Ikea rules the world.

Long live Ikea.

We've been unpacking and re-building all our Ikea's pieces of furniture, a couple of beds, 2 bookshelves and a chest of drawers. Without instructions it was like doing a gigantic three dimensional puzzle. Great fun but tiresome. It took us 3 days to have all the stuff almost done, we're still missing a bunch of "thingies" (small screws and such stuff) and the backing of one of the bookshelves did a mysteriously disappearance act between Bristol and the new flat.
Nothing is broke, which is amazing considering all the troubles and travels this things had been through.

Of course we still need some furniture and off we went to the local Ikea to get what we needed plus the missing "thingies". They gave us a whole bag of "thingies" for free. Mind you, we bought loads of stuff. A coffee table, 3 lamps, a low table for the TV, video, etc, a small table for P's PlayStation, a bookshelf for the music things, another bookshelf and assorted nick nacks. We had to have them deliver some because there was no way to fix it all in our smallish car.
All this shopping took us at least 3 visit to the store, of at least 4 hours each. We even had lunch there, and tea. I started to like Swedish food by now. Of course we went there on a working day, as it's awful to visit the shop during weekends. Even then, the queues were as long as you can expect, the ussual.

The ladies at Filton library, very wisely, gave me an Ikea voucher as a farewell present and with it I bough a very comfy chair for the computer desk. I'm seating right here now and it's great. I'll try to post a picture of my blogging happily in my new chair. Thank you, guys!!

I adore Ikea, all you may need for your home in a single, huge, store. The only problem is the ubiquitous crowd. I think that some people go to Ikea just to stroll along, because it cannot be that many people buying furniture all the time.

According to the BBC, 1 in 10 Europeans had been conceived in Ikea beds. Check this BBC site for all sort of trivial info like that by clicking here.

"The husband" is telling me off for writing this while there's so many things to do right now. So... by for now, back to work.

Merry Christmas!

I was so busy the days before Christmas that I forgot to buy the presents!!

Well... I knew that I had to buy something but I just couldn't think of anything for the guys nor find the time to do it. Luckily, "the husband" is a total dear and he bought a present for us. For P. he bought a Viking ship so he can make it himself, a total hit; for me he order and bought a wooden, hand made, double barrelled, absolutely gorgeous tatting shuttle that arrived from Scotland sometime ago.

All those month on his own really made his heart grew fonder!

I was busy mainly with work as I was finishing my classes for the year, preparing my student's assessment and, of course, trying to get something done in the new flat.

Ages ago I befriended (by e-mail) a family from my home town (Tucuman) in Argentina and they invited us to spend Christmas' eve with them and a bunch of their friends (mostly expats from Argentina). They hired a local community hall and everybody bought something to eat and drinks. It was very much the sort of things that we do in Argentina for Christmas, we celebrate it by having dinner with family and friends, so we felt right at home then and there.

They were really kind and friendly and we met a lovely group of people. Of course, there was music and we danced and had a brilliant time until 3am. "The husband" was very pleased that I have my driving licence so he was able to drink without worrying about going back home.

I was doing that sort of things in Bristol, I was forever organizing things to allow people that were new in town to get to know others and have a good time in a new city or even a new country.

So this party felt just as good karma. All that one do upon others will came back in this life and it was a bit of pay-off time for me and just on time. I didn't realize how deep how badly I was missing all my friends in Bristol until I got a deep sight of relief when I met people that I could be friends with in no time.

The next day we all met again to eat the leftovers from the night before plus a great barbecue with Argentinean meat.

Brilliant!

Merry Christmas to you all.

Conected again!!

A few days without Internet connexion feels weird. And lonely. I think I'm addicted somehow.

Anyway... I'm back!!

Let's see. The past few days were pretty hectic, the usual stuff when moving. I've been decorating, nothing wild, just plain white walls. It seemed a good idea at the time but now I'm not that sure. I haven't realised that white is actually a very dirty colour, every speck of dirt, whatever colour, just jumps at you. Not good when you have a dirty 10 year-old-rugbier at home.
Whatever!
I've done the living-room and I'm about to finish my room and I'm most definitely not painting again. I think I'll cover the walls with bookshelves and art.
Sounds pretty good, but actually, books in English are hard to come by and, while there is plenty of original artwork in Barcelona, mind you, it doesn't come cheap. Anyway, we've seen some beautiful original paints and it seems worthy to save and buy a couple in years to come. After all, we don't have that many wall to cover with art in the first place.

We're still sleeping at the rented flat, and it's a mix blessing because in the new one there's so much to unpack, so many things to do that it's just overwhelming. On the bad side, I have 2 flats to keep tidy.
So far we managed to unpack and fix the desk and we have an old laptop installed so I can check my e-mail and keep my blog sort of up to date. You know, the essential first.

"The husband" is very busy re-doing the electrical system again because he swears it was not up to scratch (to his very high standards) and that it was actually dangerous. There was people living here so, I'm not sure about the dangerous bit, but I'm thankful and appreciate a lot the meticulous and careful way he has with electric stuff. it may take weeks, but when he's done, it'll be just perfect.

We bough some paint during the weekend and at one point "the husband"'s debit card was rejected. It happened twice and then it happened with my card as well. It's quite mortifying and we got the look, you know, from cashiers. We're pretty sure there's money on the account, we double checked, so I went yesterday to the local branch to ask was wrong and to fix the problem.
It turned out that here in Spain you have a limited weekly amount that you can spend with your debit card and that the limit is pretty low (just 300 euros, around £200). Of course, nobody told us that and it seems to be one of the things that everybody already know. Except foreigners of course and maybe because we speek the language and don't look any diferent, people just asume that we're in the know of things. We're so not!
Luckily it was just a simple thing to change the amount we're actually allowed to spend.

Another thing is that I went to pay the phone bill and the cashier looked at me as if I was somehow confused and told me that, of course, that particular bill is only payable on Wednesdays and Thursdays. I askeed why and she just shruged and told me that this was always done like so it must be the best way.
Can you thing of a single logical or practical reason? I can't.

I do miss the logical and practical customer services and rules of banking in England.

Final class

Today it was the last class for my groups of 12 absolute beginners EFL (English as a foreign language) students. And as as a farewell gift they gave a big poinsettia plant in a pot (pictured here). Here in Barcelona, Poinsettias are a big part of the traditions for Christmas and it was lovely of them to give me one as a gift.
Even though is a transport company and this is the more busy time of their working year and they were truly busy, they all managed to attend the final class.
They told me that the plant was a token of their appreciation for the classes and that they enjoyed them, had fun, and more importantly, they felt as they learned a lot (poor innocent souls).
I didn't expect a farewell present at all and it was a lovely surprise to know that they appreciate the classes and all. It was very sweet of them.
They gave me the flowers and then I had to kiss all 12 of them in the manner used here, with 4 kisses.

I prepared the final class very carefully so we reviewed all what they learnt in the past few months. It was a intensive course and the company paying for it has very high expectations. The plan of the course was to pack up a whole normal year of tuition in 3 months and that's a lot to learn (and a lot to teach). After the final class they went and had a test and they were expected to achieve an intermediate level, at least in spoken English.
Is not an exaggeration to say that I was more nervous about the test that they were, after all I felt as it was my skills as a teacher what was being tested.
And they all (but one) passed!! I'm so proud of them. And I'm so proud of myself!!! (if i can write that at all!). This was my very first experience teaching EFL and it worked as a charm.
I might be considering this as a career.

Cleaning

The previous owner of the house were a youngish working couple with a toddler daughter and they had to move in a hurry to their new house so I totally understand that they didn't have much time for cleaning the flat but... seriously!... the place was in urgent need of the "how clean is your house" team. Kim and Aggie would have a field day if they could have seen the kitchen and the small toilet. They're seriously filthy.
(for my non-UK friends, click on the link in pink to see more about the TV show)

Today is my free day, free as in no paid work so, of course I worked a lot.
I spend the whole day today cleaning just the cupboards in the kitchen. They looked as if they've never been cleaned before, with all sort of yucky dried stuff and grime. Thank Goddess it wasn't smelly. Just plain dried grime and assorted rubbish bits, plenty of it to keep me busy for hours. Pity I didn't have fancy rubber gloves as Kim does. I didn't even have normal rubber gloves and I'm still trying to take all the grime out of my fingernails.

I spent a whole bottle of multi-purpose cleaning liquid, 1 roll of kitchen paper, 1 sponge and half a bottle of vinegar (I'm trying to be eco-friendly) and I ended up totally knackered, with back pain and arms pain too but the kitchen is now sparklingly clean.
I should have videotape the whole thing, or at least taking pictures of before and after but I didn't. Too busy to even think about it.

The good think is that at the end of the day I could go home and have a nice bath and cook a meal in a normal kitchen without ruining my day-work. It's really great to have two houses while moving. We didn't plan it that way but we should have.

Phone and Net

In record time, Telefonica called very early today to see if it was possible to connect the phone in the new flat. Of course I jumped out of bed to go to the flat to be there when they arrived. And everything went smoothly this time and they connect the new phone.
However, this being Telefonica, the company with the worst costumer service ever, we couldn't keep the number even when we're moving just a few blocks south in the same town. The person who connected the phone told me that they only do that with "important clients" meaning big business, and only after they pay a lot of money for the privilege. Obviously, normal households are not important for Telefonica, and it shows.

The good news, then, is that we're having a phone line in the new flat. The bad news is that we're not going to have a line for much longer in the rented flat, meaning: no Internet access.

So, we need to move in a hurry as I cannot be living without Internet access any longer. I've got withdrawal symtoms last time and went totally cold turkey without access to the net. I'm a confess addict to Internet and Coca-Cola (I even have a emergency can of the stuff hidden in my fridge, just in case -God forbid- we run out of it).

Hopefully, we'll move smoothly and there will be no time without connexion and no interruption of this blog and e-mails, but we never know here. So, if I don't post for a few days... bear it with me, I'll be suffering more than you'd do!

Christmas' log

In the Christmas' fair there's many cute logs with a smily face, big, small, even tidy ones. Another thing that I've never seen before.
I asked and is another local tradition.

This is what Wikipedia say about it.

The Tió de Nadal (roughly "Christmas log"), also known as "Tió" or "Tronca" ("log"), is a mythological character in relating to a Christmas tradition widespread in Catalonia.

The form of the tió de Nadal found in many Catalan homes during the holiday season is a hollow log of about 0.3m length, typically standing up on two or four little stick legs with a broad smiling face painted on the higher of the two ends and often a three-dimensional nose.

On the eight of December one gives the tió a little bit to "eat" every night and usually covers him with a little blanket so that he will not be cold at night.

On Christmas day or, depending on the particular household, on Christmas eve, one puts the tió partly into the fireplace and orders it to "shit" (the fire part of this tradition is no longer as widespread as it once was, since many modern homes do not have a fireplace). To make him "shit", one beats him with sticks, while singing various songs.

The tió does not drop larger objects, as those are brought by the three wise men. It does leave candies, nuts and turrons. Depending on the part of Catalonia, it may also give out dried figs. What comes out of the tió is a communal rather than individual gift, shared by everyone present.

What's with this people and poo??

Moving rage

The move was today and I almost punched my neighbour! Literally.
He wanted to park his car in the garage and couldn't wait 10 minutes while we finished taking all our stuff into the van. That's all it was but I totally lost it.

Spanish people normally behave in a way that'd be consider extremely rude either in Argentina or (even worst) in the UK. I was under pressure and he went a step too far in my scale and I did throw a punch at him but managed to stop it at the last second.

He was shocked. I was even more shockeder, I know I'm mad, I just didn't know I'm that mad.
Of course, I apologised immediately and he saw that I was shaking as the proverbial leaf and way out of any normal behaviour in any culture and graciously accepted my apologies.

So I went upstairs, have a good cry and listened to my relaxation tape on the MP3 player. I had to listen two of them until I was fit to go and help the guys unload the van at the new flat. (God bless Paul Mckenna, his hypnotic relaxation tape really works although, thinking about it, I should have listened to it before the move).

Apart from that, the move went really smoothly.
The guy-with-a-van and his helper were really nice, quick and careful, although I don't rule out the possibility that they were truly terrified of me and didn't want to risk upsetting me after they saw me "in action".

Almost all we have is there in the flat and now we have some weeks to fix the flat and unpack. There's loads to do but at least tonight we're sleeping comfortably in our beds and have a full kitchen and stuff. I planned to start working tomorrow morning, but I think it's all the wiser to take it easy and sleep until late.

Good nigh then. I just want to leave this day (from now on known as "my dark violent past") behind me as soon as possible. Whoever say that moving houses is up there, second only to bereavement in the stress scale, is totally right.

Got the keys

Finally, we've got the keys today.
So we went for the first time to a totally empty flat and the emptiness of the place somehow distort the memories we had and nothing looks like before; rooms looks now bigger or smaller, brighter or darker than we remember. And we silently wander why we bought this flat on first place.
It was raining very lightly when we arrived to the flat and when suddenly the sun came into the living room everything lit up and it looked much better.

So, we started to take stock of everything, looking for details that need fixing and taking notes room by room. Not bad. Our room needs a lick of paint as well as the living room.
P. wants to decorate his room in "the colours of an incoming storm", his words not mine, meaning a colour called "smoke blue" with yellow fluorescent paint for the lightening. "The husband" and I then went into a discussion of how much leverage a 10 years-old boy should have related to the decoration of his own room. We both agree in that the idea and the colours are ludicrous but I think that the kid should be allowed to have it and live with it, after all learning to choose has to imply getting it all wrong from time to time, while "the husband" say that we don't have the money to finance such an obvious wrong choice. At the time of this writing we still don't agree on what to do.

Tomorrow at midday we'll be taking most of the boxes that are now here to the new flat. All the furniture we have, mattresses, and all the boxes. We hired a guy with a van and a helper and depending the size of the van we'll be doing one or two trips.
After that we'd still be living here in the rented flat and we'll be working everyday in the new flat where there's load to do.

Right now I should be packing and getting ready for tomorrow but I think I'm developing a serious phobia to packing. No surprise there.

I'll keep you posted.

The Christmas crapper!

Yesterday we went for a stroll in town at around 7:30 when "the husband" came home from work. All the shops are open until at least 8pm everyday (except weekends) and the centre looks really lovely with all the Christmas' lights on.
There also a Christmas market in the Rambla, the mail local street, where they sell everything, from trees to wraping paper.

One of the tradition for Christmas in Spain as well as in the Latin American countries is to have a "Belén" or Nativity set build at home. Everybody has one and their style, cost and size can vary greatly. Of course, in the market there's loads of stands selling the traditional figures in all sort of materials, from clay to plastic, hand made or mass produced in China, traditional figures, modernist or naive, you can find whatever takes you fancy for this year Nativity set. Plus all sort of background material, such as moss for the pretend grass, plants, animals, even running water fountains, amazing stuff.

In the market, one figure in particular cought my eye because I've never seen it before. It's called the "caganet" o "caganer" (the link will take you to the definition in English and pictures in Wikipedia) a word that can be translated from the Catalan as the Christmas crapper because that's exactly what's he's doing. Look at the pictures!
I've been told that the caganet is placed in a corner of the Nativity and, no surprise there, it's a favourite of all children who take great pleasure to find it. Usually the caganet is an anonymous peasant dressed in traditional clothes, but it's also can be a famous people such as member of the royal house, politicians and even the Pope.

Here I found a picture of one that looks like president Bush.

I've even found one that you can print and then cut and make yourself to add to your own Nativity. I can send it to you by e-mail so you can make one for yourself if you're so inclined. Just let me know.

I'm experiencing some technical problems posting pictures today, so I'm going to keep on trying to post them until I can add a couple of them. It's definitely a sight to see.

Fiesta

This is going to be a very short week work wise, as it has just 2 work days and the rest are holidays until next Monday. Saint something or other.
My son's delighted of course, but as I'm getting payed by the hour, if I don't work, no money and Goddess knows that money'll be very welcome right now as we need to buy all sort of things for the flat.

We're getting the flat's keys on Wednesday's eve or Thursday at the latest, so I'm planning to buy some paint and decorate the living room, which is in need of a lick of paint. Is best to do this and a thorough cleaning before taking all the boxes in. So, with any luck we'd be able to move the boxes during the weekend.

We're planing to stay right where we are now while we organise things n the new flat. There's loads of things to unpack, flat-packed furniture to make and so on and it's great to have a tidier place to go and sleep.
Plus the telephone company cannot just cancel the phone here and conect us with the same number there. They need 2 weeks to disconect the service here and up to a month to giva us a new number in the new flat. More or less the same is true for the Internet provider. So it may be that I'll be out of reach for a while.

I do miss the quality and eficiency of customer services in England. People do complain there thought... forgive them God as they don't know what they're talking about!!

Meeting people

Being, as I am, a little Ms pro-active, not exactly shy and feeling quite lonely here, I know that I'm going to make friends eventually; but it does takes time and I do miss opening my heart to people, asking opinion and sharing laughter and troubles alike with my friends.
(remember, ladies, me arriving to the library and saying that I needed advice? how many times?)
Somehow, writting is not the same.

So, sometime ago I found a particularly nice post in the local newspaper in my hometown in Argentina (thanks Goddess for the Internet) written by a guy living in Barcelona about his daughter 15th's birthday party.

In Latin America, there's a tradition to throw a big party when a girl reaches her 15th birthday. And I mean a big party, where the parents spend as much as they can, with a lovely dress for the girl (sometimes as good and expensive as a wedding dress), sometimes a meal, and usually a big cake. After the meal there's a ball opened by the girl dancing with her dad, who then pass her to dance with all the other guys in the party (first family and then friends) and everybody joins in the dance. It's a rite of passage from childhood to adulthood such as the bar mitzbah o bat mitzbah for Jewish teens.
Click here if you want to read about this tradition in Wikipedia. And click here if you want to see the the kind of party, dress, etc.
I didn't have the party because I exchanged it for a 2 months tour in Europe which was a great idea at the time and still think so. Some girls exchange it for a car or even cosmetic surgery (a friend of mine got her nose done instead and in her case it was a wise choice as her face changed for the better).

So, while I was still in Bristol, I read the letter that this guy posted in the local newspaper in my hometown telling how he and his wife thrown the party for their daughter here in Spain, where there's not such a tradition, and how the party was such a success and all the girls' friends wanted one and so on. It was a lovely entry so I wrote to them and told them so, introduced myself and told them that I was moving here. We've been in touch since and we finally meet on Sunday for a coffee.
It felt as nerve wrecking as if it was a blind date because this people could became my future friends, so I felt as if I had to give a great first impression and so I was nervous, I fretted about what to wear and so on.
How long since you've had to meet new friends? For most people this is a silly question and they've not done it since college! If it happens that you meet some new people is by chance and not something you're actively pursuing anyway. They don't have to. I do.

(By the way, it's not that I've much to choose on the what-to-wear area, as most of my clothes are still packed in boxes)

Anyway. We met a lovely couple with a similar background than ours and the conversation run easily enough. They also brought another couple from our home town and they were nice too. We found that we had friends in common and of course, we also shared the experience of being expats. Although they left Argentina around 2002 when the country went into default (or "free fall"), in the mist of a very desperate economic situation and arrived here with almost nothing and had to build their life from scratch. We're the lucky ones, arriving here with a job, with money enough to buy a flat, with no legal difficulties. Also, their stories with the Spanish bureaucracy made my complains feel petty. We get on like the proverbial house on fire and couldn't stop chatting even when we had to live the cafe as they were closing down.

It's nice to meet nice people and we arranged to go play paddle one of this weekends. On my way home I felt good, although latter on I payed the price of the tension of being on my best behaviour all the time, and I was sick. It always happens to me after I've been in a tense situation, whatever they are, exams, meting new people, signing the mortgage papers, whatever... I'm fine and usually sparkling during the ordeal and then, as soon as I'm safe at home I go sick for hours.

P's playing rugby

My son's rugby team (Sant Cugat) went to play against Barcelona on Saturday. It was a great match, no blood, no tears (well, almost not tears, at 10 they still cry sometimes) and a very proud bunch of parents because the kids played really well.
I had to share this picture with you. "The husband" took it and I think it look just like one of those professional shots in the sport pages, full of movement. And my kid look scary and all grown! Certainly, not my baby anymore.
At the end of the movement he did tackle the little guy in yellow and his team recovered the ball.
A proud mummy.

How "the husband" saved the day

"The husband" is my hero.
He's totally absent minded and sometimes he concentrates on his job so much that he doesn't even listen what I say for days at the time. But from time to time he shows sparks of pure genius as he did yesterday.

We had to go to downtown Barcelona to sign all the papers for the flat, and, most importantly, for the mortgage. It was a very formal situation, the people from the estate agency were there, Monica (the lady who's doing all the mortgage negotiation and paper work) was there, the vendors of the flat were there. We all had to take at least the evening out of our jobs to be there and, of course, buying a house is the biggest financial transaction that normal people like us do, so it was all a very emotionally charged atmosphere. To top that up, in Spain 80% of real estate transactions are sign the last day of the month so, the whole building was packed with suited men, power-suited high-heeled women and tense looking people, all buzzing around a big, imposing, modernist looking bank.

We've told to bring our IDs, in my case the passport and proof that I'm resident in Spain, and nothing else because Monica already had copies of every little piece of paper that you can think of in a huge folder. However, before we left the flat to go to Barcelona, "the husband" hesitated before taking the lift and went back into our flat to pick a big folder where we keep all the documents that we've collecting since we sold the house in Bristol and move here. That's a big folder that my very scientifically minded husband did put together to organise everything.

I though that he was a bit anal retentive but didn't say anything and prayed that he was not to leave the folder on the train or wherever!

Later on, when we arrive into the bank, Monica came to greet us with a slightly deluded look in her eyes and she told us that due to the fact that we're UK citizens the bank people and, in particular, the notary who was there to make sure everything was ok, wanted to see all the original papers before the signing. Apparently that was quite unusual but the bank has the right to ask for it anyway.

I went into my zen mode. Meaning that I just froze there like the proverbial deer under the car lights.

And totally unexpectedly, "the husband" produced his folder and took out every single piece of the original documents. Monica, the estate agent and, to be honest, me too were totally, truly amazed. Then and there he was my hero.

So, the notary confirmed that all the copies were indeed true copies and we all went into a room-office where we sat around a big polished table. There, the notary read aloud all the documents and asked us all to confirm that in fact we were who we claimed we were and we all signed everything.
All a very formal and intimidating situation, I must say; only comparable as getting married in a UK registry. I feel as if I'm wedded to the mortgage now!! Very strange.

We signed!!!

Yes! We went to the centre of Barcelona, to the central branch of our bank and after a longish checking of all the paperwork, signatures, certificates, IDs and so forth... we all (us and the vendors) signed the papers for the house and (most important) the mortgage and the flat is officially ours from the 5th of December.
I take the date as to be in the most auspicious month because we bought our previous house on a cold December too.

Wow!
To buy a flat is the most grown-up thing that we've ever done and the responsibility is scary. The bank actually valued the flat at 350.000€, that's almost 55.000€ more that what we've payed for it!!! So we're making money as I'm writing this. Real estate seems to be the best investment ever, I wish I could buy a flat by the sea next...

So, as the old song goes; "it's beginning to look a lot like Christmas...!!"

A few uneventfull days

I could get used to this. A few days of calm. This confirm my theory of cycles, that everything in life work in cycles. So I'm enjoying it while it last.
Time to regroup, lick wounds, iron clothes, take stoke of thing and plan action courses for the future. That's another theory of mine: that everything in my life start with a wish or and idea, in any case all start with a though.
I really believe that I'm the mistress of my life to a big extent. That I do create my life with my actions. That I can live a life "by design" and make whatever I really want happen. So, from time to time, I need this quite days in order to take stoke and plan the future. Then, with my future all mapped out for myself, I can deal with the unexpectedness and chaos in the outside world (that is: outside of my self) and work towards my goals. I usually have a bunch of goals that I wish to accomplish, and i work hard to get them.

I knew well in advance that this year'd be tough and important in the sense that the foundation of this Spanish period in our life have to be created. This time last year, the idea of the year ahead loomed scarily and insurmountable, so what I did was to take smalls steps and break the whole thing in chunks that I felt I was able to manage. Otherwise I'd be mad by the end of it.
I went to Argentina and dealt with my mother's passing away and my bereaved dad's future while helping "the husband" deal with his dad's death. I'm still grieving for my mum and I'll probably do it for the rest of my life.
Once we're back in Bristol I've dealt with "the husband" moving to Barcelona; we've never before been apart so it was hard. Luckily, my dad was with me and we supported each other and he was a big help in packing our belongings ready for the big move.
Then all seems to had happened at the same time, the final sorting and packing, quiting a job that I really liked and I knew then that I'd miss the ladies there for years to come, and moving to Spain.

Here in Barcelona things were never easy but at least I can say that life's definitely not dull!!!

So far, things are going more or less according to plan. P. (my son) is well settled at school and he's got his rugby to burn calories and to learn to play as a team. After a few months here, we've found a flat, got the mortgage rolling, and I've got a very part-time job that gives me some money and some estructure in my life. I've even been driving our own car! Most of my possessions are still packed but with any luck in a couple of weeks we'll be moving to our own flat.

So, my next short-term goal is to move once more and to create a home for us all. The making of a home is actually a mid-term goal, as we don't have money to buy all we need for a comfortable living, ie: a sofa, table, fridge, washing machine and the list goes on.

I was toying with the idea of doing a Master degree in information technology and librarianship but not sure about that; first it's quite expensive and, second, the public service here works different than in the UK so a master will not make much of a difference in getting a job in a library. So, I'm going to dedicate some time to learn the local language, Catalan.

Then I want a more stable job with more money, so I'll have to make it happen. now... how? what kind of job? How many hours? Now, I have to think.

Idioms and that kind of stuff

I took this to my class today so we can start talking about idioms and that stuff. It's nice and true.
The English Language

Have you ever wondered why foreigners have trouble with the English Language?

Let's face it
English is a stupid language.
There is no egg in the eggplant
No ham in the hamburger
And neither pine nor apple in the pineapple.
English muffins were not invented in England
French fries were not invented in France.

We sometimes take English for granted
But if we examine its paradoxes we find that
Quicksand takes you down slowly
Boxing rings are square
And a guinea pig is neither from Guinea nor is it a pig.

If writers write, how come fingers don't fing.
If the plural of tooth is teeth
Shouldn't the plural of phone booth be phone beeth
If the teacher taught,
Why didn't the preacher praught.

If a vegetarian eats vegetables
What the heck does a humanitarian eat!?
Why do people recite at a play
Yet play at a recital?
Park on driveways and
Drive on parkways

You have to marvel at the unique lunacy
Of a language where a house can burn up as
It burns down
And in which you fill in a form
By filling it out
And a bell is only heard once it goes!

English was invented by people, not computers
And it reflects the creativity of the human race
(Which of course isn't a race at all)

That is why
When the stars are out they are visible
But when the lights are out they are invisible
And why it is that when I wind up my watch
It starts
But when I wind up this observation,
It ends.

ooouch again!

This time is a sore tooth.
It's been sore for a while and I suspected that a filling felt off months ago and maybe a cavity but I did my best to ignore the problem and avoid thinking about it, wishing it'll go away on its own. Very mature attitude.

Anyway. I couldn't ignored it any longer, so, I called my friends and asked them to recommend me a good dentist and I went to visit him. He's a darling from Argentina (Argentinean dentist are considered here to be better trained that the Spanish ones) and his wife is his secretary and assistant at the same time. Family business.

As is the case in the UK, here you have to pay yourself for any dental treatment and it's not cheap. I've got a couple of cavities and he did treat one of them and we agree to do the next one next month. The treatment itself wasn't painful, but after the anaesthetic wore off it did hurt for a while but this morning I'm good again.

Catching up

By now we're sure that the laptop is lost forever. "The poor husband" cannot stop grieving, thought. One shouldn't grieve for stuff but he lost both work and fun (loads of music's files plus he used the thing to play games).
Now he's thinking if its really worthy to buy another one. A laptop is certainly very useful and allows him to work and play anywhere in the world, but it's a much coveted thing and the risk of loosing it or it being stolen is far too high. I think we should share the computer at home.

We spend the weekend enjoying the weather, and going out a lot. I still find it hard to believe that it's still sunny out there, of course the temperature is lower than it was (yesterday we had 18 degrees and most people had their winter coats on) and the trees are yellowing and losing their leaves so it does look like Autumn but it doesn't feel like it was in Bristol. No rain for start!
We went to a club to play paddle and had a great time; running after balls mostly because we're really lousy at it, but it was great family time. My little toe was a bit sore at the end of the game, no surprise there as I was running and jumping a lot, but nothing to worry really.

P.'s much better, he almost stopped coughing and today he went back to school.

We've been taking turns to drive and I'm really getting much better at parking now; there's not much options here than to learn or die, as parking is always hard to find.

We should be getting some news about the mortgage this week, so I'm keeping my fingers crossed.

Good news

Today was a very productive day.

Finally I was allocated my own Social Security Number.
This wasn't easy not fast, first I had to find a job and my employers had to ask the government to allocate me a number, then we all had to wait.
My employers called me this morning with the goods news that all arrived fine, so I was finally able to go and sign my contract for my teaching work, thus being able to cash in all the hours that I thought last month.

That's also good because now we'll be able to negotiate a better deal with the mortgage. We've been delaying the negotiations precisely because we wanted to have both salaries. Here is Spain the banks take into account the sum of all the salaries in order to calculate the mortgage, the monthly payments and even the interest rate, so hopefully now we'll be able to get a better deal and still be able to exchange contracts by the first week of December.

I was also invited for an interview for a secretarial job. The salary is good and the location of the job is just 20 minutes drive from home, so I hope I'll get it. I just have to wait, but I'm in no hurry because now I feel much more confident in my ability to find the right job.

The mistery of the lost rucksack

Why things are never straightforward in life? At least in my life they're not.

"The husband" lost his rucksack with his very expensive laptop in it and then later on that day he got a phone call from someone who found it. I don't know the exact conversation but according to "the husband" the gist of it was that she (it was a lady) founded the rucksack and the computer so he asked her address to collect it. Then things get complicated. The lady said that she didn't know the name of the street where she lives and gave only a number and general directions such as "opposite the train station in Sabadell"; she said that she'd be at home later that night and also said that she could be contacted on the number where she was calling.

The poor and gullible "husband" was sooo relief and happy that he didn't stop to consider that it was weird that somebody doesn't know her own address, he even bought a box of chocolates for the woman. The he asked me to take him to all the train stations in Sabadell trying to find the number. On and on we went, luckily there's only 5 stations in Sabadell, but he couldn't find the number. Anywhere.
Then he tried calling the woman again but the phone number is unavailable.

Only then it down on him that something was wrong.

Now we think that the number is from a public payphone and that the address given id totally fake.

The mystery now is: if they didn't ever have any intention of returning the computer, why did they call on the first place? Did they want a reward? Why didn't ask for it?

In a current climate of the chance of terrorist attack in public places (remember that last year there was a bomb in a train in Madrid) I don't think that normal honest people would ever pick up an abandoned rucksuck. But then, if they're not intent on returning it, why calling?

I told the husband to go to the police, but then... should he reported a theft? After all if somebody found it they're not technically thieves, altough it can be argued that they are once they known who the owner is and choose not to return it.

So, we not only have a mistery but some moral conundrums here too.

Jesus cures!

I took my son to see the pediatrician in the local health centre and, yes, his name is actually Jesus. My son couldn't stop giggling the whole time and then even I had problems while trying to keep a straight face while addressing him as Dr. Jesus.

Anyway, Jesus and his colleges only take 5 minutes per child which I think is outrageous. He told me that 5 minutes is all they got per patient and that the doctors are actually complaining about that and that they want to have a whooping 10 minutes per patient and ask me to sign a petition to the health minister, which I gladly did. My first political act in Spain.

So, after the allocated 5 minutes he told us that my son has a common flue and gave him a cough syrup, a little paracetamol, recommended for the kid to rest a few days and send us home. Medicines are really cheap in Spain, the whole order cost me 80 cents, around 50p.

I really don't know why the Beckhams didn't choose Jesus as a name for their son. After all they name the poor boy Cruz which actually means cross (with all its religious meaning) and it's usually a name for girls. Jesus Beckham sounds fantastic! Imagine the headlines if he became a footballer with that name and it can be announced that Jesus scores again!!

Oh what a perfect day!

Just when I start to relax and believe that things are settling down something happens.
Yesterday I had a quiet day, I went to the hairdresser to have my hair cut, to the library to renew my books, I prepare my lessons for a few days and even had time to read. The toe is healing just right so I felt good.

Today, "the husband" had to take our son back from school even before arriving there because the poor child had a fever, the poor child didn't have the energy to complain and "the husband" only noticed the fever as he kiss him goodbye at the school doors (at least he noticed that!). As this also happened the week before I decided that it was time to take the kid to see his GP (here in the local health centre they have a full time pediatrician, I don't think that my son was even seen by one before in his whole healthy life) but the next appointment is for this afternoon so I've had to cancel my class for today to stay at home.
That's not much of a problem because I can re-schedule the class for tomorrow, as my other students are on photo safari holiday in Tanzania. (lucky people, but they deserved it, they work long hours and even some weekends)

But problems have a tendency to came in twos. So, "the husband" just called to let me know that he lost his rucksack with his laptop on it. After a bit of talking, it transpire that he forgot the rucksack in the train!! He just left the whole thing on the tube! How could he??? He's always been absent minded as scientist are considered to be but this is too much even for him!!
I'm not sure the insurance will cover it and it was a very expensive laptop and we cannot replace right now, not to mention that he also lost the information on it.
I want to kill him.
So he's now hopping from wagon after wagon, train to train on the same subway route, trying to find it because he called the lost-and-found office and they'll now lately on the day.

I really want to kill him.

Driving around town

It's great to have a car once more. All this past few days I've been busy driving around and getting lost in a bigger scale than usual. Lovely. The best way to get to know a new place is just to get lost a few times.
The driving is getting there. I discarded the idea of taking some driving lessons after I learned that it cost 33 euros per hour. Gulp! It's cheaper to crash!! At least we're fully insured! Seriously, I drove before in Argentina so I can do it here, the Spaniards are bad drivers but not insane as most Argentines are.
So, we were driving around for hours lately. We take turns to drive and to be the navigator with the maps. We even took turns with the mad screaming, covering our eyes, swearing and so forth, much needed when driving here.
So far I stoped trying to get into the roundabouts clockwise, which is a relief. I'm still banging the door when trying to change gears and never know at first try where the mirrors are but things are better now.

The rule of thumb is to drive carefully, as in everywhere else in the world.
I still need to drive more and my parking skills are still totally atrocious but practice makes perfect so I just have to keep on trying until I get my confidence back.

Oh, and my little toe is not black and blue anymore, now it's a fashionable mauve and still hurting a bit, but it feels much better.

OOOOUCH!!!

This morning I banged the door with my foot while rushing around the flat getting ready to go out. It hurt a lot but I after a bit of heavy trilingual swearing I just had to keep on going, so I will myself not to care about it.

(The swearing went : English first, then Spanish and then the only rude word I learnt so far in Catalan "pet" = fart. Well... not really rude but you have to use whatever you have in times of needs).

My little toe kept on hurting all day long but I was busy so I couldn't stop and check it until later on the evening and by then the toe looked bad, totally black and it really, really, hurts when I try to move it. I think I broke the wretched thing.

I should go to the local GP first thing in the morning. but I'm not sure it's worthy... can they really encase the little toe in plaster?

oh! Look at that doggie in the window!!

There's a pet shop just around the corner from us and almost every time I pass by it I can't help to stop and look at the puppies they have for sale.

They keep on selling the puppies and having new ones, so there's endless entertaining and I always want to take one home.

So far I'm in love with a Beagle, who is the most serious looking dog in the shop, she's the cutest thing ever but at €650 is way out of my budget. "The husband"s favourite is even more expensive at a whooping €1100 and really the ugliest dog I've ever seen... although "the husband" with that funny logic of his said that it's so ugly is cute again, full circle of beauty. I wonder if he started to like the English bulldog because of the price tag and not despise of it as he claims.


They also have a Persian kitten, a ball of fur that cost €300 even when it doesn't have any papers or pedigree whatsoever.

Of course, P, my son, ever the rational and responsible one in the family, keeps on telling me that it's not good to have pets in flats, that even the idea is cruel to the animals and that they need to be taken out for walks and we're as lazy as it could be.
That and the price tag are the only thing stopping me buying one.

Am I really such a selfish cow for wanting a pet to cuddle?
Shall I check local animal refuges for puppies? They'll be free of charge and probably neutered as well.

Got the car!

Earlier today I had to go to the bank to fetch in cash the money to pay for the new car. Luckily, the bank and the car dealer are only a few yards apart. This local mistrust with cheques is totally crazy.
Whatever!
We finally got the car.
And there's a local petrol station's strike for 2 days starting today!!! So we don't dare to use it today in case we run out of petrol.

Euro power cut

Yesterday we had a brief power cut. At home we just a had a short cut, less than 10 second and the light was on again. "The husband" was at the local movie theatre and he said the movie was off and the emergency lights on, and after a few minutes the usher went in and told them that they were ready to re-start the movie but that they couldn't turn the emergency lights off.

We laugh it off and thought nothing of it until we read saw the news today.
There was a pan-European power cut from Germany to here!! As you can see if you take the link to the BBC European news. Apparently the power failure was linked to a line across a river somewhere in Germany being switched off to allow a ship to pass through safely. France was the worst affected with people trapped in elevators and so forth.
Here in Barcelona it was very brief due to the rapid response of the local energy company who provided backs ups and God knows what.

So, this was very close to a European (continental) black out.

I think it brings home the fact that we are actually, physically, linked in this modern world of us.

Plain globalization.

Got the offer

Yesterday the people from Avis left a message on my voice mail to let me know that I got the job and to call them asap to agree to sign contracts and so forth.

It's great for my self esteem, but I already decided not to take it, to keep on teaching until I can get a really good one. So I called and say thanks but not thanks.

However, it still feels like a gambling (or spiting against the wind) and I feel really privileged to be able to have a choice at all!

Day of the dead and rugby!

Today is the day of the dead and traditionally is the day when people go to the cemetery to take flowers to their loved departed. So it's a non working day for most people.
The local government is also having their local elections today; the idea is that people will be free to vote.

Instead we went to France for my son's rugby tournament. Rugby is big in France and there was a local tournament for under 16 years old in Perpignan and we were one of the only two Spanish club there!! And we the kids did hold their own. I'm very proud of them, specially the younger team group, the benjamines, as they're called.
There was sweat, blood and tears, and that was just the parents!! Seriously, there was lots of sweaty guys around even when the day was truly and appropriately Autumn-like with a very blustery day, truly Winds-day as Winnie the Pooh said. At least 5 degrees colder than here, where the weather still feels Summer-like with 25 degrees.
There was some tears as the French guys are good opponents with a stronger tradition and loads more exposure to the sport than the Spanish kids.
And there was even some blood as one of the guys in P's team was knocked over and ended up with a (very) bloody nose, I still have a soaked hankie to prove it!

Our guys fought bravely and they won one game out of 3 in the morning and they achieve a very honorable draw in one game out of two during the afternoon.
I'm particularly proud of P, whose a tough cookie; I've seen him emerge under a bunch of ten players, just to dust himself off and go back to play without a moan. He even managed a two-in-one tackle, tackling two guys from the opposite team!!

The best part of the day was when P. run for dear life with the ball and bravely score a try under the total surprised of everybody, but sadly all this happened after the ref blew the whistle!! (He argued that due to his headgear he couldn't hear the ref, also the ref was French and P doesn't understand a French whistle).

I was totally knackered at the end of the day and almost lost my voice with all that shouting. My back ached after hours of standing up or sitting on grass, I was cold, we only ate a sandwich and the shortage of proper toilets should ashamed the French (well, after all there's no indoor bathrooms in the whole of Versailles and they don't think any of it).

We all had a great time!!!

Job interview

This morning I woke up very early to catch the train to the centre of Barcelona. Luckily, my closest train station is the first one on the line, so and despite the fact that there was loads of poor early commuters, I easily found a seat, which was very fortunate because after a few stations the train was pack to the rim. By the time we arrive to the last stop it was comfortably empty again so I didn't have to push my way through people just to get out of it. Nevertheless it took me 1 hour and 45 minutes to arrive to my final destination. That fact alone made me doubt about the job. I'm not that desperate that I have to do a 3 hours a day commute for a job.

I finally arrived to the World Trade Centre building (yeah... not a very fortunate name for a building, isn't it? at least this one isn't very tall) which is at the end of a pier (I've just spend 5 minutes trying to remember how to spell pier), near the Columbus' tower thus as far from my place as it can geographically be. Of course, I called them to let them know that I was late due to a miscalculation of public transport times.

By the way, Columbus statue is atop of a tall column, very much as the one in Trafalgar square. He's pointing somewhere and a plaque said that he's pointing to the Americas. But according to my internal compass he's actually pointing to Africa. I've to check this out. It'll be nice when you come and I take you there to try to solve this out.

The actual interview was long but nice. The only problem being that the interviewers were far too young. How can you take it seriously when a kid ask you silly questions such as "how'd your friend would describe you"?
(My answer was: "I'm the person that everybody want to be with in a crisis". Yeah, sure!)

The silliness of it all wasn't really a problem because I truly relaxed when I saw the kids, and the very well known and standard set of questions that they had. I'm usually good at test situations as shown when I passed my driving test the first try (unlike "the husband", who has to do it at least 4 times in order to pass, a fact that will be forever remembered for his eternal shame), but this time I was really relaxed as it became increasingly clear that I didn't want the job at all. The fact that the girl giving us all this info has English as her second language and that she has a thicker accent than me, only added to the silliness of the situation.
For the first 20 minutes of the interview (there was 5 other baby candidates in the room) we've been told about the job and given time to ask questions and the only one to ask was me, presumably the baby candidates were far too intimidated.
Do they have parking space for employees? No.
Childcare facility? No.
Subsidised lunch? Not for the first year, only a common room.

The job consisted on handling the rented car reservations in Barcelona for English speakers from all over the world. The centre used to be in Manchester but they're now here and it wouldn't surprise me if they outsource the job to India soon. The working time is also quite complicated, the centre is open from 8 to 11pm local time so the employees' working time rotates monthly and randomly. Meaning that the first month you work, let say, from 8 'till 2pm and the next one it could be from 2 to 11pm or Good knows when. You also has to work 2 weekends a months and you take 2 weekdays off that week. The salary is 15,000€ a year, which is far less that I could make if I keep on teaching.

Then they divided the group for a one-to-one interview. The interview was scripted and it was totally silly and you'd have to be a total idiot to fail that. For instance:
Interviewer"what was the best part of your former job?"
Me: the true: chatting away with Glynnis and Christa. The actual answer: "solving people's problems and giving the best service I can".
And my favourite.
Interviewer: "what was the worst part of your former job?"
Me: The true: I hated answering the telephone!!! I actually used to run away and hide between the shelves every time the phone rung. But there I was being interviewed for, basically, a calling centre job... so, my actual answer was: "oh, definitely, shelving".

The cheek of me!!!!

The final part of the interview was a role play when they gave me some information and then we pretended that I was answering the phone and I had to try to rent this guy a car and get all the information to and from him, such as properly spelled name, credit car numbers, time and place for collection, and so forth. The interviewer this time was actually a Brit with a thick Yorkie accent, I swear that I'm not making this up, it was hilarious. This was a bit trickier for me because the job was actually for native speakers, however, but by that time I couldn't care less.
At the end of the interview the Yorkie told me that I did pretty well, adding, to my eternal gratitude that I did better than some truly native English speakers.
He also told me that it take up to a week to get a letter telling me if I got the offer for the job. However, he said, the successful candidates usually get a call in the next two days.

I've already decided that the commuting alone was too much, but the experience alone was worthy it.

Latter on we talked with "the husband" and we agree that I'm better off keeping on teaching with its flexible hours and not too bad rates, until I can get a job that's truly better.

Birthday

Today's my son birthday. Ten years old to the day.
It was a bit sad without the usual party and guests. He took some chocolate bars to share with his classmates and he reported that some of them tried to cheat getting twice in the line to get an extra bar!! There was one little Mr. Greedy who tried five times!! Total success.

Later on we had his favourite food for tea and a delicious chocolate and hazelnut cake that we bought from the local Pastisseria (where they make all sorts of breads, cakes and sweetmeats). Off course he had some presents and he loved the day.

In special days like these I feel the distance more acutely, I feel that we're twice separated, first from family and Argentineans friends and now from the British ones. I miss you both!

New car!

We took it for a test drive and it runs like a dream, it's very quiet and it feels slightly bigger than our old Daewoo Matiz. Nice car, small enough for me to feel comfortable.

The only down side is the colour, a most boringly dark gray.

Due to the paperwork, we gave a small deposit and the agency will be doing all transfer of ownership and so on and we'll collect it next Monday.

Used vs. New cars (this is for car loving Carlos)

Yesterday we spend the whole afternoon going from car seller to car seller and we collected loads of information about diferents cars and makes. We even checked cars we didn't consider before (such as the smallest of the KIA, the picanto) or double checked on the Smart which I love but was discarded because it's too small.

In the process we discovered and fell in love with the Lancia ypsilon (pictured here).
Nobody does design as the Italians do, and this little car is just gorgeous. The whole interior was designed by Dolce&Gabanna (my favourite designers after Versacce died) in a very retro style and very glamourous. Off course it's way out of our budget as it cost near 20,000€ (around 14,000 pounds), not the most expensive car ever but totally out of reach right now. So, just to keep the dream alive, I'll place it first in my wish list on Amazon. You never know.

Back to reality.
After tea we compared several cars within our budget and decided that we're going to get an almost new Nissan micra boringly gray but apparently reliable, cheap to run etc. We'll take it for a ride on Monday and with any luck we can have it on Friday.
To buy a car is a lot of hussle here in Spain with loads of paperwork to do, so, we'll count ourselves lucky if we manage to have it by the end of the week, specially a week with a fiesta in it.
I'm also considering taking some extra driving tuition, if I can afford it, just to be on the safe side. People drives crazily here, altough they're more careful since they implemented the penalty of taking point out system on driving licences as they do in the UK.

Sant Cugat Rugby Club

First thing in the morning we went to P.'s rugby club where they were having an annual meeting.

Rugby's not a very popular or even a known sport (most Spaniards confuse it with American football) so this is one of two clubs in the whole of Catalunya and even then, it's rather small for British or Argentinean standard. However the club's building is quite new, the field has only a couple of years and is made of artificial grass (visually stunning, from afar it looks like an emerald green oasis in the middle of the general brownish hills). Apparently the club's old place was bulldozed a few years ago when the local council built a motorway, and as part of the agreement, the council gave new lands and it's slowly building a completely new club.
Off course, the players and the parents of the younger kids run and keep the whole thing going. As usual, there's a small core of people doing all the work and they're always in need of money and help.

There's not much we can do regarding to getting money or finding sponsors, we don't know a soul here yet, so I thought that we can help out creating and maintaining a web site for the club, so I offered "the husband" knowledge and expertise and my work. They loved the idea and told us that the council offered to have the club web page in their site and they'd love to share the job, so we'll be in charge of creating and maintaining the section for the younger kids.

Next Wednesday we all going to Perpignan to watch the kids play, so we'll take pictures and videos to start the season's page up and running as soon as we can.

I've no idea how to create or maintain a web page, so I'll learn it as i go along. And I'll tell you the address so you can see it as soon as we have something running.

By the way, next Wednesday is fiesta again. No work or school that day so we'd be able to travel to France to watch the match. It's the day of the dead, so people go to the cemetery to take flowers to their dead. Part of the tradition for this time of the year is also to eat panellets, baked sweet potatoes, roast chestnuts and sweet wine. You can see the panellest here, they're delicious and very easy to prepare, you can check the recipe if you click on the highlighted word.

I'm a firm believer of the old adage "when in Rome, do as the Romans do" so, we'll be eating panellets the whole week. One has to support local traditions.

One of the parties bidding for office on the incoming election proposed a card for immigrants where they'll get point for positive actions toward integration. Although I think that the idea is pure electoral nonsense, I wonder how much points we'd get for eating the panellets.