Life: Idiotropic

I am thankful for two coffee dates today including one with my husband who isn't usually available on the weekdays, an entire afternoon free to cook and organize, a tomorrow filled with pie baking because we'll be celebrating with too many friends on Saturday who I am also very thankful for.

I am thankful for 10 days with my dad and Angie with food and day trips to fill our time,  9 days with a dear friend from Germany who I wish could have stayed for Saturday's feast, and thousands of pictures taken over those 19 days of visits that I hope to one day cull through and post just one or two and possibly even blog a big...

But... though time isn't abundant, friends are.  And food.  And the ability to share the latter with the former.

I am thankful for a housekeeper who is also my friend who will come early on Saturday "so I can sit and rest a little" even though we all know that is nearly impossible for me to do because I am me and I don't sit well unless I'm surrounded by friends and have a mug of coffee in my hand.

I'm thankful for a kitchen full of delicious smells and a dishwasher full of clean dishes, clean counters and full refrigerators, and a dog who will help clean up the "oops" that's bound to happen.


Thankful for the gift of words and fingers able to type them.  My family.  My friends.  My crazy dog.  My imbecilic cat.  My pillow.  'night.

Today was the day that I was going to be out and about enjoying the absolutely stunning weather in Valencia and perhaps lunch at the beach just for fun; however, I NEVER go out without my shower and, unless camping or extremely desperate, I NEVER shower in ice water which is what we have today since my hot water heater thing is flashing "F1" over and over.

Apparently "F1" means that there is a "block" that prevents the thingie from lighting that will heat up the water that I need to do laundry and dishes and shower.

My landlord suggested that I call.  "But you speak better Spanish," I protested.  "But you can better explain the problem," she suggested. 

Fine. 

So I called the natural gas company who told me to call the maintenance folks at this number, so I called them and they understood me and I understood them or at least I think I did... we'll find out.  So if, today before 2:30, someone comes and fixes it, then I understood.  And if, no one shows up, then either I misunderstood or it's Spain and the guy was running late and couldn't come because 2:30 is lunch time and no one in Spain works after 2:30 unless working at a restaurant.

We shall see.  Until then, expect random blogging... because I'm stuck at home and have already covered the furniture with cobwebs for Halloween, so what else to do?

Shopping therapy is not a myth.  While shopping on those "pudgy days" can be depress you right into the doctor's couch, finding that right item is as good as any drug out there.  The right dress can be mood altering.  The right shoes make your step lighter.  A colorful scarf can make you smile more.  Life is more beautiful when you feel beautiful.  It's not rocket science, it's a known fact among women.

So when a new dress comes in the mail and I try it on and it fits (childish grin and little jump in the air), I am going to wear it on my very next day out.  Add to this a pair of pretty shoes instead of my usual flip flops, big earrings and a large flashy pendant that I haven't worn in years plus the amazing fact that I like my hair today, and there was nothing that was going to irk me and today Valencia was going to look more stunning than ever.

I bussed in, walked to Calle de Paz to buy two guitars for the girls, then walked leisurely back through the narrower pedestrian streets to soak up the city.  Picture this:  me in my amazing feeling great outfit and fancy not so comfortable shoes with my big camera bag purse and a colorful hobo bag that had my zither in it on one shoulder.  In the crook of my other arm were two plastic bags with a guitar each in them neatly tucked into their black cases (why I didn't ditch the bags and carry the cases?  I don't know) and around my neck hung my big black camera.  Sigh. 

The stuff probably sort of ruined my look, but I didn't care.  I found myself in the Plaza Colegio del Patriarca, a nice wide open space by the old University with stone benches and orange trees, and thought it was a good place to stop for a coffee.  I was going to try something new, but then I saw a Parisien that I hadn't known about.  This is one of my favorite coffee shops because it serves the most delicious French pastries outside of France.  It's a new location for me, so I'm counting that as the "trying something new" thing. 

So I'm feeling pretty and I'm near this beautiful square on a beautiful day and I have my photo-worthy tiny fruit tart in it's little box and a cafe con leche in my to-go mug and I'm ready to sit, relax, and just exist in this space.  It was a Hollywood moment.  I felt great and everything seemed perfect.

But then... I'm me and at the moment am a displaced pack mule.  The purse goes down.  I set the guitars carefully down.  The zither bag goes down.  Then the coffee goes down... before I even had a sip.

Moment gone.  I'm smiling as I walk away and toss my empty coffee cup into the trash.  See?  No coffee and I'm smiling.  Must be the outfit.

That's what I get for my vain moment.  The pastry will wait for home.  I'm heading to Cafe Mundo for my favorite calamari sandwich in the entire world and a cup of coffee.  There, they will smile and be extra polite and I will still feel pretty even if I'm in the back corner of a little smokey bar.  It's ok.  I have the best sandwich in the world and a coffee that won't be toppled.

Aside:  The guitars arrived to be played at the first guitar lesson which was a huge hit.  Paco de Lucia, look out.  There are two young ladies who just may give you a little competition in about 15 years.

It doesn't matter how educated or successful a woman might be, there is an unequivocal sense of  accomplishment in some of life's traditionally "feminine" tasks.

Today I prepared both chicken paprikas and curry chicken in my kitchen with two of my daughters at my side helping me.  It was peaceful and productive.  A Little Women moment and a beautiful one.  I love that my younger girls are starting to participate in my kitchen though I'm still nervous watching my 9-year old wield a knife.

Tonight as I walked up the stairs, I could hear both the washing machine and dishwasher running.  The doors were locked, lights out, lunches packed for tomorrow. 

It's not the image I'd had for myself and I am much more than this domestic goddess, but it does feel good and I see a light.  At the end of this tunnel, I'll be handing over much of the cooking to the girls and heading to the spa for a pedi.

I'm sitting at my office window trying to muster just a pinch of motivation on a day that I'd rather be napping in spite of the perfect autumn weather.  My hands have been hurting, so it's hard to type a lot which makes the whole blogging thing a bit of a pain, literally...

But I'm here... and then I see a pretty little yellow airplane go by and I think, "Oh what a beautiful day to be out in an airplane flying over the sea."  And then I see another go by and I think that it must be so nice to have a friend to fly with and what a treat it is for me to watch this little airshow right here from my office window.  They fly here and there and then they go and I forget about them until I hear a helicopter.  Huh.  That's odd.  And then I hear sirens.  Odder.

The helicopter is flying low over the hills in front of me.  It circles back and forth as if it's looking for something.  Then another comes.  The next one has a big red bag hanging from it.  This is when I run to the balcony and jump on my roof, running over to the chimney and carefully walking down just enough so that I can see the action.


It's a fire.   Two helicopters now are taking turns quickly dumping water on the dark grey smoke that's billowing up from the wooded mountain that we often hike on, then rushing off to different sites to refill.  One comes three times to a small reservoir among the orange grove just on the other hill behind me.  I can watch the entire scene from my roof, the fill up, the dumping, the return for more water.  He flies right over my head with veil of spray trailing from the bucket below.  By the time he's dumping the water on the fire, the mist has filtered down to me and I can feel the cold water droplets on an otherwise clear day.

The yellow planes come back a few more times, always together.  It isn't a joy ride after all.  They are dumping something on the fire.  The first time it's something white.  May be water, but I don't know.  The last time I see them, they're flying down low into the smoke, then coming out of it with a deep orangy red cloud billowing behind them.  A flame retardant, may be?

It's three hours from start to finish and it was interesting to see.  A bit of excitement to an otherwise dull day and it gave me a reason for less productivity.  Hard to accomplish much while running back and forth across the roof with camera in hand.  ;)

Back for a few days now and almost normal... I think.  Have gone to the post office and coffeed with friends, ran mundane errands, and done laundry.  Nothing glamorous, but all normal.  And, as much as I loved being home in the states, it is great to be back in my home here.

"Was it this beautiful before?"  Kirk thinks it's prettier.  I know that being away has renewed this place for us. 

I'm puzzled that in the month when traditionally nothing happens in Spain that the cami road near our house was repaired with real pavement instead of the traditional mud.  That's big news here.

Puzol had their biggest festival of the year which we missed, but we did get to the girl's school to meet their new teachers.  Elise has a teacher from New Zealand.  Luci has the same teacher that Arianna had last year - an American and a teacher that we really like.  Arianna has a nice British teacher who is open to letting me help out in the classroom.  Now that is a great thing.  Another step towards normal.


The real joy in these last few days... or at least a big news item for Tiara and I... was in our trip to Makro, a store that I just recently got a membership for.  Makro is sort of like a Costco and it carries items that businesses need... and some of those businesses are restaurants... so you can find foods that you simply can't find in any normal public grocery store.  Foods like Phyllo dough and ricotta cheese, frozen berries and pepperoni.  Amazing.  Amazing how a relatively small thing like pepperoni can evoke squeals of happiness from not one or two, but 5 girls.

This might just be the most normal we've felt so far.  And I know that it can take a year.  I've heard that a year is normal.  One always hopes it will be quicker... that those discoveries will just magically happen.  But a year is that magic marker, I think.  And finally... a year before we'll say goodbye... I think we sort of feel (dare I say it again?) normal.

The Car

Kirk heads to the rental car place early to pick up the car.  This is one that we reserved months in advance when we planned this trip.  We specifically arranged to pick up the car in Seattle and return it in San Francisco.

He meets us at breakfast with keys in hand, but not happy.  Somehow their computer says pick up AND return in Seattle and "Oh, sorry.  We don't have a fluid fleet.  You can't drop off out of state."  No, we didn't go through a small company.  This was one of the big ones.

A new rental last minute will be expensive if it's even available.   We contemplate Kirk driving up from San Francisco to Seattle to return the car, then fly back down to catch our flights.  It's not a great plan.  Flights aren't as cheap as we'd remembered.

Our current company mentioned National - a sister company who did have a "fluid fleet," but didn't have anything available.

Funny... when I checked National, they had a car available.  So... we winced at the price and went for it.  Bottom line, in a vacation that begins in one state and ends two below, a car is sort of an essential.  We'll get the new car tomorrow morning...

Thankfully, this and the luggage issue gave us just a bit more time in the area.  We had time to go to Seattle (next post) and enjoy the city.

The Luggage

After traipsing all over Seattle in yesterdays 29 hour outfits using an airline blanket as a poncho, I was a bit eager to find my luggage.

I checked online and got no information.  My claim was still "in process."

I called and got the same "in process" message on a recording with no "real people" option.

So, I jumped on the free airport shuttle and went to the US Airways luggage counter.  This lady was very friendly and seemed like she was honestly trying, but she could not find out where my luggage was and when it would arrive.  The flight I came on yesterday was about to arrive.  I stood there watching the carousel go round and round with not a sign of my stuff.  I'd been told in Philly that my luggage would take my same itinerary 24 hours later... but then they thought my luggage made it to Lisbon...

A mid-30's man lost stood there looking for his flip flops that had fallen out of the side pocket of the backpack that he'd checked in.  He was actually turning to go report then lost.  Seriously?  I'm waiting for four large pieces of luggage for 6 people and he's reporting the flip flops that were loosely shoved into a non-sealable mesh pocket. 

I went back to find the US Airways lady busy.  She had no clue.  Our 4 large pieces of luggage were lost without a trace.  "Ok, well, I'm going to go check at American."

The American luggage service counter was at the far end of baggage claim, but I made it, gave him my luggage tickets and said, "We arrived yesterday on US Airways.  They don't know what happened to my luggage.  Do you?"

And he did!  "I'm showing one piece arriving on this next flight.  They probably grouped all the numbers under just one.  They'll arrive on the carousel directly in front of you in 5 minutes."

And they did!!

A harried me couldn't make the luggage trolley machine take my bills and the credit card function was broken, so I lugged all four unwieldy pieces down to US Airways where they gave me a trolley.  I asked if they would just drive me, but the "luggage delivery service only delivers luggage and it wouldn't go out until tomorrow."

The free shuttle it is.

And I returned triumphant to the happy squeals of everyone.

Bottom line:
We travelled:  Valencia  - Lisbon - Philadelphia - Seattle
Then 24 hours-ish later:
Luggage travelled:  Valencia - Madrid - Orlando - Denver - Seattle

It arrived in the country unaccompanied and untouched. 

My          in  ter  n  et       is     so     s l o w     that   I'm      af r ai d        that    it     m i ght     take      a    full     ye ar     ju st     to    cr  ea te   a    bl og      post     any    lo n g e r          th  an         t h i s. 

Y o u          w  a n t    p h ot  os?  ? ?     C  o u l d         be     two     y e a r s.       I  am   l iv i n g      in   a     t h i r d     w o r l d      c  ou n   t  ry      as       far         as      i n  t e r n e t     is    co n c e r n e d.

A  l  l        th r ou   gh             a         p h o n e     l i n e.


Argh.

Remember the Gripe of the Day last week when the credit card machine wouldn't work???  And I'd gone to get cash, but the large amount of money that was in the account had vanished in the 24 hours since I'd checked it last and just 24 hours before I was going to the bank to reload the account anyway?

Apparently in that interim 24 hours when my account sat empty, my cell phone company decided to take their payment.  They got one - Tiara's, but sadly the payments for Kirk's and my phone were declined.

This is how bills are paid here.  You receive a statement, yes, but by that time the money is usually gone.  See, here, like in Germany, when you set up a service, you give them your bank account numbers so that when you owe money, they just take it.  Ahh, the joy of having no control over your money.

So last Monday, Kirk's phone stopped working.  No phone, no internet.  On Tuesday my phone stopped working, so on Wednesday, I called Movistar was hung up on twice, then finally got someone to help me and 5 minutes of repeating myself later, got him to understand me.  I needed to go to the post office to make the payment.  The post office closes at 1415. I'd have to wait until tomorrow.

Thursday I went to the post office armed with cash, our phone numbers, our Spanish resident ID card numbers, and the amounts due.  Could I pay them both together?  No.  They had to be paid separately even though they are under the same account.  I tried to pay a bit more (just to make sure).  Nope, the computer only accepts the exact amount - neither a penny more nor less.  After 5 attempts, the lady was finally able to get my payment to work.  48 hours later, I'd have phone service.  72 hours later my internet would work again.

Kirk's information however, wouldn't work.  At first she was turning my sevens into ones because we write them differently.  I caught that mistake and watched her carefully.  We tried both resident numbers.  We tried different amounts.  Finally she gave up.  Last time, she said.  It didn't work.

I called Movistar when I got home.  Took 5 minutes to explain that I was calling for my husband's phone not mine.  I double checked the information.  It was correct.

Friday morning I went back to the post office with a newly neatly written paper with all of the information printed in the Spanish style with ones and sevens overly legible.  We tried again - 5, 6 times.  Didn't work.

So on Friday while waiting for our turn to go into the caves, I called movistar again.  Rechecked all the numbers.  They are all correct.  What do I do?  Can't I just go to the Movistar store and pay?  No.  The only way to pay is at the post office which I've been trying for two days without success or through a bank transfer.

So, on Saturday, I request a special code that will allow me to make transfers from my computer and go through a series of confirmation numbers that are sent to my phone from my bank.  And eventually, I am able to make the payment, but it's yet to be seen if my husband will have phone service or not.

I love Spain.  I love living abroad and experiencing new cultures.  I consider most inconveniences just part of the journey.  But I draw the line at money issues.  Yeah, I'm here and I have to deal with it, but the backwards ways in which things happen with banks and business... the ability for companies to take money from an account before I even receive a statement or warning.  It's just rediculous.

And here ends the gripes for a while.  May be it's just the heat.  But I am thankful through and through for the freedom and control that I have over my money in the states.  It's a beautiful thing.

In honor of today, the first day this season that I have ventured out on to the hot sandy beaches in my bathing suit,  I bring you this comic which sums up my sentiments of summer attire. 

Got sprung from the hospital "early" Sunday afternoon after 5 days instead of the suggested 10. Have spent a couple days trying to "behave myself" by not working too hard. It's not my cup of tea.

And, sadly, sitting too long in my office chair just hurts - a sure sign that I probably shouldn't be doing it. And, I have an article due Monday which kind of takes priority over the blogging thing...

So, I did take notes - lots of them - partly out of my need for memories and details of the curious hospital stay, and partly out of complete and total boredom.

That being said, the notes will be put together into something readable in the near future along with photos of Arianna's new smile and Luci fearlessly riding her bicycle without training wheels.

:) T

P.S. I can't sweep, vacuum, load the dishwasher, bend over much, drive, or pick up much heavier than this cup of coffee, but I CAN push down the button on Tiara's camera, and so, out of boredom, curiosity, and the fact that my coffee ended up on the mid-floor windowsill and I was too tired to walk up or down a flight of stairs, I started a funny little game of taking pictures of my coffee. This is what I saw reflected in my coffee today. It's a brass colored lamp on our mid level stair landing that our landlord says in "original," but, the house was built in 1907 when electricity in this way probably wouldn't have been here and not with this wiring. So, may be original means after the war - after they returned from Saxony to find their house a mere shell with the windows and doors blown out from the heavy bombing that occurred here. Rats and ash covering the floor. There's a story here. I may tell it in my next cup of coffee.

Just because this could be fun... I read this recently on a random blog and it's kind of a fun little exercise and could be a fun way to find some interesting books.



Meme 123
Directions:

1) Pick up the nearest book.
2) Open it to page 123.
3) Find the fifth sentence.
4) Post the next three sentences.
5) Pass the meme on to five more people, and acknowledge the person who tagged you.

God has blessed me with an incredible family both immediate and extended that I am both proud of and proud to be a part of and a circle of beautiful women all over the world that I can call my friends.

But today I had to say an extremely sad "see you later" to one of the greats -- I think it's the saddest good-bye I've ever had to say to a friend.

It's silly... but I kind of think friends are like shoes. You know, we have different kinds of friends to fill those different needs in our life, so just as shoes come in different colors and styles, we have funny friends and coffee friends, friends we can cry with and friends that we shop with, friends we can be fancy with at the theater and friends we sweat with at the beach. Some of our friends might fill several niches just like my black slides can go with jeans or skirts... but it's rare when there is someone who can do it all. I thought I'd come close...

And then I came here and I met this crazy lady that, at first impression (for who knows what reason) seemed Canadian. And she taught me to laugh, but allowed me to cry and listened when things didn't make sense. She gave me to gift of reading and filled a prized corner of my bookshelves with amazing literary nuggets of wisdom and faith while inscribing them with her own. We shopped for antique oddities and Italian treasures. We traveled, shared a room with an amazing view, ate food so good we giggled, drank the best coffee and watched fancy old women who were simply fabulous. We shared moments. I could be honest to a fault. Catty and rude, silly and frivolous, or completely overly serious. And it was ok. She went with every mood, every occasion and we had fun. She's wise, but doesn't make me feel like a kid. And she always knows what I need to hear - not what I always want to hear. She has faith in me and won't let me be less than what I should. The cornerstone of the great triumvirate. My right hand and my left brain. That was Holly. That is Holly. And yes, I know it's not good-bye and I know I live in this amazing age of internet and cheap phone calls. But she is that magical pair of shoes that goes with everything. And now, what will I wear?

Living this life where I move every couple years, I know good-bye. Good-bye stops in frequently here, creating distance between family and friends, testing the bonds, making us cling to the memories we cherish as if they'd sprout legs and run. Good-bye sneaks up quickly with that sideways glance that is sometimes mocking, sometimes sinister, but always hard to read. I don't like him. I don't like "see you later" either. The computer is ok, but you can't hug it.

And if I'd had the slightest inkling of who this was when I met her by the rasta cows on Schliefweg that day, I would've knocked her over with a big hug right then and there.

Not the most exciting of blog entries... but I have this chicken-scratch list of books that I saw in the English section of a great German bookstore in Aachen and before I lose the scrap, I want to get them down...

Besides... if you've read them, you can tell me if it's a good read or not and possibly save the the time since my reading time is precious. But... it is my goal to break away from elementary fiction and try to read like an adult again. Wish me luck.

• The Book Thief by Markus Zusak
• An Englishman in Paris by Michael Sadler
• 1000 Splendid Suns by Hosseini
• Whitethorn Woods by Binchy
• Lollipop Shoes by Harris
• The Historian by Kostova
• Zadie Smith on Beauty

Oh... and the same glorious day that I found myself in a bookstore and I realized just how much I miss browsing a bookstore - something that you take forgranted there in the states, but quickly miss when the bookstores carry books mostly in a language that you can properly read... oh, to sip Starbucks while browsing at Barnes and Noble... to lounge upon a bookstore sofa and soak up the ambiance with my nose in the latest... I don't miss tv. I don't miss a lot of things. I do miss bookstores.

On that wonderful day I popped into a delightful clothing shop that carries the best scarves and wraps in town and heard Raul Paz' En Casa playing overhead. It was fabulous. The really hysterical thing was that I had been shopping all day in Aachen and had been speaking German over and over again with people there, but the second I walked into that shop and heard Raul Paz, my brain switched and the poor shopkeeper looked at my in the most amused manner as I stumbled over my words. Everything came out Spanish. Then he started speaking French and the little bit of French that I have learned just flew out without hesitation. My poor mixed up mind. Excuse me if I can no longer speak English when I return.