Life: Idiotropic

Sorry for the deluge of posts. The figurative deluge matches the one storming outside my windows making for a perfect day inside for coffee, hot soup, and catch up time. Something I needed and don't allow much. Sat for a while with a book and some coffee, allowed myself a 20 minute nap before the phone rang. I think we'll make hot cocoa tonight. Didn't imagine I'd be cold in Spain so soon, but it's sort of comforting. Feels more like fall. And after all, one or two days of rain isn't bad at all. Sun will return soon by Thursday most likely with shorts weather once again.

Last month I'd run into a nice Hungarian woman at Mercadona. She helped me as I stared lost at the machines that weigh and price the produce. I couldn't remember the Spanish word for cucumber and couldn't find the picture. We talked briefly in Spanish, then English. Her English was good. Where was she from? Hungary. And all smiles because Grandpa was from Hungary too... well, Austria, but that was just after Trianon, so he was sort of Hungarian, but with an Austrian birth certificate... but I digress...

So a month ago... may be even 6 weeks... she gave me her number... and I was going to call, but the kids weren't in school and then they did start, but the weeks were rough... and then I did and we set a time, but Luci was sick and I had to cancel... and so on. Life just sort of happens and interrupts coffee dates. But she called back... amazingly enough because you know, when you meet people and let it go too long, then usually it's awkward and those things are let go. But I stood in front of Mercadona at 10 this morning to meet this Hungarian woman I'd only met briefly before 6 weeks ago and couldn't at all picture. And then this very thin woman about my age walks near and I just knew - she looked Hungarian to me - somehow, may be it was just that she was very thin and I remember so well those tall super skinny girl in Budapest. So I smiled and waved and we zipped off in her car to the "coolest" coffee shop in town - the most posh - that has may be the best coffee, but probably not the best pastry. Well enough, we just got our small coffees - 5 of which would fit into my well loved Starbucks mugs. Each coffee came with a tiny little sugar crusted croissant. Enough to nibble on. The coffee was good without sugar - that says something. Many are too bitter here.

And we talked for just an hour, stilted at times, but cordial. Her sister was in London, so she went and ended up meeting a Spanish man. She lived in London for 5 years and loved it and felt so at home there, but her partner wanted to come back to Spain and now she's here living in Puzol. She's my age - just 1 month and 10 days older. We got up and she paid, but I'll pay next time. And may be we'll meet at my house. She loves to bake and makes a good strudel. Friends that cook are fun... next week may be she'll come up and we'll make strudel together. It's nice to meet someone out of the US military loop. So, we'll see. It's nice to have international friends. And she was so happy to speak English!

Tiara and I took a couple hours this morning to run errands and have some time together. Went to the post office - 11 Euros to send a small package to Germany. But, no lines at the post office, so I won't complain. Tried to do our grocery errands first, after all, milk and eggs here aren't refrigerated, so leaving them in the car for a while isn't a big deal. But there's no parking anywhere. Gone are the German days when you can find a parking spot downtown at the first pass by. This is not a culture where people walk or bike as frequently. There are just so many cars everywhere lining every street, sometimes both sides, on the sidewalks, double parked, stopped waiting, stuck. So, I gave up on eggs and took Tiara to a coffee shop near El Moli. I'd been there twice before - they have a nice apple nut pastry that I like. And lots of empanadas and filled croissants. But today it had transformed itself into this amazing patisserie! (Apparently, the bakeries here only do the really fancy desserts on the weekends and only do bread items in the week.) The usually empty case was absolutely packed with beautiful colorful creamy desserts in all shapes and sizes. Oh, I wish I could've tried a bite of each! Yum. We got one torta de manzana and a bocadillo con crema, two cafe con leches and sat. The tables weren't full, but a steady stream of people came in to pick up orders, large platters of small bites, pastries, and breads. Large plates of filled things, bocadillos and empanadas and things I couldn't identify, but looked good. Like Thursday's cafe, there is no menu. And I saw people eating things that I didn't see in the case. Somehow there must be things that all the bakeries can do and you just have to know and to ask. It is soccer season. Saturdays must be very busy days for post game parties.

After our treat we reattempted parking which had gotten worse, so we parked at Consum and walked. Went into little clothing and accessory shops, saw some cute things, but discovered that all these shops shared a common odor - unidentifiable, but not good. Walked past a church where huge crowds of mostly old men filled the street corners and yard in front of it. Saw a flowered car. Thought it was a wedding... no, a funeral. May be that explains the number of men. Do they segregate themselves at funerals too?

Tonight we went to a party for US personnel and got hailed (as in Hail and Farewell, no the white ice pellets). Had probably the most delicious brisket I've ever tasted. Must get that recipe soon. And saw my housekeeper - she does parties!!! That is fabulous. Will make Thanksgiving MUCH easier. :)

I think that today officially sold my little ones on their new school. On Tuesday, Arianna and Luci came home with little baggies with Sports Day stuff. An ascot, a baseball cap, and a patch to sew on their PE shirt. Each grade (or class, I'm not sure) belongs to a different "house." It's all very Harry Potter. Luci is part of the dragon house and had to wear a green shirt with her PE shorts, hat, and scarf. Arianna is in the Gryphon house and wears blue. So today they did sports - dodgeball and paddle among them. Paddle is a Spanish obsession. I really don't understand it. One little girl picked on Luci today telling her she was stupid and not good at anything. I'd like to run to her defense, but Luci seems to be handling herself very well at school and doesn't seem overly bothered by it - actually she seems more irritated than anything. Arianna's only "social" problem is a little boy at her table who lies and tries to get her in trouble. But, so far, he hasn't been successful and Arianna also is more irritated than upset.

Elise jumped off the bus equally happy with her day - Senses Day for the 1st year students. They played games related to all 5 senses and even got to taste some new foods! Her teacher said she cried at playtime, but I think she was more tired than anything. She really loves school now and has an Irish friend, "who speaks our language," Elise says.

Tiara went back to school after being off all week and couldn't even get all her assignments because there are no passing periods and the students are not allowed in their building during break or lunch. Its such an odd world for her. They treat the high school students like young children which drives my overly responsible girl quite bonkers.

I ran errands and witnessed an odd traffic situation. I was in Betera. We'd passed a light. Traffic coming towards us was flowing, but all of the sudden without apparent cause or warning, traffic in front of me stopped dead. The car 3 up from me wouldn't move. People in my lane were beeping. Then traffic though moving in the other lane started beeping as well. A small white car had been sticking out a tiny bit from the parking spot and quickly pulled back into the spot. Traffic on that side resumed. All was well there, but it had been a solid 2+ minutes stopped for us. A tall thin woman in a buttery yellow tunic got out of the drivers side of the car stopped in front. She walked in front of her car and INTO the oncoming traffic putting up her hand and standing in the middle of the lane. Traffic stopped (thank goodness...), she waved at the little white car who backed out. She stopped him as well, waved to her own car whose driver obliged and pulled into the parking spot, then she continued to the other side of the street, traffic began to flow and I was on my way home again. Stopped for 3 minutes for a parking spot? It wasn't even a good one.

Took photos of my flowers today before this rainy season drowns them all. Kirk got home before the girls. They all cuddled up in front of Ice Age: Dinosaurs, and Tiara and I cooked dinner together: almost a weekly meal - grilled hamburgers with caramelized onions, guacamole, tomatoes, cheese... the works and a nice salad. Mmmm.

I like lazy Friday evenings.

Stir crazy me feels better when out of my house. I need to see, smell, and hear something new and different. That's why Europe appeals to me so much. There is always something new, different, and often strange.

Just yesterday, Kirk saw a man sleeping in the grassy median between the highway. Tiara saw a tiny pony pulling a tiny cart pulling two large horses in the back. I've seen a similar cart and many a fashion faux pas, and random things that are, at the moment, escaping my mind.

So this was Thursday and I needed to escape. Drove downtown, went in circles through narrow streets of double parked cars flashing emergencies until I gave up on decent parking and parked by the vet's office - a tiny little road where I could park halfway onto the curb and no one would care.

Walked to the busy main street that dips down under the train tracks that separate the "new" Puzol with the old, into old town with narrow roads, cobbled streets, and the houses separated only by intersections, wall to wall homes wrapping entirely around city blocks in different heights, styles, and colors, but all touching. Old wooden shutters, Catholic inspired ceramic paintings pressed into stucco, balconies with decorative tiles on the undersides as well so even passersby can enjoy the beauty. Ornately carved wooden doors built for giants nearly twice my height. One was opened to reveal the silhouette of a table, perfectly set with coffee, a vase of flowers... and a chair on either end with an older lady in each chair. Looked like a moment out of a painting, so perfect, so framable. I wanted to take a photo, but didn't want to disturb the moment.

Walked past bars loud and buzzing with people - not with drunken stupor, but talking, laughing, drinking beer and eating bocadillos - sub sandwiches on baguettes - chicken, anchovy, jamon y manchego. Mid morning is bocadillo time. Lunch isn't until 2:30. A La Hora Del Cafe was equally loud as it always is. The upstairs of an old agricultural building, this place is alive with conversation. The windows open, it's patrons visible from below. I just love the name.

A couple blocks of quiet residential. A women in a pink bathrobe and curlers standing outside talking to an elderly man. Older women with shopping bags heading to the newer part of town. A woman on her balcony, a mop slung over the railing, mopping the ceramic underside. The men were in the bars standing together at tables, some smoking, all looking like a scene from Cheers, comfortable, relaxed, as if they were part of the decor. Well place props in a movie.

The noise picked up at the church with a cafe on either side facing it, full again of folks with a coffee, a beer, and a bocadillo. You can't walk around the church. Like the rest of the town, another building is built right next to its wall, stuck to it, continuous stone and stucco. To walk around the church, you walk an entire block around, only rear view a bit of steeple visible through a lower part of another building's roof.

And then I found myself on a small residential street, narrower than most, cars parked, but no traffic, quiet... but then, not so quiet. A lady swept her walk, her door open. A box of grapes and a box of some other fruit in the doorway, the price scribbled on the front. A wicker chair sat outside another house with a casaba melon on it. People of all ages stood in and around doorways and chairs, talking, smiling. Old ladies pushed strollers.

A small cafe called to me, L' antiga tahoma, so I went in. Locals. Everyone knew everyone, except me, of course. A grandma in a red floral dress held a blond baby girl playing happily with a set of keys talking to a younger woman across the table. A thin smartly dressed woman sat at a tall table alone with her newspaper and tomate. Tomate is a popular breakast here... a slice of good French bread, finely chopped or even purred tomato spread over the top, a sprinkle or salt, sugar or both, and a nice drizzle of Spanish olive oil. Simple, but absolutely delicious. Three other tables occupied men eating bocadillos, drinking beer or coke zero, and snacking on the green olives and peanuts at their tables. As men came in they grabbed another chair and crowded around. The big screen tv on the wall had a talk show on. They were talking about acne and Gripe A - swine flu. There was a clattering of dishes and a hum of conversations and greetings. For me, a quiet table, Cafe con leche y una caracola - I think it was a caracola which translates to snail, but only because the flaky powdered sugar topped pastry is swirled like a snail shell. Delicious and for less than 2 Euros total. I may just have to become a regular that everyone knows.

The walk back was quiet, uneventful. Some streets were completely empty save a chair outside the doorway. Each part of town has a band of park area - a wide stone pathway set with trees and benches. Shade in the summer, a place to meet. Old men sat on two benches. Old women occupied the third. Seems women and men don't mix as much socially here. Tiara's become especially aware of that at school.

A young couple pushed a little on at the park in the big square. She had on those low crotched genie pants in a garish purple and black print. She could do the splits in those pants without a problem.

A women sold lottery tickets outside the bank.

Tiara's home this day. The 4th day this week. Doing better, but still tired. Back to school on Friday.

MORE PHOTOS: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=127095&id=674507268&l=9f8cf587a6

The kittens are now 5 weeks old, jumping, climbing, and tackling each other in every waking moment. No longer constrained to a box, I have my best efforts to barricade one bathroom so that they can live in there, but even that is almost escapable. Three more weeks and they'll be gone. I think. We're still debating on whether to keep one or not. Even the mother will go. We've realized that as "nice" as she is, there are some things that you just can't teach a stray cat.

Speaking of critters, the snails have taken to climbing up my windows now. Out more and in bigger numbers since the cooler weather began, I now understand the piles of empty shells in the gardens. There are a lot of snails here - in my garden, on my windows, on top of my paella, in the frozen food section of my grocery store.

And centipedes... I've seen three. And Mantis. I found one rocking back and forth on my outside wall, exactly at eye level next to my open sliding glass door. They jump. They fly. The have little spikes on their hind legs that can clasp onto you. They are not supposed to be dangerous, but I'm still not fond of them.

Large antlike bodies with huge wings have started to swarm cars. I came back from my walk on Thursday to these nasty things all over my car. I felt like I was in some B grade horror movie sitting in my car looking out through the fly covered windows.

Truly, I don't mind the bats or the cats or the lizards that hang from my patio ceiling. But I'm beginning to not like the bugs. So far no biting or vicious attacks, but not going to let my guard down either. :)

Some things aren't scary. We can get whole wheat bread and good baguettes, hamburger buns and hot dog buns, but I can't get grainy nutty bread and I so so miss the German stuff. I can find Heinz products and chocolate flavored Special K. I can't get cheerios, but can get Oreos. The produce is overly seasonal, so though oranges and citrus are plentiful, I can't get berries - not even frozen. No frozen fruit. No cheddar, but an entire section of manchego. More meats, lots of lamb. Antiperspirant only comes in spray or roll on. I've just "ordered" my solid, so I don't feel sticky. Spices are iffy. No refried beans or corn starch. No snack foods like granola bars or fruit roll ups though there are tons of cookies and chocolate filled croissants and rolls. A lot of oil and a lot of sugar.

Well. We're here. The house is 99% done and the kids are in their third week of school. Kirk is in his work routine. I have time.

But.

That 1% not done feels like 10% and I still have little school issues to iron out plus I can't leave the puppy home long and the kittens are here and... you get the gist. I just don't feel quite "there" yet. Or "here" yet.

Living in Spain in a nice house in a beautiful neighborhood with a view of the Med from my office and from my balcony - a view I awake to each morning. Beautiful weather. Flowers, culture, food, friendly people... I really am thankful.

And we've been so welcomed here... have gone to parties and have been invited to more. Went shopping with a friend at a REAL mall. Was wonderful.

And basically life is fantastic and I've been blessed beyond and still, I'm in this unidentifiable funk. Feeling a bit lost. Have the time to write, but can't put words together even for something as trivial as a blog - this blog or any blog of mine. Haven't even been taking photos.

It's probably my complete lack of adventure thus far (though some might argue that just living here can be an adventure) - being in the house more than is the norm for me. So I've prescribed myself one village explore tomorrow morning and a train ride into Valencia on Thursday. Hoping a bit of java downtown and something other than my white house walls will shake me out of this whatever it is I'm in.

Had a good cry this afternoon while writing a letter to Tinny. Gillrath is the place that I've most felt like I belonged. Ever. It took some time to build to that. Was there a year before I met my best friend. About that much time before I found my niche. It took time and then I belonged. I may have that here, but it's hard to leave so much behind and start over knowing it could be year or more before I find my place again.

In many ways I'm a loner, but I still need to feel like I belong. I need a place to go. The Cheers theme comes to mind. Just want to go "where everyone knows my name."

In Germany I learned to drive at 100mph. 95 was comfortable, but I learned to drive it carefully watching my rear view mirror for those driving at 150 mph so that I could get over before being crushed. No amount of time in Germany will make 150 seem normal. None.

The Netherlands taught me to drive through lanes seemingly narrower than my car with mere centimeters to spare and that you must signal both in and out of round a bouts.

The French taught me the fine art of turning on my turn signal at the mere thought of may be possibly turning sometime that day and leaving it on indefinitely or until actually turning. Turning it off means that you're turning in the opposite direction. This is especially wise to know while on freeways. Thankfully, the French gave me a crash coarse in the lane-less roundabout. The one with 4-5 lanes entering it, then a complete disappearance of painted lines so that cars can swerve around the roundabout in any manner they see fit. These are horrifying, but frequent in Valencia as well. Am hoping the French taught me well. That's not another lesson I look forward to, but I've found that holding my breath helps.

And now Spain is teaching me a myriad of driving subtleties. The beauty of flipping on your emergencies and double parking. For a real challenge, you can try the parallel double. Scary in the face of oncoming traffic on a narrow road. With all the skill of a skier without the grace, I learned to fly over speed bumps frequent and tall, but have learned that slamming on the breaks prior to the bump is the far safer route, so I halt sneaking carefully over them like a novice in a field of moguls. Oh, and one must not forget, the running of the red light. Of course, I would never ever do this except for now when I do this daily upon entering my neighborhood and passing the security gate with the solid red light where no one stops and no one cares. So why is it there? Guess sometimes it's the semblance of caring that matters.

That "semblance" is big here. Armed security guards walking through shopping centers, into shops, walking by you as you pick up that new shower curtain. Armed guards in the Metro, on the train... police cars and vigilantes patrolling the neighborhoods. Gates across every home, black iron, menacing, but unlocked, or easily scalable. Do I feel safer? Not if I think about it too much, but I do like that "semblance" of security. Gives me a "semblance" of safety when Kirk is gone that I count on.

I signed up for holiday reminders for Spain. I get email reminders now almost daily. Today is Nuestra Senora de la Bien Aparecida in Cantabria. I'm not in Cantabria, but who's going to bet we have fireworks here tonight anyway? I'll bet you my last phone bill we do!

Is there such a thing as a fair, honest, no out to get rich off of you phone company? There? Here? Anywhere?

To spare you the details, we essentially had our phone and internet service shut off for 4 days. I paid my bill, but there was an outstanding bill from June (when I was in Germany) that wasn't paid by the previous tenants. Those tenants didn't bother to turn off the phone or anything else either, so when I called Telefonika to give them my name and change the account over, I "assumed" the responsibility of any unpaid debts. They didn't tell me this until after they shut off my service though. Nice, huh? Apparently this is normal.

Now while I'm pretty irate that I had to shell out over $100 for someone else's bill in order to have a service I've been paying for, there were some great things learned here and I do have to be thankful for those:

• First, Spain is A LOT more efficient at restarting a service than Germany could ever hope to be. I paid the bill with cash at the post office and my service was back within 2 hours.
• Although my phone service was off, I could still receive calls. That was great!
  
• And, although I couldn't call any normal numbers, I could still call emergency numbers and the phone company itself
• Who has an English department that is fairly helpful - makes sense, half of England lives here.
  

... lies mainly - let's just say the US isn't the only place to have messed up aggravating telephone companies. I have bits of note here and there and would like to fill in on this last week of school which was quite an experience... but here's what I wrote earlier, before I had internet again...

"0934 - The routine is set. Today is the first day I feel like it’s normal. Kirk got up early and was out the door by 0730 for his week of work in Albacete. We all waved at the gate while he drove out. Hasta el viernes! I have my morning blocked off into segments of time with the girls. Awake at 7. Up by 0730. Breakfast done by 0800. Teeth, dressed, hair fixed in front of the tv from 0800-0830. Walk to the bus at 0845. This morning it was clockwork and no tears at the bus. Now I can eat my breakfast in my silent house. The cats and dog are fed and happy. The kitchen is clean. And instead of the lively chirp buzz of the cicadas that normally serenade me, I have the ear chattering bbrrrroom, rooaaarrr of some sort of motored gardening device in the yard behind me. It’s loud. But I don’t dare shut my windows, for the cool breeze is nice and enables me to not turn on my air conditioning. I’m afraid to see the electricity bill when we do use it. The last one was for 200 Euros.

Seriously, I think even Spanish lawnmowers are louder than normal! No wonder the kids at school are loud! I think they’re partially deaf by the age of 5 due to noise pollution. With the nightly fireworks, and motorscooters at all hours, and the “normal” talking volume, it’s a wonder they can hear at all. I think the entire country is hard of hearing. At this rate, I will be too by the time I move again.

School started on the 7th. By the 11th we already had reports of head lice in both Arianna and Luci's grades. Blech. Aquanet, here we come."

P.S. On a completely different subject, our beautiful girl, miss Logan, true to her breed, loves water. And, true to her species, loves dirt. Combine the two and she's in pure doggie heaven which does not make heaven for me. Muddy footprints on my patio, little holes in the yard where she is determined to hide every treasure she finds. And the catch is that she's absolutely adorable. Like a toddler with a chocolate covered face, is my puppy with mud everywhere and those eyes that just look at you and demand love. So I've covered her favorite holes with flagstone and have covered others with red pepper flakes... we'll see what works, but like all my girls, she's smart, spunky, and has that gleam in your eye that tells you that this is just the beginning.

Ha Ha. That was my attempt at lame humor. :)

Because today I had to go to Betera to make a deposit at this bank because though I have a branch 10 minutes from my house in Puzol, they wouldn't take my check yesterday and the Betera branch will.

It's ok. This town is sweet. I like the narrow pedestrian only streets though the pastel stuccoed homes sitting wall to wall with iron bars and ceramic "paintings" embedded into them. It's cozy and comfortable. A little like Venice, only shorter. And today all the old ladies were out doing their morning shopping with their wheeled carts in tow. Stopping to chat with neighbors, smiling, doing to the bakery for a bread and a sweet and probably to catch up on the latest. Watching them was fun. They know everyone. And so I did get some odd looks. They don't know me. ;)

So I was running errands in Betera on 9/11. Remembering, wondering what ceremonies would be happening back home, loving my country from a distance. Feeling a bit far away without internet or phone today to connect, to see the news, to talk to family. Praying for a country whose core I believe in, but for whom I worry. The distance puts things in perspective, sometimes. I am not bombarded with political spin from any direction. But then what I learn is tailored by what media choices I make and what I chose to hear. So may the perspective isn't perfect. Either way, I am an American living in Spain and though I absolutely treasure the opportunity to live abroad, I treasure the privilege to live abroad as an American.


PHOTOS: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=133227&id=674507268&l=0ea5ad8250

Three times now I've tried to sit here and type, but what is normally quite simple, simply isn't now. Could be the distracting buzz of the cicadas. Could be my muddled brain. These last few days have been exhausting emotionally and though I have a million little details, lists, frustrations, quirks about this school and my girls in it, there is no way to make any of that even remotely readable at the moment.

So, suffice it to say that this morning went ok. It was the first that no one cried at the bus stop. The first that I didn't cry. All 4 of my girls are in school all day, but I can't quite enjoy that yet.

Here's a Tiara quote from yesterday:
"I had to explain unsuitable today. I don't like being an EFL in an ESL world."

It's a holiday today. I have no idea what holiday it is and it's obviously not an important enough event to close school. It's the second day. Three teary girls and a lump in my throat. They're off and I need to run errands and try not to think about it. The dog is out of the special food that I can only buy at the vet. The vet is open until 1400. Oops. But now I'm parked outside the vet's office and see the sign. Closed for the holiday. And there are fireworks going off behind me. No lights. It's daytime, so it would be fairly unimpressive anyway. But I can hear the noise and see little white puffs of smoke appearing magically and dissipating upwards. Fireworks during the day? I still don't get it.

Too exhausted and emotional worn, I don't think I can even write this well, so I may just leave it at these photos and fill in the blanks tomorrow. For now, it's enough to know that of us 5 girls (myself and my 4), only one of us didn't cry today. We got through it. I think we'll probably all live. But for now, we need some time and a really good night sleep. The banana splits after school didn't hurt either.

PHOTOS: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=143616&id=674507268&l=3afa312086

Last night at 2am, I awoke with two little girls in my bed and what sounded like banging on the side of the house. I sat up, listened. The sound was close. I imagined someone in the house, someone breaking in, my other two girls downstairs. A moment of panic followed by slight bravado. Deep breath. I need to investigate. As I stood up something caught my eye at the window. I looked again and began to breath. Fireworks. Could that banging really be fireworks? A phenomenal show was going on in Valencia - may be the best show I've ever seen, and I was seeing it from my window 20 kilometers away. Elise and I sat on the bed and watched. She wandered to the bathroom. The housekeeper had left the window open. Ahh. Sound is the best magician.

But 2am??!??! Isn't that a bit late for a Wednesday night fireworks display on a non-holiday?

This is living in Spain.

You know the cidadas are loud when you can hear them through plugged ears and a foggy head. I hate this feeling. Seriously, enough of this and I might have to finally admit that may be quite possibly I might have allergies. Blech. Sounds like Darth Vador's in my head when I breath.

So, no news is no news which is quite frankly boring. Usually I can flip through my photos for some inspiration - quick reminders of my daily adventures. Sadly enough I only have recent photos of the zoo that has taken over my house - the dog and 5 squirming kittens who with the aid of some graphic photos we looked up on yahoo (have you ever searched for cat genitals online?), Tiara and I were able to successfully identify 3 boy kittens and 2 girls. Cuatro, our favorite, is a boy - to our great disappointment as we had all pretty much decided that only a girl kitten would do. Another boy in this house might throw us completely off kilter.

In other news, I did try a coffee shop and a new bakery in town. The tiny coffee shop is merely on long counter on one side and an equally long, narrow strip of small tables on the other. The littles tried various baked chocolate treats, Tiara had a farton - a long soft sweet breadstick with a small white icing stripe down the center - a hit with her, not too sweet, but the perfect balance to a strong cup of coffee. I had a chicken empanada which remarkably tasted exactly like chicken pot pie only without the peas. Tiara's coffee granizado was, well, not something we'd ever try again. Bitter, but not in a good way with a canned flavor, artificial and overly strong. My cappuccino looked beautiful with a mountain of white foam and a light dusting of cocoa, but was also extremely bitter, shocking like a shot of whisky, jolting. To me coffee should be full flavored, a little bitter, but smooth. I want to melt into my chair, sink into a state of zen, relaxation. Coffee is as relaxing as a glass of chilled wine, yet without the drowsy side effects. It's perfect for me. So, I need to try some alternatives to Spanish cappuccino. May be a Cafe con Leche is next because I will go back. The treats disappeared and the people who run it are delightful. The older lady tried to learn English from the girls and told me that I had too many, so which one will I give her. (in a nice, non creepy way) Really, so far everyone has been so kind here. That alone helps the transition immensely.

Spanish bakeries are nothing like the German ones. Nothing. The ambiance, the sounds, the smells. No fruit topped cakes. No quark kuchen. Spanish pastries are either too sweet, or almost not quite sweet enough. Tiara and I prefer the slightly sweet, but the littles barely touched the chocolate chip muffins I surprised the with for breakfast yesterday. Plenty of chocolate chips, but I'm guessing, not sweet enough for their sugar craving buds. The cakes look good, but different and I haven't found a place where I can order just a slice instead of the whole thing.

But the girls go to school in a few days now and I will have time to explore, to find the perfect cup of coffee, the perfect slice of cake. To explore these ancient villages, to take thousands of photos, to write, paint, and become infused with all things Spain. It's time.

Apparently it's legal here. This sign sits on the side of the road where the street widens and a few stripes indicate a temporary parking spot where you can pick up a hitchhiker or two. Our neighborhood is just a 5 minute drive up the road, and many of us head into town to run our errands. Makes sense to pick up a neighbor and head to town.

Bus stops are also on highways with little lanes on the right where the bus pulls in, picks up/drops off, then zooms away again. Many of these stops have little stairways where people can quickly and safely get to and from those stops. Still, it's odd for me to see that. I would feel weird sitting at a hot bus stop on the highway.

It's a bit odd to meet people here as predictably they ask where I live and then it follows that I point to the hill or refer to my street or neighborhood. Invariably they say, "Oh, I know someone who lives up there" to which I ask, "Did you know the Vito's?" And the answer is yes and then I tell them, "Well, then you know where I live AND my phone number." Makes things easier, I guess. But it's still a bit odd.

On one hand, it is easier. People know my house and my number. I don't have to bother writing it down. They probably know it better than I do.

But on the other hand, it feels strange. Almost as if my house isn't really all my house still. It has a life and a history that hasn't had time to fade before my history begins. In Germany my house was my house. Very few people knew the previous tenant and even fewer had actually been to the house. I marked it. I made it mine. It was (and still is to many friends), the Stahlbaum's house. Now I'm in a home with stories still fresh in people's minds from a family who just left a couple weeks ago and I have to fill it, live in it, and try to mark it making it mine now - our place for our stories.

It needs flowers. Art on the walls. Some smashing patio furniture. And... a party. Yep, one big wonderful party where everyone is invited to see our place again, but for the first time.

I think I just need one really big party. Either that or I litter the lawn with a few dozen pink flamingos. That would definitely make it unique.

Is it strange to have sincere envy for a fruit?

I tried to buy a watermelon here today - something I'd almost forgotten about in Germany. There they are so expensive. I remember the first time I bought a small watermelon there choking on the $7 price tag, but it was for a party and I carved it into a basket for a fruit salad, so it was sort of worth it. But that was the only watermelon that I bought while living there. 3.5 years in Germany - one watermelon.

Here, that sweet red fruit is the perfect antidote for these steamy hot days. I simply cannot think of anything better to eat. Peaches, oranges, mangos - all good, but not juicy enough. I love the burst of refreshment in each bite - it cools so well.

Still, it seems odd to me. Here, in this hot dusty place, that something so cool and fully packed with juice could not only survive, but thrive. My logic would say that this fruit - all fruit should be more raisin like growing here- after all, that's about how I feel after standing in the sun for 5 minutes. Have scientists studied this? How can I be more like a watermelon without their generous figure?

May be they suck the humidity out of the air, drinking in the wet that merely clings to us human folk. If so, then it seems the air around a watermelon patch would be drier, cooler, less suffocating. Ahhh... if that were true, I'd tear up my lawn and plant only watermelons. You'd find me on the hottest days, lying among those plump green bodies sipping granizado in the shade of a large leaf.

Until then - until scientists figure out how to turn me into a skinny watermelon, I'll just stick to refreshing myself with wedges, chunks, and balls of it. Which means that next time I go to the grocery store, I really must buy one with a sticker. Today's great pick had no sticker, no price, and I just didn't have it in me to run back and grab another.

Granizado at the club might just have to suffice. Yeah... it's a plan. 2 hours lounging with lemon and strawberry granizado (slushy, but better) and a good book. 2 hours that the littles are happy swimming and wearing themselves out. Nothing wrong with that.

I'm sitting under the air conditioner now, tired and achy at 12:42, listening to the crick crick of the rocking chair as Elise rocks and watching the antics of our spastic puppy chasing ice cubes this way and that along our tile floor. This is my life. For now.

School starts in less than two weeks and though I don't wish for time away from my girls, I do wish for some sort of imposed schedule. Moving in the summer isn't fun. The stifling heat and our "weekend husband" schedule has slowed down the progress of our move. And then I got sick and somehow injured my neck and shoulder, so I've lost days of hard work and it's getting to me. I am not a sitter. It frustrates me that I've been here for almost 2 months and have seen/done next to nothing.

Today Tiara and I were going to go to the Tomatina festival in Bunol - a city sized tomato fight. We had places reserved on a bus. But then between the dog and the kittens... what sitter can handle three young children, a puppy, and a litter of kittens for an entire day in a house that isn't quite "done" yet?

Yes, kittens. 6 days ago, amid the unpacking of boxes and the craziness, I spend half a day watching our adopted stray give birth to 5 squirming, surprisingly cute kittens. All the girls saw at least one kitten emerge in its sack - an education in and of itself. They all saw the placentas and found out the stark reality of what exactly the mother cat does with those red gooey tissue bags. It's amazing how little done we got on those first days. I tried, but each time I walked by Alex, I stopped to see her kittens, watch Cuatro who is the smallest and was the weakest. He didn't latch on as well. I worried. I stayed up until 3am that night, reading about runts and how to get a kitten to latch on. I rubbed it vigorously as advised and kept redirecting it to an available teat. It finally latched on and I sat and watched it until it was full and dropped off.

Kittens:  Uno at 0915, then 0925, 1158, 1221, 1400.

That afternoon we'd gone to the beach for a birthday party - a nice time to play, meet some more people, and relax a bit. A nice 'forced playtime' out of the house. Tiara was left alone with the kittens just hours old and her puppy who was full of energy. 30 minutes there and my cell phone rang with Tiara hysterical on the other end of it. A kitten had crawled out of the box (we have a different box now) and was in the middle of the floor crying for its mommy. Alex walked by, hungry, and ignored the kitten. Tiara was terrified to pick up the kitten - a) because she was scared she would 'break it' and b) because Alex was 'glaring at her' and she was worried that Alex would attack her. A learning experience for my girl.

Other than pets, errands, a embarrassing puking experience at the vet yesterday (meds on an empty stomach), and dealing with paper and that last few items in each room that just don't seem to have a home. Complete randomness. There is nothing else to report.

I love living here, but I really need to get settled and start exploring. I haven't seen or done enough. Haven't tried enough new foods. It will happen, but I'm getting itchy feet. 12 days until school starts.