So, you know that thing that I said that Sonalee and I would never do – twice – ever again? Well, we’re doing it.
Yep, Sonalee and I are living apart again. It’s a bit shit, if we’re honest. But it has to be.
Sonalee has found her dream job of DP Co-ordinator at a school and has been given the role that she has craved ever since we left Sri Lanka. A DP co-ordinator is kind of like the head of A levels (if that were such a job). She is in charge of ensuring that the school provides the correct programmes so that their students can graduate from school with the International Baccalaureate (the IB). The IB has become a very popular alternative to A levels ever since Brexit because forrin universities recognise it as being more ‘worldly’ and has more transferable skills.
Brexit has meant that many universities in Europe will no longer be able, by law, to recognise A levels as a legitimate qualification – they simply don’t accept qualifications that are from a 3rd country without some kind of political agreement. Therefore if you want your kid to be fluent in English and have a qualification acceptable to any EU university, you should do the IB at your private school.
Anyway. So, one Thursday, Sonalee was perusing various schools in the region with the idea that she would advertise herself as a tutor of English when, totally randomly, she saw an advert for a DP co-ordinator. She emailed them on Friday. She interviewed on the Monday and got the job on the Tuesday.
By Friday she had gotten herself a place to live in and by the following Monday had found the car that she would need.
Sonalee has found her dream job an hour and half up the road in Cordoba.
It’s bonkers. Really bonkers. We had been discussing where we could possibly move to so that she could realise her ambition and we had seriously mentioned China, India and Africa as places that we needed to go to. With all of the hassles that it entails.
And then, bang, she gets her job and hour and a bit away.
I have no words really.
She’s a short drive away. It will mean weekends together as we swap locations. The house that she is renting is a semi-rural place just outside of Cordoba and good for the dogs. And the cats. The cats are living with her as I live with the dogs here in Fuente Tojar. Not all of the cats at the moment. Seeni, the little sod, has disappeared and is causing Sonalee much pain as she starts her new role. We hope the poster campaign where she lives might get him returned.
Bloody cats. They break your heart.
Midweeks are a bit crap. But Sonalee gets to come home every other week to inspect the house and explain in detailed terms where I have been going wrong. She’s really good at it. I didn’t realise just how often I was not doing it right. I mean, who would? The dogs are a bit confused, again, but they’re okay as long as they get fed and can go out hunting rabbits during the week.
I am so happy for Sonalee. She’s longed for this opportunity as a professional. She’s been passed over for so many other similar roles and it has pissed her off. I know I am biased but I know she’s going to be absolutely brilliant in what she is doing. She has an enthusiasm for the IB that is lacking in other IB co-ordinators that I have worked with. And she really knows her stuff. She is, without doubt, the most qualified DP co-ordinator that I know.
So, it looks like we will be in Cordoba for the foreseeable future. Instead of Shanghai or Delhi or Cairo.
This is no bad thing. Cordoba is the 22nd largest city by size in Spain. It is the old capital of Moorish Spain. It is the region that held the battles between Pompey and Julias Caesar. It has the most magnificent Mosque in all of Europe, a truly stunning building. It has history that most Spanish cities can only dream of. It has two half-decent curry houses.
It was a city that opposed Franco and was severely punished by him after his victory. Upon the first election after his death, they voted in a communist city government. They didn’t forget.
That said, there is a lot of old money there – landowners passing it on down through the generations. You can see this in some of the houses and apartments around the city. And it’s the reason why Sonalee’s new school exists of course.
Cordoba also has the most bizarre traffic systems. Roundabouts are a nightmare as are bus lanes that turn into non-bus lanes and then revert back again without warning. The traffic light system is just a stunning example of how to confuse anyone and everyone at the same time.
And so it looks like our aim to corner the world market in online tutoring has gone up in smoke. Out of nowhere, our plans for the year are upended, but in a good way.
Plus it means that Sonalee now has her dream husband (ahem), her dream house and her dream job. That’s not bad.
I’ve started my part-time job in the local town. I’m teaching English to students who need to pass what is known as the B1. It’s a minimum requirement for many courses at many universities and schools aren’t great at teaching much in that regard. It’s aimed at 16/17 year olds in the main but I’m teaching it to 12 year olds. It’s not that easy. Nice kids in the main though.
I had signed the contract before Sonalee got her job and it wouldn’t sit right with either of us if I abandoned it. Besides, our home needs a lot of TLC and I can do that in my enthusiastic if limited way if I’m here all week.
Elsewhere, football continues to dominate the news here with the shambles of the treatment of the women’s triumphant national team. It has been quite staggering how the Spanish FA really haven’t read the room at all. The best bit out of the saga was the mother of the official concerned going on hunger strike.
If you’ve lived in Sri Lanka you’ll be used to various dodgy politicians promising to ‘Fast unto Death’ when they’re caught out doing something dodgy – unfortunately for Sri Lanka they never go the distance. A hunger strike in Spain, however, is a new one.
The Spanish love their food. It’s one of the central planks of their culture. Missing even one meal is an anathema to many Spaniards, a horror not to even be contemplated. A hunger strike! Wow!
Predictably, it lasted two days. Even that has been seen as a superb effort by many. She was all over the news for her achievement. What to do?
Life in the village has quietened down now that schools have opened and vacations are finally over. The last of the visitors who own places here have gone back to their main life in the various cities of Spain and the village feels a little empty for it.
And the house seems empty without Sonalee in it. It’s a big house, true, something you don’t appreciate it until you attempt to dust and hoover it. But things are out of place. Things don’t quite seem to be right as I look around. It’s a weird feeling.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to be a month ago. What to do?
Hasta luego, inshallah
Ayubowan
Ciao
Paul
PS Random but always great. Been listening to them a lot in the car.