De Perros y Limones

Esto Es Un Horno – It’s like an oven.

So, we’ve had a heatwave hit us for the past three days – one more to go.  The temperatures have been in the mid 40’s and the night time ones have been in the high twenties.  The dogs have suffered, the cat has suffered just as much and I think Sonalee and I have managed to deal with it  fairly well. 

Last Exit from Fuente Tojar

The trick in these circumstances is to do nothing.  Literally nothing at all during  the day.  You can’t.  The energy it takes to stay cool in the house takes it out of you before you even start to think about doing anything physical.    The downstairs of the house is cave-like and fairly cool given the temperatures outside but the upstairs is a bit of a no-go area for us unless we have the fan on maximum and/or the air-con in the junk room – quite why air-con was put in there we have no idea. 

We tried to get Sparky the Cat into the junk room with the air-con but he got pissy about it and preferred to take his chances with the searing heat from the terrace and the slightly (but not much) cooler air in the bedroom.   He’s a very affectionate cat but, boy, when he gets pissy he gets really pissy.  We’ve introduced him to Bindi, who loved Tango so much, and I think it is safe to say he was not enamoured of her.  Poor Bindi, she wanted to be friends with him. 

We knew it would like this when we came back from our holiday up north but it is still a major shock to the system when the gauge goes over 40.  And we’re kind of used to doing nothing during these times.  We read, we watch a lot of tv – the Olympics were amazing – we discuss our plans and our memories of the recent and far past, we drink a lot of water, we sweat a lot and we moan about the weather to everyone we meet because that is what you do.

One of the first things to reflect upon when we returned to Fuente Tojar was the water situation, or lack of water situation.  I was handed a letter from our village government, in English, that tried to explain what had happened in our week’s absence and to try to absolve our mayor of any responsibility for it whatsoever.  The letter was unremarkable but what was interesting was that the government here had even bothered to translate it into English for us, albeit through Google Translate which always throws up something to laugh at.  This would have been unheard of even three years ago when we arrived.  The significance of it, I feel, is that the mayor and her lackeys have finally come to recognise that the extranjeros (foreigners) are here to stay and that they will be a part of village life for many years to come.  It is a welcome step.

Sonalee and I have also been discussing whether we should become an Instagram Sensation.  Neither of us have the app but we were inspired by a curious incident whilst in the town of Peniscola with my god-daughter and her family one evening.  As we were sat there eating and drinking overlooking the picturesque Mediterranean from just outside the charming medieval castle, we noticed the ‘Instagram Family’ of mum and dad, two young daughters and one young son all dressed in pastel colours that complemented each other so perfectly.   They waited patiently for about twenty minutes for a couple who were sat eating ice cream on a particularly appealing part of the castle wall and then moved in en-masse to make sure they could have the perfect picture of the smiling family looking amazing.  The whole manoeuvre from seeing the other couple get up from the wall to incredibly beautiful, happy, smiling widely family photo scene probably took about 10 seconds; this was not the first time they had done this. 

As soon as the picture was taken they all moved away so that they could all look at the photos that had been taken by some poor woman who was destined never to share their online glory. This was when the kids reverted back to being annoying and loud little shits, dad started moaning about going somewhere else to get a photo and mum scrolled through selecting the best ones to use later on.  They then buggered off to the next photo op. 

To be honest, we were all a bit stunned.  People do this?  This is a thing?  People deliberately dress in shades of complementary pastels just to get that Instagram photo  to get the likes and the followers?  They get their kids to join in this facile madness?

Well, yes, they do.  This is how some people live their lives.  We’re not stuck in the dark ages, we know of things called influencers but it was the first time we had seen anything of the practices of these people. 

Safe to say that Sonalee have considered this and dismissed it out of hand for us and our pack of mutts.  Fuente Tojar is not the magnificent setting to inspire such devotion of millions of followers to make a successful online living from. 

The previous week saw ‘Youth Entertainment Week’ here in our village plaza.  We only caught two nights, the first one a dance troupe of amateur enthusiasts from a nearby town who regaled us with some memorable numbers.  One particularly affecting act included the portly middle aged bloke wearing the tightest trousers and shirt possible lifting up his equally portly partner during one number that the whole audience gasped at – maybe in awe that neither ended up in hospital, who knows?  There were also two young ladies doing some sort of raunchy number that had some in the audience tutting and one very old man doing the paso doble with the hugest grin on his face.

The other evening entailed another group of enthusiasts doing a Zumba workout for a couple of hours.   No, we don’t know why either. 

Still, it’s free.  As was the Night Walk scheduled for last Friday.   We turned up ready for a five hour walk only to be given even more food and water from the organisers and made our way up the Roman ruins to be met by an Andalusian Astronomy Group who had set up their telescopes for us to look through.  It was pretty cool to see the Moon so up close and to see the stars so clear in the night sky.  This bit of it took hours  – when the Spanish discuss things in detail it is never going to be brief – so we ended up just coming home because we couldn’t face a further three hour walk in the dark in 32 degree heat but really did want a cold gin and tonic – with ice of course. 

Arty Shot

These events are not Earth-shatteringly amazing but they are an attempt to keep the village alive and to get people to come to the village to spend their money – the plaza was packed.  And they’re fun as long as you don’t take it too seriously.  They are a way to link the community that live here and, maybe, a defiant message that this village is still going, it is still vibrant and it will not decline easily.  We’re glad that we were here to see it, it was fun. 

But now we must prepare.  We have one week left until we pack our van with what we think we will need for a spell in another foreign country.  We have to eat the contents of the fridge and freezer; make sure we take the rubbish out;  argue over what is deemed ‘necessary’ – we’re still debating the dishwasher situation – ; try to figure out how to get the bloody cat into his basket without him ripping our faces off; argue about what food to take; debate about how many Pompey shirts I should take; worry that we haven’t packed enough chargers; turn the water and the leccy off and set off to Cordoba in 37 degree heat in a Citroen Berlingo containing four apprehensive dogs and a seriously pissed off cat.   

Sonalee has found us a farm to live on for four weeks whilst we try to find something more long term.  Finding accommodation in the middle of a major European capital city that will accept four dogs isn’t exactly easy but you know Sonalee; if there’s a problem to solve then she’ll solve it.  The only problem we face in getting there and settling in is that we have an appointment in Cordoba with the Immigration Department to collect our new resident cards on the day before I am due to start work.  If we miss our time slot we have no idea of when, in the next year, we would be able to get another one so we really need to make sure we can make it. 

So we are going to park up in Cordoba with our life contained in our van, take four confused dogs and a pissy cat in his basket, rock up to the police station in 38 degree heat whilst we take turns going in to collect our precious cards as the other one waits outside with said pack of animals.  Then we’re going to drive for six hours to a city, indeed a country, that we’ve never been to before to unload our life into yet another strange house,  meeting people who speak a language we have no idea about – we’re learning it slowly but it’s just a crazy lingo to get to grips with – and the next morning I am going to work at a place I’ve never seen to do some staff orientation with people I’ve never met.

What could possibly go wrong? 

  • Jaen. Capital of Jaen Province. Built a tram system that operated for one day until it ran out of money. Corruption charges abound.

Are we really doing this?  Are we really relocating to another country again?  Are we really doing all of that bureaucratic nonsense like getting more residence visas, work permits (by the way, thanks to anyone who voted Brexit for making our lives even more complicated)?  Why are we doing this?  It’s not like the pay at the school is amazing.  It isn’t like the school is doing everything for us before we start.  It isn’t like there are tons of extras and benefits like rent included in the job.

Nope.  This school is in Europe and international schools in Europe do not do all of those things that schools in Asia and Africa do for you.  You are on your own and you have to get it done.  This is just how it is.  The school have been helpful but only European Helpful.  Mark and Shanthini have been those friends that gently guide you towards where you should be thinking when you relocate and their advice on the buying of Heinz Baked Beans has been particularly important to us amongst the other minor stuff like legal documents, ideal locations, pitfalls, unexpected customs and the like.   

We’re doing it because Mark recommended me for the job; because he and his wife recommended Lisbon to us; because it is pretty much the only position offered to either of us in a difficult year for new teaching positions; because it is only 7 hours away; because Sonalee deserves a year off and because I want to see if I can get away with blagging being a good teacher for another year.

And because, as Kenneth Grahame implored in Wind in the Willows, it is important to “Take the Adventure, heed the call, now ere the irrevocable moment passes! ‘Tis but a banging of the door behind you, a blithesome step forward, and you are out of the old life and into the new!”

Hasta Luego, inshallah

Ayubowan

Night Walk

Paul

PS: Manu Chao sings in Portuguese so he is a tenuous link but always a good one. I mean, it’s Manu Chao, what more do you want?

PPS: Bibi is doing really well in her new home up the road and has, apparently, become quite bossy. To say that Sonalee is delighted would be a huge understatement.

Paul

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