tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73873356022786214152024-02-07T14:50:01.409-08:00Life according to the Engelas in MadridMichele http://www.blogger.com/profile/05383983437271005160noreply@blogger.comBlogger28125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7387335602278621415.post-89368960463642622332013-01-12T09:39:00.001-08:002013-01-12T09:39:27.382-08:00Second Christmas in Madrid<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">So,
we decided that since our first European Christmas failed to deliver a much
anticipated “white” Christmas, that as true Southern Hempisherians, we require
sun. A lot of sun. Otherwise we get grumpy, annoyed, irritated and generally
peeved off with everything and everyone...wait, I did say “we” and not “I”
right?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">In
any event, we therefore jumped on a plane, clad in arctic wear (referred to as
winter clothes here, however, I always seem to look like the Michelin man) and
before we could click our heels, we arrived in sunny paradise, or as the locals
call it, Gran Canaria. Now, for those who do not live in the northern hemisphere,
winter is what I would call Chinese torture. It is long, just sufficient enough
to drive you crazy beyond belief, and right when you think you cannot deal with
it any more...it gets worse. So in order for sanity to prevail, the logical
answer was GET SUN.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Two
weeks of exquisite weather, long sunny days, beautiful countryside, walks along
the beach, driving insanely curvy roads along cliffs and on top of mountains, taking ferries and establishing that I am the worst travelling partner in the world, I suffer from severe motion sickness, spending
time trying to turn a less horrendous shade of luminous white, friendly people,
tasty food and drinks with umbrellas ensued...what bliss. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Not only could almost
every <i>Canario</i> (local person living in
the Canary Islands) speak English (what a relief, sometimes you just run out of
Spanish words!), we could enjoy some international activities which we are
unable to get in Madrid. Stop laughing, I am not talking about
crazy things like the Russians putting people in enormous plastic balls and pushing
them off cliffs, I am talking about being able to enjoy an English breakfast
whenever you want. And drinking Appletizer like water. And buying any English
magazine you can think of without having to commute into town to get it. And
being able to choose between Spanish food and other food, not that I dislike
Spanish food, but it is nice to have a variety of choices. Did I mention
Appletizer? Yes I admit I am a fan.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">My
fondest memory? There are so many... in northern Gran Canaria we visited a
small town called Teror, and we had the pleasure of being served by a woman
who, as soon as she heard we could speak some Spanish, proceeded to not only
order our food for us (all traditional dishes like <i>pappas con mago</i>, <i>ropa de viejo</i>
and the like) but also to dish up for us all whilst singing “Feliz Navidad”.
Without her bottom teeth. As we were leaving, she told us that Christmas 2012
was the first year she was spending without her brother who had died the previous
year around the same time, and she had, that morning, gone to put flowers on
his grave, and as such, she was very low, however, meeting us and talking to us
had made her happy. It could be sales talk, however, she made that day
memorable for us.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">In
Tenerife, we for the first time ever saw (and spent time on) volcanic sand
beaches. Yes, we were the tourists who took thousands of photos and are now
disgusted we did not take more photos.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">We
were also lucky enough to have the most exquisite views from where we stayed,
which we loved since our urban jungle view can drive you too drink, and we
spent many a hour sipping Ron Miel (rum with honey, trust me, another great
Spanish invention) and gazing at the sunsets.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">And
as such, we are back in Madrid, planning many more such trips in the future.
And as 2013 kicked off with a bang, here are our two cents worth: give it horns
and enjoy the ride this year!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Michele http://www.blogger.com/profile/05383983437271005160noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7387335602278621415.post-35328775233260245302012-09-13T13:34:00.001-07:002012-09-13T22:47:38.725-07:00Where can I buy my licence?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">And
so, the time has come for another blog about the adventures of the Engelas.
This blog actually amplifies an earlier blog about our drivers’ licenses which
are not recognized in this country. Don't ask me why, I cannot explain, however
I can tell you that these EU drivers’ licenses are more difficult to get that a
passport. So the aim of this blog is to warn unsuspecting foreigners to think
very carefully before you jump on the next plane out of your own country, you
will be surprised about the things you have to do just to live in another
country, and learning a possible third language is the least of your problems.
Also, the trials and tribulations this has caused in casa Engela has had the
red dogs hiding in their bedroom.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">The male
Engela has been extremely pro-active (possibly because I was lighting a fire
under his butt everyday) and has actually obtained his license.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">He and
I both attended mandatory classes (which reminded me of university, I actually
fell asleep). Then after some great confusion, we realized that we actually
could not go for our licenses, since our residency cards had expired. This in
plain English means that when your card expires, the Government issues you with
bobbly gook paper work to say your new card is coming, which everyone
recognizes, expect the Traffic department. Words still fail me, I mean surely
these official departments work together? Apparently not. So the wait for our
cards began. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">About
two months ago, my sweet beloved received his residency card. And so, he went
off for a "medical exam" (in Spanish) to determine that he is fit to
drive. Since his Spanish is about as good as their English, the examination was
about 5 minutes and apparently he is fit to drive. I do have a couple of questions,
for example, should they not do an eye test? Apparently not.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">So,
the next step (and by step I mean a hurdle with a capital H)... writing the
theory exam. Well, theoretically the theory exam should be easy. Not so. The
theory book has been translated from Spanish to English by I think someone who
speaks Hungarian. So some of the explanations make no sense at all and seem to
relate to parking a donkey on the moon. Of course the male (read
"nerd") Engela decided to study the book. Again, in theory, good
idea, however, the questions about the book refers to the answers in the
Spanish book. Which we don't have. By this time I was losing my patience with
my sweetheart husband, so we rationally discussed the problem he was
experiencing with the literary phenomenon entitled "How to Drive" and
eventually, after what seemed like an eternity, the male Engela agreed to
rather do online tests. This plan (MY plan) worked very well, and he passed
with flying colours. It could also be due to the fact that there appears to
only be about 30 English tests. But, nevertheless, one hurdle was over.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">So of
course we then faced The Driving Test. This caused further disruption in the
Engela household, since the lucky he is still alive husband of mine was
convinced he was going to fail. Mostly this was due to the terrible stories we
have heard about people who go for their test 3 or 4 times, and the fact that
the test is in Spanish. After further serious and calm discussions, we drove to
the test area and practiced driving round and round and round the test grounds
and surrounding area, trying to spot potential hazards, tricks and anything
that could possibly cause him to fail, you know, like flying monkeys disco
dancing across pedestrian crossings. Of course on the way back we nearly got
arrested because my darling other half tried to take a short cut across a
double white line and was stopped by the Guardia Civil (the descendants of the
Spanish Inquisition). Now, I have to place on record that I have many,
many times told the male Engela not to do that, only to have him shake his head
and laugh like a crazy madman at me. HA the joke was on him. However, our lack
of Spanish suddenly got 30000 times worse, and we were luckily let off with a
warning.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">So it
was early Christmas in our house on Thursday, since on his first attempt, my
darling better half passed the driving test. Joy to casa Engela.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">In
conclusion, I have a couple of thoughts. Firstly, the logic of recognizing
Algerian driver's licenses still fails me. Yes they were a colony thousands of
years ago but really, have the Traffic department seen Algeria? You may as well
acknowledge sleigh riding in Alaska as a legitimate driver’s license in Spain.
Secondly, the idea of me now going through the same torturous procedure fills
me with horror and heart palpitations, and as such, I shall keep my blogging
mouth shut about this topic until that damn EU driver’s license is in my grubby
little hands.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Michele http://www.blogger.com/profile/05383983437271005160noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7387335602278621415.post-15588770328606989442012-07-30T13:01:00.006-07:002012-07-30T13:01:59.519-07:00More crazy adventures with the red dogs…<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Since
summer has struck with a vengeance in our part of the world, the red dogs and I
have to go walking at the crack of dawn; otherwise all three of us would die of
heat stroke, or spontaneously com-bust, whichever comes first.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">This
however means that the red dogs now expect to be taken out every morning early,
and I cannot even move in bed without them trying to jump on top of me. Not a
pretty sight for my white bedding, or my heart or health. So usually our walks start
with jumping up and down (the dogs) and me swearing a blue streak and grumbling
at them. For the record, future visitors may want to stay in their room during
this time. I think I am at that time very close kin to Cruella de Ville.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">We
have, luckily, found some paths where we can take the dogs of leash and they
can run like crazy chickens everywhere. However, this has led to some seriously
unexpected behaviour by the red dogs. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Alex
has suddenly developed the habit that as soon as she is off leash, she refuses
to walk in close proximity to me, Cleo or the road we are on – she walks / runs
/ causes shit about fifteen meters into the field, parallel with me. This
continues for the whole walk. Furthermore, she now has started chasing birds
and rabbits. Now normally its fine, since she has next to zero chance of
catching either (she is still a bit slow and too big to hide behind the corn
and bushes), however a couple of weeks ago she did in fact catch a very small
rabbit. I am not sure how the heck this happened, I suspect the poor rabbit got
stuck in a bush, could not get out and got such a fright its heart gave in when
it saw Alex reaching in to smell. The one second she was running, disappeared
and the next she appeared with a rabbit in her mouth. Of course I don’t want to
react, but hello, one cannot walk with a dog which has a rabbit in its mouth. I
don’t also don’t want to acknowledge the presence of the rabbit; it could be
considered as praise and I don’t want my dog to be a hunter! This then caused
me to having to pry her jaws open to let go, and let me tell you, she is damn
strong. I am sure I was not a pretty sight, talking softly to Alex whilst
basically pushing her to the ground, trapping her, getting the rabbit out and
still keeping an eye on where Cleo was. (Yes, I do sometimes envy people with
smaller dogs who can fit in handbags. I am sure you have beautiful long painted
nails, and I am sure your dogs don’t try to catch rabbits nor do you ever have
to be stuck on the ground with your knees on your dog trying to get a dead
animal out of its jaws) As such, we now avoid that area where the rabbits
cannot get away, if all else fails I am a believer in a fair fight, at least.
Furthermore, I now tend to, if I see her head go down to smell, shout at her to
stop whatever she is doing, since who knows what the heck she is up to. Second
note for future visitors: I could be seen to be a fishwife on these walks. I
suggest, still, that you stay in the safety of your own room. Also, I still
feel so guilty about the poor rabbit. I am now 1000 % sure I can never ever
hunt.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Cleo
on the other hand has turned into a watcher. Unless the rabbit runs and stops
right in front of her, she will not run after it. I think she is quite clever, since
obviously the rabbits are faster. She does however plonk herself down on every
hill to keep an eye on the fields…you never know if someone wants to bring her
food or pet her which you are of course born to do. She further has a nasty
habit of walking on my little path, right on front of me, and stopping wherever
she pleases to glare at things. This normally would not bother me, but some of
the little paths are next to a cliff or huge bushes full of thorns. So Cleo
does get a “soft” butt kick every now and again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">So,
since living in Spain, the red dogs’ horizons have broadened somewhat, but for
the record I would sometimes like to lie in just for a bit. Please!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>Michele http://www.blogger.com/profile/05383983437271005160noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7387335602278621415.post-35976119757351668672012-07-14T11:26:00.002-07:002012-07-14T11:52:51.001-07:00Dentist Smentist ... easy peasy? Maybe...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">So
after pondering what feels like a life time (which in reality was only really
about one year, which, I am sure most people will agree is nothing), I decided
I have no choice but to visit the dentist. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Mostly this was due to the fact that
I was developing facial spasm due to only drinking and chewing on the left hand
side of my face, since I had pinching pains on the right hand side.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Now,
firstly, I have an ungodly fear of dentists. I think wearing braces for a
million years have something to do with it. Secondly, how the hell do I speak
to a dentist in Spanish? The amount of vocabulary required is just beyond my
brain. Yes, normally easy tasks such as making an appointment with a dentist,
and having treatment, would not set your heart pacing. Try doing it in a
language you are not comfortable with.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">After
some searching and a rather interesting experience with a dentist who did some
whitening of my teeth (I recall photos being taken whilst I was lying on the chair, with cotton wool stuffed in my mouth and ultra violet lights shining on my teeth which he only later asked if that was ok - hello creep), I eventually e-mailed a dentist close to our house. Now
most people will think this is insane. Normally I will agree, why don’t I just
phone? I’ll tell you why. I turn into a stumbling idiot who cannot even say
hello never mind ask for an appointment. As such, I prepare this e-mail, check
my iffy translation and send it off into the sunset, not knowing what to
expect. To my utmost surprise, I received a reply. This is one thing I can say
about this country, I always receive e-mail replies. It never seizes to amaze
me. After some backwards and forwarding, I eventually get an appointment.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">And
so my panic levels start increasing. I attempt to study vocabulary, learn
phrases, memorise how to say “you’re hurting me”. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">However,
to my utmost surprise, the day before my appointment, I got an e-mail from the
dental clinic – one of the owners speaks English and he will treat me. What a
relief! We had some confusion when he told me he did not need to inject me because
the hole was too deep. I had a heart attack then, of course. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">This
experience has given me enough courage to venture into the arena of going on my
own for a haircut, without a willing friend in tow to translate for me. And to
my utmost surprise, the salon had one senior Bulgarian hairdresser who actually
spoke English. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">To
say that I feel empowered is an understatement!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">But
other than that, I learned a very important lesson. The people of this country
will always try to assist and help you. All you need to do is try. If that
fails, ensure you have Google translate.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
</div>Michele http://www.blogger.com/profile/05383983437271005160noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7387335602278621415.post-58124339272528927502012-06-04T14:31:00.001-07:002012-06-04T14:32:06.424-07:00Fiesta in our sleepy village<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">We
live in a village that for all intents and purposes can be defined as “sleepy”.
Yes it’s quiet (such a thing is possible in busy Madrid) and for at least three
months a year, the entire village stops working at two in the afternoon.
However, once a year, our village has a local festival, where this sleepy
village turns into a carnival hell, or heaven, depending on your point of view.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">This
past week during our morning meanders, the red dogs and I spotted
trucks loaded with tents and strange looking carnival rides being installed
being set up in an open filed area close to our house. Glaring at these
strangers and strange things suspiciously (I, because I can spot noise a mile
away, the red dogs obviously because they don’t know what carnival people taste
like). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">As
such, last Friday night, our village was invaded by the most visitors that have
been here, probably since the festival last year. We had no alternative but to
investigate the festivities, and I must admit, I don’t think I have ever seen
anything quite like it – the rides, the blinking shining lights, the smell of
fast food Spanish style, and the noise…I don’t know enough English adjectives
(or Afrikaans or Spanish ones for that matter) to describe the experience. I
think to state that it is similar to a Carnival which we knew as children, on steroids,
with rides for adults is probably the only way in which I can describe it,
however, it has some Spanish twists, for example, I did not know that music
can be at that volume. And they complain about vuvuzelas? Secondly,
I have never seen bull rides quite like this. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw1OPju13QzKC_m8Biv6wy4YQVHxlTYazvG_lFnuOaWHBPBdOZpIRGH9vf2MIioAvbMTcer-k-j-lRHIbc46EfPUNyg3zVN0Kxfi1kHHqxbnh3w58ZlHdFx_-VGKnqlNYdnnrnk2g_ag8/s1600/Bull+rides.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw1OPju13QzKC_m8Biv6wy4YQVHxlTYazvG_lFnuOaWHBPBdOZpIRGH9vf2MIioAvbMTcer-k-j-lRHIbc46EfPUNyg3zVN0Kxfi1kHHqxbnh3w58ZlHdFx_-VGKnqlNYdnnrnk2g_ag8/s320/Bull+rides.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">The male Engela in this marriage
was left drooling after the go carts. The things you did not know about your
spouse boggles the mind.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEici4QmWv_7Bdmt46d8yysmYm60PXG4-5alv6Aywuy7wVC0_1qBQYP93qu2QiQ9Z76W9uXYwiqwkUyWv5V0RCJ0a4UqJRdl3eoc4yfUpiztD-csVJ00KYQD5BvKbxBbGluc7S4iaqVtlIY/s1600/Go+carts.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEici4QmWv_7Bdmt46d8yysmYm60PXG4-5alv6Aywuy7wVC0_1qBQYP93qu2QiQ9Z76W9uXYwiqwkUyWv5V0RCJ0a4UqJRdl3eoc4yfUpiztD-csVJ00KYQD5BvKbxBbGluc7S4iaqVtlIY/s320/Go+carts.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">So,
for our first village fiesta, it was interesting, but I can honestly say that I
am thankful the fiesta is only once a year. I don’t think my hearing is quite normal,
yet.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>Michele http://www.blogger.com/profile/05383983437271005160noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7387335602278621415.post-5436180420376520682012-05-13T15:05:00.001-07:002012-05-13T15:05:25.844-07:00Spring...thy name is in fact Summer<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">I
have experienced our first Spring in Madrid. I had envisaged lovely blooming
trees, fresh winds with sunny skies for a couple of weeks until the dreaded
heat of summer. Now, I recall from a previous blog questioning where Winter
was. When it came, it lasted for about 6 months, but really, we were, it
appears, blessed with not too freezing weather. I however decided to tempt fate
twice, you know Karma is and her wicked ways.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Spring
arrived and stayed for 28 hours. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">This
past Monday, we were at a maximum of sixteen degrees, nice jeans and warm tops
weather. Tuesday morning was a bit chilly, but by lunch time it was thirty five
degrees. To say that I was a pool of ungainliness in boots and jeans is an
understatement. Luckily it appears that most Spanish people also missed the 28
hour “Spring is here” warning, and were caught unaware as well. So this is
seemingly not written in the Spanish manual somewhere. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Now,
spring in South Africa was always my favourite time of the year, where we lived
we had some nice thunderstorms, blooming Jacaranda trees and generally just
nice warming up weather.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">In
Madrid, I am now (in Summer I assume) being assaulted by a plague of mosquitos,
weird flying black bug things that suspiciously look like small birds, creepy crawlies
with weird hook looking bits at their front (or their back, who knows, I don’t take
time to examine them before I squash them), flying (drifting?) white fluffy things that look to be the pollen of a very odd tree but which is causing me to cough like a chain smoker and birds who seems to think it is a
national sport to screech the entire day.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">In
addition hereto, the red dogs are really suffering with this weather change. Now,
they are, within 100 meters from Casa Engela dragging their feet, their tongues
lolling on the boiling sidewalk. It’s not their fault their crazy human parents
insisted they move the northern hemisphere, where their red bodies are thinking
it’s now winter and as such their winter coats are growing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">So,
whilst I am grumbling up and down the steaming sidewalks with two not too over
excited red dogs, I am not noticing the beautiful red, purple and yellow
flowers, nor the amazing shades of green everywhere, nor the interesting
wildlife that suddenly are appearing on our farm – walk roads. Oh who am I
kidding, of course I am. Damn this country which is becoming my second home, I
am not even afforded the opportunity of being overly irritated…wait, I see a
killer mosquito…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>Michele http://www.blogger.com/profile/05383983437271005160noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7387335602278621415.post-47126888214682615262012-05-08T14:58:00.001-07:002012-05-08T15:22:09.264-07:00The days are just packed<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Yes,
for those of yo</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">u who know Calvin and Hobbes, I am guilty of plagiarism since I
stole this title from one of Mr Watterson’s books, sorry Mr Watterson. For
those of you who do not know what the heck I am on about…Google it.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">So
the Engelas set of on their very first adventure into the Spanish northern
countryside, on our own, with a little help from our Tom-Tom and our
dictionaries. The red dogs also went on a holiday, to the best dog hotel in the
world. I however think that we may have had a better time than they did,
although maybe only a little.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">As
such, months of planning, buying books and reading maps, culminated in our
short getaway. We went to Cantabria, an area which it appears quite a number of
Spanish people have not visited before. To say that it is a wonderful part of the
country is a serious understatement, it is truly beautiful, beautiful
countryside, beaches and snow-capped mountains. Best of all worlds to my mind. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">To give you an idea of what the area looks like, I, of course, include some
photographs.<i><o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqV_sBs5zE4ZH8jJDmP8HDWHqdmaQFSHYIlVI9E5yoHJwKt1z1s3TbW3YVU_LEUlRLthI4EYaEO0ijh_BiUnWq-cdZdb3z3HEk86p7a3AlxOwKPdMcACQ_qB7NKraxvjxVQ0GSaBqOE5k/s1600/114.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqV_sBs5zE4ZH8jJDmP8HDWHqdmaQFSHYIlVI9E5yoHJwKt1z1s3TbW3YVU_LEUlRLthI4EYaEO0ijh_BiUnWq-cdZdb3z3HEk86p7a3AlxOwKPdMcACQ_qB7NKraxvjxVQ0GSaBqOE5k/s320/114.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">This
is Comillas. I can only state that I will willingly live there. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg34473StKgmQO-GXnRyE56lyyJDI19WiKp1QJI8cEQJ0hYXtR1R2SPYfDULHCeiIdZwvCcIqIkKL343_7nAkbwusEaTykroe9aFzcn_0Zhc1WeDch-TqLKjm_uS3JB_1c4ktVK8q1ao9o/s1600/205.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg34473StKgmQO-GXnRyE56lyyJDI19WiKp1QJI8cEQJ0hYXtR1R2SPYfDULHCeiIdZwvCcIqIkKL343_7nAkbwusEaTykroe9aFzcn_0Zhc1WeDch-TqLKjm_uS3JB_1c4ktVK8q1ao9o/s320/205.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">One
of the beaches on the way to Santander. </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2w-9KRHRxLUnGWxy1yJIrayZY1_7OZV59H-XZbVyGh9Ey3ehUtHYaykan00HKdvM_ZKY-FAOWIJ5ddtB8DrCeMJaBJEoty0t2iihilnn2GZA1G5UUYLD4j-eiRzWzILYdahKbD7nQfEw/s1600/267.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2w-9KRHRxLUnGWxy1yJIrayZY1_7OZV59H-XZbVyGh9Ey3ehUtHYaykan00HKdvM_ZKY-FAOWIJ5ddtB8DrCeMJaBJEoty0t2iihilnn2GZA1G5UUYLD4j-eiRzWzILYdahKbD7nQfEw/s320/267.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Another
beach, one is spoilt for choice here.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">In
Santander, on one of the piers, these statutes are dedicated the young girls
and boys who dived into the ocean to catch coins that people threw at them. I
think it is a bit sad really.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Santona
harbour, which is an old working harbour and still has seamstresses on the
docks fixing the fishing nets!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">On
the way to Picos de Europa, Iglesia de Santa Maria in Lebaña. This beautiful church
is still in use by the local people. Love the Arabic influence.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">And
then Picos de Euorpa, a view from Patos, where we not only fell in love with
this town, but also encountered our first cow sale.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">We
did however encounter a couple of things which, ever after just over a year, we
seem to forget. Many tourist sites close at 2PM, for lunch of course or, for
some unbeknownst reason, are only open Mondays to Wednesdays. Why, I have no
idea. I am beginning to think that either these places are part of some cult
group of employees / employers who refuse to work, or somehow I again missed
that part of the Spanish manual. Many restaurants and bars only start serving
food after 8PM. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Also, for the first time, we saw strange things being done to
trees, as you will see on the picture below. You will agree it is beautiful,
but, admittedly, weird.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">So,
based on our adventure, I can say that my host country has so much to offer in
terms of tourism, places to visit and places to fall in love with, it will
awake the travelling bug in all of us!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>Michele http://www.blogger.com/profile/05383983437271005160noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7387335602278621415.post-78765467122107704992012-04-13T00:56:00.000-07:002012-04-13T00:56:47.276-07:00The red dogs' Spanish holiday<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Whilst the Engelas were frolicking around South Africa, our red dogs seemingly had a wonderful Spanish holiday with a English family who proceeded to spoil the red dogs rotten. I seriously doubt that the red dogs will want to come back to Casa Engela anytime soon, due to a couple of reasons:</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">They got to sleep on COUCHES – not silly little pillows! (Even if those pillows were imported from South Africa at some costs I may tell you)</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjmBMaCLsnX-2fJgIW6Dlh1X3bhS6V3pYOUHuda16Ag3FeobjrTfICWOTWDUbPwLwII_3eVYUesvqY7e37FXJorjj5-IPBDQFZNPUk7SwrF5E2dDzrI5W74oPqK9RmZ7wpSKMsn-WLNC0/s1600/Sleep+time+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjmBMaCLsnX-2fJgIW6Dlh1X3bhS6V3pYOUHuda16Ag3FeobjrTfICWOTWDUbPwLwII_3eVYUesvqY7e37FXJorjj5-IPBDQFZNPUk7SwrF5E2dDzrI5W74oPqK9RmZ7wpSKMsn-WLNC0/s320/Sleep+time+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">They got to play in the snow (well the one did, the youngest apparently in true younger dog style growled at their hosts when they tried to convince her to go outside. Somehow that dog has not clicked that too growl at the hand that feeds you is a pointless exercise)<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmkkGlG1KbiO11n6FAcAI8uKHJ-14OJhBkj-g7WiSTq-CnFOCdMlUlTCySRA4ohE4kvAkjz4DvxC-Hxg28KyEUr6dHPbEFimnLqC7Xvs3T-0C9T2XbCYxjh3L59MgSbK79yL2CtBwEIuM/s1600/Cleo+sneeu+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="185" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmkkGlG1KbiO11n6FAcAI8uKHJ-14OJhBkj-g7WiSTq-CnFOCdMlUlTCySRA4ohE4kvAkjz4DvxC-Hxg28KyEUr6dHPbEFimnLqC7Xvs3T-0C9T2XbCYxjh3L59MgSbK79yL2CtBwEIuM/s320/Cleo+sneeu+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvBtbz-VLE-KadxTP-Khh0oguyd5vQnialnklZ3EAmj_re2OIXYNqhyXJYboq00vlndhueTSWMu2oelEh3-vnqiK8Bqx3VPYm1qaXg3dgkp2jx0B0jzP0YgdbKfSsuP_rqNKgrrKYcoMA/s1600/Cleo+sneeu+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvBtbz-VLE-KadxTP-Khh0oguyd5vQnialnklZ3EAmj_re2OIXYNqhyXJYboq00vlndhueTSWMu2oelEh3-vnqiK8Bqx3VPYm1qaXg3dgkp2jx0B0jzP0YgdbKfSsuP_rqNKgrrKYcoMA/s320/Cleo+sneeu+1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvEbiEmrsIYNhjJiE2oe41aBgt1L8TLJJAr8zGVVb6IVLiQs62fhQ2tJZ0YE6u_FUJnnF8n5yaP_Bx8KnZpMGKdfzFCIoZ7VJhSVt8KMfSe_3ncaendCz-fH6HrCO49Rpwz8sW3pWtbkA/s1600/Cleo+sneeu+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="217" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvEbiEmrsIYNhjJiE2oe41aBgt1L8TLJJAr8zGVVb6IVLiQs62fhQ2tJZ0YE6u_FUJnnF8n5yaP_Bx8KnZpMGKdfzFCIoZ7VJhSVt8KMfSe_3ncaendCz-fH6HrCO49Rpwz8sW3pWtbkA/s320/Cleo+sneeu+3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-ZA;">They got to eat bones!</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-ZA;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8MKVV_rJnHRUj-DhHMoKlPWjtacv1puiu12ASL4bl7JVcCU22yiyHbnnE2DMBEbkG8o-54-yVidPE9xya1vhVV5AWktMVovkiCAyUYWpEsxwG0vrL7zBCMZikO1bn2RPDw9gTNbjYLAY/s1600/Bones+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8MKVV_rJnHRUj-DhHMoKlPWjtacv1puiu12ASL4bl7JVcCU22yiyHbnnE2DMBEbkG8o-54-yVidPE9xya1vhVV5AWktMVovkiCAyUYWpEsxwG0vrL7zBCMZikO1bn2RPDw9gTNbjYLAY/s320/Bones+1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-ZA;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-ZA;">They got to play in a pack and make friends.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-ZA;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4rF5ScM3grDmTlT2HeZ1Z4yhUgXyxqUsRRlNa_IR2FvHe502Bvl4hPP9AH7iFOp-DPTibX8xkt1IKYIMt4dCe06O8wRQgxCFERmX37bKfoS6g6GJoC62B84BcjOtbHZz_BYLQ0J8UlYU/s1600/Pack+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="177" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4rF5ScM3grDmTlT2HeZ1Z4yhUgXyxqUsRRlNa_IR2FvHe502Bvl4hPP9AH7iFOp-DPTibX8xkt1IKYIMt4dCe06O8wRQgxCFERmX37bKfoS6g6GJoC62B84BcjOtbHZz_BYLQ0J8UlYU/s320/Pack+3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">So the purpose of today’s blog is to say thank you to the family who loved and took care of our dogs, we are so thankful to you, however, a word of warning – should they not want to stay in Casa Engela, we will send them back to the greatest dog hotel in the world!</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">PS I take no credit for these photos, the family who took care of the red dogs should get all the credit!</div><br />
</div>Michele http://www.blogger.com/profile/05383983437271005160noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7387335602278621415.post-42614254075221477012012-04-12T01:36:00.000-07:002012-04-12T01:36:12.211-07:00Greetings earthlings<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">No, contrary to popular belief I have not been abducted by aliens. Nor have I elected not to proceed with my blog. Nor have I disappeared into deep dark Africa. I have been what you would call “busy”. You know, getting on with life in this crazy Spanish city and planning, executing and enjoying a long holiday in my home country, South Africa. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Yes, it is possible that someone who only teaches part time, walks with her dogs and now has a once a week ironing and cleaning lady (she is known as “the goddess” in the Engela household, I think if she quit, we would move back to South Africa), can be too busy to blog. Oh the horror.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">So, after an excessive amount of partying, enjoying a couple of drinks (they have such lovely white wines in South Africa, I had to try them all!), spending time with our families and friends, attending my sister’s amazing wedding, and then eating enough braaivleis to sustain at least two poor African countries, I am back to my host country. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">I must admit I was quite worried that I would not be able to get on the aeroplane back to Madrid – I had visions of the hostesses having to drag me into the aeroplane kicking and screaming. I could have been a front page story in the Rapport or Sunday Times! Alas, my good upbringing kicked in and whilst swallowing down the lump in my throat, I had to smile when the first air hostess to greet me was a lovely Spanish lady from Madrid, who then proceeded to, the whole flight to Dubai, slip me little Emirates gifts, just because I spoke to her in my broken Spanish. Karma I tell you.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">So now, the Engelas are back. At this very moment I am staring down the horror of having been on such a long holiday and having to sort out the tip that we created by just dumping bags, gifts and dirty washing. I think I am losing the competition and will have to eventually start tiding up.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">I have to say that there are a couple of things that I have realised I miss about my home country, such as the ability to walk into a shop and explain exactly what I want, without sounding like to daft idiot. This has however motivated me even more to learn to speak Spanish fluently, I am tired of sounding like a fool. I forgot how much I love South African white wine. If I elaborate, I will sound like an alcoholic. I again realised how much we love our families and friends and understand now how blessed we are to have them in our lives. I am also thankful that we have made friends in Madrid, I think we would have been manic obsessive crazies without them. I also love the South African sunsets, it is unlike any other sunset I have seen.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">So, my conclusion is that I will always be a South African, wherever I am in the world, but that being South African for me also means that we can make a life somewhere else, and be happy, but always be thankful for who we are and where we come from.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div></div>Michele http://www.blogger.com/profile/05383983437271005160noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7387335602278621415.post-54350274037764210862012-02-05T12:36:00.000-08:002012-02-05T12:36:30.439-08:00Torture Spanish style<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">My first official Spanish class took place last week. Now, to be fair, I had a couple of more informal lessons from a lovely lady who now counts as a friend, however, now being (informally and illegally) employed as an English teacher, I get a perk of free Spanish classes.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">Now, I was very clear on becoming "employed" by the School I work at, about my extremely limited Spanish ability – and that I needed <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">beginners</i> classes. I assumed in the all the various dialects and accents of English, that beginners mean exactly what it says, beginner. Clearly, I was wrong. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">I attend a class with a French man and a Russian lady, both of whom can speak Spanish it seems, since they know all the 100000000 verb forms and the tenses, and they understand the whole masculine and feminine thing (every single noun is either male or female, and, it seems, verbs change depending which it is). So there I sit in my class, and the only feeling I can relate it to, was a couple of Law exams many moons ago, where I swore I studied <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">a</i> text book, but that the lecturer drew the examination paper from another text book that I never saw before. You know the feeling. Panic....and then...blank.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">Then, to top it off, the teacher insists we speak only Spanish in the class. I in principle agree with this proposal, however, to speak Spanish when I have no idea what someone is saying to me, just defeats the purpose. Then to ask me a question in Spanish, and expect an answer in Spanish, is just torture. Of course I am then struck dumb and have no idea how to even say that I don’t understand. I can see why the Spaniards were such scary warriors...their teachers are pretty damn frightening. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">As such, I am convinced I am the worst student in the world, that the teacher knows I have no bloody idea what she is saying (the blank look must be an indication), but if I have learnt anything in my studies and life, it is that you can prove yourself and other people wrong. So my motto for this learning Spanish thing is to give it horns and just do it. What else am I supposed to do?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div>Michele http://www.blogger.com/profile/05383983437271005160noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7387335602278621415.post-24869885698955592232012-01-16T12:55:00.000-08:002012-01-16T13:00:07.137-08:00Spanish mothers, and yes, I am a pushover<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-ZA;"></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-ZA;">I explained previously that in my home country, I practised as an attorney, for a number of years. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-ZA;">Now, due to fact that for some unbeknownst reason the Spanish government has decided I am not allowed to work (formally), I work illegally since I have a skill that seems to be rare in my host country, namely that I can (allegedly) speak English, and as such, I am a teacher. You can spot the irony here.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-ZA;">In any event, I now teach children and adults alike the art of speaking and writing English. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-ZA;">Today I had the privilege of talking to a Spanish mother, and due to the nature of this discussion I thought it prudent to share same:</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 54pt; mso-list: l2 level1 lfo2; text-align: justify; text-indent: -18pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">1.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">Her nine year old daughter is in my class. Lovely girl, very sweet and eager, she does all her written work perfectly, but she is so shy, she refuses to talk. Fine, I was once upon a time an introvert, so I can relate. I believe positive reinforcement makes a tremendous difference and as such, I don’t demand that a shy child part take in class. Clearly I am wrong in this thought.</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 54pt; mso-list: l2 level1 lfo2; text-align: justify; text-indent: -18pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">2.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">Her daughter’s marks in English improved from the equivalent of 50% to 90% since I have been teaching her. Yes, I can boast about something.</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 54pt; mso-list: l2 level1 lfo2; text-align: justify; text-indent: -18pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">3.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">However, her daughter’s own full time teacher (who is also the child’s formal English teacher), told the mother that she must talk to me, because the little girl does not talk enough. I must “make” her speak to me in English.</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 54pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-ZA;">Right. I stand and listen to this and would like to tell the mother the following (in English, of course):</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 43.5pt; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo3; text-align: justify; text-indent: -25.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">1.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">You daughter is an introvert. Deal with it.</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 43.5pt; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo3; text-align: justify; text-indent: -25.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">2.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">I am supposed to teach a “fun” English class. “Making” someone talk hardly falls in the category of “fun” in my view.</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 43.5pt; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo3; text-align: justify; text-indent: -25.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">3.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">I am not the child’s formal English teacher, she has one, and surely this teacher can also “make the child talk”.</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 43.5pt; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo3; text-align: justify; text-indent: -25.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">4.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">I could sit on her child and make her speak English, I think however such behaviour could have serious repercussions for me.</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 43.5pt; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo3; text-align: justify; text-indent: -25.5pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">5.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">On any given day, I have a group of approximately fifteen screaming (Spanish speaking) nine year olds for one hour in my class. This hour is normally spent as follows:</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: auto auto auto 90pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -18pt;"><span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-bidi-font-family: Wingdings; mso-fareast-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">Ø<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">I have to ensure that I don’t kill the children;</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: auto auto auto 90pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -18pt;"><span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-bidi-font-family: Wingdings; mso-fareast-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">Ø<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">I have to ensure that they don’t kill one another;</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: auto auto auto 90pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -18pt;"><span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-bidi-font-family: Wingdings; mso-fareast-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">Ø<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">I have to ensure that they do not all go to the bathroom all at the same time, which they of course do want to do, ten times during one class;</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: auto auto auto 90pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -18pt;"><span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-bidi-font-family: Wingdings; mso-fareast-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">Ø<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">I have to deal with this mob who for some reason every Monday, or in fact any day that ends with a - <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">y</i> -, has lost their ability to speak, read, understand, comprehend or listen to English;</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: auto auto auto 90pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -18pt;"><span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-bidi-font-family: Wingdings; mso-fareast-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">Ø<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">I have to encourage them to take less than one hour to settle down, got to the bathroom, take out their books (which they for some reason almost always forget), look at the board and start their exercises;</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: auto auto auto 90pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -18pt;"><span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-bidi-font-family: Wingdings; mso-fareast-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">Ø<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">I have to, during each and every class, explain that “he is for a man”, and “she a woman”. One would think this explanation would, after the one hundredth time, stick. Indeed not;</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: auto auto auto 90pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -18pt;"><span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-bidi-font-family: Wingdings; mso-fareast-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">Ø<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">I have to translate each word and sentence;</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: auto auto auto 90pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -18pt;"><span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-bidi-font-family: Wingdings; mso-fareast-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">Ø<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">I have to encourage, beg and threaten certain children to just complete the exercises (of which the answers are written on the black board I might add); and</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: auto auto auto 90pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -18pt;"><span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-bidi-font-family: Wingdings; mso-fareast-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">Ø<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">I have to prevent children from climbing out of windows, kicking a soccer ball, throwing scissors, pens, pencils and the like.</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin: auto auto auto 90pt; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-ZA;">As such, my time to ensure a shy little girl who out of her own does not want to speak English, or Spanish as far as I can gather, talks in class.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-ZA;">I am however incapable of saying any of the above to the mother, due to the fact that not only is my Spanish so limited, but, further, when her daughter then runs to me, gives me a hug and says she loves English, I think, all right, take a deep breath, and just…smile and nod. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div></div></div>Michele http://www.blogger.com/profile/05383983437271005160noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7387335602278621415.post-34807137996013846222012-01-03T13:11:00.000-08:002012-01-03T13:11:23.344-08:00Winter? Where?<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">As I write the title to this blog, I am sure that the snow gods are going to come after us with vengeance. Be that as it may, I shall continue writing my blog, one hand firmly touching wood.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">I was waiting in breathless anticipation for our first white Christmas. Alas, no luck, we have only been blessed with a freezing wind. I am however extremely happy to report that the sun shines every day, which makes the cold more bearable. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">As such, I am completely confused by the winter weather in Madrid. Thus far, it is very similar to winter in Johannesburg: blood curling cold at night and in the early morning (with the only difference that everything freezes outside, including our cars, and in light of our central heating, which I think is the best thing mankind ever thought of for winter in Europe, I am completely in love with our house), and chilly, but sunny afternoons. I have learnt the use of an ice scraper, and yes, I have broken one already.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">I am even able to go for my daily walks with the red dogs, however, the playing field has levelled somewhat – the red dogs still launch a full scale attack to ensure that I get irritated enough to take them for a walk, however, the moment they step outside from our warm little casa, the ice bear winds whirls around them, their breath comes as white misty gasps, and they then attempt to re-enter our house. I am then off course the wicked witch of Madrid, and with an evil grin proceed to make them walk for at least an hour. I am however the creator of my own misfortune, since after this bone chilling walk, I have to sit in a scalding bath for at least half an hour in order to thaw my frozen body parts, since in order to walk around properly, I need to feel my limbs.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">I have however been told that the winter in Madrid is usually very bad in January, February and March. I pray this is merely a rumour, since I can cope with this weather for a while still, however, I suspect I will not be so lucky.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">As such, I am thankful for that our first winter in Madrid has been mild thus far. I pray that it will always be like this. Further, I am very happy that we are not camping during this time; I would have been one very unhappy camping buddy. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">Now, how to appease the snow gods to have this sunny winter continue…of course they speak Spanish, so I may just cause a blizzard should I attempt to communicate with them….</span></div>Michele http://www.blogger.com/profile/05383983437271005160noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7387335602278621415.post-3962411518812615452012-01-02T04:15:00.000-08:002012-01-02T04:33:48.209-08:00Happy New Year (Spanish style...)<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">The Engelas celebrated their first New Year with friends we met here. Yes, we have friends, not all people in Spain are Spanish, thank the Lord, otherwise we would have serious trouble meeting people. </span><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">And as such, we experienced our first European New Year. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Now, this was such an interesting evening, so far removed from anything we previously experienced, that I thought it prudent to share some details of our night with you:<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 36pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -18pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">1.<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">NOTHING is open in Madrid on New Year’s Eve. We live (in Spanish terms) in the sticks, so no restaurants are open. I assume that in city centre it may be different, but where we live, everything closes at 5 PM. In my home country, this is completely different, if you are lucky enough to be able to book a table somewhere, and are willing to hand over half of your life savings for a dinner which would normally cost maybe R 100.00 (10 Euros for my non South African readers), then you will be able to enjoy a very festive evening. I hope. For those going to the Spur or Wimpy, good luck with that, your kids would love it, you, I suspect, not so much.</span></div><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 36pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -18pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">2.<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Spanish people normally spend New Year’s Eve with their families. Food for thought me thinks.</span><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><o:p> </o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 36pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -18pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">3.<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Luckily, we know people, and we able to enjoy an evening at a friend’s house, making food, having Cosmopolitans and the like.</span><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><o:p> </o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 36pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -18pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">4.<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">The Spanish eat 12 grapes every second before the clock strikes 12. This apparently brings luck. Now you are able to do this in Sol, the centre of Madrid, however every other Spaniard and tourist, plus their wife / husband / child / parent / brother / sister /aunt / uncle / friend of a friend of a friend and their dog were there, so unless you have an obsession with being squashed to a pulp whilst trying to swallow grapes, our recommendation is to stay at home. We did this in the safety of a friend’s house, and still, by grape eight, I understood that to chew and swallow a single grape in one second is a physical impossibility; however, we did our best.</span><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><o:p> We do not want to risk no luck for 2012, so grapes it shall be.</o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt 36pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -18pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">5.<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Spanish people love fireworks, and the fireworks carry on until the wee hours of the morning. Because they live on top of one another, there is very little space for the launching of these fireworks, and as such, same is launched between buildings, on rooftops, in other words, everywhere and anywhere. For a country that loves its pets so much, this is quite odd, however it may be that the Spanish pets are used to this noise. The red dogs are not. I will not dwell on this save to state that the smallest red dog has only today started eating again.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">As such, we great greeted this New Year with mouths full of grapes, champagne glasses in the hand, shouting support to the fireworks, celebrating with our foreign friends in Madrid, in what I now think as the foreigner interpretation of a Spanish New Year. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Bring it on 2012, we will give it horns....Engela style!<o:p></o:p></span></div>Michele http://www.blogger.com/profile/05383983437271005160noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7387335602278621415.post-62389695886861817272011-12-13T14:08:00.000-08:002011-12-13T14:34:13.534-08:00Yes, I am a big girl … or possibly a Gigantor …<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">From the outset let me state that my forefathers and foremothers were not small folk. We are tall, have shoulders, breasts, a waist, hips, thighs, long legs and big feet. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">In South Africa, I was a slightly tall woman, but there were many other women my size, and bigger. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">According to my host country, however, I fall in the category of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">gigante</i>. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">It is not so bad that people point and stare, possibly because the husband is taller and bigger and he can apparently hit quite hard, but it has happened to me a number of times when I am on the metro, or anywhere where I sit, that when I stand up, that the Spanish folk step back. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wonder (In Afrikaans of course) what the Spaniards are thinking ... that I will step on them because they are so small? That my size is contagious?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">For the reader who does not know this, the Spanish women (and men) generally are not very tall, and the women are super skinny, their thighs are the width of my hand. There are not many countries that they make skinny jeans for men. If I wanted to, I could probably snap them with my one finger.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">Now, normally this would not bother me at all, but with the change of seasons I have now spotted a problem: buying shoes. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">Every shop I go into I have to ask if they stock my size. I had one shop assistant laugh at me (I nearly stepped on her … the little freak). The other shop assistant gaped at me with her mouth open in horror, shaking her head. I stepped on that little freak, sorry, she was so bloody tiny what is a big girl like me to do? I have no fear facing her loved ones, they will be so small, that once I stoop down to their level they will run away screaming and go hide in the hills …that’s what they do with giants.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">I have, in addition hereto, established that Madrid appears to cater for all shapes and sizes, and there are shops that cater for cross dressing men, in that they can wear woman shoes. Out of sheer desperation I visited this store with a friend, and unfortunately have to report that I was not trying to buy glitterati high heeled shoes, which come in red, yellow, pink, blue and leopard print, all in one shoe. Nor were the white thigh high patent leather boots exactly up my alley. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">As such, the search continues, since all shapes and sizes clearly does not mean shoes in my size. If there are any other gigantors out there with big feet, let me know where you secretly shop in Madrid, please, otherwise the small town folk shall continue to suffer.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
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</div>Michele http://www.blogger.com/profile/05383983437271005160noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7387335602278621415.post-19618243518710831432011-12-11T13:55:00.000-08:002011-12-11T13:55:25.846-08:00Feliz Navidad or is it Merry Christmas?<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">It appears that the Engelas have according to my host country, wrongly celebrated Christmas on 25<sup>th</sup> December each and every year. It appears that the Spaniards or Catholics or possibly everyone from Europe, celebrates Christmas on 6<sup>th</sup> January each year. Apparently, this is when the Three Wise Men come bearing gifts. Who knew? We of course will continue with our celebrations as per our upbringing, but we will not complain if we score some public holidays in January. If I have learnt one lesson here, it is not to look a gift horse in the mouth.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">We have, admittedly, been swept up in the whole “first Christmas in Europe” fever. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">It could be worse, I could be experiencing a “I am able to shop in Europe with Euros” fever, which would lead to quite a number of interesting stories, therefore, in my view, my husband should thank his lucky stars (and non-existent overdraft) that I only suffer from Christmas fever…for now.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">Now, like many other folk out there, I hope, I have an unhealthy obsession with Christmas lights and Christmas tree decorations; I am literally unable to pass any shop that may stock these items. The mere flickering of a Christmas light in a shop window makes me stop dead in my tracks, gives me a warm glowing feeling around my heart and I am compelled to wander into the store. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">I was therefore in absolute heaven last week when we visited a beautiful Monastery in El Escorial, and after the necessary cultural exposure to things older than by home country, my beady eye caught…the flickering of THE LIGHTS. My husband has learned to step back (probably in the “safe zone” which means “hand over the wallet, don’t ask any questions, especially not where will we put this one?”) and just let me be. I thus found the most wonderful little Christmas store, tucked to the ceiling full of wonderful Christmas things…and yes, at one point I was considering buying the train that goes through snow mountain, with the little people and the little houses, with the music … but sanity prevailed and I only bought a couple of beautiful handmade tree decorations. I normally do not do this, but by merely looking at this picture, you my dear reader will have no option but to compend me on this willpower...</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwdexQ3dFWPhsLf_yEEnQ78_rph3UNxZBbHHutVyiBcBaO0uJPdrWN5MSXnC80rHdOZNbx6lDfQxvf8SqPoM8gknL7Rv5cr0DtWbw-5DWfVtAV-EMtAwI-D4NgPY3rJu8HnRbgYYPNTg8/s1600/408.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" mda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwdexQ3dFWPhsLf_yEEnQ78_rph3UNxZBbHHutVyiBcBaO0uJPdrWN5MSXnC80rHdOZNbx6lDfQxvf8SqPoM8gknL7Rv5cr0DtWbw-5DWfVtAV-EMtAwI-D4NgPY3rJu8HnRbgYYPNTg8/s320/408.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">It has reached a stage where I know a second Christmas tree is a necessity, and trying to figure out how many outside lights we need and when enough is enough. I am furthermore being unduly influenced by my neighbours, since every time we drive to our house, more and more Christmas lights are appearing on patios, railings, trees and whatever else cannot be carried away over your shoulder. As such, I am beginning to suffer from an inferiority complex – we therefore will have to shop some more. By “we” I of course do mean I and my husband’s wallet…</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">I am therefore a self-confessed anything Christmas shopaholic, I admit, but bearing in mind this crazy season only lasts a couple of months, how bad can it be? I will report back on that question once I have sneaked the second (slightly) larger Christmas tree into the lounge…of course I now need more decorations…</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
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</div>Michele http://www.blogger.com/profile/05383983437271005160noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7387335602278621415.post-4082793404013332702011-12-08T12:08:00.000-08:002011-12-08T12:08:29.268-08:00How to go from attorney to teacher in 0.3 seconds<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">As I may have stated before, I practised as an attorney for many years in my home country before we moved to Madrid. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">Clearly we did not move because I am clever. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">Also, I never set out to study for so many years, and practise for so many years, to be in a situation where I don’t actually work in my field of expertise. This is not due to any misconduct on my part, this is due to some Spanish red tape which is about as complicated as Russian, which in layman’s terms means “sorry, for whatever reason we deem necessary or because the mayor had back pain or was angry at his wife, you may not formally work”. This logic makes no sense to me, but be that as it may.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">We moved since my husband is allegedly a rocket scientist and those are no longer needed in my home country. My host country however needs rocket scientists so here we are. Possibly my father was right and I should have studied engineering and not law but alas, here I am, two degrees and many years of experience later, and I don’t practise law anymore.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">Now, before I (finally) stopped practising, I tried to think what the heck I would do in Madrid. To briefly explain the boring stuff, once I have crossed the red tape mountain, I need to do a conversion type of course, but for that, I need to speak Spanish. This may take a while. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">In the meantime, after packing and moving and unpacking and the usual “let’s move country things”, I came to realise a number of important things:</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 36pt; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -18pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">1.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">I cannot speak Spanish. So I have a problem, possibly law is not in my immediate future. Check.</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 36pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 36pt; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -18pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">2.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">I could write a blog to vent. Check.</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 36pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 36pt; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -18pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">3.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">I am not a housewife. Check.</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 36pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 36pt; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -18pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">4.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">Cleaning and cooking makes my blood boil. Not in a good way. Check.</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 36pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt 36pt; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -18pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">5.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">I need to do something otherwise I can easily turn into the wicked witch of Casa Engela. Check.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">As such, and since I am suddenly “native” English speaking, I was roped into teaching English to children. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">Now, for those who know me, stop laughing. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">For those that don’t know me very well, I am not familiar with children. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">In addition hereto, the idea of teaching never ever in my wildest nightmares crossed my mind. However, my host country suddenly wants their children to learn English from people who actually speak English. I cannot comment on the merits of this decision, however, I can tell you, suddenly I find myself in a group of people who are not very well liked by other teachers – again, this entire argument is in Spanish, which I definitely don’t understand, so I keep quiet and go on my merry little way.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">I have now been at this teaching thing for about two months, and can honestly say that I can add to my list that I am not a natural born teacher, however, I know that the idea of sitting at home and not doing anything scares me more, so I shall stick it out, until some clever other English speaking person figures out that I don’t understand what I am doing, at best the children will speak with a South African accent, and furthermore, what the hell are you thinking letting an attorney loose on your kids? Talk about a nightmare. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">So, if you are bored at your job, or think you may have made the wrong career move, I have a couple of pointers:</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 36pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo2; text-align: justify; text-indent: -18pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">1.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">You could marry a rocket scientist and change careers.</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 36pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 36pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo2; text-align: justify; text-indent: -18pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">2.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">You could move countries and suddenly not be allowed to work. </span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 36pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 36pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo2; text-align: justify; text-indent: -18pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">3.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">Your English could be very important in ways you never thought possible.</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt 36pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">If all else fails, and you married for love and not money, or you are single, then your only solution is to rob a Bank, flee the country and buy an island somewhere. I would love to join you, since I think robbing a Bank could possibly be easier than teaching a screaming mob of little adults to speak English.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
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</div>Michele http://www.blogger.com/profile/05383983437271005160noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7387335602278621415.post-92097863168797094302011-12-01T14:24:00.000-08:002011-12-01T14:24:19.869-08:00The wildlife (or is it night life?) in Madrid<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">From the outset, I warn any reader that this blog is not for the faint hearted. Reason being is that it deals with a certain portion of people in the host country we live in, namely the “ladies of the night”. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">Now, to explain, in my home country there are such ladies (and men) but it is done quietly, only in certain areas, and as a regular Joe Soap (such as, for example, one innocent South African “meisie”) one would never normally see such persons or events. As such, and based on what we have seen thus far, I am compelled to inform you of our recent discoveries regarding these ladies.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">In my host country, the situation is very, very different to my home country. I always thought that a country known to be so religious would be more conservative. Not so. Apparently being conservative in your religion has got nothing to do with what these ladies do. Right.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">Our first exposure to these ladies was from the safety of our car. We were visiting friends on the coast of Spain, when we saw extremely scantily clad woman hanging around at roundabouts. We were quite astonished, since clearly, the sun had set, so pray do tell why are woman hanging around on the roundabouts wearing less than bikinis? These ladies are called “gloriettas”, and work to service tourist and locals. Now I am not one to judge, but really, being flashed by a woman, as a woman, is not something I really want to experience. As such, after this jaw dropping experience, we were not as astounded by more recent events as we would have been a couple of months ago.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">Over the weekend, we, with the same South African friends who also live in Spain, went meandering around Madrid checking out the Christmas lights. We ended up having a late night coffee on a very busy road in Madrid, when we realised we were apparently on one of the roads where these ladies work. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">Now of course, and as I previously pointed out, the Engelas are extremely nosey and curious, and as such, our entire group proceeded to watch these working ladies and the behaviour. All we needed were some popcorn, but admittedly, a pair of binoculars would have been wonderful as well. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">Here is what I can summarise from our scrutiny:</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 36pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -18pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">1.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">Most of these ladies appear to be from other European countries: they are however quite adapt to swearing at prospective clients (and their female partners) who refuse their services, in Spanish. I wonder of this leads to more work?</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 36pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 36pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -18pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">2.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">They are able to stalk on killer high heels. These heels may however also be used as weapons, possibly when services are refused.</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 36pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 36pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -18pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">3.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">If you look quickly, they may appear to be wearing large belts. Upon closer inspection, the belt is a skirt.</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 36pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 36pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -18pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">4.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">One gentleman quite literally ran away (in circles, since when one is stalked the hunter tends to be able to accurately guess the preys next move) from one of these ladies who was stalking him. The South Africans were rolling around on the floor laughing at his acrobatic moves. And yes, Spanish men can blush. And yes, we received some glares and swear words, which we did not understand, so we continued watching.</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 36pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 36pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -18pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">5.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">One event which had us all in stiches was that (and this is a true story) a Spanish mother requested the services of one of these ladies for her son (who was accompanying her) who looked to be quite young. This is an interesting take on motherhood in my opinion. Our friends, when returning home, saw this same mother and her son on the train – he was looking far more uncomfortable than prior to the meeting with said lady, and was scratching in places where no man should scratch continuously. Me thinks a very embarrassing visit to the doctor is on this young man’s horizon.</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 36pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt 36pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -18pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">6.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">Be careful not to try to determine if any lady is such a lady of the night, purely based on their clothing, you can be seriously mistaken; some local girls and woman wear clothes like that just to go out. Yes, their mothers allow them to leave their homes looking like that.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt 18pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">Today, I was in the city centre, with a guest from South Africa, when I noticed that the ladies of the night, also work in the day. Somehow these ladies seem as intimidating and scary in the day, as at night, if not more so ... something about black leather thigh high boots in the sun seems to scare me.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt 18pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">So, my conclusion is that the wildlife in Madrid is similar to the wildlife in South Africa, they move around day and night, they stalk their prey, they are seriously scary looking, it is safer to do a game drive from the safety of your car and if you don’t run away quickly, you will get bitten in places you do not want to be bitten in. </span></div>Michele http://www.blogger.com/profile/05383983437271005160noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7387335602278621415.post-28214634044354684562011-11-27T14:41:00.000-08:002011-11-27T14:41:54.953-08:00Hunting smunthing<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">To our utter shock and horror, we ascertained a short while ago that we have moved to a country where hunters live. Yes, hunters, in a European city, with huge guns. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">This story actually starts some time ago, when I used to walk with the red dogs in farm lands very close to our house. We loved it: dirt roads, no traffic, the red dogs could run loose and smell SPANISH THINGS (it appears that everything smells different here for the red dogs, that’s why we have to stop at all the random spots where other dogs walked, breathed, sat, had a wee and a poo in the last century). </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">So the farm land walks were wonderful. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">Until the day a strange looking hairy old Spaniard came galloping towards the red dogs and I on his horse and started shouting at me, in Spanish (which I could understand, yes, it is similar to alien language which I could speak from birth – please note the sarcasm). </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">Of course when I returned home, I spoke to a friend who told me that this shouting Spaniard was probably trying to warn me that hunting season had started, which means that anything that moves in the fields are fair game and as such, I should avoid the farm roads. I was astonished; firstly, clearly there is a difference between one standard human, two red dogs, and wild game? Furthermore, one would think that there would be enormous warning signs everywhere warning people about the hunting season, but apparently not. It appears that this knowledge is part of the book of knowledge that Spanish children are born with. Foreigners don’t get those books.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">About one week after this event, my husband and I were woken up at some ungodly hour (on a Sunday), with the sounds of people shooting guns. Admittedly I did not know what this sounded like, but for some reason my husband does…</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">Apparently we live in an area where these shooting events take place regularly. Later that day, we went walking with the red dogs, on proper non-farm roads, when we spotted a group of 4x4 vehicles parked in a little field between houses. Of course being the nosey people that we are, we spied on the 4x4 vehicles and their occupants for as long as we were able to. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">For the record, I come from a country where people hunt as well, with huge guns, camouflage gear, lots of alcoholic drinks and meat for the braai, in order to shoot some game. Not that I ever partook in these events. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">Now, in the town we live, hunters seem to behave in a similar fashion: the 4x4’s were grouped closely together, the hunters were in full camo gear, bearing huge guns, their whippet dogs sitting quietly next to them… whilst they were sipping their coffees and eating the baguettes and gammon. Yes, I admit, I was already in stiches with this: clearly hunting in the European fashion requires some serious style. However, here is where it becomes even more interesting: of course the camo gear in necessary, the hunters are hunting in a farmed field full of cut corn, it is therefore of tantamount importance to blend in with the corn, but of course, since the wild rabbits and birds that they are shooting will spot them a mile away if they are not in camo gear. Indeed, they hunt rabbits and birds. The mind boggles.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">As such, I have learned a couple of lessons which I have no problem in sharing with you:</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 36pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -18pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">1.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">Walking on farm roads can be seriously dangerous for your health.</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 36pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -18pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">2.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">Clearly some Spanish hunters have a size issue: from afar, the red dogs and I could be mistaken for rabbits and birds.</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt 36pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -18pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">3.<span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">It is safer for my health to stay at home and have more wine.</span></div>Michele http://www.blogger.com/profile/05383983437271005160noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7387335602278621415.post-6907674681433346112011-11-10T05:00:00.000-08:002011-11-10T05:04:20.642-08:00Driving on the wrong (or is it right?) side of the road...and trying not killing any Spaniards<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">One of the most terrifying and difficult aspects of moving to an EU country like Spain, for me, was not the difference in culture (yes, they are not Africans. Duh.), or the language (nothing is in English. Nothing. If it is in English, it’s because you are a tourist and you will pay for the English), or the strangeness of it all. Nope. The biggest problem for me thus far was this whole driving on the other side of the road business. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">When we moved from our furnished loft apartment to our house, we realised we needed wheels, and quickly. Yes, indeed, the metros and trains do not go everywhere. Of to Renault we charge with a friend who helped us through this maze of Spanish bureaucracy and red tape, to buy a car. Or two cars that is, the husband needed one for work, I needed one for the rest – shopping; going to my English classes; dragging the red dogs of to the vet and the like, you know, the little housewife stuff.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">The first few weeks I was so scared of driving on the other side of the road, I point blank refused. Of course this meant the husband had to drive everywhere and between trying not to kill pedestrians and shouting at the Tom-Tom (my husband is convinced the Tom-Tom is out to get us. When we are driving anywhere in Madrid, and highways criss-cross each other - which they do in Madrid, a lot – then the Tom-Tom looses signal and tells us to execute a U-turn now. On this Highway. You can see where this is going. My lovely husband then turns into Chuckie, the crazed one), I realised that for the sake of my marriage and any future children we may have, that I need to drive on these crazy roads.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">The first couple of weeks were completely insane. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">When I tried to change gears, I would grab the window next to me. The ability to park completely evaded me, if I had to parallel park, I would stop four blocks further away just to avoid it. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Then I had to learn to watch out for pedestrians, since here they have right of way. That is fine, but the problem is that a lot of pedestrians start crossing the road a couple of meters before the crossing, or, and this has happened, they would just not look and start walking, so, for example, I would be on the pedestrian crossing, since they were not even close to where the crossing begins, and they would increase their speed to land in front of my car. So not only do you have to watch for pedestrians crossing the road, you have to watch for pedestrians possibly thinking of crossing the road. Trust me, this is not easy. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">In addition hereto, this town is one big roundabout. I drive from my house to where I give class about 30 kilometres away, and there is one traffic light, but about 25 roundabouts. Now, the rules of the roundabout here are quite simple: you can do whatever the hell you like. If you enter the roundabout at 6o’clock, and want to exit at 3 o’clock, you are welcome to be on the inside lane of the roundabout. That does not sound like an issue, but then the other driver who enters at 6 o’clock, and exits at 9 o’clock, is allowed to be in the outside lane. You do the math. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Lastly, I have to avoid certain Spanish drivers. I do not mean to insult my host country but I would like to know how certain people obtained their driver's licences? Lanes are changed without indicating, I have seen drivers execute an emergency stop in the middle of a highway to change lanes, and for some reason the mimimum speed limit appears to be a goal. I have also seen more accidents in parking lots than on the roads. Apparently parking is not always tested when the practical test is done. Right.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Thus far, I am pleased to say, I have not killed or maimed any Spaniards, as far as I am aware (and if I have, I don’t understand Spanish, so I don’t understand their shouting), nor have I collided with anything.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">One would think I have had my driver’s licence for three seconds. I have not, I have been driving for more than 10 years, but, alas, for the Spanish system this means nothing, of course. We come from Africa and this means we cannot drive. We were riding elephants a short while ago, what do we know about cars? I may just vent for a second here and inform you, my dear reader, that Algerian drivers licences are acknowledged in Spain. Algerian. Have the Spaniards been to Algeria in the past 50 years? I seriously question the logic of that decision but it has something to do with the Spaniards trying to rule the World at one point, which of course included Algeria, so now Algeria and Spain are friends. Wonderful. Why did the Spaniards not come to South Africa? It would be a lot easier today. Yes, admittedly we would have had an Anglo – Boer – Spanish war but come on people, at least I would have a valid driver’s licence.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">So this means that the Engelas have to redo their licences. We have completed our classes, and now have to write the theory exam, and then do the practical. I am pleased to state that the Americans have to do this as well, therefore I don’t feel as prejudiced. Sorry my American friends. Therefore, this saga is not finished and I shall report on our administrative and financially crippling adventures regarding obtaining our EU drivers’ licences in due course.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">In the meantime, I have to go, I am leaving the house in two hours which leaves very little time to plan my 30 kilometre route in order to be exposed to as little roundabouts, highways, Spanish drivers and pedestrians as possible. This could mean I have to take a 60 kilometre detour but for the sake of my own sanity, I am prepared to make these plans. Otherwise I may have to move to the Moon.</span></div><br />
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</div>Michele http://www.blogger.com/profile/05383983437271005160noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7387335602278621415.post-76579702862535391172011-11-06T15:13:00.000-08:002011-11-06T15:13:37.404-08:00This cooking thing, she is not as easy as she looks<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">After this weekend of taking care of a broken husband (he tore his left leg hamstring, I of course think it is hilarious that his boss asked him if playing cards is not a more appropriate sport for a man his age), and keeping the red dogs calm due to jogs having to be planned according to the rain (yes, I hate walking and jogging in the rain!), I am contemplating not only housewife duties, but more specifically, the whole business of cooking and baking. Due to our housebound state, I have been cooking and baking this weekend, and survived this ordeal. Yes, I admit, this sounds like an advertisement. And no, I don’t want an apron thank you. Not yet, anyway.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">I, as a previously full time working singleton and later wife, had no qualms about the fact that I was what you would call an average (at best) cook. At university, my limited repertoire was spotted within weeks of sharing a flat with a (still) good friend (clearly she accepted my limited cooking skills as one of those things, possibly because I was a good drinking and partying buddy), when we, together with two other friends of ours, decided to at least have four “proper” meals a week, in other words, each person cooked a meal once a week. After the first three weeks, the girls realised that I could only make sticky chicken and macaroni cheese. Needless to say, my first birthday present was a cookbook. I am still too scared to look at it, but it did make the move from South Africa to Spain.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">After finishing university, travelling and starting my articles, I met my husband, but still had not improved my cooking skills, unless making a killer salad, being able to cook pasta, perfecting oven roasted vegetables and making edible sandwiches, counts as cooking, which I strongly suspect does not.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">Pretty soon into married live, my husband and I (good heartedly) made certain ground rules: I was not allowed to touch meat (meat should apparently not be burnt black); I was not allowed to make eggs (those damn things can get quite rubbery) and rice was just a no-no. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">My husband, bless him, can cook, and for this I thank my mother in law. My husband and his sister each had a “cooking turn” over weekends. I assume that this meant a whole lot of toasted cheese sandwiches, but still. My mother in law had foresight; she knew her son would marry me, the worst cook in the world.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">My husband is one of those people who just loves the creativity of cooking, which drives people like me crazy: he can just look at the cupboard or fridge and make a meal. I would look at the same cupboard and fridge, and promptly jump in my car and race to Woolworths. On this point I place on record that I think I have individually succeeded in making the shareholders and directors of Woolworths very, very damn rich. Bastards. But at least my alleged cooking skills “improved”. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">Through my married years, I received a couple of kitchen utensil gifts which I always eyed with suspicion, put away in the cupboard for a rainy day (I mean, what is a pressure cooker for?), and still shopped at Woolworths. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">How was I supposed to know that the rainy day would be when we hopped, skipped and jumped and ended in Spain. Without Woolworths. Without Mrs. Balls Chutney.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">Suddenly, I was completely and utterly out of my depth. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">Firstly, I, for example, loved the “Cook in Sauces” that was sold everywhere in South Africa, any stew tasted wonderful. Of course, I took credit for this. Sorry. Now, sauces are made from scratch. That’s fine, I can live with that, but to find the items on the Spanish shops can be quite a challenge, it seems people here are not that fond of spicy food. So, the learning curve for making sauces has commenced. I have found one sauce from a good friend, my husband thinks it is the best sauce ever. However, now I hear horror of people making their own stock. Yes, indeed, people do that. I shall not even begin to consider such a bold step, thank you very much, Oxo stock it shall be.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">Secondly, recipes are quite stressful I have realised. I tend to follow a recipe down to the last gram, but I now realise that it is not always possible to have the exact same ingredients in this country, and as such, I have to improvise. Yes, my throat closes up at this point and I grab the closest bottle of alcohol I can find.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">Thirdly, I have started finding out the purpose of a lot of these kitchen gifts: I think a pressure cooker is wonderful; my slow cooker is working overtime; I at long last know how to use the garlic press; I now use that Verimark “Twista” thing, and I even went and bought new pots.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">Around Halloween I tried for the first time to make an oxtail stew, in our slow cooker, and I was gobsmacked that my guests did not go running for the hills. None of the sauces where homemade though, sorry, but I had bought them myself. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">Today I was very bold and tried a completely new recipe, Coq a Vin. This means chicken and a box of wine. I was horrified by the smells emanating from my kitchen, but, the guinea pig (my husband), after tasting some of this new creation, promptly announced that I am the best wife in the world. This may be due to the fact that I have to help him get back up one flight of stairs, into bed, with his pills and cream on his torn ligament, and therefore I am in a position of power, but I would like to think it may be due to the fact that the food is edible.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">As such, I have developed a very sound respect for woman (and men) that can cook and bake, and with such grace and ease that it seems effortless. But, as I read somewhere, it is apparently a skill that requires trial and error. I really hope that there will be more trials than errors in my learning curve, but I do know that the red dogs will not mind having some of the errors. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div>Michele http://www.blogger.com/profile/05383983437271005160noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7387335602278621415.post-57108563234862775762011-11-03T05:56:00.000-07:002011-11-03T05:56:41.131-07:00Adventures of the two red dogs: Chapter 2<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">The red dogs have had an enormous culture shock due to our decision to move to Madrid – not only do other dogs apparently speak Spanish (which, it turns out, is a minor problem for the red dogs, they are much larger that most Spanish dogs, so their sense of superiority is firmly in place), they suddenly have to (and this is an “bad” word) EXERCISE.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">Let me explain why this is such a shock. Our dogs lived in the lap of luxury in South Africa, they had a huge garden, they chased the gardener (to be petted, not to eat him), they also chased every single unsuspecting person who dared to walk in front of or in close proximity to – which included the immediate 10km radius around our old house - our front gate and as such, and generally they did not go for long walks. Yes, Mr Dog Whisperer, I admit, I am the worst dog owner ever; I did not exercise the dogs regularly. In my own defence, I would like to state for the record that most days, we left home before sunrise and arrived home after sunset.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">In Madrid, I work only part time and since we have a small garden, the red dogs have been exposed to a vigorous work out every day. The transition from determining their own exercise regime to falling into my exercise regime has been a battle of the wills. At the beginning, they could hardly walk up our hill close to our house. Twenty minutes into the walk, they would drag their feet, their tongues would be extended past their feet and they would lie down in an attempt to stop the torture. This lying on the ground technique works very well, since they will only move if it is backwards towards casa Engela. Since I cannot carry a combined weight of 100 kilograms, they had the upper hand. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">Of course, admittedly, their wilfulness worked very well for this unfit writer.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">Now, three months later, the red dogs and I love our daily walks, we have conquered the hill, and the next one, and now we walk and run for about an hour and a half every day. I admit, I would some days love to not walk or run, but the red dogs have all their senses tuned in when such a thought crosses my mind, they start bumping into me, stepping on my feet and generally fledge a full scale war to drive me crazy, in order that I succumb to their will to go for a walk. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">The walks are also quite adventurous, since we encounter all kinds of wildlife: crazy cyclists with dogs tied to their bicycles going for their daily run (I am in awe by the good behaviour of the Spanish dogs, I would be flat on the ground, with the bicycle wrapped around my ankles if I let the red dogs do this); parental cyclists who have their children in a little seat on the back of the bicycle (the red dogs are in awe by the good behaviour of the children); joggers (both the red dogs and I are gobsmacked by how fit most Spanish people are, we can only hope to achieve that level of fitness) and dog walkers (again, both the red dogs and I are in awe: Spanish dogs are not on leashes, generally, they walk and run freely and listen to their owners – I can only imagine the havoc the red dogs would create if I let them loose, I shudder at the thought and hold their leashes tighter). We also once encountered a car with six Whippets running next to it: the Whippets were tied to this bar extendable thing and running quietly alongside the car. I got a death stare from the red dogs at that, but I am still not prepared to even try that. The only time we encountered real wild wildlife was a little rabbit along a farm road, the big red dog sniffed and sniffed but to her credit, did not bite or bark or scare the little rabbit to death.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">As such, the daily walks are (mostly) not negotiable at all, however, the red dogs are aware that if they refused to go for a walk, I would probably also bump into them and step in their feet. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">I must admit, however, that on this cold rainy day, the red dogs and I are tucked underneath our blankets and refuse to go for our daily exercise, who on earth would walk and run in the rain? Not this human slave or the red dogs…</span></div>Michele http://www.blogger.com/profile/05383983437271005160noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7387335602278621415.post-40935564396784211142011-11-01T15:27:00.000-07:002011-11-02T06:15:11.387-07:00Happy Halloween (Or is it Galloween?)<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">We did not know that Halloween is celebrated in Spain. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">Yes, we may be completely daft but I was under the impression that Halloween is an American tradition. I have however been corrected quite a number of times this week and was told by someone that Halloween is an Irish tradition, and by someone else that the Irish are wrong, Halloween is a Scottish tradition. Where I got the short end of the stick that it is American, I don’t know. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">The point is, Halloween is celebrated in Spain, with pumpkins, spider webs and creepy monster creatures appearing everywhere (no, I am not referring to my dirty house or myself in this description). </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">The entire week during my “fun” English classes (a topic for another day), the children for the first time became excited during class, possibly because they were making Halloween decorations and cards, both activities which require very little English input. Score one for Ms. Michele. This of course does not mean that some children did not cry or throw tantrums; I was just able to bribe them to behave like children and not like a scissor throwing, physically violent, screaming mob. Of course the childrens' level of English is so good, that when I explained about Halloween, I only got a reaction when I pronounced the H as a hard <em>G</em>. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">Last night for the first time in my life, children were ringing our doorbell asking for candy. The red dogs were quite astonished and became extremely confused as to why little devils and witches are being allowed in our property, and they cannot eat them. Clearly my double standards are a point of dispute with the red dogs but be that as it may.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">As such, we were dishing out some very expensive Belgian chocolates because of course we did not know we need to have a vast amount of candy available for strangers and their offspring who we have never met before. Luckily some friends arrived with a bag of candy, which was not some expensive Belgian chocolate brand. As I was handing out the candy to the well behaved children (I don’t know how children in other countries behave during Halloween and when trick and treating – or in Spanish, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">truco y trato</i>), but here, they are extremely well behaved, you must put the candy in their goody bag), I could not help but wonder if these parents are aware that their children will be bouncing of the walls for the next three days. As such, and being the evil (alleged) witch that I am, I handed out extra candy.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">I may just point out that my lovely husband at one point during the night commented that I can fit in quite well with Halloween, I don’t need a costume, just my broom. I would be careful with my home packed lunches this week if I was him.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">As such, and in order to support my host country and the (American? Irish? Scottish? Spanish?) tradition of Halloween, I have decided that next year we shall partake in this event but not only dressing up and possible scaring ourselves half to death, but the red dogs shall promptly be made part of the cast, with, I think appropriately, little red devil horns and pumpkin baskets tied around their necks. Any child, devil, witch, nurse, zombie, skeleton, monster or other creepy creature that is willing to get the sweets out from the pumpkin basket, is welcome to it. I shall have a recorder ready, DVDs shall be on sale in 1 November 2012.</span></div>Michele http://www.blogger.com/profile/05383983437271005160noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7387335602278621415.post-15040764222357519112011-10-30T13:44:00.000-07:002011-10-30T13:44:06.496-07:00Patrick Sweis et al<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">On this sunny winter Sunday afternoon, I have the privilege of watching some Spanish television whilst the cute husband and the not-so-cute-today two red dogs are snoring and sleeping blissfully. As I am flicking through the channels, I hear the words “Patrick Sweis” and I for three seconds wonder “who the heck is that”, when I realise that is the way which the Spaniards pronounce Patrick Swayze. Since laughing by myself, alone, are in some countries considered a sign of being a crazy batty old lady who has 100 cats, I decided rather to put pen to paper.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">When we arrived here, I soon realised that a large portion of the Spanish community believe that everyone in the world speaks Spanish. I now understand, why, since everything is translated in Spanish, movies, television shows, books, magazines, you name it. Trust me, it is very strange to see George Clooney drawling with a suspiciously young Spanish voice. And I do not for one second believe that the girls in Sex and the City (sorry, Sexo de Neuva York), are fluent Spanish speaking girls. I must also say, the Spaniard who installed our television looked at me like I was a freak alien when I asked if the channels have options for English - he promptly showed me how to get the “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Version originale</i>”, and seriously asked me, when the original version was French, if that is English. He was not joking. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">As such, the locals struggled with both my husband’s and my name – my husband was known as “Enrique” or “Hi”, and me, well, I was “Mitchell” or “Mikele”. Sometimes I still am, to the locals. So there you go, it is completely irrelevant what your parents decided to put on your birth certificate. Your name will be Spanish.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">I may just mention here that our surname is also impossible to pronounce here, and when it is pronounced, it sounds like “Angel” with a hard <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">g</i>. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">So for the record, if SARS wants to find us to pay some obscure tax for foreign residents, good luck with that.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">To truly comprehend the, which I now believe, conspiracy to make Spanish people think everyone else needs to learn to speak Spanish, no matter where they live, listen to this story: I was told a while ago by a friend, who was born in South Africa but has been living in Spain for many years, that Spanish people who lived in South Africa, had to register their children at the Spanish Embassy in Pretoria. There was apparently a Hitler type woman working there that, no matter what you named your child, she would change the name to a Spanish name on the Spanish documents, for example, “George” would be “Gorge” (again with the hard <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">g</i>) and “Hendrik” would be “Enrique” and so on and so forth. Therefore, these children had a South African name and a Spanish name. This story is so bizarre; you have no choice but to have another glass of wine.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">Then again, I experienced the other side of the coin: a very common name in Spain is “Jesus”, pronounced “Gesus”, (with a hard <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">g</i>) not the Bible way. When we moved here, the Spanish moving company had a gentleman communicating with us, and his name was “Jesus”. When I got back to South Africa, I received a phone call from the South African agent, who kept talking to me about “Jesus” (the Bible pronunciation) and for the life of me I could not figure out why this man who I did not know from a bar of soap, was talking to me about his religious beliefs. It was only after a couple of minutes that I figured out he was talking about the gentleman from the Spanish company. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">So there, according to the Spaniards, the whole world speaks Spanish, you have a Spanish name, which is your true name sorry for your parents, and people mispronounce names all the time, however, I am quite happy being called Michele, thanks, and I am married to Hein, not Enrique or some other weirdo Spaniard.</span></div>Michele http://www.blogger.com/profile/05383983437271005160noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7387335602278621415.post-9882855361826858312011-10-27T05:39:00.000-07:002011-10-27T10:48:05.750-07:00How easy is it to get a mobile phone...not...<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">It is easier to buy a car (with only an AA driver’s licence I might add) in Spain, than what it is to get a mobile phone contract when you only have residency in your host country. You may think I am exaggerating, but that is indeed the case.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">A couple of months ago, we had a relocation company help us to move to Madrid. These people tried, in vain, to help us get a phone, but their English was not enough to explain to us that as people from Africa, we apparently need to live in Spain for 100 years, before we can get a mobile phone, because we are a risk and can leave at any time. Right, we moved countries, sold our house, moved the entire family and two red dogs to a foreign country and will leave quickly. Check. The other aspect which the relocation company was probably to good mannered to explain is that people use mobile phones, it appears, for car bombs. This I assume only applies to foreigners because each and every Spaniard I meet has a mobile phone. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">So, a couple of months later, with proof of regular income, we set off, on our own, to one Very well-known mobile network shop (I shall not name names directly, but is known for their red logo…), to get a mobile phone. When faced with only Spanish speaking sales assistants, who could not understand our Spanglish nor had Google translate, we eventually returned to our little home, defeated, without said mobile phone. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">Eventually we convinced our good friend who is South African but who speaks Spanish like a native, to help us, and he (again) kindly agreed. So we again set off to the Very well-known mobile network shop. After negotiating for days, collecting documents and bribing bank officials to give us bank slips (No, it is not enough to give to the said mobile shop your original bank accounts, you have to produce a document that the Bank prints. One would think that the fact that the Bank prints a bank account is sufficient. Apparently not). After a couple of days of finding documents, producing blood tests, fingerprints and promising not to disappear, the Engelas had a mobile phone. Joy all around.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">I then leave for South Africa for “Die Groot Trek”, and after two days, the mobile phone is cut off…due to fraud, “because my husband is phoning Africa”. This is fraud people. No-one in Spain phones Africa. Phoning said Very well-know mobile network does not help, since “The Fraud” has been handed to some Fraud Unit. Who will phone the Engelas. On said mobile. That has been cut off. After some heavy negotiations, my husband ends up meeting the boss of the Very well-known mobile network in Madrid, at a braai, and (hear the Angels singing), he is a South African. I am not kidding. Said phone is only then switched on. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">This process took two months, excluding the time to obtain said mobile, which was also two months.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">Of course the said mobile now has some serious coffee stains, due to a certain red dog being possessed by an Alien one morning when suddenly out of nowhere she decides she has never seen a coffee cup, does not understand why said coffee cup is on the bedside table that she has to sniff and said coffee cup should move, which resulted in her getting rid of coffee cup, over my bedside table, over my books, the said mobile and my side of our bed.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">Now one would think to buy a car takes the same amount of time. You will be mistaken. We saw the cars on a Monday, bought said cars and had same cars by Wednesday. Without EU driver’s licences. Because South African driver’s licenses are not recognised in Spain. Algerian ones are. I will not dwell on this today. Three days for two cars, four months for one mobile phone. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif";">My conclusion is that if my car could send a text message and call someone, it would have been the perfect fit. Unfortunately, it does not, so therefore, I am thankful for my coffee stained mobile phone, I just don’t ever want to try to renew the contract. Please.</span></div>Michele http://www.blogger.com/profile/05383983437271005160noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7387335602278621415.post-17419641996254831942011-10-26T04:47:00.000-07:002011-10-26T04:47:08.393-07:00The adventures of the red dogs in Madrid – Chapter 1<div style="text-align: justify;"> <span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">One day out of the blue, two innocent (not so little) red dogs were put in a white tube that moved a lot and next thing they knew, they arrived in a very hot little town called Madrid. What were their human slaves thinking?<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">And so began the adventures of the two red dogs. Some highlights thus far, to bring other potential human slaves up to speed:<o:p></o:p></span></div><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">THE VET:<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">The Vet has never seen such big dogs. She appears to be afraid. As such, the red dogs bump her, step on her and to show the “Vet” (known to the red dogs by her true name, namely “THE ONE WHO HAS THE INJECTIONS HIDDEN AMONGST TREATS, WE ARE NOT FOOLED”) that they know her evil plans, knock over all the goodies in her shop/rooms. Surely this human slave should know space should be left for the red dogs to run, jump, sniff and wag their tails? Duh.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"> <span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">The Vet calls her boyfriend to help her when the red dogs are being examined. Human slaves can be so gullible, if they only knew that with a little leg of lamb, the red dogs are sluts.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Because the red dogs are big (usually accompanied with a small shriek), but “oh so good”, they get treats at the Vet. Little does the Vet know that by sweet talking the red dogs, and rubbing their ears and tummies, they will also pretty much jump through hoops. So for treats, the red dogs will lie down and be quiet.<o:p></o:p></span></div><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">THE RED DOGS GARDEN:<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">The human slaves have been trained well; they had to look for a house with a garden. The red dogs don’t care that in Madrid a house with a garden is like trying to find Mrs. Balls Chutney in Spain, that’s why they have human slaves. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"> <span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Because the red dogs needs a place to wee, to do their number two and roll around in, their human slaves bought grass and spent two weeks of hell trying to get the grass in. To show that the grass which the human slaves bought is just not on par, the red dogs do dig it out. In clumps.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">The female human slave is trying to fool the red dogs by leaving some mint in the garden to cover the ungodly smells that she alleges emanate from their “number two’s”. The red dogs however have figured this out and find that aiming for the mint bushes crushed those dreams. So the human slaves must do that what they were born to do, pick up after the red dogs so that the grass is clean and pristine for the next bathroom visit.<o:p></o:p></span></div><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">THE FROG MARCH:<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">The red dogs have quickly figured out that by running up and down the stairs, farting and stepping on the human slaves’ feet and any other body parts that could be close to their level (which includes knees, legs etcetera), will result in the human slaves agreeing to be dragged all over the little town. Again, human slaves are gullible.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"> <span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">The youngest red dog has also perfected “the frog march”, which in layman, slave, terms means that as soon as the leash is on her, she puts her head down, and pulls, with all her might, to such an extent that her hind legs look like two body builders. This frog march continues until the youngest red dog is sure the human slave cannot return to the red dogs’ house for at least 30 minutes, which would include running time. She will then relax for about 2.2 seconds, and then proceed with the frog march again, since the human slave has to understand that she is entertaining the human slave by agreeing to drag the human slave all over town, she had no problem staying under her blanket on her bed the whole day.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">POTENTIAL SPANISH HUMAN SLAVES:<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"> <span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">The jury is still out on potential Spanish human slaves. Both red dogs have tried to eat Spanish builders, internet/telephone installers and other folk that deliberately plan to walk past the gate in front of the red dogs’ house. What the red dogs have established thus far is:<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 36pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -18pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">1.<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Builders and installers jump high, and fast. This is quite entertaining and as such, the red dogs are trying to find the next Spanish human victim that can leap and clear the outside wall.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt 36pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -18pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">2.<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">The other folk may already have a Spanish dog as their Boss. As such, the red dogs will give the Spanish dogs a blood curling stare, advise them that their human slaves are superior and that Spanish human slaves will never be on standard. The red dogs don’t care that Spanish dogs can only speak Spanish, those other dogs and their slaves can learn Afrikaans.<o:p></o:p></span></div><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">And so, the adventure continues further tales (and tails) to come...<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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</div>Michele http://www.blogger.com/profile/05383983437271005160noreply@blogger.com5