In a land of milk, honey and cider

How a New Year should start

2011-01-08T15:38:00.004+01:00

Don't you just love those days when everything feels right and full of possibility? Well today, for me, has turned into one of those, starting with a good one and a half hour self-defence class this morning, to handing over more of the translation I'm doing to my karate teacher's book, to a food shop resulting in lots of fresh veggies in my basket at home (causing me to contemplate the yummy possibilities there), to a tasty lunch while listening to Eddie Vedder's Into the Wild soundtrack and generally contentedly experiencing a day when there's blue sky over my mountain and a temperature warm enough to belong to spring.

Of course I'm well aware that I've just had a week's holiday and so am feeling laid back, relaxed and good about myself, though I'm hoping I can carry the mood through the next couple of months when spring really does hit Asturias and my students start behaving like the lambs in the fields round here. In the meantime, I have resolved to keep busy, get out there and do something creative, physical or adventurous, and then of course, write about it here.

Happy 2011 everyone, I'm planning on making it a good one.

Can't get enough

2010-06-15T11:03:00.004+01:00

In the running for Funniest Moment of the Year in the academia is the translation into English by one of my school pupils of the word cerveza (beer, for those of you who've never had to learn the essentials of the language before a holiday to Spain, or any other Spanish speaking country for that matter). Apparently, if you're desirous of a nice cold pint, you should, upon entering any fine public house, petition the barkeep for Duff.

Homer would be proud.

Raelha buys a car

2010-05-11T22:44:00.001+01:00

I have finally become a proud (erm, well, not really) car owner at the grand old age of 34. Having successfully managed to avoid any automobile purchase before now it became necessary now that I´m on my own and living halfway up another mountain. The car itself it the same one I´ve been driving around since I got to Asturias except now it´s in my name. One thing I am proud of is having successfully conquered the bureaucratic process it takes to put a car in your name. When we first got to Asturias and bought the Skoda (for yes it is a not-quite-so-fine example of Czech engineering) the actual process of going to tráfico in Oviedo to put it into the ex´s name was possibly, no, definitely, the worst red tape nightmare I´ve gone through in Spain – though, having dealt frequently with the system, I hesitate to add that I suspect it will retain that glorious title forever. The original purchase was made from an aging fellow, who appeared jolly enough to begin with and after us having proferred cash for the vehicle offered to take us into Oviedo himself to guide us in the process of changing over the documentation. As recent arrivals in the country we were more than happy to have a guiding hand, though it turned out that he knew only a gnat´s breath more about it than we did. Imagine traipsing around one government office after another to get hold of all the different documents you have to fill in and hand over to be stamped only then to have to take them to another office for collection, and only after you´ve taken ten million photocopies of each one. This is the only time where I´ve actually seen Spaniards queuing up quietly to be seen to in turn, except the fellow we were with seemed oblivious of the system and insisted on pushing in each time, talking loudly at the civil servant who was trying to deal with the person who had actually waited his or her turn, and not listening to a word he was told in response. Eventually I figured out what was going on and dragged him across the office floor each time to get our numbered piece of paper and wait in line. All this, of course, institgated sympathetic looks from all and sundry when they realised that we had to tackle the system with him in charge. If only we´d realised before.

Next you discover that the stamped road tax form that the seller has to present is not in his possession and he has no idea of where he last saw it, necessitating a further journey to a separate government office half-way across the city (why they don´t just group them all together is beyond me, I suspect it´s all part of one big joke to brighten up the lives of the poor souls who work in these dreary places day after day: “no, I´m very sorry sir, we don´t deal with that here you need to go to the Office of Let Us See Just How Far We Can Push You Before You Turn Red and Steam Pours From Your Ears located in Taking The Piss street, it´s not far away, honestly” and then time how long it take you to get back tomato faced and exasperated. It quite often happens that when you do finally find you way to the second office they have no idea what you´re on about and send you down the corridor (if you´re lucky), round the corner to the next building (if you´re not so lucky), or back all the way across the city (if you´re damn unfortunate) where they realise in the original office, that oh yes, we do have that form here after all and I don´t know who you spoke to before but we can sort that out right here. Arghhh. And then, finally, when you´ve paid all the taxes involved and photocopied everything apart from your bumcheeks, worked off all of the last week´s meals travelling around the city and make you way back into tráfico, papers in hand, eyes gleaming knowing that you´re finally on the winning track, they tell you that the ID you have is the wrong one and that even though it´s valid to buy a house you need a proper resident´s ID to buy a car, which, after a trip to the main police station, you realise takes a matter of months in itself to get.

So, after the hassle of buying the car the first time, and yes, all of the above really did happen, with perhaps a few name changes here and there, I was determined not to undergo such a painful struggle this time around, especially considering that, despite the lack of embarrassing seller it would involve traversing the city with the ex who was never a very patient man. So, a week before I nipped to tráfico had a quick chat with those at the information desk and prepared all the documents I was told I´d need beforehand, plus photocopies, and communicated to the ex what he´d need to bring. Perfect, I thought, nothing can go wrong, and nothing did. If were as if someone was making up to me all that I´d had to go through the previous time. Even when it turned out in the treasury department that I was missing a photocopy of a form that hadn´t been mentioned on the information sheet given to me in the traffic department, the guy behind the desk, when I asked him where the nearest place to photocopy, on discovering that I was only missing the one, took the sheet from me and photocopied it himself! At no extra charge!!! Believe me this never happens. I was in a fine mood, floated all the way to tráfico where there was no queue at all, handed over all my documents and hey presto, the car was officially mine.

I even managed, after some rather persuasive talking, to get insurance from Línea Directa (yes, we have Direct Line over here too, and the little red phone with wheels on the ad) for over €100 less than the ex had been paying, despite not having any no-claims bonus whatsoever, a fine coup on my behalf.

Anyway, this all happened in October, though I’ve been waiting since then for an Internet connection at home, having also moved house. More on that later, oh and wish me luck with my very first MOT (or ITV as it’s called here) in a couple of weeks’ time.

Not laziness this time...

2009-07-24T13:05:00.002+01:00

...nor business that´s keeping me from penning more posts. I´ve been ill *cough, sniff, splutter*, and my computer has decided it is too, for the second time this month. I hope it´s not terminal.

Raelha´s first concert for almost five years

2009-07-15T15:57:00.004+01:00

Actually, make that concerts, or rather one huge festival full of concerts. Yes indeed, I spent last Thursday, Friday and Saturday swaying, jigging, jiggling rocking, dancing, bouncing, pogoing, arm waving and singing my heart out in Bilbao. A full three days of Supergrass - always excellent, and coincidentally my last concert in the UK before coming to Spain; The Ting Tings - surprisingly talented as well as being lots of fun; Asian Dub Foundation; Primal Scream; The Editors; Placebo; Jane´s Addiction - best sound and general entertainment of the whole festival, though they also win the ´worst dressed´ prize for the guitarrist´s flared leather trousers; Fisherspooner - my first taste and upon reflection, I like; Chris Cornell - wow; Depeche Mode - I still have ´It´s No Good´swirling around in my head; and others. Basically, sign me up for next year right now!

I´d forgotten how much I missed the entire festival experience, apart from the three-days-camping grungy feeling which, no longer being a manky student, I avoided this year with baby wipes, spray-on deoderant and finally a trip to the shockingly cold showers when it all got too much.

And no, I didn´t forget to take my camera, but yes, I forgot to charge the battery.

Spotted

2009-05-18T23:25:00.003+01:00

A rather interesting sight in El Entrego on a recent night out, flying from the terrace of someone's flat:

Who can name the flag?

You know you have a good job, part two...

2009-05-18T23:19:00.003+01:00

...when your students give you cake:

This is actually a rather late Easter posting - the pic is of a traditional Spanish Easter cake that I was given by the student I give a private lesson to three times a week. He owns a cafe and makes some rather tasty pastries to which Sue is particularly partial. Going in for a nibble every now and again is getting to be embarassing affair though since it always ends up on the house. It's a hard life we English teachers lead.

You know you have a good job when...

2009-05-05T20:38:00.011+01:00

...you can spend a chunk of your time there watching films and listening to music - and it counts as part of your work. Yes indeed, I have shown such gems as Juno, Out of Africa, American History X, Pride and Prejudice, The Constant Gardener and The Goonies and some lesser works like The Holiday, Love Actually, Spiderman, Shaun of the Dead, Borat and Iron Man, that still make for good entertainment, especially when it´s in the name of earning a living. Of course, it´s not just watching the film, I do make the students work for their visual stimulation - with exercises with words missing from a particular scene, they have to listen and fill in the gaps bfore they can watch the rest of the film - but it´s still a pretty good way to pass an hour.

On the songs front I´ve discovered that something upbeat is best to grab their attention. The current winner seems to be Michael Jackson´s Billy Jean, though it´s closely followed by Bohmeian Rhapsody, You´re the One That I Want (during the playing of which I have to be very careful not to slip into Olivia Netwon John mode and perform her actions in class - especially the part where she beckons to Travola with a sultry look on her face and runs her hands down her body), Hot Chocolate´s You Sexy Thing, Take On Me and It´s Not Unusual. During these lessons it's a common sight to see us all swaying in our chairs as we mouth the lyrics to the music.

This is all a pleasant change from previous years when I was mostly doing grammar and reading exercises with the students. This year we decided my lessons should be devoted to listening and speaking, and aren´t I glad we did.

Things that make me happy about living in Spain, part VII (I think)

2009-05-03T14:25:00.010+01:00

As a little girl I'd frequently go shopping with my mum in town on Saturdays, or during the summer holidays and would always be astounded by the number of people she knew. She worked then as a cashier for one of the high-street banks, in the days when the staff in each bank knew all their customers well, and so got to know what seemed to be about half the town.

It was common to walk down Chestergate, a pedestrianised shopping street in Macclesfield, and take over an hour to get from one end to the other - and it wasn't a long street - simply because of the quantity of people who stopped to say hello and have a 'quick' chat to my mum - she even knew the people who owned the town's local sex shop and said they were 'lovely men', (something that made me stop and reconsider my opinion of her when I first heard her voice that belief). Anyway, I'd hang around at her side, half listening to yet another conversation, bored witless and wondering how soon it would take us to get away and continue our short journey to where we were going. I must've looked quite sullen standing there, wishing to be elsewhere, or sometimes crossing my legs and bobbing up and down whilst tugging on mum's skirt to tell her that I really needed the loo and couldn't hold on for that much longer and please could we go right now.

Despite my negative feelings of these experiences as a child, I find now that I'm enjoying being in a similar position here in El Entrego. We have over 200 students at the academia, so I know that many people, plus the mothers or fathers who come to collect them. It's almost impossible for me to walk down a street in town without coming across someone I know - frequently a mother without her offspring, who I will recognise but embarassingly am unable to remember just who her son or daughter is. This is particularly a problem if they stop and want a proper chat, but fortunately that doesn't happen too often yet. And then there are the students themselves, the younger ones of which will often shout 'Raaay-chelll' all the way across the park and wave their arms madly simply to say hello.

Then, as well as all the people I know from the academia you can add to the list my self-defence teacher and his girlfriend, the cashier from my bank, the manager too, the postman, the electrician, the nice men who work at the farmer's suppliers where I often go to buy vegetable plants, my neighbours, and lots of assistants from various shops around the town. They all say hello.

Even if it's just a brief communication it's a great feeling to walk around town and know people I can greet and who'll return my smile. It makes me feel as though I belong.

kaput...

2009-04-18T23:42:00.004+01:00

I must be jinxed. There's no other explanation.

In the last few months I've had to deal with numerous household items either failing to work completely or needing repairing.

To give you an idea:

The seals on the back windscreen of the car needed replacng. Everytime it rained I had a puddle in the boot of the car, and not just a drop of water, a real, jumping-in-it-and-you'd-get-soaked affair. Water is still entering, somehow, thought the front and filtering down to form a deep puddle in the driver's footwell, oh, and the passenger window, also at the front, will go down at the touch of the button but needs to be hauled up manually afterwards. Though sometimes refuses to budge. Now it's starting to warm up, I'm going to have to get it fixed. The driver's wondow is on it'sway out too. Ahh, and the other day, after shopping in Lidl (yes, happily, Lidl does exist in Spain too), I went to start the car but the key refused to fit into the ignition. Strange, I thought, and checked my key ring just to make sure I hadn't picked up someone else's keys by mistake, but no, they were mine alright. After a bit of persuasion, swearing and coaxing I managed to get the key in, but then it wouldn't turn, and it wasn't just because the wheel had locked. Eventually, and feeling rather foolish, I had to call the insurance company for their roadside rescue. Then, just as the mechanic arrived, and despite 20-odd minutes of fiddling with it before I'd even resorted to calling, the key magically turned and the engine started. Apparently the anti-theft system needs looking at. Although I've since gotten used to the quirks of this and can manage to get the car started on most occasion with no hassle.

The other biggie is my computer. Specifically the graphics card, which I hope to replace shortly, though the rest of it can't be far behind. It currently takes me three or four goes to start the pc - up from one or two attempts a few weeks ago - and then it freezes at the slightlest hint of any animation or video, and also sometimes without, and requires rebooting again. *sigh*

On top of that, the washing machine and fridge are on their last legs, as well as the toaster, though I'm hoping they'll last out a little longer. *crosses fingers* Oh, and I sat on my glasses a few months ago (don't ask) and could really do with some new ones now, they're about 10 years old now anyway and I know my prescription's changed.

What else? Well, the bread machine conked out a few months ago, but Lidl had some in (at the same time as the car not starting incident - I returned, triumphant to the car park with my new purchase, before realising I couldn't take it home) for a bargain €45 so that problem was solved. I had a few problems with the hairdryer, but managed to rewire the plug and that's helped some, though it's still complains at every use. The iron stopped working completely but that was fairly easily replaced.

This last week, the strimmer decided to play up - I hadn't used it for months and when I finally decided to get it out on Monday and pulled the starter cable, the damn thing gave a wimpish sputter before dying on me and leaving the cable extended. Ugh. Then, there was a gas leak: Our gas bottles were running out after only two weeks, which was weird, since they normally lasted at least three weeks. After an embarasisng incident when I had friends round for lunch and my last bottle unexpectedly ran out on me half way through cooking the food, I decided we had a real problem. This week the nice man from the gas company managed to find the leak for me and will sort out out completely some time next week. It's good to know the house won't be exploding any time on the near future. And finally, also this week, the toilet cistern decided not to seal once it had been flushed and emptied out my water tank. It took me a while, and some copious swearing, to figure out what was happening. I went to get a new part on Friday, but was given the wrong one so we're still currently making do with the mop bucket to flush the loo.

Hmm, I think that's it. I'm not sure I have anything else that can go wrong on me now, but I'll be sure to let you if it does.

Samson

2009-03-17T10:01:00.005+01:00

This is Samson:

As a kitten, sunbathing outside his barn.

Having found a home, with Cheeky.

I'm afraid that no-one will ever get to met him, since he died on Friday morning. It turned out he had leukemia and his liver was in a really bad way. It was something of a shock since he'd seemed to be healthy until last week and it all happened so quickly.

He was only ten months old, one of the cats that I'd rescued from the barn near my mum's house. I'd brought him back home to get him used to being around people with the aim of finding him an adoptive home - I was going to post on this organisation's website - but he turned out to be such a sweet and gentle cat with the biggest paws with which he'd only ever pat at you gently and so eager for company and love that the idea of letting him go had become very difficult. In the end, I had to give him up in the hardest way possible.

Not only am I devastated, but Cheeky has lost his best friend too, he's become very affectionate again now his snuggling partner has gone and is curled up on my lap as I type this, purring.

While I'm here, and on a happier note, I'd like to make one more introduction. This little scamp is Mouse, the third cat I rescued, Cheeky and Samson's sister.

I think she's going to be hanging around now, since I can't bear to give her away anymore. From a quiet, shy, skinny puss, deserving of her name, she's turned into lively, loving little minx.

I suspect Cheeky's going to have his paws full keeping all four ladies in order.

Update

2009-03-15T23:24:00.001+01:00

OK, yes, I admit it, I have been lazy as well as busy. I meant to post in the New Year seeing as I had lots to tell you about, mostly involving my first trip back to the UK in three and a half years. And it was fun. I got the see my sister and her boyfriend, and my niece and flirt outrageously with their cat, a handsome ginger tom called Olly, and eat my first Cauldron Foods veggie sausage sandwich in years, which my mum had very kindly prepared for me to scoff as we left the airport. Speaking of which, I got dizzy - honestly- going round the roundabout in the 'wrong' direction leaving Stansted. I'm properly continental now it seems.

Anyway, I can't remember the last time it was so cold, certainly not here, although sometimes this last winter it's not been far off. But anyway, the cold there added to the festiveness of the trip, probably since I had central heating to go with it, as did a trip to the panto in Harrogate in which I fully particpated. So much so that I started to lose my voice near the end from all shouting 'oh yes it is' and 'it's behind you', though that didn't stop me, oh no... it was panto, and specifically my first in years and years, and my first with my niece and I wasn't going to not take part.

Sunrise in Ripon, N. Yorkshire on a cold winter's morning. I was taking my niece to school, quite possibly the only thing that could've induced me to get up that early on such a cold day.

Mr Oliver, what gorgeous eyes you have!

How could I resist? And of course, I didn't.

Anyways, I got my first curries (yes, in the plural) in too long, my first chip shop chips, doused in malt vinegar, in too long and on top of that was spoiled rotten by all the snug central heating. And, if all that wasn't enough, my mum got me a digital camera for Xmas, so now I can snap happily again, thanks mum! After five days in North Yorkshire I pootled on down to London with the expectation of warmer weather, ha. Temperatures got down to -10. Though I still enjoyed myself. I got to wander the excellent British Museum for an hour, which was nowhere near long enough but still an adventure.

In the British Museum.

I caught up with friends and enjoyed being in the capital, especially at night. Walking across Tower Bridge and seeing the South Bank and St. Paul's and the London Eye all lit up was something special.

Excuse the blurry pic - still practising with the camera.

As were the cocktails with Sue and the vegetarian curry in Tooting and my first pint of proper ale in what felt like an eternity, it was one I hadn't tried before - Timothy Taylor's Landlord and it was quite possibly the best I've ever had.

Too many to choose from, so we ordered two and shared.

The star beverage of the trip.

I arrived back home in Asturias to snow falling as I drove back up my mountain. Believe me, it's not pleasant coming back to a stone house that has been empty for a week in the middle of winter when it's cold enough to snow after having spent a week in a centrally-heated environment, especially since a feral cat ripped the cat flat door off its hinges letting a freezing wind into the house (and I'm still having trouble replacing it with the new one, how can an electric drill be so hard to use?) and, just in time foor the start of work, I came down with a nasty cold and cough, which I've just about managed to shake off completely now it seems that spring and the sun have arrived back in Asturias.

View down the hill at dusk.

Anyway, since then, what have I been up to? -Well, getting a tube shoved down my thorat into my tum to see if I'm Coeliac for starters, which was vile, and I'm still waiting on the results - not until May; trudging down to work and back in more snow; starting a self-defence class and wishing my body was as quick at learning as my mind - legs go this way, left arm goes round and out, right arm goes... aw shit, let's start again, again; and welcoming Sue who's come to stay for two months (not quite the strapping 'au pair' she herself suggested I get to help out, but much better company at least) and has been helping me get the garden in order - the potatoes went in today - as well as being a good Scrabble/drinking/DVD watching partner.

There's one more even that's happened recently which doesn't suit the tone of this posting, which I'd started over two weeks ago, so I'll tell you all about it in another post very soon.

Sorry to have been away for so long - yet again. Now I have a garden helper I hope to have more time again for the blog.

Quite possibly the cheekiest puss in Asturias

2008-12-09T23:43:00.005+01:00

Everyone, this is Cheeky. He's very pleased to make your acquaintance.

Oh, and don't let the appearance fool you, the name suits him perfectly.

Baa

2008-12-07T17:32:00.003+01:00

Black sheep of the family? Well, in Spain, as I have recently discovered to yet more amusement, you'd be the garbanzo negro, or black chickpea.

The old faithful

2008-11-23T00:51:00.003+01:00

Yes, it's that time of year again. Be prepared for more sunsets (given my sleeping habits, I can't promise any sunrises), camera dependent.

What's this?

2008-11-23T00:49:00.005+01:00

Can anyone identify this visitor to my terrace for me?

One of my favourite times of year

2008-10-26T00:06:00.001+01:00

Oh yes. The clocks go back an hour tonight. And I get an extra sixty minutes in bed. Woo hoo!

sigh

2008-10-15T22:37:00.005+01:00

The last couple of weeks have been trying. Normally I keep this kind of thing to myself and brood, but I've decided to try and moan more to people, let them know how I'm feeling and see if it helps me to cope better myself. If I stay up here on my own and keep it myself I'm sure to go potty.

So here we go...The tooth reconstuction I shelled out for a month or so ago has broken already, and sod it, I'm just going to have what's left taken out instead of forking out a scary €1,500 for an implant.

I may have a wheat intolerance/allergy. It looks like my sister is at least intolerant. I need to make an appointment at the doctor's to get tested.

I lost a pumpkin. Remember last year's crop? Well this one was even bigger. It rolled down the hill, broke through the fence into the neighbour's finca, hit a bump in the earth, flew into the air, collided with the branches of a tree and exploded into pieces. Fortunately it was my part of the fence that broke, and not the neighbour's, becasue he's a grumpy old bastard who hasn't been very friendly in the past, and also that nobody was around to get in it's path. Still, now I'm afraid to try and move its companion in case the same happens again. I've told Cris that if she wants her Halloween pumpkin at the academia this year I'll need help in harvesting it. It´s not so much the loss of the vegetable that made me sigh, rather the fact that it brought the realisation home that managing on my own is more difficult, and at times, wearing.

Shortly after witnessing the demise of the pumpkin, the woman who owns the field where I go to collect firewood moaned that I'd broken the wall surrounding the land placing when my logs on it. I swore I'd been very careful and it wasn't me, she pointed out that she'd paid a considerable amount of money to ge the wall done and that it had to have been me. I said I'd go and look at it. Which I did after she'd left. The old witch had marked every chip that had come of the wall with an old piece of roof tile. Some were in places where it would've been impossible for me to lay any wood (right in front of a lamp post for example) and others weren't even broken bits, just irregularities in the concrete. Anyway, I'm sure she's bad-mouthing me in the town now, she's that type of person. I'd love to tell her to stuff her wood, but this is my sole source of heating and I can't afford to buy any. I'll have to figure something out. I shall try and be diplomatic but if she winds me up I may end up forgetting how cold it gets here in January and February and tell her where to go after all.

Worst of all, I took the motherpuss from my mum's house to the vet's to make sure she wasn't pregnant which in itself went well - she wasn't - then brought her back here to see how she'd get on with my three and if having her here was an option since she behaved perfectly at the vet's and seemed to trust me completely...and she ran out of the cat flap straight away and I haven't seen her since, which was ten days ago, despite going to call every night and keeping en eye out for her on the way to work every day. I hate thinking I might not see her again, that she's out there on her own, and feel miserable knowing it's all my fault. Everything else that's happened in the last couple of weeks wouldn't be so bad if it weren't for this.

I'm fortunate to have a job to go to that cheers me up when I'm feeling down. I doubt many people can say that. I had a good laugh this evening when one class of students, when asked to name famous English people, responded with George and Mildred, (see here for a taster) which was mysteriously chosen, out of the many British comedies on offer, to be shown on Spanish TV, and it was still being rerun a couple of years ago. I find it absurdly amusing to imagine thousands, maybe even millons, of Spaniards watching the programme and forming ideas about the British from it.

Four-cat household

2008-09-21T09:49:00.003+01:00

Yes, I have taken another step down the path to crazy-old-cat-womanhood. Although the lastest addition to my household may only be temporary. It depends on my will-power.

Anyway, the story goes something like this... In the village where my mum has a holiday home, there's a small black and white cat, that I have, over the last couple of years, been befriending. She has no permanent home but lived, I presume, in the outbuildings of a small-holding on the edge of the village, at least she always disappeard in that direction after I'd petted and fed her. She must've been given scraps of food, although no-one is ever there in the winter and hunting for food must've been difficult for her then.

I'd seen her pregnant several times, but never with kittens. It's a very sad fact that in rural Asturias controlling the feline population means drowning the offspring at birth. However, she must have realised I was a trustworthy, kind sort, because this June she appeared with three kits in tow in the barn opposite my mum's house and has been there ever since.

This has posed me a great dilemma. What to do? I can't not feed them, the kittens are too young to hunt for survival and the mum too weary from looking after them. But then again, I don't want to have an ever-expanding population of cats on the doorstep, clamouring to be fed. On top of this, two of the little ones have come down with a bad cold. One, of them, who's completely ginger, is a suspicious fellow who won't let me near him. Helping him, beyond providing food, is currently impossible even though I'm desperate to take him to the vets and get him well since he's in a really bad way and I'm dreadfully worried for him. I keep going up there to see if there's any chance of catching him, but no luck so far. His brother, however, a very cheeky ginger and white tom who'd previously enjoyed nibbling my hand and getting strokes is much friendlier and I brought him back here instead of watching him go the way of his ginger sibling. (The third, one, a very pretty, mostly ginger female seems perfectly healthy at the moment.) He's currently in a spare bedroom with food aplenty and a comfy bed to sleep on and can't believe his luck. Beeps, Mahou and Elbi are aware that something's up but I'm keeping them separated until this little one is better.

There are organisations here who will help you neuter stray cats and look for adoptive homes. Once I've nursed as many as I can back to full health I'm going to see what I can do along those lines for the three kits. The mum is going to be spayed too, she's so tiny, the ginger kitten is almost as big as her already. She's too small to keep on having kits and I'm incapable of not being responsible and doing my part in keeping the unwanted cat population down. So, once that's done, do I let her stay where she is, where she's happy enough, although life is difficult at times, or, do I bring her back here? I watch my three on the terrace, rolling in the sun, content, and know that in the winter they'll enjoy snuggling in front of the fire and the answer seems a simple one. However, introducing an adult female cat to a household where there are alreay three adult females is going to be difficult, and I wonder if she'll be happier here or not for that reason. I can envisage power struggles with Mahou already. Do any cat lovers out there want to help me figure this one out?

One last thing, I'd include pictures if I could, the three little ones are adorable and I've caught them in some poses that would've made you go 'awwww'. However, my camera is still refusing to function so you'll just have to believe me when I tell you that they're damn cute.

Why do women need men?

2008-08-24T17:51:00.014+01:00

So the old joke goes. And in the unlikely even that any of you out there don't know it, the punchline is, and don't get too excited, because vibrators can't mow the lawn. Anyway, vibrator or not, I was determined that I should be able to cope with the lawn here. It was the one thing that caused me most worry about being on my own. I've mown lawns before but this one is on a slope, measures about 1,200 square metres, I'd never done it here before, nor used a petrol mower.

A vast expanse of rapidly-growing grass. The lawn before mowing

This is means I have of cutting it. A heavy petrol mower, with powered wheels, which I have recently named The Beast.

A brief practice several months ago left me worried about being carried away by it, down the hill, causing in havoc in neighbouring vegetable patches as I went, so I approached the machine with some trepidation the first time it came to me mowing the lawn on my own. Sunny evening as it was, I donned my Australian-army-issue reversible sun hat and sturdy walking boots, pulled on my gardening gloves and got down to work. I decided to allocate myself two hours to get as much of the task done as I could, seeing as it was my first time, and then complete it another day.

All ready to start.

Half an hour in, I was hot, sticky and red-faced and the hat was disgustingly sweaty. Traversing the slope wasn't too difficult, but turning round at each end gave the mower an opportunity to glide off towards freedom that it seemed eager to take every time. And then of course when the grass holder was full the compost heap was located right at the top of the slope - by the vegetable patch - which necessitated a long trek up there to dump the grass. Carrying on, I realised that a sun top and shorts is definitely not the best gear to be wearing to cut an insect-filled lawn and swore each time one of the litte buggers decided I'd be a tasty snack.

However, I'm not the sort to be easily deterred, besides my two hours weren't up so I had to keep going. If I gave up the first time round I'd never make it. Also the neighbours were out and about and I wasn't going to let them think that I was some weak little woman who couldn't cope on her own. Rural Spain still has to catch up somewhat on the sexual equality front and I was determined to do my little bit to help. So, after a brief rest to catch my breath and down a pint of water I went on.

Traditional hay making - I stop for a break but the neighbours carry on

And blow me if, 90 minutes after I'd started, I had the whole lawn mown and looking rather snazzy. I rather surprised myself.

The finished product

After several more glasses of water I celebrated with a tasty dinner and a few glasses of wine. I felt it was the least I'd earnt. Since that first attempt I've attacked the lawn twice more, with gusto, and come out the winner each time. The Beast still tries it on very now and again but I now feel fit and capable enough to show it who's boss.

Photofest

2008-08-15T16:41:00.012+01:00

I haven't been taking many photos these last few months, but here are some of the few I did snap. Make the most of them becasue my camera seems to have given up its hold on life and no amount of persuading can get it to work, believe me, I've tried.

Oviedo city council opt for the cheapest solution - Woody Allen, now completely devoid of glasses.

March skies and Redes mountains

March snow

Fruit from the garden. The berries and plums have all been scoffed and I'm about to make a start on the pears.

Feeding greedy sheep though the garden fence.

A neighbour's lambs

A different neighbour's donkey and a two-week old... erm, what's the word for a baby donkey? Donkette?

Still curious

And still friends

Apologies

2008-08-12T17:46:00.001+01:00

A huge, enormous, heartfelt sorry to all those of you who have been wondering what's been happening to my blog of late and also for being dreadfuly lax in my commenting. On top of that, a big thank you to those who emailed to check how I was or stated their concerns for me on other blogs. I was extremely touched that people I have not even met cared enough to do that.

Anyways, after several months of silence, and a few changes out in the real world - the main one being that I´m now on my own up on the mountain, and happier for it, although the cat count remains the same - I´m back.

Never a very prolific blogger to start with, I make further apologies for what will probably be errratic posting in the future. This is because I now have to keep the garden, house, car and cats in order by myself. My already busy timetable has been filled considerably, although I´m hoping all the mowing and strimming I´ve taken on will do wonders for my muscle tone.

My friend Sue, on a recent visit, suggested I advertise for a strapping au pair, of the male variety, to help me out around the house and in the garden. I´ll see how things go first, but I am keeping the idea mind. If any of you should know of a suitable specimen, I mean candidate, please do direct them here.

Things I don´t like about living in Spain, part VII

2008-02-27T21:08:00.003+01:00

A trip into Oviedo last week failed to bring me any results in my quest for a bra. This was my last hope. The Corte Inglés (a Spanish chain of large, slightly upmarket department stores) had to have a suitable one, or so I thought, but I was foiled for the nth time and now I give in.

Finding a bra in Spain that´s bigger than a C-cup and that isn´t obviously made for the older women in that detestable skin-coloured fabric - you know the type, they look like some kind of industrial hoist - is impossible. What do well-endowed young women do here? It beats me, and I´m too embarassed to go up to one in the street and ask. It´s back to good old M&S this time. Unfortunately they don´t ship abroad, but thankfully I have a mother who does.

By Popular Demand...

2008-02-20T10:00:00.011+01:00

...sort of. OK, that's a lie - I don't have the readership for popular demand. Enjoy anyway, and excuse the mud stockings.

Here's your more stereotypical Spanish cow:

And, seen on the same walk, an alternative for those of you who don't do bovine.

Yet another sunset (but still no cows)

2008-02-13T10:01:00.008+01:00

One of those rare days

2008-02-05T17:42:00.001+01:00

Today has been good. Very good. One of those days where everything is right and everyone and everything is in a fine mood. I enjoyed every little detail.

The lawn carpeted with daisies

Mahou adventuring

Beeps exploring the chapel roof

The first of the neighbour's lambs

Another neighbour's horse looking for attention

Even the clothes flapped chirpily in the breeze as puffs of cloud moved across the sky in formation behind them.

As for myself, after a session cutting wood and trimming the grass around the new bushes, I decided that was that and retired, book in hand, to my hammock.

Mixed skies

2008-02-04T18:17:00.000+01:00

It's the time of year the weather often does this, or worse.

Although it's not always that bleak.

Blue skies in February. Normally, by this time of year everything is convered in snow. The neighbour's mimosa adds a welcome dash of colour whatever. As does the minature version on this side of the fence.

Vegetable planting has been started. In December a packet of chilli seeds arrived in the post, sent by a friend in the UK. Each of five friends has a packet and we're going to see who can grow the best chillies.

According to the bumf that came with the packet, you're not supposed to plant them until February. I cheated and sowed them about four weeks ago. They're currently in a propagator on a sunny window ledge, looking very happy.

And this is what I should hopefully have come summer.

The variety is called Twilight, I'm very enamoured with the colours, especially the purple. Almost too good to eat.

Things I don't like about living in Spain, part VI; things that make me happy about living in Spain, part VI

2008-01-27T13:46:00.000+01:00

When I lived in Cardiff my main mode of transport was my beloved bike. I used to look forward to cycling into uni in the morning (ahem, afternoon), zipping in and out of the traffic and making my way down the cycle lanes to the front of the queue at the lights, cheekily stopping right in front of the car waiting there. There's nothing quite like the satisfaction you obtain from getting around under your own steam, knowing that you're getting excercise and not polluting the environment - unless it's by swearing at the stupid pedestrian who thought they could cross the road right in front of you, or walk in your cycle lane, or the moronic commuter who impatiently swings round in front of you from behind before taking a left-hand (for anyone not in the UK/Australia read right-hand) turn causing you to slam on your breaks and curse as foully as you know how at the top of your voice. Despite the idiots on the road, cycling the Welsh capital and the sense of independence it gave me was always one of my favourite things about living there.

Those that know where I live will proabably have guessed what's coming next. What I really don't enjoy about where I live in Spain, exactly where I live, is that it's like this:

View from our terrace with El Entrego at the bottom of the valley.

This is all very well to look at, and I love it most of the time, however, cycling most places around here involves hills - big, steep, imposing hills, oh yes, and don't let's forget the mountains.

I am nowhere near fit enough as I need to be to use my bike as a serious method of transport to get about in these parts. I once tried cycling back from work and only made it through the town and most of the way up the first hill - which to be fair is the steepest one of the whole route back - before I realised I couldn't breathe properly and had to start walking. I greatly miss not being able to hop on my bike and take myself the wherever I wish to be.

Every so often, it happens that Matt needs the car when I have to be at work. As long as it's not raining this is something that always perks me up. Out comes the bike from the shed, greeted like a long-lost friend and down the hill I go to work. I adore cycling into town, the feeling of freedom it gives you to wheel your way down the hill, wind in hair and mountains on the horizon is unbeatable. I often like to play chicken with my sense of self-preservation and see how much speed I can build up down an certain stretch before I put the brakes on.

When I cycle into work I always arrive feeling revitalised and ready for the day's challenges. If I didn't have to rely on a lift home afterwards I'd do it every day.

Enjoying the learning curve, part III

2008-01-25T13:39:00.000+01:00

Earlier this week my boss was talking about a new TV channel here in Spain for learning English. Settling down to an advanced-level episode, it kept her up way beyond bedtime and then had her clamouring for explanations from me the following morning.

The point of the little tale above is that one of the words the programme wanted watchers to translate was galimatías, a new word for me and I do like the way it runs off the toungue. Even better, translated it means gibberish, which Cris liked the sound of just as much as I did the Spanish version.

A wonderful coincidence yesterday in class with some adult students had one of them asking me how they could say galimatías in English. I confidently gave him his answer, knowledgable teacher that I am, but failed to metion that I´d only just learnt it myself. I do have the image to think of, after all.

So, enjoy your new Spanish word. I shall mention no names, but I´m sure some of you will find it very useful indeed.

No, it's not another sunset

2008-01-23T10:18:00.000+01:00

I was saving this one for a while until I'd written a post that didn't include me blathering on about how lovely Asturias is - I do have a couple planned, but time is limited at the moment. I've just been visiting Magdalene and Martin and sunrises and skies seem to be the order of the day, I felt the need to share too, again. Last one, I promise.

First snow of the year

2008-01-18T10:12:00.000+01:00

I've been asked recently what happened to all this snow I'd been talking about. Well, the weather people here must have been having a severe Michael Fish moment, because they got the predictions completely wrong; last week we enjoyed a whole seven days of sunshine, temperatures of up to 20 degrees and several tasty lunches on the terrace.

Given this splendid January weather, we did suffer slightly last Friday when temperatures plummeted and the rain finally appeared. We awoke on Saturday morning to this:

Our view to the south-west

I always think it looks as if someone had grabbed a giant sieve and delicately dusted the peaks with icing sugar. When we eventually get snow here and I have to traipse down to work in my wellies I'm sure this rather romantic image will promptly disappear from mind.

The sky quickly cleared and we went for a long walk up above the house. This is the Peña Mayor to the east of us, with melting snow. It didn't last long did it?

Since then there's been more snow, and more melting. The closer mountains are currently almost free of the white stuff. This is the cat-and-mouse teasing before it pounces on us here. Preparations will be needed so we can sit snug indoors by the fire of an evening while the snow falls silently outside.

In the meantime, I intend to enjoy the current spell of fine weather which is due to continue for the next week or so. Lunch on the terrace today I think. I just hope the Spanish weather people haven't been talking to that Mr Fish again.

Why we don't need a telly

2008-01-12T16:31:00.000+01:00

Sorry to bore you all with pictures of sunsets again, but this one was too good not to show.

This little piggy...

2008-01-11T10:06:00.001+01:00

Last weekend we went round to Matt's dad's for lunch. The meal was as good as always, but the title of this post does not refer to my good self and the amount of food I scoffed (although, admittedly, it could). No, the heading refers to the highlight of the day:

A pair of Vietnamese pot-belllied pigs seen on the post-prandial walk we undertook to help lunch go down. They belong to Matt's dad and Carolina's neighbours and both came running at the sight of us, or rather the food we were carrying for them, which disappeared in no time. The little one was a real sweetie and lay down and dozed while Carolina scratched it's neck.

It turned out to be an animal-filled stroll after that: We were offered a four-year old Dacshund with a slipped disc by another neighbour. We politely declined, fearful of the wrath of our cats. And then we met a beautiful Siamese-tortoiseshell cross who was quite happy to be picked up and stroked, despite the yappy Basset Hound pup she was sharing her barn with.

We almost topped the day off with a camel or two on the drive back - they were appearing the the local town's Xmas Parade (the 6th January is when everyone gets their presents in Spain). We missed them, however, as we purposefully turned in the opposite direction and headed home, bellies full and thinking of cute black pigs.

Things I don't like about living in Spain, part V

2008-01-02T17:31:00.000+01:00

Hands up who spent 26th December at home, eating leftovers in front of the telly, with friends in the pub, or just generally relaxing.

Well, you can all feel very smug because I spent it at work, and with a hideous cold that'd started the day before. Yes, that's right. Spain, land of the public holiday, does not recognise the 26th December as such (unless you're fortunate enough to live the Balearic Islands or Catalunya). Next time I bang on about how many national holidays I enjoy here you can all remind me what happens on Boxing Day. Grrr.

New Year's Day

2008-01-02T16:39:00.000+01:00

Happy New Year everyone! I realise I have been most lax with my blog recently and hereby resolve not to let this happen again in 2008.

Despite our hearty New Year's Eve celebration - I wore pyjamas and we drank cava and red wine aplenty - I felt fine enough by 4pm yesterday for Matt to insist upon us going for a walk, it would 'do me good' as he put it, although I would've been just as happy to skulk indoors.

Getting up to the land above our house is always a bit of a trek, never helped by the fact that Matt seems to glide effortlessly up on his long legs while I puff and pant and struggle to keep up. I usually have a good moan about it and then enjoy myself once I'm up there. It's hard not to, especially with the weather we've been enjoying recently.

Finally up there, and yes, I admit it, it was worth it (but I'll still complain about the walk up next time).

Naked trees

The lake catches the sun's light

More nude trees

Getting home, just before the sun sets

You may have noticed that the mountains currently have almost no snow on them. This is set to change very soon with a week's rain forecast and snow above 1000 metres. So, in preparation, today I have been mostly sawing wood. With a little help.

It's not so bad when you have company.

Panic Over

2007-12-25T15:23:00.000+01:00

'Tis the season to be jolly because it seems I spoke to soon about my trusty camera, which is still functioning after all.

Here, to celebrate, is a picture of a sunset from a couple of evenings ago.

Solstice

2007-12-22T13:25:00.000+01:00

First of all, let me apologise for the lack of photos in this post. It seems my camera has turned into a vampire as it sucks all the life out of the batteries before I can get a single photo taken, and spending €26 on new rechargables has not helped the situation. And just when I wanted to entertain you all with pictures of the mulled wine, the grand lighting and our roaring bonfire, although, to be honest, ones of me after one too many mugs of wine were never going to be posted anyway. I wonder if it's too late to convert and ask Santa for a new one?!

It's always wonderful to arrive home to the smell of mulled wine, especially when there's a warming chilli 'sin carne' awaiting too. So, defying the rest of El Entrego who all seemed to be determined that I should have a Feliz Navidad (I really should learn how to say 'Winter Solstice' in Spanish so I can wish everyone a happy one in reply), we scoffed our dinner and, mugs of spiced wine in hand, went outside to enjoy the evening. The night was clear, the moon almost full and the stars winked cheekily at us in the crisp air.

Bonfire lit, we spread out an old blanket and enjoyed the warmth and spendour of the fire, which I imagine could be seen all the way down in the town. We were soon joined by all three cats who took great delight in having an audience for their clowning around the kale plants before deciding that the stange glowing object wasn't a threat and coming to sit on the blanket with us. Eventually they got bored and went in, but we stayed out until gone midnight, sitting, watching, contemplating, and supping beer once the wine had run out.

We made it to bed at about 1.30 this morning with the plan of planting our peas today and preparing the bed for garlic. However, the weather has turned and it's been raining since mid-morning. Instead I'm planning on lazing next to the fire with a good book.

A real nip in the air

2007-12-16T11:23:00.000+01:00

This last week has been getting distinctly chilly, a far cry from the start of winter last year when we were still picking tomatoes. To make matters worse we've been getting up early for all sorts of reasons, curtailing my snug mornings in bed as I wait for the temeprature to rise.

The advantage to this is catching the first rays of sun on the mountains in the morning. And before everyone stands back in complete shock and thinks I've over come my usual aversion to rising from bed at a 'decent hour', the sun doesn't get over the mountains here until about 8.30am, although I do still like being able to say that I get up with the sun.

First sun of the day on the mountains

As the sun rises over our valley

I'd like to be able to say that I have been inspired by the natural beauty of the early morning to rise at a similar hour next week. However, I know myself too well and I expect that I shall be snug in bed waiting for it to warm up before I sneak so much as a little toe out from under the duvet.

Academia bits 'n' bobs

2007-11-30T16:51:00.000+01:00

In the pell mell existence I sometimes lead at work, rushing from one lesson to the office to the next, I'm sometimes surprised into stopping, looking and marvelling. This week it was a twelve-year-old student who amazed me. Whilst his erstwhile companions were noisily milling around the entrance area waiting for class to begin, he was perched by the window, quietly humming Beethoven's Ode to Joy to himself, oblivious of all around him.

The previous week I'd been suprised my a ten-year-old who, in English, had told me that the President of Great Britain was Gordon Brown. After teaching the phrase 'Prime Minister' he quickly informed me that the previous one had been a certain Tony Blair. I congratulated him on his knowledge and and exercised some willpower so as to refrain from giving my own opinion on the subject.

Sometimes students just make me grin. Another twelve-year-old announced to me this week that he'd dreamt the world was going to end. It was a horrible dream, he said, the human race was wiped out by a nuclear attack. And which evil megalomaniac had pressed the button that cause all this distruction? Why, Homer Simpson, of course.

Enjoying the learning curve, part two

2007-11-28T10:37:00.000+01:00

I dreamt in Spanish the other night, for the first time since I've been here, which I was rather chuffed about as it means I'm getting to grips with the language again, even if it was one of those disturbing dreams where I'm on the stage with no idea of my lines. This time my co-actor, a young girl for whom I was supoposed to be playing the part of governess, had to whisper the lines into my ear - in Spanish - and I had to do a quick translation into English before pronouncing them to an unseen audience. It all proceeded well, and next time I'm having one of those 'oh shit, I'm on the stage and have know idea what I'm supposed to say' dreams, I may try and introduce my little Spanish helper into the equation again.

Anyway, despite my grasp of Spanish, there's one word, or rather sound, that I have incredible trouble with which lets it be known to all that, despite my almost-faultless accent, I am indeed a foreigner here. And that sound is 'eu', most particularly when I have to say euros, which, as you can imagine, happens rather often. Having asked my boss tens of times to say the word for me so I could practice, I finally wrote down an approximation of the pronunciation which I will now share with all of you so you can practise for you Spanish hols:

'a (pronounced as you'd say the letter in the alphabet) - you- rose', with the accent on the a.

So, altogether now....."a-you-rose". Now run it all together: "euros".

Hmm, it takes a bit of practice, I've not got it quite right yet myself and walk around the house or the academia mumbling it to myself. Still, better than my attempts with the double r, which must be rolled. This is almost impossible for me as I apparently have a lazy tongue, (although it sometimes happens when I'm not worrying about it and I surprise myself) which was diagnosed at an early age and for which I was sent to sometimes excruciatingly awkward - when I couldn't say a word properly - elecution lessons while still a nipper. Anyway, the upshot of this is that I say words like 'dog' - perro - as 'but' - pero. Fortunately, as regular readers will know, I am a cat lover so don't have to worry about telling people 'I have three buts'.

Winter Approaching

2007-11-26T11:02:00.000+01:00

After a quick session in the garden yesterday between downpours, it struck me that after much hard work we do, finally. have what can be called with no stretching of the truth 'a garden' rather than a field that someone had stuck a few plants in. And despite the fast approching winter it was still a fine place to be.

Kale & cat

Wild peach tree & horreo

More splashes of colour in neighbouring fields

All tiny fig and hardly any leaf - should've resticted those roots a bit more

Our bargain €8 Japanese Maple

The contoneaster which survived despite cat damage earlier in the year

Sunrise earlier this week

Cooking Today

2007-11-19T11:08:00.000+01:00

I've been meaning to write this for ages, inspired as I was by a post by Lorenzo in, oops, July - I have been lax in my blogging, most recently due to running around after electricians and builders. No matter, here it is at long last:

We bought our house here fully furnished, what we didn't expect to find amongst all the furnishings were all sorts of bits 'n' bobs left behind. A lot of it was rubbish that we spent ages sorting through before eventually throwing most of it out (we were lucky, we know an English woman who lives round the hillside from us who was left a full chamber pot as a welcome gift).

However, the odd little gem did appear. My favourite of which is an old cookery book - La Cocina de Hoy or 'Cooking Today'. It's a third edition, published in 1960, although the recipes and advice contained therein can't have changed much, if at all, from the first edition. It's full of traditional Spanish recipes and all sorts of alimentary information ranging from calorific values and consumption - a 17 year old boy should eat between 2800 to 4,000 calories a day, and a girl of the same age between 2,500-2,800 - to breast feeding: " According to Doctor Casares the mother should first offer her breast to the baby twelve hours after birth, and from then on at intervals of six hours on the first day..." - I can't imagine Delia waxing lyrical on this subject, although she'd probably still sell by the millions if she did.

There's also a great section on the medicinal properties of food. Cauliflower is recommended to lower blood pressure and combat insomnia and asparagus to stimulate the nervous system. Young peas should be eaten by those suffering from tuberculosis, and young beans by those with diabetes and those who wish to "purify the intestines". Does anyone suffer from worms? Well, eat garlic, figs, spring onions and thyme on an empty stomach and you should soon feel better. The solution for gout is lots of fruit and anyone looking for a laxative should be eating prunes, grapes, cucumber, young beans and oats.

My favourite part of the book is entitled "Warnings to the housewife" and details all sorts of information on cleaning (another idea for Delia if she wished to branch out), use of the pressure cooker - "don't clean it with sand...use a pan scrubber" and electric whisk; losing weight - "in general, don't eat bread or salt with meals"; laying the table - "at lunchtime use tablecloths of a refined and discreet colour"; preparing menus - for a christening you should serve canapes, sandwiches and small cakes, cold meats, coffee or tea, cigars and brandy, champagne, sherry and Madeira wine; and service - "without the noise of plates or cutlery and with great skill. First, the lady with greatest social standing should be served, she will be sat to the right of the owner of the house, then serve the lady to the left of the owner and so on, finishing with the lady of the house, followed by any old people and young girls."

Got that everyone? Right let's carry on.

The best bit of the entire book is in a section entitled "Fellow Diners", the whole of which I would love to quote to you, but I shall try and restrict myself to the juiciest parts. " First, the oldest ladies should be sat at the table, then the young ladies and finally the gentlemen...The gentlemen will pull out the chair for the lady who is next to him to allow her to sit down and then put the chair back in position. At all times should one should be respectful of and gallant with the ladies....Although at times we would like a second helping we should never take it, nor fill our plate to overflowing. Neither should we eat our food quickly, or tip the plate to collect the last drop of food with a spoon....before and after drinking one should wipe ones lips with a serviette...Spinach or bones can be removed from the mouth with a fork, or with ones fingers, discreetly placing them on the edge of the plate. For fruit stones, discreetly raise a teaspoon to the mouth...At the table one should not make fussy movements such as touching one's hair, especially not with a comb, scratching oneself, fiddling with one's face, cleaning one's nails, etc...When one needs to blow one's nose at the table one will do it with the greatest dissimulation and never with strident and exaggerated noise which is bad manners in any place."

So there we have it. Would anyone like to come round for dinner (black tie optional)?

Drying chillies

2007-11-04T11:36:00.000+01:00

Look at the size of my pumpkins!

2007-11-01T12:16:00.001+01:00

Last Sunday I decided it was time to harvest our largest pumpkins. Matt, had been letting them grow to see how big they could get - I think this is a rather macho male thing to do, correct me if I'm wrong, although I did enjoy driving up the hill in the preceeding weeks and being able to spot three orange splodges from a fair distance away, and it must have got the neighbours talking ('tho that's easily done).

Slumbering giants

With careful manouevring - Matt rolling and me spotting - we managed to move all three across our finca and onto the terrace where Matt had earmarked sites for the largest two.

Pumpkin pixie

Sentinels. All pumpkins in place

I then got out my carving equipment and proceded to prepare the smallest, but still impressive one, for the academia. I'd never carved a pumpkin before - we did turnips one Halloween when I was in the girl guides, which I found quite pathetic, this was much more exciting.

Being sensible and marking where I wanted to cut the lid.

Success!

During the hollowing process - a spoon works best, as I discovered after almost slicing my finger off a couple of times.

The hollowed pumpkin - after much scraping and building up of arm muscles. All ready for the fun part:

Ta daa! The finshed item. Not bad for a first effort I thought.

Not only did I end up with a great, if I may say so, pumpkin lantern, but also with several kilos of flesh that I proceeded to turn into soup and curry, resulting in a very full freezer, and full tummies that evening.

Even after it'd been hollowed out it was still a hefty brute. After some difficulties, I managed to get it down to the academia on Monday morning where I set it up opposite the front door for all to see.

How to earn brownie points from the boss.

Pumpkins here are smaller and green/yellow in colour so my splendid example was remarked upon by all and sundry who passed through the door. In one fell swoop I gained publicity for the academia, was granted status of 'cool teacher' from my pupils, toned my arms and garnered enough food to keep us going for a week or so. Not bad for an afternoon's work.

Things that make me happy about living in Spain, part IV

2007-10-27T10:02:00.000+01:00

OK, this is specifically an Asturias related one, but I say it still counts:

I'm sitting at my computer and gazing out of the window at the back of the house, I can see clear blue skies. I know that if I could be bothered to get up right now and look out of the windows at the front or side I would see the mountains, clear and looming in the distance, so clear that you can make out individual ridges despite the 20/30/40+ km away that they are.

It's apple picking time here, and the trees are laden with hundreds of red and green fruit, soon to be picked for cider production. The countryside is covered with the green of these trees with spashes of colour on their branches. Some types of tree will remain green all winter, others are now turning and colour abounds. Oak trees are a particular favourite as their leaves change to a firey orange-red colour before they fall.

We have sweet chestnut collecting planned for this afternoon, and despite always getting pricked fingers from the protective outer shells, the eating of roast chestnuts from our fire on a cool autumn evening, snug indoors, always more than makes up for it. This is also the time of year when the cats change their habits - giving up the nocturnal life for dozing on the sofa or by the fire in the evening and diurnal explorations when the sun appears; they keep us company more often now, in the house or garden.

Tomorrow we intend to pick our biggest pumpkins. We have three monsters growing in the vegetable patch, with stakes strategically placed to prevent them from rolling down the slope of the garden - I currently often daydream of a James and the Giant Peach incident where one breaks loose from its restraints to proudly roll and bounce its way down the hill to the town and then into the river whereupon it floats, magestically, to the sea. Matt has plans for the two biggest ones, but I shall enjoy carving the third to take down to the academia next week in time for Halloween.

Mushrooms are starting to appear, in all shapes, colours and sizes - pleasing to the eye if not to the stomach - and soon we'll be able to pick and feast upon large field mushrooms, delicious cooked with butter and garlic.

And, even though this isn 't specific to Asturias, or even Spain, the clocks go back tonight and I get an extra hour to enjoy all of the above (or an extra hour in bed depending on how I'm feeling).

Given all that, how could I not put Autumn in Rural Asturias onto my list?

Enjoying the learning curve, part one

2007-10-26T09:17:00.000+01:00

Every now and again, I'll hear a Spanish word I've not come across before that really tickles my fancy. They always know when this occurs at work as I'll stop partaking in the conversation and chuckle to myself and/or look confused before asking for a definition. It could be a simple, everyday word for Spaniards but my English ear makes it sound much more interesting.

Anyway, I thought I could share some of these words with you and improve everyone's Spanish while having a bit of fun at the same time. For the first one, I've decided on fofo (with a short o, like in 'on') which I learnt a few weeks ago when my boss was considering going to the gym. This was because she thought her upper arms were rather fofo, or flabby (my dictionary also translates it as pudgy or podgy).

Personally, I don't think there's anything wrong with her arms, but was rather pleased to augment my Spanish vocabulary with such a fine and useful word.

How to enjoy a day off

2007-10-22T10:35:00.001+01:00

Eager to take advantage of the glorious weather we are currently enjoying and my one proper day off, we decided yesterday to venture further afield than the land above the house. With this in mind we donned walking boots and set off to the Parque Natural de Redes, which, as I must have mentioned before, we are fortunate enough to have just half an hour down the hill and up the valley from us.

Hillside town off Collado, perched above the Tanes reservoir

Since I'd had rather a hectic week we decided on a gentle walk rather than a mountain yomp and, having checked the map, settled on a path that followed the river from the village of Orlé to Pendones. The departure point of the walk from the village wasn't clear and we wandered, confused, for a while before we found a map on the edge of the village which showed the route leaving from the right-hand bank of the river.

A nosey donkey on the way up the mountain

After half an hour of steep uphill walking it became apparent that we'd probably taken the wrong route. Never one to be deterred, Matt declared he wasn't going to turn back after all the effort taken so far and we carried on. Up and up went the path, (and cough and pant went I) twisting along the mountain side and bordered by trees boasting mixed foliage of reds, oranges, greens and yellows. It wasn't what we'd come for, but I couldn't complain about the views.

After much huffing and puffing the trees began to clear and we realised we were getting near the brow of the slope. Camera at the ready, I eagerly awaited the views from the top, until we rounded the last corner and were presented by the sight of a fence and gate barring the path and with no way around. Foiled at the last! We were more than slightly miffed but had no other option but to turn around and plod back downhill.

Never one to say not to free (vegetarian) food, and always ready to make the best of a not-what-we-planned situation, I greedily stuffed my pockets full of sweet chestnuts on the way back. Chestnuts are a big business in Asturias, and the trees are ubiquitous in rural areas. Come this time of year, roads and paths are covered with prickly green casings and the shiny fruits they hold. We enjoying roasting them in the ash tray of our wood burner, or I'll make a chestnut and mushroom roast. It's even tastier if we find wild field mushrooms, a perfect combination, and one to make me even happier as I get all the main ingredients for nothing!

We wandered through the village on the way on the way back to the car, trying to find out where we went wrong, and not succeeding. This is rather strange in Redes as most walks are very well signed. I happened to ask a villager, who was standing outside his house, where the route started - for future reference - and we ended up being sat down while he went in search of his own map to show us and came back bearing beers for us too. His map turned out to be no clearer than our own, but I enjoyed the beer and the chat and learning more about the village. Ángel, as he was called, even took our photo, and we are now welcome back at his house any time we happen to be in Orlé. This is one of the things I love about Spain, the openness of its people and their willingness to share whatever they have with you, be it, food, drink, time or knowledge. Unfortunately, you don't find it quite so often any more, so coming across it on occasion make it even more special.

On the way home we went took a quick detour in search of a place which some neighbours had told us was good for a swim in hot weather, on the banks of the Nalón river. A handy site to know if we ever can't be bothered to drive the 50 minutes to the beach in summer. We got a pleasant surprise, as what they hadn't told us was that this rather splendid, medieval bridge (13th/14th century) was right next to the bathing area - and only 15 minutes up the valley from us. What was even more surprising is that it's still in use, and not just for pedestrians but for cars as well. It stopped and made me think - I wonder how many 20th/21st century structures will be around and still used in 500 years time?

After reaching home, most of yesterday evening was spent on the sofa groaning and moaning about my aching legs. Although I did feel rather smug and pleased with myself for surviving so much exercise.

You know you´re having a bad week when...

2007-10-18T09:20:00.000+01:00

...you get an unexpected phone call meaning your partner has to rush out of the house just before you´re about to sit down to lunch and then go to work. At ten minutes before you´re due at work he still hasn´t reappeared with the car so you get the bike out of the shed and start racing down the hill. Half way down you meet your partner in the car - it transpires he had a puncture and had to change the tyre - in an admirable ten minutes as it turns out - so you exchange modes of transport and head down to work (while he trundles back uphill with the bike) getting there only five mintues late.

Upon going to get a new spare tyre you are informed that they no longer make that kind of tyre and so you need to buy two news ones so the back tyres are balanced, meaning the puncture cost you twice what it normally would have.

Going back into work a distruaght boss meets you with the news that the new teacher she had employed to teach the 4-8 year olds (the most demanding and tiring classes for us) and who had been doing a good job, has suddenly announced that she´s leaving for employment elsewhere that very same day and has left us in the lurch. Much changing of the already full-to-bursting timetable ensues (and name-calling of said teacher) and we are all given a couple of extra hours to accomodate the younger classes. I said it before and I´ll say it again, phew!

Guess who´s looking forward to a rest at the weekend?!

Phew!

2007-10-08T10:39:00.000+01:00

The new academic year started in our Academia last Monday and the title of this post describes my reaction on Friday at 9pm when I left work for the weekend.

We have more students than ever, and they're still coming. I now have 30 teaching hours a week and we share a timetable that I'm never going to be able to remember as it's so complicated in order to fit everyone in; and all this despite the fact that we have a new teacher to take care of the youngest pupils (from the ages of 4-8), something that we're all rather delighted with as those were the most exhausting classes - imagine trying to 'teach' English to a four-year-old who's already been at school/nursery all day, doesn't even like colouring, is used to just being stuck in front of the TV at home and can't write his/her name, then put six of them in a class together.

Even though it was a rather tiring week, full of headless chicken impressions, I get on so well with my boss and everyone else at the Academia that I can't complain. And, best of all, I got a pay rise.

Anyway, please have patience with me at the moment. I'll post more once things settle down at work, whenever that is.

A gain for Spain

2007-09-26T11:22:00.000+01:00

When I left Cardiff, and my PhD, to come to Asturias I went though a whole series of emotions and questionned if I was doing the right thing or just running away. Should I have stayed to finish the thesis? Could I have finished it? Would my life have been any better if I had?

It was certainly less stressful to come here, I didn't have to deal with the UK uni system any more and my health improved too. After a year or so of creating a life for myself here I stopped wondering 'what if?' and Asturias really began to feel like home. I certainly wouldn't want to give up what I have here now and have no intention of permanently returning to the UK.

So, imagine my surprise earlier this year upon receiving an email from my ex-PhD supervisor, Chris, with whom I'd stayed in contact, that announced he too was making the move to Spain, to Madrid. He even went to far as to unexpectedly declare, 'I won't say you inspired me, but certainly your example was one that had an impact on some of my thinking '. Taking into account the fact that he'd previously accused me of being a hippy on more than one occasion, I took this as a compliment, despite my not being an full-blown inspiration!

However, I must have set a good enough example to prompt Chris into wanting to start vegetable growing once he gets to Madrid. Since that email I have taken on the role of organic gardening advisor and have enjoyed sharing my knowledge with someone who has freely shared his own (and his time and books) with me.

I find it slightly ironic that while I was questionning my abandonment of university, Chris was back in the UK planning on leaving his 'dream job' and coming here. Now I have settled the questions in my own mind, I hope Chris is just as content in Madrid after his move next month as I am here. If not, there's always Asturias.

The forgiveness of cats

2007-09-21T21:38:00.000+01:00

When we returned from our camping trip Elbi was there waiting at the bottom of the drive for us. As soon as we appeared, she rolled on her back and and demanded strokes with a series of chirrups. It's comforting to know that after our ten days away she was still hanging about for us and became ecstatic the moment we arrived. Our abscence was immediately forgotten and forgiveness easily earned over the course of last week with a series of stokes, tickles, scratches and cuddles that we were only too happy to bestow .

The other two were a different matter.

Beeps materialised from the garden about half an hour after we returned, gave a little meow of welcome, and then continued her adventuring. For several days afterwards she carried on with her own routine and we saw her every now and again. One evening, about four days after we got back, I was lying in bed when I heard the pad, pad, pad of a cat coming up the stairs and along the landing. The next thing I knew, a small, black, furry ball was curled up on the bed demanding to be stroked and purring as loud as she could. Tummy rubs ensued for half an hour and she would've had more had I not needed to go to sleep. She stayed on the bed all night, purring, only getting up when we did. After that, everything was alright again.

Being half-Siamese, Mahou is rather highly-strung and easily offended. We retuned at about 4pm from our camping trip and at 11pm she'd still not appeared despite our calling and tapping her favourite food bowl. This happens every time we go away, be it for a couple of nights or a couple of weeks. However, it doesn't stop me worrying about her every time, even though I'm sure she does it on purpose - we have upset her by going away so she wants to make us suffer a little before magnanamously granting us the honour of her presence. At 12am Matt went out and called and she appeared straight away as if nothing had happened. After a good scoff she came and joined us in the bedroom and spent the next couple of nights snuggling in the crook of my legs.

It's good to be forgiven.

Ribadesella

2007-09-21T10:31:00.000+01:00

Ribadesella is a small market town on the costa verde built around the esturary of the river Sella. It's most famous in Asturias, and probably the rest of Spain for all I know, for the competitive descent of the river by canoe every August, a time when the town becomes packed with and locals alike tourists and a festive atmosphere takes control of the town.

We'd visited the town once before, last year, while we were camping further east on the coast to visit the impressive Cueva de Tito Bustillo, a system of caves housing paleolithic paintings named after the caver who discovered them. Following our subterranean adventures we'd then had a walk around the town centre and along the beach in some what windy and cloudy weather, decided that Ribadesella was a nice enough town, and returned to our campsite.

After our second visit to the town during this year's summer holiday at Vega, Ribadesella has gone up in my estimation. The historic centre of this market town is full of gorgeous old buildings and the beach is lined with colourful villas that I would love to explore. Admitedly, we visited out of season - Ribadesella is one of the main resorts along this stretch of coast and the outskirts of town are filled with vile holiday flats, but at the beginning of September I found the town to be friendly, unpretentious and rather beautiful. It doesn't die come September like so many holiday towns, but rather it seemed that the locals reclaim it and life goes on as normal until the tourists hit the town the following season.

View from the car park - low tide in the estuary

The beach at Ribadesella

Somebody let me at them! Wonderful, wonderful buildings.

Wednesday is market day in Ribadesella, as we were to discover. The market stalls included the traditional as well as the more modern, imported-from-Asia, items unfortunately found in most small-towns around here nowadays.

Cheese stall selling locally made produce

Matt bought a smoked cheese, made in Llanes - the next large town along the coast to the east, and declared it delicious upon tasting.

Even had it not been market day, I still would've enjoyed our wander around the town. I must've been too busy trying to keep warm in the cold wind during my previous vist as this time all sorts of decorative gems caught my eye:

One in a series of tiled murals along the esturary walk, showing scenes in the history of Ribadesella.

Painted tiles on a gift shop facade

How to make posting a letter more fun

After walking around the town we made our way up the hill to the east of the beach, overlooking the beach and town.

We then made our way back down to the town for lunch. On the way we happened across a very handsome and friendly gentleman and I stopped to flirt for a while.

Even Matt was tempted to take him home. But when he jumped down as we were leaving, lay down on the sunny path and happily started to clean himself, without giving us a second glance, we decided that he mustn't have a bad life where he was and decided to leave him in Ribadesella.

A splendid three course lunch followed my little flirtation. I normally hate going out for lunch in Asturias as veggie options do not abound. However, we found a wonderful old tavern that was wiling to do me a salad and egg and chips - my usual lunchtime fare - and I was very impressed by the multi-ingredient salad that came to begin with and also with my main course that followed - with home-made chips and egg fried so that the yolk was just starting to turn solid around the edges but was still runny in the centre - perfection. After many, many lunches involving the same dishes, I am now an expert critic and this was the best lunch I've had since I've been here. Matt praised his seafood paella, followed by an equally tasty grilled sea bass (apparently). The set menu also included a bottle of red wine, water and desert. Matt opted for the creme caramel (a Spanish staple, but this was a posh home-made version) and I had blackcurrant cheesecake, which is one of my all-time favourites. Deserts are normally the weakest point of Spanish lunchtime menus, but on this occasion they were more than up to scratch.

After another brief wander around the town to walk lunch down, we headed sleepily back to the car with the idea of having a siesta when we returned to the tent.

Boat graveyard in the Sella esturary

I carried on snapping until the last minute, giving Ribadesella the accolade of favourite town on the Asturian coast while I did.

Lazy days

2007-09-20T15:31:00.000+01:00

For our summer holiday this year we chose to go to Vega. Plans had been made to venture further afield to France or Portugal but due to time and monetary restrictions we opted for our favourite campsite on the Costa Verde instead.

As mentionned before, packing was not easy and I did indeed slurp some of our camping beers before we went after a hard afternoon's preparation. I thought I had acheived the near impossible in remembering everything we'd need for ten days away, but upon arrival it transpired that I had committed the cardinal sins of forgetting the brown sauce, the cafetiere and the corkscrew/bottle opener. To be frank, I was only bothered about the last item on the list, for obvious reasons, and the problem was easily solved when Matt produced his Swiss Army pen knife before I could properly panic. The omission of the HP sauce was quickly forgiven but Matt was less than pleased about the lack of cafetiere for his morning cup of coffee. However, with some ingenious designing, Matt created his own coffee-maker using the top half of a water bottle tipped upside down with a small hold made in the lid, which worked a treat using coffee filters. This was highly fortuitous for me as Matt is nigh inapproachable without his morning caffeine fix and I breathed a sigh of relief when he declared his tester cup to be as good as one made in his cafetiere.

Elbi investigates - she was probably making sure we weren't taking the cat food with us

Our home for ten days

We enjoy going camping at Vega for several reasons: Each pitch is surrounded by small hedges which makes it private. Also, Vega itself is a traditional, unpretentious village - something that's hard to come by on the Asturian coast these days - and the beach itself is huge and unspoilt. It never gets too busy as it's out of the way and the car park is small, which limits visitors. Also, the walk to the beach from the campsite is lovely in it's own right. First you walk through majestic eucaliptus woods with a small stream running by the path.

Fallen eucaliptus leaf

Enough to make you feel dizzy

Then you pass through an apple orchard. A couple of times, at dusk, we've chanced upon a young deer, which has always bounded off as soon as it's heard us, always before I can snap a photos, but not before we had the opportunity to watch it apple munching.

Passing through the orchard, you come to large, open fields...

...and then, once you've walked up the field and reached the brow of the hill, this sight welcomes you. I always feel like running down the hill, Julie-Andrews style, to the beach, but every time I'm inevitably wearing flip-flops which would make such a venture highly foolish.

We were kept company at the campsite by several cheeky robins , who had no compunctions about begging for food - quite literally, on one occasion a presumptuous little red-brest landed next to my camping chair and then proceeded to jump up and down, wings flapping while it chirped shrilly at me to demand food. Feeling that the little chap had earned it, I gave in immediately and went to look for bread. After this they appeared at every meal, and in between.

Matt even gained an audience for his guitar playing

Wondering what the racket is

I took full advantage of my holiday to laze on the beach and read, interspersing my lounging with walks along the coast and, on the one cloudy day, a trip to Ribadesella (coming up in the next post).

Hmm, now where shall we sit?

The local entertainment

If I didn't already know how bad my sense of balance is I'd like to have a go

Signs of other beach patrons

The sea looked inviting but in fact it was the coldest I've ever known it at Vega. It felt as though the waves were slicing into your feet when they washed over them. Standing in the water for more than a few seconds was painful, but if you did manage to stay there for longer it became refreshing. I only managed a good wetting a couple of times and avoided swimming completely.

As I was developing a beach belly, we did a couple of walks along the cliffs. We managed over 10km one day, due to Matt's insistence more than my eagerness. I can't say it did anything to reduce my waistline but it did banish any guilt I had about consuming more beer and food.

The Camino de Santiago follows the coastline in this part of northern Spain, the blue and yellow shell sign marks the way.

Looking back on Vega on one of our walks

On our last day we braved the far end of the beach, which is nudist. There was no-one else around so we whipped off our togs and, as everyone says, it was indeed very liberating. After a few minutes we noticed a fisherman up on the rocks to our right, heading our way. It wasn't the fact that we had no clothes on when he passed that was embarassing, but rather that, after ten days at the other end of the beach our bottoms were a luminous white compared to the rest of our bodies. Next year I'll try that end of the beach before my tan develops.

We spent most evenings by the tent, enjoying the simple pleasures of eating, drinking and talking. We tried the sunset on several occasions, although low cloud prevented us from enjoying it fully. Still, we didn't do too badly:

And we got to make friends with this woolly fellow on the way.

We're lucky enough to have Vega almost on our doorstep - it's only an hour away. I wouldn't complain if we end up there again next year. Anyone fancy joining me?

Tagging cats

2007-09-19T14:47:00.000+01:00

Elbi here, but shhhh, keep the noise down. I've managed to swipe the computer from mum and hopefully she won't realise I'm here until I've got this tagging thing done. Lorenzo decided it was up to us to answer the questions. I wasn't going to bother until I saw how well Plumpy had responded and decided to give it a go. I've been nominated by the girls to answer for us all as Beeps is too scared to come near the computer and Mahou thinks it's beneath her.

Q1. Are you happy/ satisfied with your blog, with its content and look?

No, not at all! If I had more time and mum wouldn't notice I'd been fiddling with 'her' blog, I'd put up lots more pictures of me and the girls. I'm sure that would keep Plumpy happy. Mum thinks that people don't want to see photos of us all the time, but I say how can people not want to look at pictures of three gorgeous felines? I'm always rolling on my back to show mum how photogenic I am, but she rarely picks up the camera for me these days, a change of strategy is called for. Actually, while I'm here.....

Mum has been trained to tickle me just where I like it best. Anybody else is welcome to line up for a try, although first place in the queue is reserved for Plumpy.

One at a time boys, one at a time.

A fine figure of a puss

See mum, that's how it's done - take note!

Q2. Does your family know about your blog?
Ahem, mum doesn't know I'm here now and dad'd go nuts if he saw me fiddling with the computer. Let's keep it between ourselves shall we?

Q3. Do you feel embarrassed to let your friends know about your blog or you just consider it as a private thing?
Embarassed? Of course not. Everybody knows, and everybody says how lovely we are, as expected.

Q4. Did blogs cause positive changes in your thoughts?
No, although we get lots of 'positive' comments from Plumpy.

Q5. Do you only open the blogs of those who comment on your blog or you love to go and discover more by yourself?

We're really too busy sleeping, eating, hunting and lazing on the terrace to look elsewhere. If other people want to make friends then they can come to us, but they must be willing to snuggle, or bring food.

Q6. What does visitors' counter mean to you? Do you care about putting in in your blog?

The more people who see how gorgeous we are, the better.

Q7. Did you try to imagine your fellow bloggers and give them real pictures?
We already know how handsome Plumpy and Scaredy are. I think they've been giving each other posing tips.

It's also good to know what Maalie looks like so we know who to scratch (Mahou)/run away from (me and Beeps) should he ever appear in this part of the world.

Q8. Do you think there is a real benefit for blogging?

But of course, how else is a girl get such adoration?

Q9. Do you think that bloggers' society is isolated from real world or interacts with events?
How can we be isolated? We tell Plumpy about our voles and he tells me about his birds, and we all commiserate with Scaredy about his trips to the v-e-t.

Q10. Does criticism annoy you or do you feel it's a normal thing?

What is there to critcise? We're perfect.

Q11. Do you fear some political blogs and avoid them?

The only politics we're interested in is who get to the food bowl first.

Q12. Did you get shocked by the arrest of some bloggers?

Has Maalie had Plumpy put away?! Help! He'll be after us next.

Q13. Did you think about what will happen to your blog after you die?
Well, as it's mum's blog I'm sure she'll try to soldier on valienty without us, as difficult as that will be, of course. I bet she'll put up lots of photos of us then, when it's too late. We want them now, everyone needs to see just how wonderful we are.

Q14. What do you like to hear? What's the song you might like to put a link to, in your blog?
We all like to hear the sound of a tin being opened; the keys to the loft being picked up so we can go and play in there and annoy mum when we won't come out after when she wants to lock up; voles squeaking when we play with them; mum telling the dog next door to shut up...

We'd like a link to anything by Cat Power (hint, mum, hint!) or perhaps 'What's New Pussycat?' by Tom Jones.

I've decided not to tag anyone because, really, after reading this, what else is there?

Pre-holiday adventures

2007-09-18T10:57:00.000+01:00

OK, so I sort of lied in my last post. Before I tell you all about my 'holiday' holiday, this post is all about my 'friends visiting' holiday just before, which was as much fun, tho' for different reasons. Matt was not at all sure what to expect when I announced that four of my girlfriends were coming for a flying visit, but I think he enjoyed himself too.

We were all convinced Dawn was cursed - last time she came it started raining as soon as she arrived and things followed a similar pattern this time. However, everyone seemed to be determined to make the most of our terrace and we spent the first evening and following afternoon outside with our beer/cava jackets on.

Who needs a coat when you have cava?

Modelling the latest headgear.

The first of many (as I'm sure you guessed).

How to keep warm and drink in style at the same time.

I may have to beg forgiveness for posting those photos at a later date, so moving quickly on...

The third day of the visit dawned bright and sunny, Asturias was at its best and I was ready to show off the region to my friends. However, once we made our way up to the Peña Mayor the clouds reappeared so we quickly scoffed a picnic lunch and hid in a bar in Pola De Laviana, a town up the valley, while we waited for the weather to make up its mind.

This is where we ended up after:

Ladines is a traditional Asturian village in the Redes Park. It's probably my favourite village there.

Admiring the view

Cheeky kitten on an horreo

After a wander round the village we stopped at another bar (can anyone see a pattern developing?) to enjoy the full sun and were joined by two enthusiastic young cats who proceed to show off. The lighter-coloured one sat on my lap once they'd worn each other out and purred contentedly. Depsite much encouragement from Dawn I managed to resist taking her home - Matt and our three would not have thanked me for it.

Also on the bar's terrace was this glorious sunflower.

In true Spanish style, we left Ladines and headed to a cafe for more goodies - cakes this time. I give English lessons to the cafe's owner who sometimes gives me a package edible treats after our Friday lesson, much to Matt's delight.

As if that wasn't enough we then headed home for more beer/cava before we went out for a very piggy meal at a local restaurant. It was a rather decadent few days but I see my friends so little I feel I have a good enough excuse for all that indulding.

Next up, my beach-camping holiday. Unless the cats beat me to it - they're been tagged by Lorenzo and inspired by Plumpy. I can't say what will come first.

Normal service will be resumed shortly

2007-09-16T18:18:00.000+01:00

Yes, I am back from my holiday and I shall tell you all about it soon, just let me have a good night's sleep first and get the house in some resemblance of order.

Here's a picture to keep you going in the meantime.

Camping

2007-09-03T17:22:00.000+01:00

We're off on our holidays tomorrow - just to Vega for a-week-or-so's camping, although I'm heartily looking forward to it. I've spent all afternoon packing and am exhausted - anyone who goes camping will realise why - so much gear and food to prepare, it's neverending. I may have to sneak one or two of those beers I currently have chilling to take with us. See you all when I get back.

Spanish confusion

2007-08-28T12:15:00.000+01:00

Since we´ve been here I´ve had plenty of opportunities to improve my Spanish. However, despite much encouragement from my good self, Matt has yet to fully grasp the bull by the horns and learn the language properly. He´s fairly hopeless at verbs but does pick up vocabulary very quickly - and remember it.

This lack of knowledge of the way Spanish works has, on occasion, been the cause of much amusement to me. The most recent of the incidents happened in a coffee bar last week. While supping on his Columbian coffee Matt noticed a sign saying tómate un capricho, which translates as ´have a treat´ (from the verb tomar - have or take). For the life of him, Matt could not understand why a coffee bar would be talking about tomatoes, and had to have a giggle before I explained.

Even better, was one of the first conversations he had with our neighbour, José María, from whom we buy our eggs (a cultural note - this name translates as Joseph Mary and is a common man´s name in Spain. The women´s version is Mary Joseph - María José). In an attempt to make him practice his Spanish I always make Matt go to buy eggs on his own and he normally comes back half an hour later with two dozen big, fresh eggs and tales of what he´s just been talking about and how he expressed himself. On the occasion in question, Matt was at the bottom of our finca, our piece of land, and called across to José María to ask him if he had some eggs we could buy. Very pleased with being able to ask the question, Matt shouted out, so all the neigbours could hear, ¿tienes huevos? . Now, while this can indeed be translated as ´Do you have eggs?´ huevos is also a very common slang word meaning balls (of the masculine variety, not for playing tennis). So in fact, what Matt had asked was ´Do you have balls?´, which here is a way of asking a man for a fight. Fortunately our neighbour is well aware of Matt´s Spanish capabilities and answered Sí, dos - ´Yes, two´, which Matt understood as meaning ´yes I have two (dozen eggs)´. he came back to house, chest bursting with pride, as he told me about his latest linguistic adventure and was most put out when I burst out laughing.

The best Spanish faux pas however, was committed by Matt´s mum on a visit to us here. She would very oten walk down the hill into the town and back and one day came home with stories of how she had practiced her Spanish, which she has only been picking up in its and pieces since she´s been visting us here. This day, she recounted, she´d been on her way down the hill and walked past an elder gentleman on his way up, whom she greeted with a ´good day´. When questionend as to what she´d actually said, it turned out that it was ¡hola, bueno!. She´d confused the word buenas, which can be used as a shorented version of buenos días or buenas tardes, and in fact said ´hi handsome!´. The best part of it was that he´d responded with a ¡hola, buena!, or ´hello gorgeous´.

I have four English-speaking friends arriving today. I wonder if any of them will provide me with my next linguistic chuckle?

Fruity

2007-08-26T16:27:00.000+01:00

Bar my poor hammock trees, all the old ones left in the garden that have been spared culling are now producing lots of tasty fruit. We mostly have apples and pears. Out of all of them, this little fellow has been most prolific.

It's the smallest of our old trees and hasn't seemed to grow at all the the three summers we've been here. Every year, though, it drips with juicy pears.

Nice pear!

We think our apples trees were planted with cider production in mind - a safe presumption to make around here. Even so, they're very tasty as eating apples, although they go very mushy and lose their flavour if you try to cook with them. (We have a cooking apple tree on our garden shopping list for the winter.)

It was discovered yesterday that an old, ivy covered tree at the bottom of the garden is in fact a plum tree, possibly a wild one. Either it's not produced any fruit for a couple of years, or we're extremely unobservant because this year it's covered in small, sweet red plums, unfotuantely we've left it a bit too late for picking - they're so ripe that as soon as you catch hold of a branch most of them fall off into the undergrowth in the field next door. Next year I shall be prepared, a nice plum jam would go down very well methinks.

On my afternoon tour of the garden (now in full sun, hurray!) I also noticed lots of these cute little fellows. Despite the best efforts of our three cats our lizard poulation is still going strong, not really surprising as the young ones move incredibly fast. This one tried his best not to be photographed and it seemed he turned his head in disgust upon hearing the click when I took it.

Oh yes, and I picked three courgettes today too and am currently succeeding in my objective of avoiding marrows, thanks to daily vigilance. I resorted to making a courgette and blue cheese soup with all of our previous harvest a couple of days ago, it was that wet and miserable. Now I shall have to conjour up something summery with this tasty triumvirate.

A cat, a cart and an horreo

2007-08-23T17:24:00.000+01:00

This afternoon was spent sawing wood. I never look forward to it, but as Matt always say, 'if we don't do it now, we'll be cold in the winter'. Put like that, I can't really say no. Once I'm sawing, however, I get into the swing of things and always stay longer than planned. It's enjoyable to be out in the fresh air, getting a bit of exercise and looking at a splendid view, all at the same time.

This is where we store and saw all our firewood:

It's an horreo, a traditional Asturian, rodent-proof grain storage. You can see them all over the region. They're now protected as several years ago Asturians were in the habit of 'accidentally' knocking them over with their tractor so as to let more light into their house. Matt says he remembers similar structures in Kent when he was a young, and rather mischievous, lad.

I always have company when I'm sawing. I may head up there alone, but sooner or later Elbi, Mahou or Beeps, or all three of them, will come and join me. Today I was honoured with Beeps's presence.

Eyeing up a mushroom

On the horreo steps

On the old cart we use as a sawing horse

And even when you think she's not watching, she often still is:

Keeping an eye on me from the next-door chapel roof

I was rather surprised she was hanging around as we'd just given her her monthly flea-worm treatment which is comprised of a simple, but very pricey, pipette squirted onto the back of her neck. The other two get cheaper tablets and pipettes, but giving tablets to our smallest cat is impossible, anyone would think she were fighting for her life when we tried. We've given up with tablets as we were heartily fed up with being scratched and even bitten. As it is, one of us still has to sneak up on her, gently, but firmly grab her, wrap her in a blanket and hold her neck straight while the other one does the squirting. All as quickly as possible, as she still puts up a fight - claws out and teeth bared. She wasn't a pleased puss after we let her go but from the looks of it all was forgiven fairly quickly.

And finally, here is our lovely, lovely woodpile which will keep us warm and snug this winter.

A mini-adventure

2007-08-20T14:05:00.000+01:00

I was reminded last weekend about a category of driver that I completely forgot to include in my list of Spankers . What refreshed my memory was this:

It was painted on a parked truck that I saw yesterday whilst in La Bañeza, a small town in Castilla-León, the province over the mountains from here. According to Duncan, who is currently working as a long-distance lorry driver, this is very common on trucks from Andalucía, although I can´t say I´ve ever noticed it before. What I have noticed it a similar picture stuck on cars here in Asturias. It´s a specific sticker which a picture of the virgin of Covadonga on it - she being the patron saint of Asturias, although most places round here seem to have a virgin, we have one whose statue resides in the chapel next to our house - the Virgin of Llaneces. So back to the point. There are many cars that drive around Asturias with this sticker on them, an underneath the picture is written ´Yo conduzco, ella me guía´which translates as ´I drive, she guides me´. The first time I saw this I wasn´t sure if I´d read correctly , but no, it´s true: there are people here who think they can drive in the middle of the road, straddling both lanes and pull over abruptly when it suits them, without indicating, of course, because the virgin will look after them. There must be many drivers who, when stopped by the police for some misdemeanour or other, use the virgin as a scapegoat for their atrocious driving: ´I´m ever so sorry officer, I was only behind the wheel, it´s the virgin´s fault, she made me do it.´ And you can imagine a similar story on insurance claim papers - cause of accident: The Virgin.

Anyway, back on track. What was I doing in La Bañeza? Well, Duncan called on a rainy Saturday to tell Matt he was holed up there for the weekend whilst before taking his truckload of tuna cans to be filled with tuna fish in Galicia. He delighted Matt about tales of the bike race that was taking place, with live music in the evenings, stalls and food and generally a festive atmosphere, even free beer. Needless to say, Matt was very eager to hop on his Aprilia and get down there. However, there was just one little problem to this plan, namely the wet, atrocious, Asturian weather. To cut a long story short, I was persuaded to accompany my beloved on his trip in the car on Sunday (next time there´s a concert I want to go to I will use this trip as leverage to make Matt come with me) and Susana, Duncan´s wife, came along too.

As we got closer to La Bañeza we saw numerous bikes driving away from the town. Matt optimistically decided that they were people who had long distances to travel and so had left early, but on arrival it became apparent that we had indeed missed the races and accompanying festivities. This was rather more disappointing for Matt than myself as I was enjoying luxuriating in the sun that has recently forsaken Asturias and left it at the mercy of threatening grey rain clouds. So, determined to make the best if it we went for a stroll around the town, and them settled down for a few beers before a tasty dinner in posh ´mesón´.

The river in La Bañeza

In the Plaza Mayor - Matt with the first of many empty glasses.

Matt and I slept in Duncan´s truck, which has a bunkbed in the cab -an entirely new experience for us that we were eager to try (and save €60 by not needing a hotel room in the process) - and it turned out to be very comfortable. However, the sound of various truckers starting their engines at intervals in the early morning wasn´t conducive to a good sleep, neither was having to get up in the middle of the night to relieve myself behind the truck (as Stephen King once wrote, ´beer is full of vitamin P´). Then, Duncan banged on the truck door at 7.30 the following morning and ordered us out of his cab so he could get his essential cargo of tin cans to their destination by midday. This was the earliest I'd woken up in a long time, but I coped with the shock surprisingly well - for me at least - and managed to greet Duncan with a bright 'morning!' instead of my more usual grunts of annoyance at having been woken up too early.

The best part of the trip was the drive back. We´d hastily driven down there on the motorway, but on the return journey we took our time with a leisurely drive over the mountains.

Heading back home, towards the mountains

I´d been in that part of Spain before, but what struck me after having been here in Asturias for so long, was the openess of the countryside, (and the clear blue of the sky after suffering a week of rain here). You could literally see for miles, to the hazy, blue-grey peaks in the distance. As we approached the mountains, the landscape gradually changed but it was constantly beautiful. We passed so many picturesque villages and hamlets tucked away in the hills under cloud-free skies, that I frequently exclaimed ´ooh, wouldn´t I like to live here!´ - and if the rain carries on here like it has this summer I may just go and do that.

At about 1,600m, just before crossing into Asturias.

Going over the Tarna pass into Asturias we were expecting more clouds and rain, but it seemed the good weather had followed us back and we drove down the mountains on the other side in sunshine.

Taken from near the Tarna Pass - we love stopping up here and taking in the view across the Parque Natural de Redes. Not only does it look good but the air is clean and fresh and filled with the smell of heather and other vegetation.There was no-ne else up there with us. I could've stayed the whole day if I'd had a picnic and no work to go to.

It was only when we got near El Entrego that the clouds appeared again, and by the time I had showered and scoffed a quick lunch the rain was falling once more. Matt happily announced that he was going for a siesta and left me to sleepily drive down the hill to work.

Pickled

2007-08-18T09:40:00.000+01:00

What does a girl do on a rainy day? Well, she sorts out her onions, of course.

It was a poor crop this year due to all the spring/early-summer rain. Anything I couldn't string up went in a jar with some red wine vinegar (you can't get the malted stuff out here), dried chillies and peppercorns. Now we just have a three month wait until we can enjoy them. I shall have to keep an eye on Matt as I know he's liable to sneak a few earlier to go on his cheese butties, especially now we know where to get hold of a good cheddar.

Things I don't like about living in Spain, part IV

2007-08-12T10:37:00.000+01:00

The need to do this post has been building up for quite some time now, although I'd been putting it off because, well, one doesn't like to moan too much. However, I can take it no longer, I absolutely have to rant and rave about bad Spanish drivers, or Spankers as my friend's dad down near Malaga calls them.

Now, before anyone starts with their 'hang on just one moment...', I do realise that Spain does not have a monopoly on dreadful motorists and I'm fully aware that making generalisations and stereotying is a Bad Thing. However, I would like you all to read the following post and make up your own minds.

I first became aware of bad Spanish drivers (to henceforth be referred to a BSDs) when I spent five months living in Valencia in 1996. The flat I rented with some friends from uni was on one of the main roads leading into the city centre, with two fairly busy lanes in each direction. Apart from honking horns, the most common sound - two or three times a day - rising above the general buzz of the traffic, was the screech of car tires as a vehicle had to come to a sudden stop for one reason or another. Then, in Lugo (Galicica) where I spent nine months in 1997-1998, I learnt about the impatience of Spanish drivers and their use of the car horn - if Spanish drivers are waiting in a queue for any reason and feel that they should have started moving already, somebody will honk their horn. Once this first move has been made, everyone will follow suit, and it's not just one honk, it's constant honking, no matter what time of day. The road where I used to work in Lugo was a popular honking spot due to it being a narrow residential street with cars parked on either side. All it needed was for one car to double park for a minute to drop something off or pick up a friend and the cacophony would start.

So that's my introduction to BSDs, nothing to damning so far, but carry on reading and you'll see...

Since I have been in Asturias I have learnt just how bad BSDs can be. I don't know if this is because Asturias has a greaty proportion of BSDs or because this is the first time I've actually driven in Spain myself. No matter, all I know is that there are a great many people around here who should not even be let near a car, never mind allowed to get in one and motor around.

Apart from the usual suspects (BMW drivers) there are many other catergories of BSD. To start off with we have our older drivers, normally male, who have never actually passed a driving test and yet have still been given a licence. This is because, years ago in Spain the driving licence did not exist, all you needed to be able to drive was a car. When the law was finally changed they just handed out licences left, right and centre to those who were already motoring. I can imagine that this wasn't too bad at the time when cars were slower and there were fewer of them on the roads. Nowadays though, you often come across older drivers doing 20kph in the middle of the road with cars trying to get past in both directions.

Next, we have the roundabout virgins. I call them virgins, because even though you know they must've been round a roundabout before you'd never guess it from their driving. This normally takes one of two forms. The first involves stopping whilst on the roundabout to let cars on to it and you constantly need to be on the lookout in case you have one of these in front of you and have to hit the brakes suddenly. The second category is made up of those people who only ever use the outside lane, no matter what exit they're taking. Matt and I have learnt from experience that we use the inside lane at our peril. Several times we've been cut off when trying to move from the inside to the outside lane to exit and we find that the person who'd originally taken the outside lane has moved all the way round the roundabout with us and cuts us off at the point we wished to exit meaning that we need to navigate the roundbaout once more to finally be able to get off it. The very worst example of roundabout abuse that I have been witness, and unwilling party, to and possibly the worst example of driving I've ever seen in Spain, was at the small roundabout at the edge of town that leads uphill to our house. There are four roads leading off the rounadbout and I was coming from town to take the last exit home. Behind me was a small white van (yes, OK, I should've known!). I indicated right to let the driver behind me know where I was going and off I went. To my astonishment, when I came to the exit I saw the van coming from my left - the wrong way round the roundabout - to pull in front of me and zoom off down the same exit as I was about to take. I slammed on the breaks and spend a few seconds flabergasted before I carried on my journey home, running in the front door to tell Matt about the biggest Spanker I'd ever come across.

Next there are non-indicators. The name speaks for itself and includes 90% of drivers round here. The first thing you know about the person in front of you stopping at the roadside is when he suddently slows down in front of you and pulls over with not the slightest indictation of his intentions. You can also get a combined non-indicator/roundabout virgin. It's highly frustrating to be waiting at a roundabout for a car that is not indicating and that you assume is going straight round past you, only to find that s/he exits down the road you're coming from spoiling your perfect opportunity to get on the roundabout. And this happens almost every time.

Now we come to bad parkers. You get them everywhere, but they proliferate here. BSDs will park anywhere. They double park on narrow roads, they park on zebra crossings and block the lowered part of the pavement so wheelchair users can't cross the road. They will park on street corners at an angle where the two roads meet. Sometimes it's not obvious they've even parked, they just stop in the middle of the road. Driving through El Entrego on market day is like running a slalom.

Then there are the zebra-crossers, who seem to have no idea what pedestrian crossings are for and drive straight across them at speed. Not only is this annoying when I want to cross the roads but it also has the effect that when I do stop to let pedestrians cross, they usually ignore me and stay put or wave at me to carry on. Those that do cross often do so with a servile look of gratitude on their face as if I've just done them a huge favour that they can never possibly repay. This lack of regard for crossings has irritated me so much that I've now taken to crossing them, on foot, as slowly as possible, just to annoy the spankers and make certain that they have to stop to let me across.

The penultimate category of BSDs is drunks. Going out for a tipple with your car and then driving home is very common here, and not just in the evenings but at lunchtime too. They will often combine all the charateristics of the above-mentionned drivers so you especially have to be on your guard. There is a bar half-way up the hill to our house, and I often get caught behind someone who's obviously had 'one' too many and fancies another one the way home. The best thing to do with these is to keep your distance at all times and watch them like a hawk. Don't try to overtake as you never know when they're going to swerve across the road, and they probably don't know either. They 'll often slow down from their snail's pace to salute acquaitances on the way up and then pull over when they get near the bar without any indication whatsoever.

And finally we get to the macho youngsters, scourge of the Spanish roads. As the name suggests, this category is mostly made up of the male of the species, although it also includes all those females who feel the need to show that they can drive just as 'well' as their male counterparts. These people often drive Seats or will have souped up another make of car. The Seat is ideal though as it proves what a thoroughly nationalistic and masculine driver is behind the wheel. You know you're in for trouble if you see one approaching in the rear view mirror. Another sign of these drivers is a torrito sticker on the rear of the car. Combine this small black bull with a red or black Seat León sporting a spoiler and a huge exhaust and you have your muy macho youngster, an even worse offender for speeding, tailgaiting and suicidal overtaking. Of course, the best way to deal with these is to keep a cool head and let them past. Matt however prefers to squirt his windscreen cleaner if he finds one behind him - as they get so close they end up with water on their screens too. For some reason seem to be unable to deal with using their windscreen wipers and driving at speed at the same time so they normally back off after the threat of a little of water. I still prefer to let them overtake and then curse them loudly, it make me feel much better.

So there we have it, a damning account indeed, I think, and a warning for anyone thinking of driving in Spain. I defy anyone not to let me enter Spankers/BSDs onto my Spanish blacklist!

Carnage!

2007-08-10T12:34:00.001+01:00

Matt recently decided that several trees in our trying-to-be-a garden were too decrepit. When we first got here it was just a field partly-covered with old fruit trees that had been left to their own devices, some were partly falling over and all of them were suffering from neglect. Some heavy pruning ensued, but despite this, two and half years later, he took the decision to remove the diseased and unproductive ones - a few days ago the sentence was carried out and he brutally chopped five of them down, much to my consternation. I did plead for my hammock trees, which are very old and gnarly with not a single fruit between them, and they have been magnanimously granted a stay of execution.

Despite this recent culling, we do have the tree balance in our favour. Since moving here we've planted a mandarin tree, two figs (one green, one purple), two different types of plums, a cherry, a walnut, a mimosa, some kind of fir, a lilac and a Japanese maple, plus several shrubs and bushes. We have another walnut and mimosa, two wild peaches and two tiny plum trees waiting to be put in this winter and are planning on planting an orange and a lemon tree too.

Last year, to our great excitement, we got our first figs - just a few, but they were delicious. I love peeling away the skin to reveal the juicy, sweet pink flesh inside. I have my fingers crossed for many more this year - enough to make my figs soaked in brandy and served with creme fraiche, and if we're fortunate we may also get our first manadarins - the tree has tiny green balls on it at the moment that will hopefully ripen before they fall off.

In other garden news, I've finally strung the garlic up, something which Elbi greatly enjoyed taking part in:

The courgette count currently stands at 'lots, with more on the way' although we've been managing to keep up with them so far.

Early-morning cloud

2007-08-10T11:52:00.000+01:00

I do like waking up in the morning - as long as it's not too early and I can wake up without help from anything or anyone else - and opening the curtains, as I'm never quite sure what I'm going to see. This morning was particularly special.

The cloud has cleared now, the sky is blue and I can see no clouds. It's perfect hammock weather. Or would be if I didn't have to go and collect some cucho (Asturian for 'manure') from the neighbour.

We finally see the light, but the cats get a little confused

2007-08-05T11:45:00.000+01:00

I forgot to metion in my previous post the building work that had been done on our house this last week. It was nothing major, but it has made all the difference. We had a new front door fitted. One with glass in it, lots of glass. The old front door was a wooden affair. It was so old and badly fitted that it let in lots of drafts. For more than a year we had cardboard and old carpet stappled to it in an effort to keep out cold winds. But no more, the horrid old door has gone and we have this to replace it:

Not only does it mean the house will be warmer in the colder months, but that we get a significantly increased amount of light into the house which I'm still getting used to. The first thing I did when the door was fitted was to get myself one of these:

I love having plants in the house and was quite upset at having to give all mine away when I left Wales, including a rather splendid dracaena. We hadn't had the light or space for plants up until now.

I used to have one of the above in Cardiff, and I loved it dearly, but it grew too tall for the rental house I was in so I gave into the caring hands of my mum, who promptly threw it away when she moved house - no mum, I've not forgotten! So I seized the opportunity to get myself another one. It can grow as tall as it likes where it is on the stairs and I'm hoping it does. I always find a house with plants in it to be much more welcoming.

The only members of the household who aren't too pleased with the new arrangement are the cats. They used to have their cat flap in the old door so Matt has had to adapt a ventilation hole in the kitchen to give them their own tunnel leading through the stonework to the flap which gives onto the terrace. The tunnel had been prepared two weeks previously to cause the least amount of confusion as possible. Matt checked on the size of the hole by picking up Elbi - who's always happy to oblige, and also the fattest of the three- and shoving her ever so gently, but firmly, through the hole. After discovering that the fat cat would fit through we left the tunnel open for investigation before closing it off until we put the door in.

Cats are conservative creatures and our decision to change the door and so the position of the flap has not been welcomed as enthusiastically as we had hoped. Never mind that they will be much snugger in winter, our three felines are not happy at having had their own front door moved, despite our careful planning. They will now often sit by the new door and look in or out and sniff to see what's happened. Only then, when they've checked that the flap hasn't reappeared in its proper place will they resort to using the new entrance. We have only just been forgiven by Mahou, always the grumpiest of the three, who has spent most of the last two days outside, away from the house, in protest. This morning, however, she jumped on the bed with a chirrup before snuggling against my leg and purring gently, which I'm very grateful for.

Summertime, and the living is easy...

2007-08-04T19:01:00.000+01:00

Well, it has to be when it's this hot. The forecast is giving it to be 37 degrees today and for once, it's not wrong. It was possibly hotter on our terrace today at lunchtime and we ate inside for the first time in ages. Phew.

Seeing as it's too hot for us to have done anything of much interest I thought I'd post a selection of photos I like, taken during the last couple of weeks or so.

A flower from what we think is an ajo-puerro (garlic-leek). They grow in our garden every year without us doing anything to them. Even if we pull them up they still reappear the following year, although we tend to leave them so we can enjoy the flowers.

Moonrise over the mountains. We've caught a few of these recently as it's now hot enough to eat dinner outside, and we take full advatage.

How to spot a black cat on a dark night.

Three of the luckiest cats in Asturias, on the terrace in the cooler evening weather.

And finally, this is where I'm hoping to laze tomorrow, joined by a good book, a glass of something cool and refreshing and maybe a cat, if I'm lucky.

The Weekend: Sunday - John Mayall and the Bluesbreakers

2007-08-01T09:14:00.000+01:00

I'd been awaiting last Sunday evening with interest, if not anticipation. Having never heard of John Mayall before I wasn't sure quite what to expect. And I still wasn't sure when we arrived at the concert venue in Oviedo as it was full of people of all ages, sizes and dress senses.

Having been fortified with a rioja from the posh bar we made our way to the auditorium, passing John Mayall himself on the way signing autographs and selling CDs - 'well, at least he's eager', I thought. I noticed a greatly-pleased man who had just bought a CD and also got his T-shirt signed. Said item of clothing was printed with 'classic' album covers - I noted Pink Floyd's 'The Dark Side of The Moon' above the signed John Mayall cover and in true High Fidelity style decided that was all I needed to know about the man. (I have a slight problem with PInk Floyd. For some reason or other, many of my boyfriends across the years have had a P.F. obssession - Matt included - and their albums have been played to death for my 'benefit', despite much protest on my part.)

Being seated at a concert for me is a bad start. My natural concert habitat is a dark smokey room with a bar in the corner where I can stand, beer in hand, and observe the band. I prefer to have full dancing options too, ranging from toe-tapping to a jump-up-and-down-in-the-middle-of-the-crowd frenzy (although I can't quite remember the last time I did the latter). So it was with a little resignation that, having checked that there was indeed no bar in the auditorium, I settled myself into my seat to await the music.

We had the Bluesbreakers on first to warm up the crowd before they introduced the 'Father of British Blues' and then on came John Mayall, who despite being into his seventies had the demeanour, and body, of a much younger man. 'This is what doing something you love for a profession will do for you', I decided and sat back to see what would happen next. It was round this point that I noticed I had the concert's most-enthusiastic goer right in front of me. A 30-odd year old woman who couldn't stop jiggling in her seat and clapping to the music with her arms in the air - obviously the blues's version of a mosher. Now this was entertainment. I wasn' t hugely enamoured with the music - although they were all obviously highly-talented musicians - but put them together with the crowd and we had something worth watching.

A quick glance down my row two or three songs into the performance and I realised that I had found a more fervent admirer than jjiggly-woman. It was, in fact, T-shirt man from the autograph signing. At the end of every song he would half stand up, arms raised in the air, and give those on stage a big thumbs up with both hands whilst grinning and cheering madly. He was obviously having the time of his life and I felt slightly guilty for my lack of enthusiasm, although I was pleased to have found some more entertainment.

The rest of the night proceeded in similar fashion, with two encores at the end. After a pleasant dinner in nearby cafe and a couple more glasses of rioja, we made our way home. I can't say I'd be tempted to see John Mayall in concert again, although if knew t-shirt man would be there too I might say yes.

Aaand we're off

2007-07-31T09:04:00.000+01:00

It's official. The annual race to keep up with the courgette plants has begun.

And as you can see we're off to a bad start already - it was only the size of my little finger a couple of days ago. We shall obviously have to inspect more frequently as I really don't want any of the behemoths we had last year. They're much tastier when smaller and I run out things to do with marrows. Any tatsy courgette recipes are welcome, please post them here.

I'm off to pick runner beans now, they're threatening to overwhelm us too. I suspect the majority will end up in the freezer just so we can keep up with the courgettes without distractions. I learnt from Matt's dad this weekend that the correct way to cut a runner bean for the freezer is in the opposite direction to which its fibres run (if you look at a bean lengthways there'll be diagonal fibres running across its width, apparently), otherwise they just get soggy when you defrost them (as we learnt last year). Hands up who knew that one.

The weekend: Saturday

2007-07-30T15:30:00.000+01:00

We had a lovely day on Saturday when we went to visit Matt´s dad and Carolina. I enjoy visits to Nava as Carolina always makes us lots of tasty food. This time it was avocado vinaigrette, followed by courgette flan, potato and beetroot mash and french beans (all of the main course came from their garden), and for desert a piece of cooling melon, which was perfect as it had turned into a very hot day from a cloudy start. We also had something very interesting to drink which was some posh lemonade by Minute Maid (part of the Coca-cola company, unfortunately) , made with lemon juice and pulp, sugar - no nasty sweeteners - does everybody know where aspartame comes from? No? Well I´m going to go off on a tangent here, so sit down, make yourself comfortable and I´ll tell you story:

Once upon a time some very clever scientists in the United States were developing a pesticide to kill all those horrible bugs that live on our fresh fruit and vegetables. One day, one of the clever scientists was going about his work and accidentally tasted the pesticide. Well, wasn´t he surprised to discover that is was very sweet and tasted just lovely. So, the clever scientist got together with all the other clever scientists and decided that it would be a very good idea if they could sell the pesticide, which they decided to call aspartame, to drinks and food companies as an artificial sweetener. However, first of all, they had to ask the government for permission to do this. Now, the nasty government said ´hang on a minute, you want to let people eat and drink a pesticide? We don´t think that this is a very good idea.´ So the poor scientists carried on their work with pesticides and put the aspartame plan to the back of their minds but did not forget it. They were waiting for the opportune moment. A few years later this moment came. The people had decided that they didn´t want the nasty old government any more but that an old film star was a much better idea for a president. The clever scientists were very excited about this as they had some friends who were friends with the film star. So they went to the government with their brilliant aspartame plan and this time the government thought it was an excellent idea and said ´Well done, you clever scientists you. Of course you can sell aspartame as a sweetener and make yourselves and our companies a disgusting amount of money. Did someone mention cancer? No, I didn´t think so´. And so the clever scientists were given permission to sell their wonderful product, nobody got fat or lost their teeth anymore, and everyone made a fortune and lived happily ever after.

And that, dear reader is the story of how aspartame came to our dinner table.

Anyway, to get back to this delicious lemonade. What made it extra special - apart from the lack of aspartame - was a the tiniest touch of spearmint. It was scrummy, and next time I have a spare few minutes I shall try and make myself some myself, although getting hold of spearmint might be difficult. I wonder if the peppermint from our garden would work instead?

So, we had a very tasty lunch and then went to a ´Medieval Market´being held in a village down the road. It was the usual fare, although I would´ve liked to have had my camera with me as there were people spinning wool and making silk and others in traditional dress doing Asturian dancing. There were lots of stalls with hand-carved wood and a mirror took my fancy until I saw the price. So we satisfied ouselves with a loaf of bread and some rather fine homemade wood-smoked cheese which we had for dinner along with other bits and bobs, including Matt's own red tomato and ginger chutney, when we finaly got home. We downed it all with (what I later discovered was) almost a full bottle of Lidl´s finest fino (a bargain at €1.49).

Saturday's dinner

Coming soon - 'The weekend: Sunday - John Mayall and The Bluesbrakers'

Cold turkey and my first hit in three years

2007-07-28T09:39:00.000+01:00

Tomorrow evening Matt and I are going to see John Mayall perform in Oviedo (incidentally, we nipped into the regional capital last week and I had a quick check on Woody - I was pleased to see he's still without a full pair of glasses).

Now, this would not have been my first choice of concert. Before Matt's dad had told us he was going, I'd never even heard of the man (is this a big musical faux pas?). Matt, however, was very enthusiatic about getting tickets. I think this is because since he started taking guitar lessons about two months ago, he's become slightly obssessed (up to two hours practice a day while I get stuck with making lunch and dinner) and wants the opportunity to watch, and maybe learn something from, one of the greats. Actually, this reminds me that I must take my glasses so I can see what Matt gets excited about and so be able to ooh and ahh at the correct moments.

As the last concert I went to was Supergrass in Cardiff in 2004 just before we left and I've been cold turkey ever since, despite my best efforts (I wasn't pleased at having to forego Calexico last year, Matt wasn't interested in Van Morrison the year before and we've missed various other bands at numerous festivals too), I thought I''d give it a go, despite having to part with €20 for the ticket. I'll let you know what happens.

What I've just discovered this morning is that Crowded House have announced tour dates in Spain. Whoopee! Anyone who knows me well will know I have a soft spot for Neil Finn & co (I even had a crush on the man until I realised that the photos of him during their Together Alone era strongly reminded me of an ex-boyfriend). I've been waiting for this since I heard about them reforming.

Shortly after we arrived here, Neil and Tim Finn played in Madrid and despite my best efforts to persuade Matt, he refused to go. At that point, I had no money whatsover so couldn't use the offer of paying for it all if he came with me. (I've still not quite forgiven him for it.) This time, the really, incredibly, awful news is that the concert dates are 30th September in Madrid and 1st October in Barcelona. Noooooo! Do they not know that we start the new school year at the Academia on 1st October and there is no way on earth that a) I can get out of being at work or b) get to Madrid and back in time?

I'm gutted, what was wrong with just one day earlier? However, I'm slowly becoming resigned to a more-or-less gigless existence here in northern Spain - most bands/singers only play Madrid/Barcelona. I guess this is just one more I'll have to add to the list. I'll get over it, eventually, maybe. (And I'm sure I'll be able to read all about it here when they play the UK.)

Things that make me happy about living in Spain, part III

2007-07-27T09:54:00.000+01:00

The sun gently warming my neck while I eat breakfast on the terrace in the morning and gaze at the view (and here).

A perfect way to start the day.

An Inconvenient Truth

2007-07-20T09:15:00.000+01:00

A quick trip to the video library (what do they call them nowadays DVD libraries?) yesterday revealed that Al Gore's 'An Inconvenient Truth' was finally available after months of always being rented out whenever we were in there.

We settled down to watch it last night with certain expectations. And in the main, they were fulfilled. Even so I do have my reservations. For a start, it'd obviously been dumbed down, although as Matt pointed out, this may be a good thing as it means more people/Americans will get the message, fair enough. I concede that the sometimes humourous and clear presentation was possibly the best way to get the message across. And the one simple point he made that struck me most was that polar bears are dying. They're drowing because there's no longer the ice they need to rest on. They just swim and swim and eventually die through exhaustion.

However, what I think was incredibly badly presented was his several car trips, one in the opening scenes (!) and one later even looked as though he was in a 4x4 (whose idea was that?!). Then we get to hear about how he's travelled around the world investigating 'climate crisis (read global warming) and giving his slide show. We even get to see him in the airport - I thought this was going to be a tongue in cheek moment, but no, nothing was said as we saw him make his way throught airport security on his way to the plane. This contrasts with the actions of a green scientist called Mayer Hillman whom I first read about five years ago. He's been advocating the reduction of carbon emissions for years and refuses to fly. Instead, he uses satellite links to attend conferences around the world. I can't help thinking that Gore should've followed his example. Matt disagreed, pointing out that people went to these presentations partly to see Gore in the flesh, if he's just been on a screen his slide show wouldn't have proved so popular. Hmmmm.

My final reservation was that, even though Gore maintained that this is a moral issue, the film he made still had political overtones, too many for my liking. I would've preferred it if he'd left politics out of it. People educated on this subject can see with their own eyes what the politicians are up to and make up their own mind.

All in all, though, you can't really criticise Gore's attempt to bring climate change to our attention, he's certanly managed that and should be congratulated for it. I just think it could've been done better and given the importance of the subject in question, it should've been.

The film leaves you wondering what would've happened had Gore 'won' the presidency in 2000, and ruing that fact that he didn't. I can't help thinking that he still may change his mind about running again. Perhaps he should see it as his moral imperative to do so.

Dole scum! On how to become unemployed in Spain

2007-07-19T12:23:00.001+01:00

Last week I was informed by Cris, my boss, that for her to be able to give me a permanent contract in October I need to be officialy unemployed. A little strange I thought, but then again, we are in Spain, home of ridiculous bureaucracy and neverending paperwork.

So that is why I have spent three mornings this week, my supposed week off, at the unemployment office, or INEM, as it's known here. To begin with, I had to find the place, which you would think would be simple. I checked the address on the offical INEM website - a town down the valley - printed out a large scale map showing me exactly where the street was and off I went. I spent five minutes walking up and down this street, map in one hand, address in the other, before I realised that I was in the right place but the INEM office most defintely was not. A lovely lady in a perfumería informed me that it had indeed been on that street but had moved a few months ago and kindly gave me directions, stupid bloody website.

This did not bode well and I felt the little enthusiams I had for dealing with yet more Spanish bureaucracy wane as I made my way to the new office. Once I eventually got to the place, I discovered it was not what I had been expecting. Let me tell you, the unemployment system here differs greatly to the one back in the UK - or at least the one I had to deal with many years back.

For a start, you only have 15 working days after the end of your contract to ask for unemployment benefit. Fortunately, even though blissfully unaware of this, I went on day 14. Even so, I encountered problems almost straight away as I apparently should've gone to the Ministry of Education on my arrival in Spain to have all my academic qualifications recognised (never mind that we're all in the European Union), so when it came to putting them on the computer we hit a problem, which the nice man there solved by ignoring the rules and putting me down as having a Spanish degree in Spanish language. Next up, my driving licence. Can I drive? I most certainly can? Do I have a car? No, but I can use my partner's. Very good. How long have I had my driving licence? I remember this one becasue I passed on my mum's birthday when I was seventeen. Ah. It transpired that because Spaniards are not allowed to drive until they are eighteen the system would not allow a date which made the driver seventeen. I even got my licence out - still one of the old folded paper ones - and showed the date to the man who indeed admitted that I had been seventeen on passing my test. But the computer could not be persuaded and in the end we had to change the date to a year later. Great stuff, we were getting somewhere. However, I then discovered that to register yourself unemployed you also have to take a copy of your old contract (tick) and an employers certificate, which of course I didn't have.

Reading the information I was then given, an employer's certificate is a signed and stamped letter from the employer stating that you've been working there for the last 180 days, so, after a mad dash to see Cris at the academia, this is what I returned with the following day. But no, the following day I was informed that an employer's certificate is an official document that gives lots of boring details about social security paid etc and didn't we tell you abut this yesterday? Grrr. This is where I panicked a bit. I was on day 15 without this complicated certificate and hopes of a permanent contract seemed to be going down the plughole. Luckily for me, the people in the Spanish job centre are very unlike their UK counterparts and offered to start the process with the documents I did have if I took them the certificate the following day. Which is what I've just been doing.

Now I just have to wait for my request to be processed and the money to appear in my account. I'm not sure how much I'll receive as it's linked to how long you've been working and how much you've earned. I was informed that I've only worked long enough for four-months benefit - not a problem as I know I'm officially back to work in October. The other good thing is that I don't have to show I'm looking for work - none of those horrible booklets to fill out stating exactly what you've been doing to find employment. I suppose they don't need it - limited benefit is incentive enough.

So now I have one extra day before the weekend to relax and congratulate myself on successfully navigating yet another Spanish bureaucratic nightmare. Well done me!

The air car

2007-07-16T18:00:00.000+01:00

Since moving here I've become ever so much more conscious of the impact we're having on the environment. Before, I always recycled, moved about Cardiff mostly on my bike, turned the tap off while brushing my teeth, etc., but never really gave it much thought beyond that. However, now I'm in Asturias, in such wonderful natural surroundings, it's become hard not to think seriously about our effect on the local and world environment.

This is for various reasons. We have our own water supply, for example. This means we think much, much more about the quantity we're using, and is also a perfect excuse for doing the washing up just once a day. We also only ever put washing-up liquid down our kitchen sink as the water goes directly into our garden - when it's right there in front of you it certainly makes you think about the effect you're having on it, you really don't want to eat herbs that have been drinking up bleachy water. Also, since I've been here I've noticed just how much more wildlife is about and how much more varied it is: birds, butterflies, lizards to name a few, mostly because their environment has been spoilt less, and I'd really like to help keep it that way.

I've been hearing about the air car on and off for a few years now and today finally made a concerted effort to find out more about it. Now we live five kilometres up a mountain we rather dependent on our car, a fact we're not too happy about. The sooner these little beauties are available the better:

Fiestas, fiestas and a tale of sleepless night

2007-07-13T18:33:00.002+01:00

There was a fiesta in Lantero last weekend. It ran from Friday to Monday night. This year we knew what to expect. I imagine most Brits would say something along the lines of 'ooh a proper Spanish fiesta, how exciting' if we mentioned that the village halfway up our mountain hosted it's own annual knees-up. We, however, know better. Fiestas around here, if you live in our house and want a decent night's kip, are noisy, irritating and intrusive.

Now before any of you proclaim me a party pooper, I feel I must point out that the musical mainstay of the fiestas around here is the techno disco. Imagine lying in bed at five am listening to the steady pum, pum, pum of the turned-up-all-the-way base punctuated by the evil DJ's ramblings. It's not pleasant. There was a new additon to the Monday night finale too that really took the biscuit, (somebody with dreams of grandeur had obviously been studying Olympic Games closing ceremonies), and that was a stream of fireworks at six in the morning just to make sure that anybody who hadn't been woken up by the six hours of vile music would, with a start, be made aware of the end of the fiesta by numerous resounding BANGS.

We did give the fiesta a go the first year we were here, and the results were fairly disastrous. At dicovering that a warm 25cl bottle of beer was priced at €1.50 we opted for the cheap red wine at €2 a bottle (which should've been warning enough in itself). Duncan arrived at half time and by 2am, with plenty of Scots encouragement, Matt, with a little help from me, had gotten through three bottles. This was followed by a rum and coke (we're talking Spanish measures here, of course) that Duncan had insisted on purchasing for him, despite the best efforts of Susana and myself to explain that more alcohol really wasn't needed. We arrived home at 4am after I'd taken two hours to drag Matt up the hill (" keep your knees straight, that's it. Now, one foot after the other. No, no, no, knees straight!") whereupon he promtly threw up and then passed out in bed. After that we decided it was best not to go again.

Anyway, after the four nights of fiesta in Lantero we had two nights break before the four day, four night El Entrego fiesta got going. It started yesterday and I managed to get to sleep before the heavy music started. Despite my cunning plan of an early night, I was awoken at 4.30am by Matt coming back from the trip to the loo. The conversation went something like this:

A sleepy me: Wah, uh, what's happening?

Matt: I couldn't sleep, the music's too loud.

me: What music?

PAUSE

me: Oh.

And then I was kept awake until 6am until the music stopped.

For tonight I have been even more cunning - this is our bedroom window:

I knew that old foam matress would come in handy one day.

A photo of a picture of a photo

2007-07-13T18:17:00.001+01:00

I've been saving this for a special post all of it's own. This was my excellent birthday present from Sue. I'm very pleased that I can now say I have a Dobson original hanging in my hall.

The painting is Ms D's adaptation of a photo I took on the Ruta de Brañagallones in the Parque Natural de Redes that we did together on one of Sue's previous visits.

Visitors

2007-07-08T13:11:00.001+01:00

Before I start I'd like to make it clear that I'm normally very good with remembering to make sure I have a functionning camera on me. However, this last week when Sue and Simon were visiting, my brain became all fluffy in the camera department which meant that on one occasion I forgot to take spare batteries with me, just when it needed them. And then when we went camping I forgot to take it with me altogether. Explanation given, here's my account of the last week:

I always look forward to visits and was not disappointed by this one. Sue arrived at the airport (only forty minutes late) and we made it back to El Entrego just before Simon's train arrived at the station. Good timing. It didn't seem obvious that he's been out the night before until about five am and in fact Sue was the one slacking by the time we'd had our dinner, although it wasn't late by the time were all tucked up in bed.

On the Sunday we went for a long walk on the land above the house - we normally do one of two routes when we're up there, but this time Matt decided to combine them into one long one. This was a slight shock to our system and an even bigger one to Simon's - I kept promising that this was going to be the last 'up bit' we did and then Matt changed the route again and there was more 'up'. Sorry Simon!

Sue and Simon on our Sunday 'stroll', with the Peña Mayor in the distance.

For a change the next day we decided to go and see the bears and do the nearby cycle route. Sue was most excited by this prospect and wanted to know if they were 'as big as Gentle Ben'. However, due to significant alcohol consumption and lots of mountain air the previous day we stumbled out of bed too late to make the bears and opted instead for another walk.

This time we went up into the Parque Natural de Redes, a national park just up the valley from us which encompases over 370 square kilometres of woodland, meadows, mountains, lakes and streams, along with traditional Asturian villages. We chose a route which started from a village high up in the park, Tarna, and which lead to a waterfall. On the leaflet we'd been given in the tourist office, the route was described as easy and taking three and a half hours. Ha! It was a climb from the start, past verdant, and tree-filled meadows. We found a flat-ish flower-covered meadow with stunning views to stop in for lunch and carried on. The two lightest members of our party, Matt and Sue, also with the longest legs strode ahead while Simon and I trundled along behind.

The next part of the walk passed through an old beech forest - where, to be fair, it did flatten out and we were able to catch our breath, fortunately, as we had rather full bellies from lunch - which so reminded me of Klimt's paintings that I thought he could've done them there - dappled light falling down through green leaves onto the earth below. It was incredibly peaceful. I could've stopped then and there and spent the afternoon relaxing beneath the tree tops.

Seeing as I forgot the batteries you'll have to make do with Klimt.

Instead, we carried on and made our way out of the forest, down a slope to unspoiled meadows and, at last the waterfall in the distance. As we slowly got nearer we had to ford the stream from the waterfall several times - I was pleased I had my trusty hiking stick with me - and then made our way up the slope to observe the cascade from higher up. Easy? No way, but by now my legs had finally warmed up and got into the swing of things so I climbed on ahead up the slope with Matt. Reaching the top was wondeful and made the hike up there worthwhile. There were views of the surrounding mountains, and the waterfall itself, which fell from a height of 1,800 metres (we must've been at about 1,600). The spray cooled us down as we stood at it's side comtemplatng the rush of glacial water falling past us. (It's here where I curse myself yet again for forgetting fresh batteries for the camera. If Sue sends me her pictures I shall post them for you.)

After two days of long walks - never mind three and a half hours, the last one took at least five - we had a day of rest on the Tuesday- with mango and cava cocktails in the evening - and then headed to Vega beach on Wednesday to do a spot of camping. So busy was I rushing around to get everythig ready so we could camp in comfort that, yes, I forgot the camera.

Enjoying cava and mango cocktails.

Vega campsite is our favourite on the Costa Verde - it's small, friendly, well-run and all the pitches are separated by hedges making it private too. The owner himself is from El Entrego so they're particulalry friendly with us, even though we only go for the odd night in the summer when we have free time. They know me there as la inglesa de El Entrego (the Englishwoman from El Entrego). So, as a reward for two tiring walks we took two lazy days on the beach, reading, jumping waves, playing Scrabble (in English and Spanish), and eating and drinking to our heart's content. The sea at Vega can be very surfy and I have a memorable image of Sue, Simon and me, in a line, jumping waves, all desperately holding onto our bikini bottoms/swimming trunks as each rather large wave approached and we whooped with delight. The sunsets are also particularly spectacular at Vega - the sun sets over the sea - and we spent one evening contemplating the sun as it disappeared below the water, and then, in the dying light, Sue happily contemplated the surfers in their tight wetsuits.

By the time we got back on Friday afternoon we were all to tired to do much more than unpack and have a nice cup of tea with some biscuits. Matt dashed off to his guitar lesson and the rest of us settled down on the sofa for a few episodes of Sex and the City which Sue had kindly brought me as a present. A perfect ending to a enjoyable, but tiring, week (I think it was the Bacardis on the Thursday night camping followed by hot chocolate with brandy that really did for me). I'm spending today recovering.

Three excuses for a cat

2007-07-08T12:40:00.001+01:00

We went camping last week while Sue and Simon were visiting (more about that in my next post) and our cats made sure we had a welcome present to come home to, although we didn't find it until yesterday evening. A live mouse. In the pantry. Somebody must've brought it in and then got tired of playing with it (this is Elbi's style and I suspect she was the culprit). It seems it was very soon allowed to make itself at home in the brown rice and, as we were disappointed to discover, also nibbled on our only bar of favourite Lidl chocolate. Just what our three felines were doing while the mouse was living it up I have no idea but they certainly weren't earning their keep.

The first thing we knew about it was when Matt saw it climbing up to the top shelf in the pantry yesterday evening and it was left to me to don gloves and get the step ladder to find the little beast. Matt's solution of putting Beeps up there failed miserably when all she did was sit and gaze down upon us from her new throne. Fortunately the mouse had scurried into an old box we kept up there so it was just a matter of taking the box outside and releasing it.

While I've been writing this Matt called up from the lounge to declare there's a vole hiding under the fire. No-one would ever know this was a three-cat household! They're hopeless. It's hidden itself under there somwhere but we can't see it. Elbi, however, as you can see, has taken it upon herself to make up for her earlier mousey misdemeanours.

Word Imperfect

2007-06-29T13:29:00.000+01:00

You may have noticed in my 'my own blogs of note' section a link to Word Imperfect. This little site has had me hooked since it it appeared as a blog of note a few weeks ago and I went for a visit, little knowing I would return almost every day thereafter.

It was great to win yesterday, (with this definition: A moxa (n.) is an afficionado of air-boxing - the pugilistic version of the air-guitarrist. This person never actually steps into the ring but just shuffles around grunting and jabbing. For those who want to know the real definition is anything used as a counter-irritant for gout.) but the fun is all in the playing. Matt now often finds me wandering abut the house muttering stange words to myself as I attempt to think of a fun new meaning for them. Anyone who enjoys word games should pay a visit.

My almost summer holiday plans

2007-06-29T09:10:00.000+01:00

The sun appeared this morning as if it were generally known that today is the first day of my summer holidays and this joyous fact should be celebrated with a bit of sunshine. The first thing I did was to put the washing machine on. Matt, optimistic as ever predicted it to cloud over by lunchtime but I still have a second pile of washing waiting for the machine, just in case.

And what, you may ask, do I have planned for this first wonderful day of my holidays? The answer: cleaning. The house is a tip, we have more visitors coming tomorrow (Simon and Sue - with more books from Amazon for me, hurray!), and we haven't had a thorough clean since before I started running around madly at work during exam time.

After that I intend to enjoy myself. I still have a bit of work this summer - we've had some new students appear demanding lessons in July and we still have some that have resists/university entrance exams in September, so Cris, my boss and I are alternating weeks. Luckily, I had cunningly planned a visit from said friends this first week of July, so poor Cris has to carry on for an extra week before she gets a rest. I, on the other hand, get to frolic round Asturias with Sue, Simon and Matt, and I'm looking forward to it greatly!

Birthday cards

2007-06-29T09:05:00.001+01:00

It always take a while for post to reach us here, but I think I've just about received all my birthday cards, and here they are:

Does anyone notice an emerging theme? In fact, almost all of them contained either cats, cake, flowers/the countryside or tennis. I think my friends know me very well.

The 'summer' garden

2007-06-27T09:53:00.000+01:00

I say 'summer' because, even though we're almost in July, it hasn't properly started yet, bar the odd day of blue skies and no rain. I know we're in Astuiras, I know it rains here - otherwise it wouldn't be so lush and green and I wouldn't love the place so much - but please!

We wake up almost every day to grey cloudy skies and I have to say I'm fed up with it. We had so much rain in May and the start of June that half of our onions have given up and fallen over (their roots have rotted) and even the potato plants have started to die back, in June! The peppers, tomatoes and aubergines have been hanging on in there but are growing slowly, very slowly. I suspect we'll end up with tomatoes on Xmas day again, like last year (we were given cherry tomato plants last year but weren't told they were a bush variety, so we spent the first half of the summer getting rid of side shoots and then were puzzled as to why we had so few tomatoes. As soon as we left the plants alone they produced copious quantities of fruit and didn't die until January. I've never picked fresh tomoatoes on 25th December before, and from an outside plant at that).

Not wishing to end on a grumpy note, we have had our first harvest of currants, gooseberries and raspberries (one of my favourites) this year. The plants are still young so we only managed enough for a crumble, which Matt made for dinner last night. I have to say that Matt is a Crumble King. It was wondeerful to come home last night and have dinner almost ready and a scrumptious, mostly blackcurrant, crumble for dessert. He also makes a good one with mango and grated ginger and the latest experiment was a kiwi crumble, whch turned out surprisingly well.

Crumble ingredients

Also, all the new trees and shrubs that we planted this spring are enjoying the weather, which means less watering work for us.

And, and this is exciting - for me anyway- we have our first mandarins forming on our one citrus tree, hopefully they won't fall off before they ripen (which is what happened to the cherries).

All in all, I suppose I shouldn't really complain but I want my summer!

Birthday weekend

2007-06-26T10:32:00.001+01:00

I had a full, but happy birthday weekend. I managed to escape from work at 6.30 on Friday to meet my Mum, Keith, her partner, and Matt and we went straight to the house my mum has in a hamlet near here for the weekend.

We had a tasty dinner of home grown broad beans and new potatoes, with an herb omlette made with fresh, free-range eggs from our neighbour, washed down with some very quaffable red wine that they'd brought from France.

Saturday morning we went up the Peña Mayor, and it was cloudy, again. I keep saying that the next time I do it, it'll be with clear skies but I haven't made it yet. We only did part of the walk as the meadows were covered with 'viscious' horned cows - my mum has a slight bovine-taurine phobia since she was chased by a bull years ago - so we turned back once the cows became too numerous, mum looking over her shoulder just to make sure we weren't being followed. To be fair there were so many cow bells ringing it did sound as though we were carefully being stalked and surrounded. The effect was heightened by the birds circling low, overhead - I think they were of the same type we saw last time, eagles or possibly vultures we think, we've been speaking to people in the know and you get griffon and Egyptian vultures in the area, as well as golden, short-toed and booted eagles.

Horse and foal on the Peña Mayor - the meadows were full of horses and their young.

A nosy calf - this my mother could handle - no horns yet!

One cow too many - this was when we had to turn back.

Anyway, we eventually made our escape down the mountain, unharmed, you'll be pleased to know, and completed our Saturday with a piggy lunch at the local bar near the house, where Keith was invited to join in with the locals chess game - he politely declined saying to us he'd never known a game of chess to be so loud - and we went back to the house for a relaxing afternoon on the terrace.

The hamlet taken on our way back from lunch.

We awoke on my the Sunday to bright sun - perfect for the Peña Mayor if only we hadn't already been up there the day before. So we decided to go to the beach and spent the afternoon at Vega. I had been looking forward to a doze in the sun but we spent it jumping waves, walking along the beach and finding unusual stones - the geology of the area is quite intersting, even for someone like me who normally takes little interest in that sort of thing - and there are all types of rocks and stones on the beach in as many colours as you can imagine with lots of blue-green copperey colours mixed with deep red sandstone and and seams of white marble in jet black rock.

When we finally made it back home after dropping mum and Keith off at her house for their last night we were too tired to do much celebrating. We poshed up a simple pasta dinner with a bottle of something sparkling, then watched James and the Giant Peach on DVD before going to bed.

A birthday tipple.

I'd left the boxes of books in the kitchen to be dealt with on Monday morning and I've just about got them all squeezed into the office now. Unpacking them was great, I kept discovering books I'd forgotten about and would squeal or ooh and ahh with glee whenever I came across one. I now also have a good stock of new books from Amazon that should keep me going for a fair while too.

Elbi investigating my books - she had to be removed when the nibbling started.

Early birthday treats

2007-06-21T09:41:00.000+01:00

I´m terribly excited at the moment. My mum is coming tomorrow for a weekend visit. Now the visit in itself is excitement enough, but this one is special. She´s coming from Wales via her house in France with all my books that we couldn´t bring over here when we first moved and that have been stored there (France) for the past two years, plus a couple of packages from Amazon that I had sent to her in Wales (for free, instead of paying horendous prices to have them sent here). So not only do I get to be reunited with some old friends (mostly Spanish history books) but I get to drool over lots of new, virgin paperbacks. What´s even better is that two and a half years ago, when packing to come here, I stuffed a few odds and ends in with the books in the small gaps that you get when you pack unevenly sized books into boxes. As it was so long ago, I can´t quite remember what I put in there so there´ll be a few pleasant surprises when I open them up - just in time for my birthday on Sunday.

A pot of gold

2007-06-20T20:34:00.000+01:00

It's been a mixed bag of weather today: hot sun and lashings of rain - this is what I've just seen from the terrace. It's a shame it was so close as it was a full one but the camera couldn't catch it, bah.

Things I don't like about living in Spain, Part III

2007-06-15T10:30:00.001+01:00

These last couple of weeks at work have been exhausting. And there is one thing in particular I blame for us having to run around madly at the Academia, preparing work at the last minute for desperate students and that is the Spanish Education System.

Now, I'm well aware that if it weren't so bad, I possibly wouldn't have a job, but when a student (B) comes to you and says he has to take a resit in five days time because the teacher has lost his final exam papers you do begin to despair.

We have numerous cases at the moment of students who have to take resists next week. In some cases it's because they've been lazy all year, failed previous exams, and really, they deseve it and hopefully will learn a lesson (although you do have to wonder why they've been lazy, it seems it's often because the teacher has failed to make any effort to make the lesson interesting, and the students just don't want to learn).

Another example, take N. He'd failed a couple a of exams throughout the year which is normal for the average student, they have to sit so many (and this is another point about the system here -there's an exam for every unit in the course book, about nine, plus end of term exams. I thought the idea behind education was to instill a love of learning, here all they instill is a hatred and a fear of neverending exams), and needed to pass the final exam to be able to move up a year in September. He turned up at the Academia two week before the last exam. We ran about finding work for him to do, explained the grammar, and he knuckled down to it. He passed the final exam, but because of the previous fails has now been infomraed he still has to do the resit. No wonder some students ask why they should bother.

And this isn't just at the schools. My boss, when she was at university, took three years to pass one module simply because her lecturer took a personal dislike to her. (This wasn't uncommon apparently- she'd often tell people not to come in for the next lecture, wearing 'that horrible cardigan'. Who do these people think they are?) She went to see the dean, who told her he coudn't do anything about the problem and it was only in the third year after she'd been failed again by the miserable lecturer that he arbitrarily decied to pass her anyway.

We have an adult student, J. Who's a music teacher had been taking an two-year English course at Oviedo University which would have given him a qualification to teach English to infants. He put so much effort into this, wrote wonderful stories in English and taught with them, and was told recently in a letter that was sent to all the students on the course that everyone had passed. A week later, he got another letter to say that he and another student had in fact, not passed, but failed. When he asked for an explanation he was told simply that his work had been insufficient. They took two years to tell him this and he's shattered. The worst thing is that his tutor, who failed him, is head of department and he has no other recourse.

There are no rules to this, it all works on the individual teacher's whim, which is what most gets my goat. We've had students this week who haven't known if they've passed or not and have been waiting in limbo to see if they have to take the resit - which is only a few days away. I find it highly unjust that a child's educational welfare rests as much on how they get on with the teacher as their academic ability. In the case of B (who struggles with English but who's been making more effort this year), he's had trouble with his teacher all year and I find it highly suspicious that his exam papers have mysteriously gone missing. Even if it's true, what does this tell us about the teacher?

In the case of those sitting their baccalaureat this year, we've had our work cut out for us since almost the start. Because most of the class was misbehaving, the teacher refused to teach. He just sat in class and handed out work, with no explanation other than 'look in your course books'. He took the biscuit towards the end of the year when we were doing his teaching for him on the last unit in the book. He suddenly announced that he wasn't going to set an exam for that unit after all but that the final exam would be on the Monday of the following week. Needless to say we spent many extra hours finding work and giving classes to those students - although we did work a minor miracle and all but one passed.

I could go on endlessly, these are just the worst examples that spring to mind at the moment. The problem is that teachers are not held accountable. There are no exam boards and every exam is set and marked by the individual teacher. There are good teachers, and great ones, although they currently seem to be in the minority. I finish work in two weeks - in theory. However, our summer is now getting booked up by students who have to take the last chance resit in September - it looks like my days on the beach and in the mountains this summer will be limited.

I therefore place The Spanish Education System onto my bad things about Spain list, where it shall deservedly stay until somebody instigates a major unpheavel in the way children are taught, I'm keeping my fingers crossed.

When the sun comes out

2007-06-15T10:25:00.000+01:00

Yesterday morning, while it was raining, our cats were cavorting around outside. In the afternoon the sun came out, and this is where I found all three of them.

Say 'cheese!'

2007-06-14T13:30:00.000+01:00

I made a most exciting discovery today. I visited a new supermarket, which, as anyone who knows me will tell you is excitement enough in itself. However, the highlight of the trip was the cheese section, where I found, wonder of wonders, some mature Irish cheddar cheese.

We've found cheddar here before, but normally of the mild and plasticky variety that's no good for anything, really, why do they bother making it? This is the real thing. Sheer bliss. I would have put a photo on here of the exalted item, but we ripped off the wrapper and grated it onto our lunchtime pasta faster than you can say 'queso de cheddar'. Now all we need is some stilton. I think that one's going to be slightly trickier.

Pavlov's cat?

2007-06-12T11:31:00.000+01:00

I've been giving Mahou her daily tablet, as always, crushed in the mortar and mixed with some tinned food. I always thought that she scoffed the lot because she was used to the dried stuff and the tinned food was so tasty. Ha, more fool me. She gave me her second surprise of the week. (The first one is here.)

I put the tablet in the mortar this morning, went to look for a tin of food and returned to find Mahou crunching on her medicine. I gave her some canned food aferwards, just in case. I still want her to associate tablets with getting a treat, although I may try offering the tablet on its own tomorrow - it solves the problem of what to do with Elbi and Beeps when Mahou is eating. I had to shut Elbi in the lounge the other day to stop her from getting at the bowl and she screamed blue murder, the greedy little scamp. Now everyone'll be happy.

Puds, bugs and flowers

2007-06-10T12:01:00.001+01:00

Some photos I've taken this week:

We went for a walk up by the lakes behind the house one morning. Everything seemed to be flowering.

There are many different types of orchid in Asturias - these seem to be the most common.

Wonderful, large dog daisies.

We get lots of foxgloves around here too. Something I very rarely saw in the British countryside.

The lakes were covered with a mist that was blowing down the valley. If you watched for long enough, it seemed that it was the mountain moving, not the mist.

The mist cleared later and the horses appeared for a drink, as if they'd been waiting for that exact moment.

On the way back we stopped to give some dandylion leaves to the neighbours young chickens.

Back home, our roses are flowering.

Beetles are common round here too - big ones - this is about medium-sized by our standards.

And finally, two very good friends dozing on the terrace.

Storm Approaching

2007-06-09T17:24:00.000+01:00

This picture was taken from our terrace about half an hour ago. I'd been hearing the rumble of thunder all afternoon (it'd been been hot and muggy and all day) and stepped out to take a look. The weather here, so close to the mountains, is sometimes unpredictable, which can be extremely annoying. This time, however, the light peeking out from above the mountains and below the storm clouds was quite beautiful. It almost made up for what happened next. I stood on the terrace enjoying the view as the wind picked up, I could hear a wall of rain steadily approaching. At least that's what I thought. It turned out to be not just torrential rain, but hail. Marble-sized hail. In June. I dashed inside and shut the windows, and just in time too. Look what happened shortly afterwards.

The strange thing is I can now see nothing but blue sky out of the office window. Matt has just gone to check the damage in the garden, fingers crossed.

The Invalid Released

2007-06-09T10:56:00.000+01:00

Mahou was let out of her bedroom about ten days ago after a six-week convalescence/prison sentence. We'd decided not to do the whole two months because a) she was going potty in there and b) she was getting very porky (she's currently at five kilos - and that's after losing some, quite hefty for a two-year-old female). Last weekend I noticed she was still limping every now and again, so we had to go back to the vet's, which is almost like visiting a friend, we seem to go that often. After a quick look and watching Mahou walking - perfectly, no trace of a limp, she could've been the creature that inspired the naming of the catwalk; I swear she flirts when she's with the vet, the coy little madame - he pronounced that she's allowed out but still has to have a sulfate tablet a day.

I was worrying about her until I glanced out of the bedroom window this morning and saw this.

Now, I can see the path she took to get up there, but really, her leg can't be that bad if she managed such a feat. Please note Elbi looking on with envy; with her gammy leg there's no way she'd make it up there.