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

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 thoroughfare - 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 whom 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 farmers' 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.

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

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.

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

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?

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

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.

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

The 1st May in Spain is Dia del trabajador or Labour Day. It's also a national holiday. Hurray, a day off work! One of the great things about living in Spain is that we get more public holidays than anywhere else in Europe, 15 I think, compared to a miserly eight in the UK.

Added to this, each town will have its own fiesta. Ours is 30th November, when the town celebrates Las Cebollas Rellenas - stuffed onions being the gastronomic speciality of El Entrego - and all the restaurants use this as an excuse to charge lots of money for special, stuffed-onion-based menus that attract people from all over the region. A strange reason to take a day off, but I'm not complaining. We also get carnaval off here too, on Shrove Tuesday, so that puts the count up to 17.

Even better, we also have puentes or bridge days. Say, for example, a public holiday falls on a Thursday, the Friday is considered a bridge day and is often taken as a holiday too. The best time of year for puentes is the beginning of December. The 6th is Constitution Day and the 8th is the Day of the Immaculate Conception. This means the 7th is always a puente, plus the 5th and the 9th can be puentes as well if they fall a day before or after the weekend. This year we haven't been taking the bridge days off (I worked yesterday). Next academic year however, Cris, my lovely boss (said in all sincerity) has announced, with my full backing, that we'll be giving a letter to all parents at the start of October stating the days the Academia is to close - including the bridge days. Now that's what I like to hear.

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

After the last post I started to worry about being seen as some Victor-Meldrew-type character. So, to readress the balance, I decided I'd start listing things that I like about living here too.

Having gone shopping after I finished work this morning (I'm back for another three hours this evening) I saw exactly what I wanted to include in my first great thing about living in Spain post. And no, it's not olives, or olive oil or Manchego cheese and not even the wine (although I suspect this will be appearing at a later date). No. One of the things I enjoy about living in Spain is the toilet roll. Yes, you did read correctly. It's not the quality of the stuff, which is the same as back in the UK, but the price I adore. You can buy 40 rolls of good-quality loo roll here for €5.19 which is about £3.65. Now how much would that get you in the UK I ask? Hmm, not much I suspect. Maybe nine rolls if you were lucky. Just think how much money Andrex is raking in! I marvel over the price:quantity ratio every time I pull a pack off the shelf here - it must be the eternal student in me.