1. You can’t for the life of you figure out why bars and clubs keep closing down just as you get started with a night out. Surely the night’s just beginning?

2. You aren’t just surprised that the plumber, painter or repairman has turned up on time; you’re surprised he turned up at all.

3.  You think it’s nice to tell everyone how great they look today.

4. Not giving every new acquaintance dos besos just feels so rude.

5. What’s with all this butter on toast? And where’s the olive oil? Toast without olive oil? Is this a joke?

6. You forget to say please and thank you when asking for things. You implied it in your tone of voice, right?

7. You don’t see sunflower seeds as a healthy snack - they’re just what the cool kids eat.

8. Every sentence you speak in English contains at least one of the following: ‘bueno,’ ‘vale,’ ‘venga,’ ‘pues nada’…

9. You recognize clapping as an art form, not just a way to express approval.

10. You have friends named Jesus, José María, María José, Ángel, and Inmaculada Concepción. Many of each, in fact.

I have been to the Costa del Sol today. More precisely somewhere between Benhavis and Cancelada along the N-340 (the coast road for ignorants ). Had to stop because of the baby, so I had a little stroll around to pass the time.

And if just confirmed to me again why I am not living in that part of Malaga.

All the shops on that stretch seemed to be catering for Brits. Real Estate Agent, two restaurants, a English butcher, English supermarket, English sports bar, a newsagent selling loads of English papers and magazines (now I know where I can get The Sun, yippee ) and various other places catering for foreigners. I sat down to have a coffee at a place which seemed to only have a menu in English. They served full English breakfast, jacket potatoes, toast etc. and was full of english people on holiday and a lot of them golfing.

After having watched too many socks in sandals I tried to not speak any English so people might not know that El Rubio and I were foreigners too, but I guess the blond hair on both of us was a dead give-away.

At least I now know once again why it is that I am not living down there. but up here in the countryside.

Its that time of the year where the weather is all opposite of how things normally are. Well, down here in Southern Spain any.

When I sit inside I can feel the chill from the thick stone walls that the sun doesn’t quite manage to warm up any more. I found a jumper that I wear when Im sitting still for a while, eg. in front of the computer:) The tiles floors contribute to the chill and Rubio is getting cold hands from crawling across the floor. He has got little slippers on and a jumper as well.

But then we go outside. And it is the other way around. The sun is so hot, I now literally have to undress (no…not undress like that..!) when we are going anywhere..

Yesterday we went for lunch in the next village on from ours and I honestly wish I had put a skirt on rather than my jeans. Rubio was wearing a body, a pair of trousers and lots of sun lotion and he was a bit too hot.
And here I am now in the house in the morning with a bloody fleece on and a blanket over my lgs like and old lady! That said I must admit we haven’t turned the heating on yet. Would be quite something if we could wait until the first of November to do that, a personal best I think (And hooray for the environment and our bills.).

But whether I want to or not, I think I have to wait until Thursday as that is when the Butanero (gas man) comes and I have just discovered that we are completely out. So even if I wanted to, I couldn’t turn on the heating.
So until then, it’s the old layering trick that will have to do.

I woke up with having the ears of a fluffy bunny rabbit dangled in my face. As my reaction wasn’t quite as the desired effect (I didn’t get out of bed and pick up el Rubio) he the proceeded to drop the bunny on my head, sit down and reach through the bars to retrieve it again, stand up and drop the bunny on my head again.

It was 6.45. I was tired, (that’s kinda a permanent thing now. The tiredness. I’m always tired and I consider 11 to be a late night.) but there really was no two ways about it, had to get up, because babies don’t care what day of the week it is.

Now he is sleeping his midday nap, I am sitting here by the computer looking at my favourite mountain.

Last summer I had the MOST unpleasant wakeup call every morning. Because of the heat we would sleep with open windows.  We live in the centre of a village with small streets, so you can pretty much hear all that goes on.
And every morning they come to collect the thrash. People hang it outside their doors on hooks, or on the metal bars covering their windows (got to get it off the ground so the cats and street dogs don’t find it and disperse of the full contents all over the street. I’ve tried it once, not funny. ).
My street is one of the first ones the bin men go to, so I would usually still be asleep when they got there. But not for long. Oh, no.
Because one of them was obviously smoking too much, cause my wakeup call was him coughing up phlegm EVERY morning.

Ever tried retching whilst still asleep? Not recommended. It was just so utterly disgusting, and not a very nice way to wake up.

I’ll take a bunny in the head and a full nappy any day over that. 

So tell me, how did you wake up this morning and in what country?
With breakfast in bed and a dirty look? (I think I’ll go for this one next time, if I had the choice)
Alarm clock as you had to go to work?
When a fly landed on your face and you found yourself still dressed on the sofa and some empty bottles to prove what you where up to last night?

As the little one is getting older and I have more work to do, we have started looking around for nurseries here in Spain. They are currently building a locally run one in the village, but I have no idea of when it will be ready. Not September gone as was the original plan, that’s for sure.

So the other day I drove on to a nearby village to have a look at their nursery. I knew other foreign mothers had used it, and they spoke well of it.

Well…I don’t quite know where to start. The nursery consisted of two rooms as well as a large bathroom and a kitchenette. A small outside area covered with that stuff they use on playgrounds so the children don’t hurt themselves when they fall. A few tractors and cars etc. but no trees, grass or bushes.

Inside there was a TV in the corner blaring out cartoons and quite a lot of kids in those two rooms, as the doors where closed to the outside.

One (1!) woman greeted me as I entered with El Rubio.

Me:”So I just wanted to have a look around as I need some childcare and this place has been recommended to me by some mothers in my village. Are you here all alone?”

Her:”No, no. The other woman is just out buying the bread” (Note how it is THE bread. One must always have bread here in Spain and everybody go out and buy it every day for their meals. So it’s not some bread, but THE bread.)

Me:”How many kids are there here?”

Her:”29 kids. We are open between 9.30 to 1.30 and at 11.30 they have their breakfast* and we go out to play.”

At this point I was ready to leave. Two adults and 29 children between 9 months and, I guess, 4 years old? Blimey, those kids must just love all the attention they will get. And what if they just want to sit alone in a corner and play? Not possible. And what happens if a child is really upset one day and wants to be on the arm or lap most of the time? Not possible.

A little girl of 10 months was very tired and wanted to sleep, so she got put in her pram in the middle of the noisy room. 4 older children surrounded her eager to to take part in everything. A bit daunting for a tired little baby.

Not wanting to show my true feelings about the place, I asked for their telephone number in case I wanted a place. I got it and the woman also showed me a piece of paper that she told me they hand out to the parents.

Her:”This is our suggestions for what food the parents should bring with them on a weekly basis so it doesn’t get too boring for the children”

Again, thanks to my superb acting skills I think I managed to suppress  my true feelings of disbelief and despair. I can’t remember all their suggestions, but Thursday was biscuits and juice and Friday was bread and chocolate. Is it any wonder the Spanish kids are getting fatter?

Anyway, I left and went for breakfast with Rubio before we headed back home. Next week I will be hitting the nursery trail again.

* Note: Breakfast in Spain is usually between 9.30-11 when people will have a half hour break, go to a cafe and have a coffee and some tostada (toast) . Which meanis you go to a shop, the bank or similar to see someone, you might be told they are out for breakfast and all you can then do is wait around for 30 min. or more…but that’s a completely different story

So here is a video from someone doing the cable car in Gibraltar. I must say I am not overly keen on Gibraltar, a bit of a shit hole really, but it is ok when the need for some English food overwhelms me as they have a big supermarket.Speaking of which, I could really do with a cream tea now, actually…Whoops, screwed up the video. Check back tomorrow and see if I have managed! DONE !!!

And I speak from bitter experience. Not being much of a cheese lover myself, I do love my cheese cake as it is, well, not very cheesy. I ordered a cheese cake in Las Alpujarras, Spain some years ago. It was made with goats cheese…
I almost vomited as the rank taste and smell of goat hit me.

Never go for the cheese cake whilst abroad!

That’s what he is my son, rubio.
Rubio means blond or fair in Spanish, so that’s what they all call him when they see him in the pushchair. He is now 9 months old and getting more and more interested in the world around him and all the people wanting to talk to him.  Because if there is one thing the Spanish like, it’s children. I never did realise HOW much until I had my son.

When I go for a walk I get loads of old people coming over to see him and tell me how sweet and beautiful he is. Even children and teenagers are really keen and positive, my son is going to grow up very spoilt with all that attention!

And then there is back home.
All three of us went back this summer for a holiday and to show of the boy wonder. And it felt really strange as he was practically invisible to everyone not family or friends. All of a sudden I also felt a lot more aware of him being noisy  and a bother to other people when we where out, something I don’t really think about here in Spain as you are never made to feel it’s a problem bringing your kids. Quite the contrary I would say.

Numerous times when I have been out with him I have had waitresses ask if they can pick him up and playing with him. One even danced around with him showing him all the coloured lights in the ceiling.
Once I took the elevator and shared it with a man who on the outset looked like a grumpy middle-aged guy only to see him turn into a baby blabbering chatty person.

It’s a shame really that it is not more like that at home. I don’t think I know a single person who wouldn’t appreciate strangers being this positive and involved in their babies and children. And it is a great conversation starter. I know so many more people where I live after I got “El Rubio”.

I have just created my first blog category all because of this story with the exclamation mark road sign. I was just looking around on the internet to see if I could find a suitable picture to go with the article, and I found this one.

How sweet is that?!

So I have created the category “Picture I came across” for just this purpose as I am hoping I will continue to come across some interesting photos.

Do point me in the right direction if you know any or have taken some yourself.

So I also found this one. I don’t quite know that to say about it. Maybe I could say that some people must have far too much spare time?

What thoughts went through the head of the creator of this piece of…um…art when he first got inspired?

Or maybe I just really don’t appreciate embroidery. I see it as something only elderly ladies might enjoy fiddling with (and this is really a motif I can imagine an old lady look at and go “Oh, golly. Look at that lovely little Bichon Frise (no it’s not a poodle) that would just look lovely on a pillow on my sofa ” )

If you like embroidery and you are NOT and elderly lady, please get in touch so I can get my stereotypes right.

Ok, so today it rained. Quite a bit admittedly, but not the torrential rain we had some weeks ago. And so it happens again, the same thing that always bloody happen when it rains…the power goes. That’s right, no power in the whole village. For about 4 hours (providing it stays on all night now) we have had nothing, nada.

So there I was again, this time trudging about in the dark with a whingy and tired baby on my arm, a cat and two dogs trying to obstruct my passage as I was trying to remember where the fuck I had put the candles the last time this happened. Because you see this is not a one off. I am getting quite experienced in these matters now as it happens almost every time we have something more than a bit of a drizzle.

And I find it bloody absurd, that for more than 4 years we have no power when it rains. And that is just the amount of time that I have lived in the village. I mean, come on, how difficult can it be? Just bloody fix it! Spain IS a part of the European union and it’s not and underdeveloped country (or so they will have us believe) and it IS the year 2007.

So come on, save me some bruises and general annoyance and DO something about it, because you know what? I am pretty sure it is going to rain again this year. And if I’m not mistaken next year as well. As it did last year. So by now it can hardly be s surprise every time it happens.

Ok, If you live anywhere near Málaga, you must be both deaf and dumb if you have not heard that IKEA is opening a store very soon.

And how we have been waiting for it! Beforehand the nearest store was in bloody Sevilla (or Seville to the ignorant…) , which is quite a few hours drive away. A drive that an amazing number of people from Málaga and around actually did, lured by the promise of cheap and nicely designed furniture in a monster store where you can find it all.

So when will this new place of worship open? On the 30.10.2007. I saw it myself as I drove past IT the other day. The building was plastered in massive posters displaying the date, and I felt a funny flutter in my belly when I looked at it. A feeling akin to being in love.

To ease (or fuel??) this general feeling of excitement building in the whole region, IKEA has handed out their catalogue to almost every household in the region of Málaga. Including my little village. I must have about 4 now. Some where left outside derelict houses, and I did think that one can never have too many IKEA catalogues which has come true since I have already given away 2 to some unfortunates who never got it.

But here we are. We have arrived at the point of my title for today’s blog posting. Yes, I have watched it, the sacrilege that is, here in the tiny, windy, village streets. I saw them lying there, some pages torn, all of the damaged and dirty. I saw several and thought to myself; how could anyone let this happen? Have people no sense of what is right and what is wrong? Because there they were, the poor discarded catalogues. In the streets like ordinary thrash, trampled on by ignorants unaware of their value.
I clutched my 4 copies closer to my heart and scurried on. As I fought to hold back the tears I murmured to myself “Bedrooms page 120, kitchens page 92, textiles 246…”

And no we are not talking about obscene gestures with the hand, ladies and gentlemen, we are talking road signs here in Spain. My favourite sign is very simple. It’s an exclamation mark.

So what might that mean? Well, that’s the thing, you just never bloody know! I came across one again today driving on a small windy road. There is was, exclaiming that I take notice, but never bothering to let me know what to take notice of. As I continued past the sign I was on full alert; what might I expect?

Cows on the road? Potholes? Road work? Trucks pulling out? But to tell you the truth I never did find out. I have no idea what they were trying to warn me about.

I kinda feel sorry for the poor sign. Here it is, proudly displaying its message, really making an effort to make us take notice of something and it gets so utterly let down by the absence of other signs. Other signs to explain the full meaning of whatever incident is taking place on the road. But no, it is fighting a lonely battle, the exclamation mark, it is standing at the forefront with no backup whatsoever and is therefor bound to be a failure.

What was that? I need to get out more? My imagination is getting the better of me?

You just might be right.

Do you know what a Spanish Feria is?

You probably think women dressed in colour full flamenco dresses, men playing guitars, clapping of hands and dancing, fine wine and fine horses. Well, you are right and you are wrong. It is all those things and a lot more.

First of all it’s noise and lots of it. The first feria I attended in a small village here in Spain had two bands playing back to back all night. So one band would play for about 2 hours, a medley of cover versions of latest hits as well as some old classics to get the older generation going. Then the other band would come on and…guess what…do exactly the same! So after a few hours you would be brainwashed after listening to the same songs over and over again. By a bunch of tartly dressed women and some cheesy guys with far too much grease in their hair.

And they didn’t stop until 7 the next morning, the poor sods.

What else is Feria in a small village? Its ferris wheels, bumper cars and candy floss. Macho men riding their horses. Horses they don’t normally care to exercise, but kept to keep their Feria pride of being real men and be able to parade around on a stallion, however rarely they ride it.

But for a lot of people in the pueblos, the town feria is a chance to come back and see family and catch up with old friends, wherever they have gone in the world. Which might be the bit I am lacking to truly enjoy the feria.

So…what is this going to be about? Well, I live in a small village in Spain, so mostly about my daily life here and other things I might observe.

Sometimes I really cannot believe that I have lived here in Spain for more than 6 years as time has flown by. And I can’t see it slowing down as I now have a baby. A baby who will probably grow up feeling Spanish more that anything? Kinda strange. And in a few years time he will be correcting me when I don’t it right in Spanish unless I really make an effort to become completely fluent.

I am hoping to get some feedback from you readers. It is always a bit more interesting when a  dialogue gets going, so please feel more than welcome to leave a comment or a question to me.

For some reason I have just realised that I never got to go to the beach to go swimming this year. I mean, it’s usually packed in August when most Spanish take their summer holiday, so that is not the time to go, but didn’t go at all.
Next year El Rubio will be bigger, so we will definitely be there building castles in the sand and digging for the sake of digging.