change you see on I5 somewhere around Crater Lake.

One stop at an amazing bridge - the Millau Viaduct - that I’d seen in an email forward last year and never imagined I’d actually drive over it. Walked to the to the top of the hill for photo ops. Let Misha get out and walk in the grass. Found out that the handicapped restroom had a toilet instead of a hole. So thankful that the French don’t expect their handicapped to stand on little foot shapes over a hole. My little ones were horrified and ready to just hold it indefinitely if that was their only option. When we came out, the line was to the door with all the other stalls open. Apparently we aren’t the only ones who prefer to sit.

Arrived in Beziers in the spitting rain with a double rainbow ahead. Found our apartment without too much trouble. It is new - completely new having just opened a couple weeks ago. Even the dishes in our apartment still had the stickers on them from the store. The staff were bend-over backwards friendly, smiling, one speaking near perfect British English. We were starving, but didn’t want to drive. Pizza delivery saved the day - A boy in Bermuda shorts on a Mo-ped with a tiny box tied to the back, bright yellow with the red words, “pizza cool.” Had pasta, pizza, sandwiches for the girls. Cartoons on TV. Air conditioned rooms are nice, but why oh why doesn't our internet work? I'm going through withdrawal.

PHOTOS: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=126229&id=674507268&l=5cf91330b9

Our hotel has a large breakfast which is fairly decent with a small corner for “kids only” with IKEA plastic bowls and cups and strange IKEA decorations sprinkled about. My kids ate mostly from the regular side of the breakfast room, but Arianna did venture over long enough to find pudding - coffee flavored. Seems a bit odd to me for the children’s buffet, but then again, this is France.

Got on the hot, sticky, crowded bus to Disney, off at the Chessy station, looked both ways, then just followed the crowd. Got in before opening time to the shopping areas for photo ops in front of the castle, but the areas with rides were all closed off until the official opening time at 10 - another reason to stay at one of the Disney hotels. Crowded, but not impossible, we began our day in Discoveryland where we learned the beauty of the Fastpass and got onto rides super quick. Kirk took the youngest on the Orbitron while Tiara and I took Arianna on Space Mountain. My theory was that once Arianna did the “scariest” roller coaster, then she’d love it, be over her fear, and then love the rest. My theory was wrong. She didn’t cry or scream and did give us a half smile after the ride, but wouldn’t admit that it was fun, nor would she go on any ride scarier than Pirates of the Caribbean for the rest of the day.

Luci, however, my adventurous one, was upset that she is not tall enough yet for Space Mountain and at the end of the day listed Space Mountain as one of her favorites even though she didn’t actually ride it. Big Thunder Mountain, the biggest ride that she did go on, was at the top of her list.

May be I’m just getting old, but the thrill of a hot, crowded amusement park is gone. I still love the fast rides, but want a park where the exit for one huge roller coaster ends right at the entrance for the next big roller coaster. Forget the shopping, random games, endless walking in the heat, and spinney kiddie rides. I want misters in all the lines and endless fast rides without the time spent walking from one to the other. Hot crowds with little kids is not my cup of tea.

The littles loved the rides - Elise cried through the Pirates line, but laughed while on it and did it a second time. They were disappointed (as was I) that there weren’t more characters walking around. May be it was the stifling heat, but we only saw a handful of characters and all at times when we couldn ’t do photo ops, so it was my costume-phobic teen that got the only photo and this was against her will when the others were at the haunted house.

I don’t remember the costumes at Disneyland (the original) being so bad, but oh my, the costumes that the employees have to wear here in Paris are beyond silly. I do feel for them. Tres embarrassing!

The end of the day we walked back to the bus through a maze of random vendors with their blankets of goods spread over the square, battery operated African dancers and walking cows being the hot items of the day wiggling back and forth through the crowds of hot tired people. It was odd. Made the tacky Eiffel tower souvenirs look high end.

Dinner was amazing - Lebanese food from Noura at the mall, a vast improvement from the bland Korean the night before, and sandwiches for the littles from a cafeteria. Sleep came quickly looking ahead to the 7 hour drive the following day.

Photos: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=126233&id=674507268&l=9101e96300