Life: Idiotropic

So we've lived here a year and I've done as much as I can as far as "participating" in local culture.  And, yes, I'm a foreigner and thus an outsider, but I have attended festivals, talked to locals, and tried my best to learn and understand this place I currently call "home."

The one thing that I knew I should do is the one thing that I wouldn't "because of the language."  But then, how are you supposed to learn the language if you don't delve in?

So today, in my crazy day of running to and fro, I did what I've never been able to do here in Spain.

1) Through careful logistical planning taking into consideration business, bank, and lunch hours, I was able to accomplish everything on my long list of things to do.  This included both almuerzo, business, bank, and lunch.  Amazing.

2) I signed up my middle girls for guitar lessons at Casa de Cultura and met a woman there who was extremely friendly and helpful.  Wow.  I'm now paying just 10 Euros/month for two classes/week.  Truly phenomenal.

3)  For 15 euros/year, I will now be attending Spanish for foreigners classes 3 hours each week at the adult school in Puzol where a teacher will teach the class as a whole, but also go around and give assignments individually to meet the educational levels of the students.

This is the most "integrated" I've felt.  It's fun and excited to not only have these opportunities, but to meet so many helpful people who are not treating me as an outsider. 

So, the obvious.  If you want to truly integrate, go local.  Utilize the services in the town.  The city halls and cultural and education centers.  The sports centers.  The open air markets.  If you act like an outsider, you'll forever be one.  If you go local... well, you may just start to be local.

Market day.  Little wheeled trolley in hand, I still have not quite mastered the art of buying and layering the fruits and vegetables so that they won't squish at all in the transport, but judging from the number of wheels at the market, my little orange trolley is the way to go and avoids the back breaking work of carrying a woven shopping basket - the local alternative and preference among Aachener Germans.

A bit crowded today.  I still can't get over the clothing there.  Beautiful things.  Designer things.  I can buy a fur coat at this weekly market or a designer dress at a deep discount of 150 Euros.

Me... I'll stick with the bargain.

Nectarines at 1 Euro/kilo.  Bananas at 90 cents/kilo.  Darling little pears, huge plums, deep red bell peppers.... it's a culinary treasure hunt.

Coffee with friends and a bit more insight into the upcoming holidays.  Lunch with a friend at a new restaurant that serves Spanish food with flavor.  Today I'm spoiled.  Spain is good.

After living here a year, I finally took a few pictures of our seasonal friends whose season on my porch is nearing an end.  Abundant from June though September, I see their green scaly counterparts through October, but these guys start to go away. 

This guy and his friends sit on our patio ceiling every night.  Sometimes I see as many as five, but usually only 2-3.  Although adorable and quite skitterish, this is the reason that my 15 year old daughter will not walk outside at night.  Her irrational brain thinks that one will "jump" down onto her.  I think she's watched Parent Trap one too many times.

... with Valencia.

This is what every tourist needs to see.  The time when everyone needs to come and become enchanted with this place that lifts your spirits and pushes you out into the blue.  The sky, the sea.  It calls to you and the change from hot to those fresh cool mornings, the gentle breezes, the warm.  It's amazing here now.  This is what travel brochures are made of.  This season of lingering sun and bright flowers.  The calm sea and private beaches.

This has been my last two weeks... watching somewhat sadly from my office window and my balcony and my rooftop.  Since "the 30's" have blessed me with aches and pains and limited movement for two weeks with just an few errands to break the monotony of home, I've enjoyed the blue from here and haven't ventured out much.  Exploration will come next week... I hope. 

Yes... there should be a photo here... but there isn't.   Just imagine it and know that this is the time to be in Valencia.  This is the time every tourist should be flocking to this region.  It is perfect.  Now.

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.  ;)

The only joy in an 8 hour drive across the country are the drive by shootings (the photos), the peace and quiet derived by the child to iTouch ratio, and the sad fact that this is probably the most time I'll have with my husband this week... or may be two weeks.

So, I won't complain about this entire day sitting in my van nor that my smiley doctor gave me nothing for the pain that is not getting better in this sitting position.  Nope.  We're fine.

Though it pained us greatly to drive by Seville and Cordoba without stopping, we survived.  And we managed to find a restaurant that wasn't closed for a wedding nor completely filled with suffocating smoke.  Tiara and I had some delicious artichoke hearts sauteed with serrano ham and Elise had "the best chicken ever."  Sniff.  She doesn't say that about my chicken.  :(

8 hours.  Driving.  One way.  Kirk and I are in full agreement.  Not doing that again.  Not for a day of errands. 

The plus is that I was inspired by all the grape harvests being done that I actually got online and found some wineries nearby and will be visiting them in the next couple weeks.  That will be fun.

More than just a Navy base, but... unfortunately this is about all we saw of this tiny town just across the water from Cadiz, another town that we didn't see.

I'm not quite sure what we were thinking.  I suppose I'll blame it on that whole "adult responsibility" thing winning out over the carefree me that wanted to stay a few extra nights.  School?  Work?  Eh.  How often do we get to see this??

So we spent Thursday in the car - all day.  From 1030 until close to 2000 with just a stop for gas a stop for a really average lunch that was edible, but not the hot and hearty I craved.

Friday was at the Navy base from 0730 until close to 1800.  Doctor's appointments for all 6 of us and commissary shopping which is a joy after being without it.

We found out that Tiara may have asthma and does have migraines.  Arianna has migraines too and scoliosis.  Luci's perfect so far except for her eyes, and Elise got an antibiotic for her lingering ear infection/ear drum perforation.

I liked my doctor enough until I left and realized that I got absolutely nothing accomplished.  Every single gripe/concern was met with a very smiley "you're in your 30's."  Great.  Fab.  So I'm getting older.  But last time I checked, "30's" wasn't old.  Do I really have to deal with pain now? The other humorous nugget of my visit is that I don't know if I need these visits and have no idea still what exactly was removed (or not removed) during my hysterectomy 2 years ago.  Time to dig up a German dictionary, get a copy of my record, and find out.

Bonus of this all:  An inexpensive lunch and dinner (how pathetic are we??) at Subway and a couple hours to leisurely walk around both the NEX and Commissary where we loaded up on cheddar cheese and Italian sausage among other things.

This walk on the beach was the only bit of Andalucia that I got this trip.  Tragic that I drove over 16 hours and an hour on the beach is my only reward.  But, then again, we got stuff done.  Kids have meds, I have a quandary, and the fridge has cheese.  Whoopeee.

Last weekend flew with friends in town and little touristy things, a dinner out and a 300 year old fair where I learned that I am not 26 and spinning rides after dinner and drinks are not my friend.  This weekend we're heading down to Rota where we'll find an American base, a place where all six of us can have doctor's appointments all within a 2 hour block of time and I can stock up on all the cheddar cheese I could possibly use between now and next summer.  It will be whirlwind and good.  Possibly next week I'll have time to sit again, catch up a bit, and may be breathe.  But let's not push it... I can breathe anytime.  ;)

After 700 years of Moorish rule, King Jaime I conquered Valencia in 1228 and restored the Christian kingdom here.  Between 1252 and 1428 this Cathedral was built here on the site of an earlier mosque and possibly on a Roman temple of Diana, though the latter is still speculation.

For 4 Euros, you can visit it today seeing the worship areas themselves and the tiny little museum spaces that house local Catholic treasures including the infamous "Holy Grail."

Today with visitors I toured it again seeing a bit more and taking advantage somewhat of the free audio tour that is included in the entry price.

Two things I wouldn't choose.  Both I saw today in Valencia.


1.  At Llinares, a well loved local ice cream shop, you can choose the creamy light gray anchovie ice cream.  And, if you get lucky, you might even get the real fishy that sits on top.  Not in the fish mood?  There are also Gazpacho, Potato and Egg,  Ostrich Egg, and Aphrodiasic Herb flavors.


2.  Local fashion is known to be a bit strange.  Here's one that isn't quite as loud as normal and it isn't covered in ruffles, but... well, probably not the best choice on a windy day.  Click to enlarge.  This is one croqueted full body jumpsuit.  Undergarments to be chosen with care.

Segunto is not new to me.  We discovered this Carthaginian town sprawled across the top of Segunto's hill the day we arrived in Valencia driving by it then wondering what it could be.  Little did I know how incredibly ancient it was or I probably would have swerved off the road in surprise.  Since then we've been there several times taking visitors as part of our tourist route of the area.  It's old, it's beautiful, the views are great, and there's a great little cafe below that serves cold drinks on hot days and hot drinks on cool ones.

Today was another walk up the hill and around the ruin.  The difference was that now I had friends to pose at the old Roman toilet (did I say Carthaginian?  Well... it took turns being both.).

I've always found it odd that admission is absolutely free, yet the little booth at the entrance insists on giving each person a ticket of admittance.  They don't offer maps or information and within the ruin itself, only two small plaques give away any of the tremendous history that's occurred here.  Today I went into the little pottery shop next to the Roman amphitheater and asked if this was Roman or Carthiginian.  "Roman."

But, I explained, I had read online that it was Carthaginian dating from 219BC.  This is when this sweet man did what I wish the information booth would do.  He pulled out a little booklet - in English - that tells the entire history of the ruin!  Why don't they sell these at the entrance?  Sheesh. 

Now I know.  This ruin that I've walked around so casually since living here began as the Carthaginian city of Arse in the fifth century BC.  It was also the initial scene of the Second Punic War between the Carthaginians and the Romans.  In 219 BC it was conquered by Hannibal, then seven years later in 212, it was restored by Scipio as a Roman city and remained in Roman hands until the 6th c. AD when the Visigoth monarchy moved in to the peninsula.  It's all pretty amazing and now, with book in hand, I'll go back again soon and put the knowledge with the visual.

Arianna and Luci with our friends, Julie and Maria

We go to the back of the huge food tent where our private party is arranged for all the TLP staff.  They bring out plates of salmon a white fish and bread.  Then olives.  Then serrano ham and manchego cheese.  Then tomatoes.  The kids meals are great loaded with tuna croquettes and a pork fillet and a few other things I can't remember. 

I'd barely eaten earlier today.  It's now 11pm and the food is just now trickling out.  I'm picking the leftovers off of Elise's plate.

Sangria is on the table.  It's good.  I drink 2 glasses of that and my meal finally comes.

Almost midnight.  A scantily dressed man gets on the stage in the next room with two scantily dressed women who seem to have troubles with their costumes.  They sway back and forth, but really don't have any talent for dancing and though it's disgusting, it's sort of morbidly curious, so the entire tent takes notice.  Thankfully, I'm at the clean bathroom with Elise when they come in to personally deliver a round of mojitos to everyone.

We leave.  I'm walking with my mojito, but not drinking it.  After a nearly food-free day, I've stuffed myself on heavy foods I wouldn't normally eat and have had three alcoholic drinks.  Tiara wants me to go on a spinny ride that goes upside down and around and around and I feel guilty, so I go.  It's fun!  I'm walking off all smiles and relieved that I didn't vomit on the folks beneath me.

I go on the haunted house ride with Elise who is terrified although it's nothing but dumb props and an outdated soundtrack.  There is a "Freddy" character walking around on the top floor who takes us by surprise, but he is sweet, patting Elise's head gently with his long scary rubber glove fingernails and saying, "Hola?  Como estas?" 

We're all tired 30 and 40 somethings who are up way too late.  The Spanish will party 'til 7am.  We're done by 1.  Besides, I have all my girls with me.

I'm horribly curious about these stands along the walk.  I mean, most of this is fairly normal... the rides, the loud music, the games and tacky souvenirs, the balls of cotton candy bigger than my head... but then there are these brightly lit stands along the way.  One has two mechanized women in traditional peasant dress stomping grapes.  Another adds a man on a mule.  "Chato" costs 1 Euro.  Crowds push together around tiny tables sipping on tiny plastic cups of red wine dispensed there.  It's fun and different... but I'm way too tired tonight.

Thank goodness common sense stopped me there.

I learned tonight that I'm not quite as young or invincible as I used to be. 

I learned that 36 + 3 drinks + unusual food = 3 hours wishing I'd vomit and get it over with and a restless nap on a cold hotel bathroom floor.

With a two hour distance between my Valencia life and my husband's job, I rarely get a glimpse of the military life or the comings and goings of airplanes that were once the white noise in our home.

Today I drove down to meet with some of the American spouses at a fabulous little coffee shop in Albacete that serves delicious home made chocolates as well as flavorful savory treats.  We sat, talked, and ate as women do when we get together and good-humoredly griped about the many challenges of living in Spain.  We were like a support group sharing our "personal testimonies" of what "Spain" has done to us.  Yes, we all love this country in some ways, but we all have had frustrations and sharing those somehow makes us feel a little less picked on.

I had a few minutes to stop and visit Kirk at his work where we walked out to the parking ramp to see the jets take off.  The ramp was filled with fighters from several nations:  Poland, Germany, Italy... may be others.  It is impressive to see them all take off at once and they were scheduled to take off now.  The pilots all stood by waiting in their gear hot and impatient.  They were ready to go.

These are all the photos I got.  A hydrazine leak brought our firetrucks and stalled the takeoff until after I'd gone home.

An afternoon with our closest friends relaxing in the shade of the patio and feasting on the things we've brought together.  It's the best way to start the new school year and such a blessing, really, to have such great friends.  They girls played... all night.  We ended up taking two extras home with us for a sleepover.

My contributions were a hit and though the pie was a bit juicier than I'd hoped, there was not a bite left and requests for more.  So, here are the recipes I brought with my suggestions.

~T




Directions:
Notes:  I made a small round of Camembert and with fresh figs.  My brie was a very large round, so I doubled the topping and used dried instead of fresh figs.  Both turned out delicious and the use of dried figs didn't detract at all from the flavor.





The Crust:

Note to self:  If your friend is too tired from Cava to drive, then she's probably too tired to give proper directions.   Love my friends.  And happy to pick up this one and drive all over Segunt.  One of these days I'll be up til 5 blogging and it will be her turn to drive me!

I was introduced to a new market today... well, new to me.  I really like Puzol's Tuesday market, but it's a bit small and the already narrow streets get overly congested by mid morning with people pulling and pushing little trolley carts this way and that.

The market at Port de Segunt gets as many crowds and easily more, but it's more openly laid out in a market square instead of residential streets and even utilizes a market building in the center for meats and fish.

The clothes were even cute!!!

Of course, I didn't take any photos, but I did find some great produce including fresh figs for Saturdays brie and it's easy to say that I'll be back... may be even weekly.

This morning my four girls began the first day of their last day at Caxton.  An odd way to put it, perhaps, but the four are all in full agreement that though this year will be better than the last one, they will be happy to move on.

At breakfast Elise talked about "when she's in year 3," and I reminded her that she won't be at Caxton for year 3.

     "We're moving next summer?????!???!?!!!"
     "Yes."  An arm shoots up and she just about jumps out of her chair. 
     "Yippeeeeee!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"


We made their lunches last night.  Tacos for three.  Gnocchi and salad for one.  I took off the patches from last year's polos and sewed them on new, nicer polos I got in the states.  They got their backpacks ready.

And this morning they were up early and ready to go.  Not excited, but calm, resolute, and fairly content.  It will be a good year, may be even better than they realize.  I'm sure of it.

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.

27.

Probably the number of chocolate chip cookies batches we baked in the 4th grade
Or the number or crushes we discussed... in high school.
Or the number of emails we'd write in just one week of college... just about the weather.
Or the number of places we've shared a coffee... times 4... at least.
It's the number of years we've been friends...

This morning I checked my email. As routine as brushing my teeth or pouring a cup of coffee... and then I saw the sender. What should be an unsuspecting email. Just a regular update from Caring Bridge. Usually I eagerly click on it to see what news Jessie is sharing now. This morning I saw the link and paused. It felt different and I didn't want to see it. I don't understand how a deep breath can give us strength, but somehow that pause helps when you're facing something scary... like clicking on a link... and reading words you don't want to hear.

I was hoping we had "weeks, months" to banter back and forth. Just a little more time.

I don't know how Andy had the peace to write so eloquently exactly what Jessie would have said. To comfort her friends so well in a time when he must be feeling so much pain. Jessie's strength is still shining through, even now that she's passed. "Peacefully in her sleep."

But he reminded us to see what she both sought and found in her life lived so well, "beauty in the everyday; everyday has beauty." So today, in honor of a friend that will continue to live in my heart and memories, I found beauty in my favorite beach. I listened to the song of the waves, dug my toes into the sand, and found some stones for her garden.

Not gone. Never forgotten. She's living in the hearts and memories of an army of friends and family who love her and have learned infinite lessons watching her live life with such strength, grace, and humor.

As Jessie would say, beauty in the everyday; everyday has beauty.

Let's go find it.

27 years is a long time when you're only 36 and friendships that last that long are as precious as they are rare.  Today I had the privilege of visiting a dear friend who I haven't seen in a couple years.  I saw her cheery yellow house and her wonderful kitchen, walked around her garden and talked "candidly."  I don't like "candid" or "realistic."  But I love my friend.