It’s always the hardest month, isn’t it? Darkness and greyness and lots of rain. Except this year, we had a heatwave. It was 25 degrees here last week, which is ridiculous. We haven’t had rain for weeks and weeks. It’s getting worse. This whole area needs rain, badly.
Anyway, so we’re trying to get a new kitchen built after knocking down some walls to make more room for us. And, no, I am not going to do it. I have a residual fear of knocking a wall down and the upstairs bathroom coming down with it. There are some things that you simply have to leave to professionals.
Finding a builder around here who doesn’t think you’re an imbecile because your Spanish is terrible and who doesn’t think that all Brits are absolutely minted is not easy. But we think we have found one thanks to one of my colleagues so we shall see.
We did initially ask the very local builder from Fuente Tojar but after he completely ignored our wish to have a new wall built in the garden, completely ignored our request for a quote for the kitchen work and, crucially, treated our friend Jan appallingly on her building work, I think we will say no to him.
It’s not only reliable Spanish builders that are hard to find. When we first arrived we were recommended a British bloke from somewhere else around here. He turned up and quoted us a ridiculous amount of money for rebuilding a wall. Like many dodgy bastards, he assumed that we were imbeciles and that as we had just arrived, we would be easy prey. I didn’t tell him to do one in a rude way but part of me wishes I had.
So, some good news. I am coaching again, once a week to girls from the village. I have eight of them willing to trust a foreigner and they are very enthusiastic. Their enthusiasm is greater than their abilities but that’s a good thing since they will see themselves improve over the next few months.
I’ve never coached in a foreign language before so it’s a bit of a challenge sometimes. But the person in charge of the sports centre here has excellent English. And a degree in psychology, which I feel he is not making the most of. Still, I’m really grateful for his help.
Work for me is unchallenging and I don’t like that. The kids are really nice and they get the sarcasm and like the interesting lessons but I do miss the full school and classroom vibe. I do crave a return to a normal school life. For Sonalee the job is challenging and frustrating sometimes. She feels that she is making a difference but I think she wants to make the changes in procedures and attitudes quicker. She will get there.
One of the more interesting part of my job is talking to my students about their lives here and their expectations. They’re quite young, aged 10 to 12 and they are very very rural in their outlook. Many of them love playing football but many of them are also Real Madrid fans. I try to be nice about it.
Today we’re looking at a topic about transport and I asked them how many had been on a ferry – one. Then I asked them how many had been on or in a tractor – all of them. I admitted that I had never been in one and they gave me one of those looks that you reserve for when you’re torn between pity and incredulity.
We always do a talking session on ‘what we did on the weekend’ and quite a few of them have told me that they were taken out to the countryside to some barn and watched a pig being slaughtered. Look, this is where your meat comes from is the lesson for them. It’s really normal here. Not bloody normal in South Bristol or London. In fact I remember asking some London kids where bacon came from and the answer was always a variation on “The supermarket”.
Quite a few of them are also taken out to pick olives in the campo. Many families have small plots that have been in the family for generations. I guess it connects them with the land and their heritage because there’s not a huge amount of money it.
There was something similar in Morocco where a sheep or maybe a goat, I can’t remember exactly, is slaughtered for Eid or something similar. Anyway, it’s a big thing there. The whole family gathers around the poor creature about to be killed and everyone knows where their meat comes from and what it takes to make it.
It’s a good thing that these lessons are being taught to children. It makes sense that this is done. Better that than, “Yeah, Tescos make it and they put it in different packets”.
But enough of the Earthy ways of the rural population around here.
We had a sad goodbye the other week when Craig and Jane left the village. They had a holiday home here after initially trying to find a life here for quite a few years. They have two kids who are grown up and who aren’t that bothered about spending the summer here so they decided to sell up.
They were the first people we met in 2018 when we first arrived. We heard their English words whilst wandering the new streets of this metropolis (Pop. 750) and immediately started talking. We’ve met many times during their visits from their home in Stoke-on-Trent, the birthplace of my dad’s family. There are many things said of Stoke-on-Trent but they used to make some incredible pottery, some of which is in an art gallery exhibition in Salamanca here in Spain.
I digress.
They’re nice people with nice kids. It is a bit strange to think we won’t be seeing them for quite a while at least.
The Heatwave has pretty much scuppered or at least made me question my desire to go snowboarding this year down in the Sierra Nevada. The snow has melted with little left and a busy patch of snow is not the place for an aged clumsy snowboarder. The dogs are loving the dry campo with Luna still teaching the others how to be rural Andalusian dogs rather than pampered city hounds.
The lemon tree has outdone itself this year. I’ve given bags and bags of lemons to unsuspecting neighbours, friends, slightly startled migrant workers and colleagues and there are still about 200 left on the tree. I still haven’t cut off a limb with the chainsaw, which is a good thing. And I still miss Sonalee during the week as she takes off on her career dream. The weekends are nice up until the point where we know one of us has to go back.
Sturgeon’s Law says that 90% of everything is really crap. I know what he means but it’s not that at the moment, far from it. And on Monday morning the Churros Man will visit Fuente Tojar and it will seem even farther from it.
Ayubowan
Hasta Luego, inshallah
Ciao
Paul
PS. Seen them live a few times and they were just brilliant each time. It’s hard to choose a favourite or two but…