Sid came, she saw, she ate

And so my first visitor from the UK came to my new hometown. Sid arrived last Saturday lunchtime and we had until Tuesday evening to cram in what we could.

Saturday afternoon involved a trip to the Chocolateria San Gines for the to-die-for chocolate and churros. Proper hot chocolate - somehow thick and gloopy without being sweet - makes the stuff in the UK seem even more inferior. We wandered around Sol , in and out of random shops and generally enjoyed the sunshine, while I pointed out things I'd noticed since I've been here and Sid remembered things from a previous visit. Whilst in El Corte Ingles, I stopped briefly to look at little AC units, at which point Sid told me a needed a "large fanny thing". What can you say to that?! In the evening, despite our intentions to go out and sample some local eatery, we sat on the balcony with beer and G&T, watching the sun set and chatting. Eventually a home-made lentil stew made its way to our tummies!

Photos of Day 1: http://picasaweb.google.es/emsr2d2/ChocolateAndChurros?authkey=Gv1sRgCNaX5IOxr93HeQ&feat=directlink

Sunday started as lazy Sundays should - a long drawn-out breakfast on the balcony, of bread, cheese, houmous and watermelon. Despite all my promises, there was not a sign of the half-naked firemen jogging past and I think Sid thought I was making it all up.
By 12, we were out the door and heading for the first of the PhotoEspaña 09 exhibitions (http://www.phe.es). This is a great exhibition, with little bits all over the city - 74 in total. We had picked 3 that we thought looked interesting: The 1970s (at Teatro Fernan Gomez), 30/40s America (Calle Zorilla) and some photojournalism (in the Botanical Gardens). No photography was allowed inside the exhibitions (ironic, I thought)! The 1970s exhibition was pretty huge with a massive selection of international work - apartheid in South Africa, gay pick-up park in Japan, a very weird bar in Hamburg, self-portraits, you name it. As usual with any exhibition there were sections we spent ages poring over, and bits we practically walked straight through, saying "Hmm, yeah, OK, don't get it".

30s/40s America had unfortunately closed by the time we got there but by a quirk of fate it was in the same street as Al Natural, a vegetarian restaurant that had been recommended to me. It was time for lunch so a delicious veggie paella and an unusual courgette tart that involved absolutely no pastry or anything even resembling it followed. Oh, and an obligatory beer! Re-energised we headed off to the Botanical Gardens.

The large villa at the back turned out to house 2 exhibitions - one more of your "arty-farty" kind by a woman who did a lot of "video installation". Didn't do a lot for me, though the very first bit was amusing - sets of pairs of photographs involving a Spot the Difference game. The other was called "Evidence" - 2 photojournalists had trawled through thousands of photographs that had at some point been used in evidence in trials. There were no explanations of any of them, leading us to wonder what kind of trial had required, for instance, a photograph of a man in pyjamas, wired up to inexplicable leads, with what looked like an external pacemaker. A very early lie detector, we wondered! Others were more self-explanatory - footprints in dried blood, bullet casings etc.

It hadn't taken long, so we treated ourselves to a wander round the Botanical Gardens which, despite the dryness here, were blooming well. The indoor tropical gardens were steamy and we discovered a walkway across the top which gave a new view. It also served to prove that Sid appears to be doing a damn good job of getting over her fear of heights!

And then it was on to the Retiro. I do wish I didn't live quite so far from it, as wandering round the shaded avenues is something I don't think I'll tire of, but I just can't do it that often! We grabbed a little tub of ice cream each, and found a patch of grass to eat, chat and laze. I can never quite believe that it still seems to feel quiet despite the massive number of people in there!

The evening was again full of good intentions, but resulted in beer and G&T on the balcony, sunset and this time, bread, houmous, cheese and Marmite for dinner! Oh, and just maybe some cheesy puffs!

Photos of Day 2: http://picasaweb.google.es/emsr2d2/PhotoEspanaBotanicGardensAndRetiro?authkey=Gv1sRgCOKnkrSqiLzDmgE&feat=directlink

And so on to Monday. I'd been determined to get out of the city one way or another, and having been to Toledo a couple of weeks ago, Segovia was the destination of choice this time. A great easy train ride from Chamartin (25 mins and €9.45 each way) found us there by 11am. Be warned, should you go, the train station is in the middle of nowhere and you then have to take a 15 minute bus journey to the town. The bus dropped us off at the Plaza de Artilleria right opposite the famous aqueduct and our day began. Having picked up the obligatory free map from the tourist information, we followed the well worn path from the aqueduct, up to the cathedral and on to the castle. There are more churches in Segovia than I thought possible - strangely, apart from the cathedral, all locked. Very unusual for Spain. We didn't go in the cathedral as both of us have an issue with entrance fees to churches (if they'd asked for a donation, it would have been a different story), nor did we take the guided tour of the castle. It's an odd place - described as dating from the 11th to the 19th century, it looked for all the world to me as if it had been hurled up 6 months ago and should have been at the entrance to Disneyland. Maybe inside it was different but having read the descriptions of the "fairytale castle with its towers and parapets" I was expecting more Gormenghast than theme park.

Despite being about 7 degrees cooler than Madrid, it was still hot so lunch on a shaded terrace overlooking the terracotta rooves and the mountains was required. Perhaps predictably, patatas bravas (no spicy kick at all), bocadilla tortilla (yum) and champinones al ajillo (garlic mushrooms and mega-yum) were today's picks. Ah, and beer!

Duly fed, we headed away from the main area. It's a lovely city and, like many of these kinds of places, much more interesting to get off the beaten track and wander the back streets of the residential areas. This we did, wandering through empty streets of ancient houses, dodging the occasional car that squeezed down the narrow lanes. We found more churches, viewpoints, storks, a kid's playground (couldn't resist), a convent which I accidentally tried to break into, a very incongruous young band rehearsing in a church garden and a long flight of stairs leading out from the city walls and down to the valley and the river below. According to the map there was a grotto and a cave down there so off we went. No grotto, no cave - I'm sure they were there but we just missed the path. However, instead, we found ourselves on a tiny bridge over the river - perfect for Pooh Sticks of course, which Sid won! It was very tranquil down there, even cooler, shady, we couldn't hear any traffic but the cicadas were impressive! Sadly, we realised that (in reverse gravity theory), what came down, must go back up. When we looked up at the city walls, we realised it was going to be a long way up! A well deserved smoothie awaited us at the top before we caught the bus back to the train station and headed home.

Determined to make it out of the flat one evening, we hopped on the Metro later that evening, went to a very camp (not to mention expensive) bar in Chueca, then on to have huevos y patatas (egg and chips to most of us) in a tapas bar near Sol. Very tasty and certainly after the gigantic G&T Sid had been served in Chueca, very required! When we finally ordered the bill, the waiter pouted and said "No! Why?" Admittedly we couldn't come up with a very good reason so we accepted the large free liqueur he brought over instead - no idea what it was - tasted like Cointreau mixed with Pernod or something. Not Sid's cup of tea (in fact, I think by then that's exactly what she wanted!) so I drank both. It would have been rude not to! Home on almost the last Metro. Now that's more like it!

Photos of Day 3: http://picasaweb.google.es/emsr2d2/SegoviaEggAndChips?authkey=Gv1sRgCJT5nfeWpM2J0wE&feat=directlink

And so Sid's last day rolled around. We walked down to Plaza Chamberi, met Debbie, and headed into the Metro Museum based at what used to be Chamberi Metro Station. Opened in the early 20th century, one of the first stations in Madrid, it was closed in 1966 when, due to the curve of the line, it was deemed impossible to extend the platform length from 60m to 90m, to accommodate the new trains that were being used on the rapidly growing Metro network. It was rediscovered some 40 years later and restoration work was begun. You can now descend through the original ticket office and gates, onto one of the platforms. Protected by a screen of perspex, you can see over to the opposite platform and wait for the passing Metros to hurtle through. It's a strange feeling to be down there - the restoration work has been meticulous - old tiled advertisements and the original route signs all serve to make you feel like it could be 70-odd years ago. There is a constantly running film projected onto the walls of the opposite platform, showing the Metro in its first few years. After the trip down to the platform, there's a mini cinema with a 20 minute film about the history of the Metro and the restoration. All in Spanish, of course, fortunately with subtitles (in Spanish!).

We re-emerged into the sun and headed down to Bar Santa Barbara at Alonso Martinez Metro. Having been in there a couple of times previously, I remembered the divine Patatas Santa Barbara (like patatas bravas but their own secret sauce!), and the verduras salteados - aubergine, courgette, carrot, peas, beans etc, roasted in olive oil and sprinkled (liberally) with rock salt. Gorgeous. And of course the obligatory lunchtime beer!

Then it was back up to my area for a walk round the local park, then to the flat for tea and cake on the balcony (how civilised). We pondered long and hard at the cake counter in the local shop, finally deciding on long thin chocolate filled light pastries, sprinkled with more chocolate. Or as Sid called them - poo. We drank tea and ate too much poo, then it was time for Sid to pack up and head off on the Metro. :-(

Photos of Day 4: http://picasaweb.google.es/emsr2d2/MetroChamberiAndCake?authkey=Gv1sRgCPyDl-rk7baybg&feat=directlink

All in all, it was a great 4 days. Thanks to Sid for good company, mother nature for the fantastic weather and to Madrid!

Dia del Corpus Christi en Toledo

On Thursday, it was a national holiday in Spain - Corpus Christi - being a non-religious type, I won't pretend to know what it means other than the fact it meant NO WORK! For me or for Eve, my flatmate. She had been planning to go to Toledo ever since she arrived last September, and decided that Thursday was a good day. Uninvited, I tagged along!!!

It took almost as long to get to the bus station at Plaza Eliptica in Madrid, as it did to get to Toledo! But it was all very easy - return trip was 8.42 Euros (I have got to find the Euro symbol on here!), bought the ticket and hopped on the first direct bus. They go every half an hour but you have to be careful to get the "directos" (direct), not "pueblos" which goes via several other villages on the way and takes longer.

45 minutes later found us in Toledo. It is beautiful although I am going to make a point of going back on a normal weekday out of season at some point as it was hard to really appreciate it with the sheer number of people there.

From the bus station, it's a steep climb to the city itself, aiming for the city walls. Once inside the walls, it's a mixture of styles - from a medieval church, Moorish buildings, the cathedral, and a maze of winding cobbled streets, to the obligatory touristy souvenir shops. We wandered aimlessly for a while and found ourselves in Plaza Zocodover (Zoco to the locals), the main square. There was clearly something due to happen as the buildings were draped in various multi-coloured flags, and there were loads of people lined up along a marked procession route. It was reminiscent of the Easter processions and, given that it was a religious holiday, we assumed the same kind of thing. We wandered the maze of streets a little longer, then headed back to the square. We joined the crowds, which had now swelled to probably double the size of half an hour earlier. We managed to find out that "it" was due to start at 2.30 - 25 minutes away, so we decided to wait. True enough, at 2.30, the people at the front and on the surrounding balconies started to applaud and we craned our necks to see what was going on. A very surreal 4 minutes ensued - a small group of uniformed police headed the procession, followed by about 250 soldiers marching with machine guns and bayonets, and that was it!!! Yup, this time no robed priests, no gigantic idols being carried by 30 men, no incense. Maybe we missed the relevance of it all, but after those 4 minutes, the crowds turned and wandered off. They appeared satisfied. We were bemused. And being a pacifist, slightly hippy type, I felt somewhat cheated that I'd waited half an hour to watch soldiers clutching weapons of death walk past!

Another wander through the streets found us at 2 churches opposite eachother, but they couldn't have been more different. The first was decorated on the outside by gorgeous arrangements of lilies, and was full of people doing what I guess you would expect - sitting on the pews quietly, praying or thinking. Somehow, I am still always surprised to find that, being used to going into churches just because they look nice, take a few photos and maybe test out the acoustics! So when I find myself in one being used for its intended purpose, I tend to feel out of place. Hypocritical even. So I left and headed across the road to the church opposite. This was somewhat different. It had been turned into a single piece of contemporary art. Now normally, that phrase would have me yawning and losing interest straight away but I could see inside. Basically every inch of the walls and the ceiling had been covered in shimmering, gold sheets of paper. It was like being inside a giant chocolate bar! There were, I can only assume, fans or AC behind the sheets because they were constantly moving making the gold catch the light differently all the time. You probably had to be there!!!

And so it was time for lunch! Or so we thought. Apparently, so did everyone else in Toledo. We walked back outside the walls and headed down towards the river, thinking there would maybe be a nice place to eat on the banks of the river, which would be a little cooler. We found one small place but there were already about 10 people queuing and the wait was apparently an hour. So we climbed the steep slope back up into the main city (by now it was the hottest part of the day) and carried on trying. We entered a restaurant which 2 guys had recommended as they left, only to be told after 10 minutes of waiting that the kitchen had closed 20 minutes earlier. Back out into the crowds with us, another attempt found us standing right at the back of a bar/taberna, with a narrow wall-mounted shelf as our planned table, right by the toilets! We tried to order at the bar but were told to go back and wait where we were "sitting" and a waiter would come to us. Or not! After 15 minutes of being ignored, we left there too. By this point, sense of humour failure was setting in and we did something I can honestly say I've never done before - had a kebab for lunch!!! OK, to be fair, it was a damn nice vegetable-stuffed pitta kebab, with chips and salsa brava. I couldn't help but laugh when Eve banged her head several times on the counter when she was told they didn't serve beer! 15 minutes later, in the middle of our long-awaited lunch, she started laughing and pointed to the various bits of Arabic writing all over the place, and the Islamic-style art on the walls upstairs and realised why they didn't serve beer!

Feeling better for some food, we headed off again. Without a map, we had to do what a couple of websites had suggested - we just wandered the ancient streets and got lost. Several times. More by luck than judgement, we stumbled across a place we'd been looking for earlier - the Exhibition of Ancient Instruments of Torture! Now that sounds like fun, I thought. And only 4 Euros - bargain.

It was pretty self-explanatory - various original and reproduction torture devices ranging from the ordinary looking scissors that were used to amputate fingers and toes, up to full size racks etc, and everything you can imagine in between. And Eve's favourite - the skull crusher. A metal hat on the top of the head, your chin clamped to a rest underneath and on the top a large screw which was gradually turned, crushing the skull. Slowly. With the added effect that the brain would start to escape through the orifices of the head.

Maybe it was the concentration of all the stuff in one building but by the end I was staggered by the treatments humans have come up with over the years, to subject others to, either as "legitimate" punishment for crimes, or for simply being different.

So we emerged from the exhibition in need of, what else, beer!? A perfect spot was found at a small corner bar, with a table outside but in the shade. One beer turned into two, which turned into three and in Eve's case, four! Which was just as well, because the walk to the bus station was a killer! We'd clearly ended up way over the far side of Toledo because it took us 50 minutes of alternately climbing and descending, to get back there! It explained why, when I asked the barman "Which way to the bus station?", his first words were "How much time have you got?"

So, after 3 months here, I've finally managed a 2nd day out of Madrid.

This may or may not work as I have trouble with links on this blog, but these should be my photos of the day:

http://picasaweb.google.es/emsr2d2/ToledoJune09?authkey=Gv1sRgCPKdwda6-JLreg&feat=directlink

Bienvenido Debbie, y que calor hace!

I promise not to do the British thing and talk about the weather all the time, but for the last couple of days it's kind of dominated things. It's been steadily climbing for about 4 days, starting around 32, but yesterday hit what must have been 39. When I walked back to the flat at 10.15pm, the electronic readouts all said 35. There were some promising rumbles of thunder, some fantastic forked lightning, a few fat drops of rain, but it came to nothing! My poor body is having trouble adapting, if I'm honest. It's so dry that my throat constantly sounds like I've been shouting for days - it's really croaky and first thing in the morning, practically not there at all. Just occasionally it manages the "sexy Mariella Frostrup" kind of effect, but not often! The top of my left foot and left ankle bone look like a pin cushion. Hugely swollen!! Lovely, eh? Baffled as to why my right foot is absolutely fine though. It's hard to know what to do to try to sort it out. I'm drinking loads of water, but I'm aware that if I drink too much, I'll wash any beneficial sodium out of my body (given how much I'm losing anyway, due to the heat). But various websites suggest that one of the best things to try to get rid of or prevent swollen feet in the heat is to avoid salt/sodium wherever possible! So if I try to replace the salt I'm losing in sweat (!), I'm probably making my foot worse. I've never actually tried to live in this kind of climate before - 35-odd degrees is great when I'm on a Greek beach where there's a breeze and if I get too hot, I can just hurl myself in the sea for half an hour. But here? There's no real escape. No AC in the flat, just one small fan which successfully spreads hot air round the room! The next 4 days will be fun - my first week of teaching 4 students, which will mean lots of walking/Metroing round the city getting from lesson to lesson. Not tiring on its own, but the heat makes it much more draining!!! Anyway, enough of my boring weather chat!



Yesterday, Debbie arrived. At last!!! I met her at a Vaughan Town in Feb 2008 and we've been in touch ever since, even though I only saw her once more, last summer. She's here to do the teacher training (yes, the one I quit!) so I'm wishing her all the best with it. I met her at the airport yesterday and went with her to her accommodation for the next 2 weeks. My friend Pedro is putting her up in the spare room in his flat, which is very sweet of him. The flat is like a time capsule (no offence Pedro!) - I swear it hasn't been decorated or changed in any way since about 1955. On one of the kitchen walls, it has the oldest cabinets I've ever seen! But it's quiet, convenient and has WiFi! As an obligatory welcome to Spain, we went out for a 3 hour lunch, followed by a short walk, then 3 more hours over beers talking about anything from vivisection to euthanasia and rather a lot in between!

Oh, and on the way to lunch, we went over to the Bull Ring as it's so close to her flat, and she wanted some photos. There were a lot of people milling around and it appeared that the main gate was open and you could go through. Despite the fact that I felt very uncomfortable about going in somewhere I disapprove of so thoroughly, I followed the others towards the gate. Rather a lot of people in matching red T-shirts were handing out small leaflets. A very fierce woman thrust one into my hand whilst saying something. I have no idea what she said, but I said "Non, gracias" referring to the leaflet. However, presumably she thought I was saying no in answer to the question I hadn't heard! I continued forward but she came after me, shouting. I understood "It's not a bullfight", which I'd already worked out and said that was fine, but it clearly wasn't fine with her. And equally clearly, she wasn't going to let me get any further so we all left. Afterwards, we found that apparently some Christian preacher was doing his thing in there so presumably she'd asked me if that was what I was there for. I'd said no thanks! Still, lucky escape if you ask me!

Anyway, it's nice to see Debbie again, especially as she's waited so long for this to be sorted out. It's clearly something she really wants so I'm sure she'll do well.

How did I ever work a 40 hour week?!

Now I realise that anyone I've worked with since 1989 will be well aware that I've probably never actually worked a 40-hour week, but that's what I was paid for so....!

The point is, since Monday I've had 3 students (about to become 4), for the grand total of 10 hours a week (will be 12 hours). And I'm knackered!

The students are spread over the day - first at 9.30am, next at 4 then the last at 6.30. Between the first and second students, I'm doing 2-3 hours lesson prep. The first is a half hour walk each way, the second is a 10 minute walk, then a 20 minute bus ride, then a 5 minute walk!!! OK, the third is a 6 minute walk from my flat. But it makes the day very long and drawn-out. Having been used to either starting at 7am and being done by 2, or starting at 1.30pm and finishing at 9, it's quite difficult to adapt to working both ends of the day!!! But it's going a long way to paying the rent and at least some spending money, so I won't be totally depleting my savings!

Anyway, other than teaching, what have I done over the last week? Sat in the park or on the balcony whenever possible, reading and topping up my tan. Watched a disturbing amount of online TV, mostly in the middle of the night, on some dodgy streaming website. Had some late night, deep, meaningful conversations with Eve (my lovely flatmate) about everything under the sun. Went to Lavapies for the first time, to be treated to curry, chat and card games by Dade (and China, who is a sweetheart). Discovered that slamming the phone down on someone on Skype isn't quite as satisfying as the old-fashioned way! Caved in and went clothes shopping today - something I hate doing. Still hate it!

2 friends had very bad news this week - it's not my place to say who, but one knew the family that was found at Beachy Head, and the other had a friend on the Air France plane. Hugs to both.

And so, what's in store? Weekly English speaking group tonight - my grand plan is to not stay too late. Famous last words. Meant to be playing padel (paddleball) tomorrow - should be entertaining! Then a birthday party in the evening. And recovering Sunday, I imagine, before the proper language exchange on Sunday night, at which I am determined to speak more Spanish!!!

The famous roadworks outside the flat are still going on. Now they're building new pavements, kerbs, parking spaces etc. Constant racket of diggers, dumper trucks, skips being delivered and collected. For some reason, the trucks seem determined to go everywhere in reverse, so as well as the noise of the trucks, we get the constant beeping that warns you that they're reversing! And everything, including my throat and nose, is coated with a thin layer of pink powdery dust!!

The weird pipe noise continues to frustrate - it's louder, longer and more frequent some days, then sometimes it barely seems to happen at all. The president of the building came up for a meeting with the owner of the flat and me about it, but he could only say that he thought that the replacement of the water pipes in the street may be trapping air and causing the problem. He felt sure it would stop when the works are over. In October!!!!

God, this is a really negative blog, isn't it?! Which it really shouldn't be because on the whole, I'm loving it here! Now, surely it's time to grill some more asparagus.....

Peanut shelling for beginners

I brought a bird feeder back from the UK. Random, I know, but I figured that with a 4th floor balcony the chances were we could entice some wildlife over with a bit of avian nosh. Finding said avian nosh not the easiest thing in the world though - or at least not in Madrid.

Having failed to actually find bags of just plain, unsalted peanuts, or any of those bizarre fat ball things, I eventually bought a huge bag of unshelled cacahuetes in the supermarket. Back at the flat, I set to work on the balcony with my bag of nuts and 3 bowls - one for unshelled nuts, one for the shells and one for the resulting peanuts. After half an hour, I had a sad little pile of nuts, the balcony was covered in little bits of shell (as was I) and my fingers were red and sore. I'm sure there's some trick to shelling these bloody things, probably a trick that a 90-year-old from the country could teach me, but I was stuck with sort of squashing them a bit to try to make the seam split, then pulling them apart.

Still, the result appears to have been a success. The nuts went in the bird feeder (along with a small amount of Eve's breakfast cereal for a bit of variety), the feeder was hung off the balcony and we waited. Very slowly, it appears that the local sparrows and those other little black and brown things I've never known the name for (some kind of chaffinch?) are working it out. I've spotted a few hovering around, and the level of nuts has gone down.

Mind you, they may be too busy getting busy to worry about food, if you know what I mean. The other morning, 2 of them landed on the railings of the balcony, one in full flirt mode - wings and tail feathers splayed, head bobbing, hopping about furiously. The other followed her (I'm guessing) around for a while, until in a blur of flapping wings and rustling feathers, I'm pretty sure I witnessed sparrow sex! No post-coital hanging about for these guys though - once it was over, they were off - the apparently satisfied female heading across to the building opposite and disappearing through a tiny hole under the eaves. I'll be keeping an eye on that for the next few weeks in the hopes of spotting signs of new life.

The bird feeder did remind me of a lovely story about my granddad. A good few years ago, he and my grandmother at long last moved out of their 6th floor flat in central London, to a bungalow in Kent. They worked hard on the garden - rosebushes, a pergola, pots of pretty flowers - and a bird table. Initially, just your average wooden, DIY bird feeder from B&Q. However, that wasn't good enough for the birds in their garden. My granddad worked hard on that table - he felted the roof so the little guys and their food stayed dry, he covered the main part of the tabletop with little mosaic tiles (grout and all, I believe) but best of all, he refused to feed them anything but Marks and Spencer Deluxe Muesli. Spoilt or what?! Even after he lived there on his own, and the garden wasn't really being looked after, he had a few practically pet birds - a pair of blackbirds mostly - who were so tame they would hop through the back door into the kitchen and be fed M&S Premium Mature Cheddar from his hand! Unfortunately, he's now gone into care, but I'm betting those birds are missing their sugar daddy!

Infuriating insomnia!

Once in a while, insomnia hits me. Apparently, it's time!

For the last 3 or 4 nights, I have lain awake in bed til 3 or 4 in the morning for no apparent reason. I'm tired when I go to bed, I'm not thinking about anything in particular that would explain it, but sleep just won't come!

I can blame it, in part at least, on the weird noise that has been coming from the internal walls of the flat over the last 2 weeks. There is something odd going on with the pipes or something. Several times a day but more importantly, during the night, there is a whining, grinding sound which gets louder and louder over the course of 3 or 4 minutes, then peters out. It's infuriating. Initially, we thought it was the people in the next flat every time they ran the hot taps in their kitchen or bathroom, but after writing them a note and having a chat, we've established that's not it. We're stumped. But it's waking us both up at least once if not twice every night - usually around 2.30 am then again around 7.20. You can almost set your watch by it!

So I have a feeling that I'm now going to bed and just expecting to be woken up, so maybe that's why I can't get off to sleep in the first place.

Insomnia in a shared flat is a bit difficult. I don't want to wake Eve up so I'm not going to go and sit in the living room with the TV on and have a cup of tea! Last night, I spent 2 hours watching bits of episodes of ER that I'd downloaded and doing way too many stupid quizzes on Facebook (as some of you will have seen).

Ah well, tonight I'll try vast quantities of beer (any excuse) and a late night at the intercambio and see if that works!

zzzzzzzz

What's not to like?

I'm having a particularly good day. Not that I generally have a bad day, but just occasionally one of those days comes along that genuinely makes you glad you're alive. This is one of those days.

Why?

The English lesson I gave this morning was good, productive and had the desired outcome for both parties! Even if it overran.

It's hovering around the 30 degree mark in the sun, which is where I've been for most of the day.

It's "Everything for 1 Euro" day at Cerveceria 100 Montaditos, which is where Julie and I had lunch. Even dropping one of my little sandwiches on the floor had a good outcome cos we gave it to a homeless guy!

I won the lottery. OK, I won £1 on an Instant Win game!

I went in the local greengrocers and still can't get over the fact that here, fresh veg actually smells of veg! The whole shop smells like, well, like it should! And you can only get what's in season - unlike the forced, imported, vacuum packed crap in Tesco!

I also went in the local version of Lidl and got: 6 bottles of San Miguel, a huge bar of chocolate, a large jar of lentils, 2 cans of Coke, a unsettlingly large bag of crisps, toothpaste, a tortilla espanola and a freshly baked ciabatta. For 7 Euros.

The hour I chose to sit in the park reading my book and getting a few more freckles also turned out to be........firemen exercise hour. Mmmmmmmmm.

And now? I'm in my sunny lovely flat, with Amy McDonald on, a lentil stew simmering on the hob, asparagus grilling happily, ciabatta waiting to be sliced and a very cold beer in my hand.

As I say, what's not to like?

Damn, Damn and Hurrah!

Damn - Nadal lost the Madrid Open Final.

Damn - my student has cut down her hours from 3 a week to 2, so I just lost a third of my (measly) income.

Hurrah - Neither of my feet are (is?) as swollen as yesterday so I might be able to walk properly and wear nice shoes!

It's getting hot, hot, hot!

Since I've been back from the UK, the weather (yes, I'm going to talk about the weather!) has been picking up nicely. Sunny days, fluffy clouds by the evening and around 25 degrees. The forecast for the next 5 days is for it to head up to 33 degrees.

It's annoying that I'm still somewhat debilitated by my poorly leg. It's still swollen and an alarming shade of purple in places but I believe that's par for the course. It's just a pain that it means I still need to stay in and keep it elevated a lot of the time, instead of going out and having fun in the sun! I did manage to sit in the park for a couple of hours with my leg up on a park bench but I think the heat is making it swell more!

Still, everything else is going nicely. I still have a student, hopefully one more starting soon and I've found 2 other jobs to apply for. I've managed some socialising obviously including gorgeous tea and cake at La Mallorquina with the lovely Richi, went to the weekly language meetup last night and chatted over beers with friendly people, and tonight I'm off to a gathering at Rob's place (if I can find it).

Things seem to be happening to all sorts of people I know, too. Cathy has had another French toilet event (sorry, it's only funny when she tells it), Sid has happy stuff going on I believe, my granddad is being moved out of hospital and into a proper home (again), the lovely, lovely Maggie got back in touch with me, mum and Bev really are going to Rome this time, Dad had good medical checkups, Debbie has a date to come out for her training, and Dade has fab news on a personal front! So I'm being happy for other people which is offsetting my feeling sorry for myself on the leg front!

Being on the sofa with my leg up also meant I missed the famous and huge San Isidro celebrations in Madrid. Pics on a mate's blog look fantastic - not least because it appears there were about a million squishy cakes and things covered in chocolate everywhere!

Nadal is currently giving me heart failure by doing his level best not to win the semi final at the Madrid Open (4-4 in the 3rd set at the time of writing). I should be getting ready for my evening out but I'm not moving til the match is over.

On which note, I'm off to continue biting my nails and shouting "Vamos" a lot.

Doctors, delays and delight

So it's time for me to own up to my little trip back to the UK! I popped back (or at least that was the idea) from 29th April to 5 May, mainly to do a weekend TEFL course. It didn't leave much time for socialising which was why only a few people knew I was coming back. I didn't want anyone to think I was coming back and purposely not seeing them, but there was no way to fit everything in.

As it turned out, most of my plans were thwarted anyway by a quite spectacular foot infection, origin unknown (though I'm trying not to blame my little accident detailed in "The Retiro Tried To Kill Me). What started off as feeling just a bit rough the night I arrived, had turned itself into a disaster by Sunday night. I spent day 2 of the TEFL completely spaced out - I really can't remember much about that day though it appears I bluffed my way through it OK, did my 15 minute practice lesson and passed the course. By the time I got home I had a temperature of 103 degrees and was having trouble standing up. To my massive disappointment, that meant I had to ditch the Mexican meal with Sid, Cathy, Bex and Tanya that I'd been looking forward ever since I discovered my visit coincided with Bex and her sister being down from Sheffield.

2 days of very high temperatures and the associated shivering, sweat-drenched nights hideousness eventually resulted in me going to my GP the day I was due to fly back to Madrid to tell all, and show him the rather bizarre large, hot red mark on my anklebone. It took him all of 10 seconds to tell me I had a bad infection that needed immediate treatment and even so, he couldn't guarantee it had been caught in time. Being an amusing sort, and having presumably worked out that I wasn't the panicking kind, he asked after my immediate plans then said "Well, you can fly to Madrid tonight on a plane. Then you can fly back in a box!"

Hmmm, not optimistic then! To be fair, he didn't absolutely tell me not to fly but it was clear it wouldn't be a good idea. I was under strict instruction that if I saw any sign of it spreading despite the oral antibiotics he was going to put me on, I had to promise to go straight to hospital. I took the pragmatic approach and decided that if there might be a medical emergency imminent, I'd probably be better off in the UK. I rebooked my flight for the following Sunday and set about trying to feel better. Foot up as much as possible, loads of water, constant temperature-taking and lots of TLC from Andy meant that by about Friday night, I felt a lot better.

It did give me the chance to meet up with people during my unexpected extended holiday but if I'm honest, I'd rather have not been ill and flown back when I was meant to! Lovely though it was to see everyone!

So - here I am back in Madrid with a rather unsightly swollen, red calf and ankle. At least the antibiotics are doing the trick.

Sadly, the roadworks outside the flat are showing no signs of going away - in fact, if anything, they're worse. It's harder and harder to get to the front door. Constant dodging of diggers, pneumatic drills, dust, rubble, sand, men in yellow jackets etc. And today, they knocked down an entire house about 20 yards from our front door! Intriguing to watch but the clouds of dust and the noise have been incredible. The little white car that was parked outside the house next door has all but disappeared under a couple of inches of thick, yellow dust.

But it is very lovely to be back. I can honestly say that coming back to Madrid and to the flat really felt like coming home, and the trip to the UK was a holiday!

Ah, yes, the "delight" part of the title! After weeks of disasters, disappointment and threats of technology-tossing from balconies, my laptop is fixed and happily online. I won't pretend to understand exactly what happened, but with a new hard drive and having installed the recovery disk from Toshiba, all is well. I was so excited when it connected to the net last night that I was obliged to drink several glasses of wine (forcing my flatmate to join me entirely against her will of course!)