The project of the day

Yesterday I decided to clean the house. Harry saw me wandering off with a tub of hotwater and a dishrag and asked me what I was up to. I said I was going to clean the downstairs, hoping with that sort of girl hope that he would take that as a hint and decide to clean the upstairs. He didn't but after about 20 minutes, when he realised I was actually serious about cleaning the house, he asked if he could help.

I said no, just because I felt like cleaning the house didn't mean he had to suffer too. Wow, was that a mature moment from me eh? No, calculated risk taking was what that was. He said, he couldn't sit around while I cleaned the house, especially the floors which we do by hand with a rag. He offered to vacume, I said that would be nice. He did that, but got a little side tracked, needed a coffee to start him off and chased the dog around for a while with the hoover. Then he said he wanted to wash the floor, because it was too much for me to do alone. That is also terribly thoughtful of him I said. I knew my luck wouldnt hold out so long, Im now in the danger zone

He started with his bucket of hot water, but noticed as he was going along that the thermometer has not been hung on the wall so he did that, spraying old concrete and white paint on the section of the floor that had been cleaned, he decided then too to fix the light in the front entry, and then to repair some other things, too numerous to mention. Leaving a trail of handworker chaos behind him. I knew this was going to happen. He forgot his bucket and his hot water and was off fixing, hanging and adjusting everything, tools everywhere, and questions about where I had put this or that other thing that he absolutely needed.

He ordered me to stop cleaning the floor because he said he was going to do it, but I know how these sort of things turn out, so I said no no,, its fine, I will clean the floor till I meet a clean spot that you have made then together we can do it OK,,, so if you want to clean the floor you need to hurry or I will have it all done.

That changed the project focus and within a few minutes there was soapy warm water everywhere, threats to burn all my pine cones in the fire becuase they make too much mess,, and eventually a meeting of rags in the kitchen.

The house clean, we both relaxed. We have very different styles and ideas about house cleaning but somehow it got done. Well sort of because we still had to put away all the tools and things, but we can do that later.

Genalguacil village

Inspired by a book I borrowed from the school library ("Holiday walks from the Costa del Sol" written by Matt Butler a fellow Canadian) we decided to take a visit to Jubrique and Genalguacil villages. Matt says that this area is one of Andalucia's greenest and most isolated areas, well hidden in the mountains, with the villages on peaks of 575m and 559m respectively. Smugglers as far back as Moorish times used to hide in the area protected by the dense forest and steep mountains and Matt has mapped out a trail between the two villages that should be a nice 13 km walk.

It would be, if one could read a map! We started out fine and dandy, but then Harry let me have the map because Matt explains everything, as all hiking books do in terms of landmarks that one should see and being that I am the native English speaker I should have the better understanding of where to go. I translated the descriptions not wanting to have full responsibility for our navigation, knowing that at best I am inclined to go in EXACTLY the wrong direction, and at worst make a series of unsystematic mistakes that will have us completely lost in no time.

Everything seemed to be going well. Matt says: travel about 1 km out of the town on the main road, then when the road takes a sharp right, you will find a path leading up the mountain to the left and after a moderate 20 minute climb you will see a white house ruin. We found the turn, we found the trail but after 10 minutes found a completely broken, no sign of white paint ruin, where the trail apparently stopped. Now we are not sporty enough to think that we made Matt's 20 minute hike in 10 minutes... where is the mistake? The trail, really doesn't seem to exsit anymore, there are some remnents of paths, goat tracks really, could this be the trail?

As we try to deconstruct the directions, Harry's dad, ever patient, who has endured the 1 hour it took for Harry to organizse himself, who has ridden 40 minutes with the dog in the car, has made conversation with us for three days, and eaten our rabbit food as well, decided this is fine enough for him, and will not walk any further. He wants to sit in the sun here and read and eat our sandwiches, I mean we do not really have to make the 13 km hike do we?

Harry had other plans, and is now scouring Matt's book, only to discover I have made the classic mistake and have taken us to the east side of the village and we are supposed to be on the west, so in order to start out hike we need to be on the other side of town.

Opps, he decided as his father had, to have a beer and eat his sandwich.

But I still wanted to go to Genalguacil, as I had read in Matt's description that this is a town filled with artisans and that sculptures can be found all over the village: After all Harry's father is here to visit and may not come back and he HAS TO SEE ALL OF THE WONDRFUL THINGS IN SPAIN, so the men decided (to appease me) they would drive me there, but not now, later, first we would sun bathe.

After a few hours, all feeling positively exothermic, happy and energized from the baking, we wandered back to the car and proceeded to drive on the windy road down the side of Jubrique mountain, and up the side of Genalguacil, with Harry exclaining every five minutes that Jörg has to come visit so they can ride these curves together on the bikes.

We found the village, and the only thing Harry's father wanted to do was have a coffee, while I was eager to show him the sculptures, he was eager for a cafe con leche. He decided to look around the village to accomdiate me, and I sat unruhig in my chair as he drank his coffee, then we packed all back into the Opel Corsa convy and went home.

What did I learn from yesterday:
1. Never never never let me have the map, regardless of what language it is printed in.

2. Being a tour guide is hard work, particularly when you do not know your touree what he would like to see before you set out

3. Polite people never tell you what they really want to do

4. Genalguacil is a pretty great little village once you eventually get there

5. Oh and the dog looks really cute in flowers.

The Work Christmas Party

There are two types of people in this world, those that look forward to the School Christmas party for 12 months, and those that dread it. I am the latter, so is Harry. When he found out that families were not invited to the schools party, he added that to his lost of reasons why we can never leave Spain, tried to look sad and said, he was very very dissapointed that he could not join me in the fun. Great, that makes an already bad scene for me even worse, now I have absolutely no one to talk to there as I try to hide in the corner. I am at my best socially (which is never that good) in groups of two or three, five works in a stretch, but a work party always involves sitting at a table with 10 plus, most of which I do not know, because again, I am not my most social at work,, I mean its WORK?!? I am of the mind that I am supposed to be working when I am there.. so you see I am not really the water cooler, coffee break sort, which I recognize is in many ways an anti-social characteristic, but I think I am too old to change.

Now, please, do not in any way get me wrong. I work with great people, on first impressions, which is all I really have because of aforementioned reasons they seem really nice. But in large groups, with an open bar and the thought of no work for 3 weeks, oh and an organized bus ride to take us all home. I will stop there, I am sure you get the picture.

It started out well enough, a nice glass of wine as we walked in the door, but then we had a random prize giving, and tequilla, vodka and whisky were among the prizes. I highly doubt any of these prizes made it home. As I sat suffering through yet another Spainish attempt at vegetarian meals, luckly this one not involving fish or chicken, but rather a big plate of raw, unspiced tofu and TRYING oh so unsuccessfully to build that little conversation corner of 3-4 people that I need to be able to feel comfortable enough to speak, the woman accross from me realised the balloons on the table were filled with helium. This started several people on our table dismantling the centerpiece in order to sing jingle bells with the voice of a mouse, amusing? It only went down hill from there, after being peer pressured into a tequilla shot, I was then asked to dance, in a brightly lit room at 3 in the afternoon, to a song I had never heard of and wasn't particularly feeling, by my boss. I can not say no can I? Again, he was trying to bring anti-social me into the meele, but I remained firmly the stick in the mud. As everyone got up on the dance floor, one of the maintence staff began to strip, with cheers all around. I took that as my oportunity to run away, without saying goodbye. So rude, I know, but I just can not deal.

But just when I thought I was free...

Did I mention where the party was? Again, it was at one of those places that you either love or hate. Luxery pure, a golf resort community. We were at the main club house of the resort, with gold greens all around, luxery homes, holiday allotments to rent in pure disney world fashion. I am one of the haters or these built communities. AND I was lost in it. As I tried to escape I drove past horse jumping arenas, men in golf carts, driving ranges, swimming pools, house after house of multimillion dollar homes, owned by the beautiful people, and all I could think, was get me out of here, what a prision. I couldn't escape, not the party, not the place, trapped.

Thirty minutes later, as the panic subsided I found the exit, by using a multitude of different strategies I found an exit, it wasn't the one that I wanted but it got me out. But more than that I had come to accept my fate. I will have to go through another Christmas party again next year, like finding the exit to golfers paradise, I definetly need a new strategy.

Quiet

I haven't written anything in a few weeks. I had no Internet and no phone. It is a very long and dull story which inlcudes many explicatives with reference to Telephonica the local phone company, whose customer service system for phone calls includes predominantly pacifying the customer by telling them someone will call them in the next few days, and promptly throwing all records of the calls in the garbage, particularly if you call the Enlish speakin department. But now, interestingly enough, exactly 4 weeks, exactly the time period of which we have the legal right to STOP PAYING the bill for non service, our phone miraculously works again! Go figure. In any case, the telephone man, who is merely a pawn in the multinational monster, was quite nice and Harry plied him with my homemade Christmas cookies, so next time we have a problem we may be able to call him directly and get him to come more quickly. We also got him to take away our rental phone, which is costing us a fortune, however, the next battle is for Telephonica to allow us to stop paying for it, the fact that we no longer possess it means nothing, there are forms to fill, people to call and all of that. Harry says he is glad I have a nemisis, because it gives me a good outlet for my negative thoughts, otherwise I may take my bad day out on him.. Now when I have a bad day I call Telephonica.. he hopes our phone issues are never solved!

I would like my new house better if I had a key

We have been at the new house a few days now, but we only have one key for the front door. Harry takes it because I dont need it in the day and he does. For the last two days I have spent the evenings sitting in the old house without light (we took all the lamps to the new house). So here I sit in the dark again, with Internet and now way of contacting my boyfriend.

Here is what I tried so far:

1. I sent him an sms when I realised my battery was empty on my phone to tell him when I was coming home.

2. I yelled for awhile outside the door.

3. I decided to wait in the old house till dark and he came looking for me

but then yeah.. I discovered his handy, his German handy in the old house.

4. I called him on his Spanish handy using his German handy...

Thankfully he answered, that call probably cost us 5 euros, but who cares its better than sitting in the dark even with Internet, now I can go home soon.

The Terminator

I am a really lucky girl...

Communication issues part 2

This one is way worse than accidentally calling the emergency line. This one isn't funny, it is sad and Paula was the victim. When we got Paula from the shelter, they told us she needed to be spayed, this is fine, we payed for the operation when we took her from the shelter, that is the policy. But the owner of the shelter told me it was possible she had already been spayed. Someone had tried to adopt her before, and the owner thought that the dog had been operated on then, the adoption fell through and the dog came back. He couldn't find the records though, he said we should ask the vet. He said all of this in English. Harry was standing next to me when he said it.

Harry took the dog to the vet, the vet speaks Spanish only but has an assistant that translates. Harry asked if he could tell if she was spayed already, the vet looked at her belly and said no and made an appointment.

The day came and Paula was opened up, only for the vet to discover she HAD been previously spayed. Poor thing. Sick sick and feeling miserable after the drugs, she now has to wear a cone on her head for ten days, it looks like she is going to have a big scar on her previously scarless belly, and has to take a pill everyday for the next two weeks. Poor pathetic thing.

Be it lack or record keeping, Harry not understnading how probable it was that she had the operation because he didnt understand the shelter owner, the vet not understanding Harry as he asked if she was spayed, and thinking he said she needed to be spayed.. In any case it was a sad mistake. But the conehead is kind of funny.