It’s a bit ironic having moved to Spain in search of, amongst other things, a simpler life… to be so utterly dependent on the car these days.

The villa we live in currently - NOT for much longer, thank goodness - is very typical, in that it’s stuck up on a hill miles from anywhere, and you cannot get anywhere at all except by car.  Every time you realise you need bread or water or milk etc, you have to get the car out… and of course the school run, up the mountain to the beautiful new building, guzzles gallons of petrol every month.

The alternative is living in an apartment or townhouse in a much more urban area, which we haven’t ruled out one day, but for now we enjoy the peace of a villa whilst we havent yet spent a full summer here.  Our new place is at least walking distance to a shop and a few cafes, which will help.

Of course you don’t realise your auto-dependence so much when you take it for granted - 0nly when it lets you down!  Which it did this week, when we found coolant leaking all over the show.  Luckily R has managed to get it fixed, we hope - airport run tomorrow, so really really really hope it IS fixed!

It’s funny how you learn the Spanish that you need as well.  I am getting quite good at ordering a vegetarian meal anywhere, whilst R has a load of specialist vocabulary about thermostats and radiators that I hope I will never require…

Yes its been a long time!  But if anyone’s still following, I am trying to get motivated enough to start blogging again.  The last few months in a nutshell… still in Spain, in a cold damp house, hopefully about to move to a smaller warmer one, and looking forward to the summer!

Well, with Summer Time officially commenced, I have faced facts and joined a gym.  Had to be done - between the wonderful food and cheap wine, Spain is officially bad for my health.  Combined with the typical homeworker tendency to sit on one’s backside all day, it’s a great recipe for said backside to spread indefinitely.

It’s not helped by the difficulties in walking around here.  It’s funny, because going for an evening stroll, a ‘paseo’, is very much a part of Spanish culture.  However where we live it’s just not easy - streets are narrow and without pavements, hills are steep, and every other house has a loud and aggressive-sounding guard dog to freak at you (and make you leap off the non-existent pavement into the path of the car struggling up the steep hill in the middle of the narrow road).  I do try and walk when I can, eg down to the mailboxes centre a couple of times a week, but the local leg of the journey in our urb is dangerous and weird… and so not done, people slow their cars down to stare at you, or ask if you’re ok or have broken down!

I do have to say that if you don’t mind driving somewhere first, there are numerous beautiful walks and strolls to be had - whether up in the hills, or along the beach, or whatever.  I just do find it weird that I cant start my walk on the doorstep easily.

Anyway, the gym.  I have to drive to it, naturally, but its only 10 minutes or so up the hill in Balcon al Mar.  Run by a very friendly Dutch couple, and has lots of scary equipment… in fact the only thing it hasnt got is a big room empty of equipment for general aerobic leaping about in, which is the kind of class I usually go for at a gym.  But they have lots of complicated looking gear to make you fit with.  I enquired about doing pilates once a week, and was told in a very blunt but polite way that there was no point doing any toning until I had done several weeks worth of fat burning!  So that’s what I have signed up for initially.

Fat burning class is 1 hour long, the first half of which is ’spinning’ - like cycling, only without the dogshit and lorries - and then half an hour of circuit on the ‘Easy Line’ equipment - a minute of step, then a machine, then step, and so on round about 8 stations.  Its quite fun, and a very friendly and supportive group of people.  They also have a power plate machine, which is a kind of migraine-generator that you stand on, and it’s supposed to vibrate your cellulite away.  They play cool and funky music, which helps a lot - I couldnt stand the mixes used at gyms in the UK.  They are very scientific about measuring your heart rate, and I need to get a proper monitor.  They’ve given me a cheststrap transmitter, but often when you’re in the bikes room there are too many people close together, and the monitor on the handlebars in front of me is probably picking up the triatheletes on either side instead of foretelling my imminent infarct as I try like mad to make it register in my predicted ‘fatburning zone’.

Anyway I am trying to find the space in the week to pop along and do 3 classes a week - that’s what I’ve paid for but so far averaging 2.  Watch this space, beautiful beach body here I come.  Maybe…

Just got back, after a few days back in London. 

Quite a strange emotional journey, the first trip back to the place that used to be home.  Of course it’s always hard leaving the family, but it was made harder this time by Richard severely twisting his ankle and being barely able to walk / drive etc… I hated leaving him to it, even with as much preparation as possible doing all the parenting for even 4 days is hard work, we all know that.

I had a lift to the airport with a friend who had guests on the same flight, so that was a  huge help.  Arriving back in Stansted I was met by Mum and Stephen who took me back to their place in Cambridge, and it was really lovely to see them again and in their familiar context – it was all so familiar, it was as though Spain had never happened in a weird way!  But then talking to the kids and Richard on Skype reassured me that both worlds can go on existing simultaneously somehow.

I took the train into London the following morning, and visited clients and colleagues in the rainy grey city.  I had very little time in my schedule for retail therapy – it was as though my London head had taken over in frantic overscheduling, and some people I had hoped to see I never caught up with at all!  I did manage a very pleasant dinner with Nina and Mark, who also put me up that night.  Also that evening I had the weird experience of visiting our old house – but no longer our home – in Molesey, which I expected to be emotionally challenging but was in fact fine.  It was good to see our tenants clearly contented and keeping the place in decent order, and it didn’t look or feel like home so that was just alright.  I delved into the office lockup for a load of summer clothes, and our old Sky box which Richard had high hopes for.

Next day a colleague living locally kindly drove me into London, as my luggage load had increased substantially.  It took over 2 and a half hours of nose to tail traffic, barely breathable air, under slate grey skies…  I thought about driving along the coast road to the Port in the sunshine in Javea, with the orange groves to one side and the Montgo glowing orange in the horizon… and I smiled quietly to myself. 

It was wonderful to see everyone, as my back to back meetings included a lovely Saros reunion lunch.  Working with these people every day it wasn’t like we’d missed each other in the usual sense, but as we only manage to get together face to face a few times a year it is always very special, and from a meeting point of view we also accomplished a lot.  I am already looking forward to our big summer party, even though I know I’ll be speaking to everyone again on Friday once I’m back at my desk.  I am so lucky to work with such a great bunch of people, who mean a very great deal to me.

I didn’t shed any tears though as I waved goodbye to London and sped away from Kings Cross back up to Cambridge, where I had another lovely evening with Mum and Stephen hearing all about their recent exploration of India and seeing all their amazing photos.  I also had lots of beautiful gifts to try and cram into my bulging rucksack, which came in just under the Easyjet weight allowance somehow!

Next morning I was headed for home, and as I finally saw the blue skies and sunshine of Spain, lighting on the faces of my lovely family who drove to Alicante to get me, I knew that now I was truly back where I belonged…

We were woken about 5 in the morning by the kind of howling that penetrates deep into your dreams, and has every parent scrabbling to their feet in a panic – before you realise that the noise is actually feline rather than human.  Satisfying ourselves that Merlin was in, as he is all night given we can’t put a catflap in someone else’s front door, we pulled the pillows over our heads and tried to go back to sleep.

The problem is, the occupants of the large house opposite us a couple of weeks back did a very short notice run back to the UK for financial reasons-  leaving SIX pet cats ‘to fend for themselves’.  How on earth do you end up responsible, using the term very loosely, for 6 dependent creatures, when you know you can’t possibly afford to take care of them in your long term plans?  I couldn’t believe it when she told us, the morning of their flit to the airport, that she was simply dumping them at the house.

Most of them seem pretty able to survive, a stroppy gang of tabbies, that until last night we thought had pretty much moved on and done their own thing…  but ‘Fluffy’ broke our hearts.  Not only had this woman – with whose daughters Cassie had struck up a brief intense friendship – tried to guilt-trip us, through Cassie, to take her on, she was also not even full grown: a beautiful black and white long hair and very affectionate.  She tried desperately to get into the house at every opportunity, and would sit on the windowsill crying all the time.  I felt so cruel telling the girls not to pet her or play with her, knowing that we would be stretched to the limit financially to board Merlin when we went back to the UK in the summer holidays.  The two cats actually seemed to get on OK, and if circumstances were different and we WANTED a second cat it could all have worked out fine, but this was not the case.  I still snuck over the road and put out food on her old doorstep, as well as water, but I don’t know whether she got it or her old housemates who we rarely saw – and I felt very mixed up about perpetuating the problem, whilst at the same time unable to watch her starve on our doorstep.

No one wanted Fluffy.  All the local animal shelters are at capacity, and every enquiry we sent out came back null, every animal lover has had to harden their hearts about the endless abandoned animals left behind by broke Brits going home.  Sam at Woofers didn’t know anyone, and they are having to be increasingly cautious about their own client’s intentions these days, even Cindy from the veggie group who put out loads of feelers didn’t turn up anyone seeking a new pet.  The cat shelter at Denia refused to take her as they are full.  Eventually we found a German charity in Benidorm, who agreed – originally they wanted a €100 donation in return for taking her in!  We pleaded that she wasn’t even our cat, but that we’d do the transporting, eventually settling for a reduced donation- they don’t get any funding, and very animal they take in is neutered and dewormed immediately, so their costs are huge.

We drove down the coast with Fluff howling and freaking out in Merlin’s cat box – we didn’t know if she’d ever seen a car for a trip to a vet before.  Eventually we found Ana, after getting increasingly lost in Albir, and she took her in, plus some donated goods we had found for her boot sales they use to fundraise.  She called us later to say the cat had already been spayed, which means someone cared enough for her once to do that (and made me feel a bit better about haggling down the donation).  I promised we’d see what else we could do to raise money for them – they are called Gatami, and based in Benidorm, reachable on 966806976 – don’t even have a website, but their reputation is good.  They do a regular boot fair stall in Denia and are pleased to accept donations of anything they can sell there to support their work, and they have never put a healthy cat down.  Like every shelter I spoke to, their normal MO is that animals come and go, they’re a great source of free pets for expats and Spaniards alike, but everything’s changed now and all they get is animals in, with so many people leaving.  Aldea Feline said they get cats dumped at their gate in the middle of the night, tied to the gate with string or in cardboard boxes… 

It’s a sad and cruel complication of the credit crunch:  sad enough that so many small businesses and families are going under financially – there is no safety net here – and the fact is it costs a bloody fortune to take a pet home to the UK.  All Merlin’s jabs and pet passport cost the best part of £300, not to bring him here which is unrestricted but in case we ever need to take him back.  Then the flight – through a restricted number of carriers – was around another £400. Which is why we could not and would not take on another cat right now.    Rabies is a terrifying and as yet incurable disease, but it was eradicated from the Spanish dog population by the 60s (compliance with nationwide animal vaccination programmes being one of the few upsides of rigid dictatorship) – a very few cases still show in bats occasionally each year.  Britain’s position on keeping the island entirely rabies free is understandable but the costs and beauracracy involved in vaccinating and certifying animals is causing tremendous suffering here.

I have never been a dog person, but I know that it’s even worse for them.  Not only are the costs of the Pet passport scheme + shipping significantly higher, they are far less likely to cope in the wild.  I walked past the Apasa dog pound the other day, their lonely whining would break anyone’s heart – as would the sign on the door begging people not to dump their animals and find a humane solution as they are absolutely unable to take in one more.  Every one of those poor howling creatures had been raised with the expectations and dependence of being a family pet, not the wild feral creatures they are indeed related to but have become so different from…  I wish people would think twice and three times, before making a commitment they cannot fulfill long term.

Long time no post!  But we’ve had a busy week…

We were looking forward to half term, because it felt like for both us and the children we had arrived then pitched directly into work/school, without much adjustment time – well, it’s not easy to be tourists in midwinter in any case.  We had plenty to look forward to as we did our best to get the house cleared up and rearranged in anticipation of our first houseguests.

Sunday morning I got up early and scooted down to Grenadella, looking forward to my first ‘proper’ walk, a free guided excursion organised by the local tourist board.   It was a 3 hour hike through beautiful countryside, initially well inland and steep hairpin bends that left me without sufficient breath to curse my lack of fitness and embarrassed at being the youngest and least fit person there apart from our guides (who were around my age but in far better shape for climbing I hasten to add).  Then we came out onto a slightly scary but incredibly beautiful ridge walk, from which we could see for miles in every direction, from Cap San Antonio in the north to Ifach at Calpe in the south.  It’s a shame it was a dull and gloomy day, the views were still quite incredible but I wondered if I would be able to find and follow the intermittently marked path again on a sunny day.  We passed down to “Grenadella castle”, the ruins of an 18^th Century defensive fortification, after which we appeared to be quite close to the beach.  The last part of the trail was extremely hairy however, at one point involving nothing I would describe as a pathway at all, just chains bolted to the rock to help you scramble round – not a little stroll up from the beach I would fancy attempting en familia, unfortunately.

Anyway later that day my sister, her husband, and 2 and a half kids arrived from the UK, and the girls were thrilled to be reunited.  Lara wore herself out completely, and spent most of the night awake with earache which was far from ideal as she ended up in our bed (so we had no sleep instead of the other kids), and next day was Cassie’s long awaited birthday party – deferred from her actual birthday the week we arrived.  Lara perked up magnificently though Richard was feeling unwell too after our rough night, but somehow I got all the food prepared and between us we shuttled up to Pinosol Park, a short distance up the road, where her friends from school all arrived.  The kids seemed to have a really fantastic afternoon, all mixing well including her cousins from England, and Lara’s best friend from nursery also came so there was a great spread of ages - although at one point we lost most of the older ones who seemed to set up a tribal camp on the opposite side of the park, only emerging to wave sticks at the grownups and shout a lot, before a quick cake raid.  A lot of the food, even the savoury stuff, got eaten, which is always a good sign.

The party ended abruptly when Lara, running on fumes by now but having a brilliant time, suddenly got to tired to hold on to the swing and dived headfirst to the floor instead.  Nina rushed the two of us home where I got her cleaned up and tried to calm and comfort her, but it was really scary as she cried for about 2 solid hours before drifting off to sleep, and her face was badly bruised and scratched.  As always when a small child is tired and  in pain, she regressed a good year or two in age and communication skills, and we had no way of knowing how badly she was hurt.  Eventually she seemed to be sleeping peacefully, and thank god woke up more cheerful and apparently with no lasting damage, but it was a horrible moment, and we were rushing round researching hospitals and clinics etc whilst trying to be jolly hosts and cope with post-party clear-up – not much fun.

The rest of the week went well though and the weather was kind – we spent most of the time at local beaches where it was paddling weather, certainly for fast-moving small people, and indeed emergency clothes changes were required on more than one occasion for those inclined to misjudge the incoming waves and suddenly find themselves doing rather more than paddling.  Picnics and sandy toes reminded me why we had uprooted our lives from the familiarity our guests represented, and I knew we’d done the right thing watching the children play so happily – all my childhood, beaches were a 2 week treat in Wales every summer, and I always promised myself I would live near the sea sometime, why had I we waited so long to give our children this lifestyle?  Well, lots of good practical reasons as it happened, but here we finally were, even though our guests kept saying how it wouldn’t suit them.  We checked out new beaches at Moraira, Cap Blanc and Denia, but the kids always loved the Arenal (with its climbing frames and golden sand) best of all.

On their last day we went into Jalon, just to explore a bit of the interior, and although our Nina and Mark didn’t enjoy the mountain roads as much as we had hoped – we took them the pretty way through Gata and Lliber -  they made it half way up the Coll de Rates where we stopped for a picnic in the pineforests with incredible views, across the whole of Jalon valley and out to the Montgo and the sea at Denia.  The weather was perfect – just right for picnics without worrying about sunburn – and the kids loved exploring the mountain trails.

At the weekend we were back to the valley for lunch at La Vall with the Montgo Vegetarians, lovely to see Brian and Cindy and everyone again and the food was very excellent – even Richard seemed to like it.  The journey back was interrupted by road closures in Gata as the local kids had their Carnavale parade, it appears our kids had theirs a week early due to half term timing, so we got to watch all the village children and their famililes parade past the car in their colourful costumes.  On the last day of the hols we went back to the Arenal again to meet Lara’s friend from school, and it has already reached the stage where we can go there anytime and both girls will be pretty much guaranteed to hook up with friends from school or last time.  I love it so much that we live 5 minutes away from this kind of fun and the sheer delight they take in dodging the surf… though I hope that as the season and temperature develops we may reduce our laundry load slightly, or simply learn to strip them off in anticipation of the inevitable soaking that seems to occur whatever the our plans/instructions/the weather.

On the final afternoon we drove out to the lighthouse at Cabo San Antonio, for amazing views of the bay, though it was very windy and none of us were dressed for a walk.  We drove back via the mirador at Els Molins, from where the views of Javea were simply incredible, and I longed to follow the path back down into the Port – with different footwear and no small children though, so another day.  We contented ourselves with a stroll around the pine forests at the top, and once again thanked our good fortune in living at such a beautiful and inspirational place.

In response to a few emails about the planning/run up to our relocation, I have finally finished an account /brief diary of 2008 and the run up to the journey at the start of the blog.  Enjoy!

One of the most fundamental and hopefully enjoyable aspects of life is what we eat and drink… so I decided this week to write a bit about that and how it gets done around here.

Whenever we’ve been in Spain in the past it’s been as a tourist, and of course what you eat on holiday is not what you eat at home – so whilst we knew a lot about restaurants and bars before we arrived, there was a lot to learn about the day to day stuff, some of which was familiar, and some less so.

Supermarkets for example are pretty much the same anywhere in the world… but as in every area, they each have their own feel and culture and good and not so good points.  Some names are familiar – Aldi and Lidl and Carrefour are spattered along the coast including a Lidl in Javea, and others are new.  Eroski is huge and seems good value, with lots of non-food items (eg we bought Cassie’s bike and our office chairs there, as well as some kitchen stuff).  Mercadona is a good all-round weekly shop, Masymas seems to be a fairly local chain with stores all over the area and some regional produce, medium sized premises.  Dia is cheap if you chose the right promotions, Consum is cheapish but mainly because you can’t find anything you actually want…  Supercor is part if the Corte Ingles chain, with choices and prices to match.

There are lots of little supermarkets too, many serving the expat or tourist trade.  Quick Save has several local branches for those who can’t live without Heinz beans or PG tips, though the prices are very different from the UK chain with a similar name.  There are smaller independent ones out in the urbs where lots of people live, the closest to us is a German run store with a surprisingly good bakery.

But the fresh produce in the supermarkets is generally disappointing, so we try to be a bit more Spanish about it and get to the markets when we can.  A lot of these are during the working day which is a shame, apart from Pedreguer on Saturdays which is heavingly busy.  The Thursday market in Javea is great and we have found all sorts of things from a charity stall selling secondhand English paperbacks for 1€ to cheap socks, along with a great range of local fruit and veg.  There is also an indoor market in Javea with permanent stalls selling all kinds of foods, and the produce there is excellent and also competitively priced.  Lara has a school trip there in a week or so, as they have been learning about healthy eating and hygiene as a topic.

Eggs we get from a local mum at school – amazingly fresh and very free range, daily from their own finca.  Bread we tend to buy every day or so fresh, but exactly as in the UK generally also have a sliced sandwich loaf (‘pan moulde’, though it keeps pretty well!) on hand for simplicity in lunchbox making.  Wine of hugely varying quality and price is available in all the big supermarkets, and we keep forgetting to make some note of the good value ones that turn out surprisingly nice… although for everyday drinking its hard to beat the reliable and acceptable brew from the bodega in Jalon (95c per litre!) -you wouldn’t take it to a dinner party, but then we don’t go to many of those.

As I may previously have hinted, Spain isn’t an easy place in many ways for vegetarians.  Lifetime carnivores too are confronted in a more head-on way with the reality of what they’re consuming, and if accustomed to shrink-wrapped unrecognisable body parts in Tescos the corpses with heads and legs on, especially on the fish counter, might come as a shock – likewise the ubiquitous whole hams, complete with trotter, hanging in every bar and racked in rows in the shops.  Of course there are plenty of alternatives, and local cheese is pleasant and plentiful, as are pulses galore (though many precooked ones may contain the ever-present jamón.  Processed vegetarian foods are rare, imported, and consequently extremely expensive – I remember being thrilled to find quorn mince in a local supermarket, only to drop it in horror on spotting a pricetag in excess of 5€!

I have found one local health food shop that sells organic tofu for a similar price you’d pay in the UK – there is no mass market alternative like Cauldron – and they also sell a good selection of whole organic pulses as well as some limited fresh stuff.  I am currently trying to make my own tempeh, as I have never seen any of that on sale here, although the delicious Indonesian takeaway must be getting it from somewhere.

Restaurants, cafes and bars are of course everywhere in a resort town in Spain, and whilst we can’t frequent them as often as we’d like whilst Sterling continues to circle the drain, it is nice to pop out for a quick bocadillo or café Americano occasionally.  The Arenal area has endless ‘international’ restaurants, including the famous Scallops, renowned for ridiculously low priced food offers.  The Port and the pueblo have many more Spanish establishments as well as some high quality international/fusion offers, including two excellent Indians.  There are places serving greasy chips to Brits in a language and environment that they understand, and there are coffee shops serving brandy and wine at 9am to Spanish workers taking a break for their segundo desayuno.  At lunch time a fixed price ‘menu del dia’ is commonplace, offering a good value 3 course meal, generally with several choices for each and possibly including a drink – us veggies have to negotiate our way around this of course, so we don’t end up with an a la carte salad costing twice as much as the menu steak!  A veggie entrée is a rarity in a Spanish restaurant but often the starters will include soups, salads and tortillas and lots of places will be flexible… it’s no coincidence that restaurant ordering is probably my most advanced area of Spanish language knowledge!

Of course one of the things that really attracted us to the mediterranean lifestyle in the first place is the fact that children are welcome anywhere, at any time – there are no ‘family’ restaurants serving rubbish food in small portions.   Kids in Spanish restaurants are seen and heard, but you can generally spot the natives who are well behaved and accustomed to being treated as part of a society of many elements.  One thing that is a concern eating out though especially with kids is special Spanish loopholes in the supposedly EU wide smoking ban – many establishments opt out of being smoke-free, meaning the interiors are like sticking your head in an ashtray.  Though when you can sit outside that isn’t a concern – bring on the summer! 

We have had a couple lovely days this week and are promised more for the weekend which will be great, as it’s been a long week for us in the office – mainly dealing with the fallout from the extreme weather conditions in the UK.  Cassie is furious to have missed the best snowfall in decades, she doesn’t even know her old school was closed for part of the week whilst she was sat at her desk.  We are hoping to go back to Jalon tomorrow- restock on wine obviously, but the almond blossom should be out, so we’ll take lots of photos.  Right now writing this has made me realise it’s almost teatime…

Try before you buy at the Jalon bodega

OK one month in Spain now – as of early tomorrow morning. That’s pretty amazing, but I am still not sure whether it feels like we’ve just arrived, or been here all our lives.

But rather than the usual introspective ramblings I thought I’d try organising thoughts into lists today, now that we’ve had a chance to think things through a bit certain categories inevitably come to mind….

Things I wish we’d brought / brought more of:

• Our kettle – took us a while to figure out where to buy one of these
• Teatowels - what do Spanish people dry their dishes on? Took us ages to find these in a local rastro
• Oven gloves – still haven’t managed to find a pair still – will add to my eBaying list, but again, what do Spanish people do, are asbestos fingers the norm around here, especially with all the grilling and barbequeing, I can’t work that one out
• Tresemme Salon Silk conditioner – or any decent rich conditioner – seems to be very hard to buy locally, also kids detangling conditioner/spray. Spaniards must be naturally blessed with luscious hair I guess
• Our TV!! It’s very frustrating to know we have a decent widescreen in storage, when we look at the ancient goldfish-bowl one here. But we had one trip, and one car, and had to prioritise,
• Warm/winter clothes… OK, I know it’s hopefully only for a few more weeks tops, but I am bored with my 2 sweaters and have had to buy more,
• One of those presses that recycles old newspapers into blocks for the woodburner. I am definitely going to get one of those for next winter!
• The scanner. Again, got a perfectly good one in storage, didn’t think we’d need it, but the amount of things we have had to provide copies of – I thought I’d scanned everything I could think of before we left but we have substantially added to our haul of Vital Bits Of Paper in the past month

Things we brought that I wish we hadn’t bothered:
• So much kitchen stuff… I wish we’d had a proper inventory of what was here.
• 2 DAB radios – see previous posts – could have eBayed these and regained both load space and useful cash ?
• So much IT stuff – serious ‘if we can’t work we can’t stay!’ paranoia came into play here – of course the right set up is essential, but did we really need 3 routers? Honestly!
• Likewise stationery/office consumables. Yes, apparently they do sell pens in Spain, even highlighters.

Things I’ve learned:
• That driving on the ‘wrong’ side of the road is actually possible (just still rather scary). Driving in ancient pueblos where the streets are barely as wide as your car, or along roads with sheer drops and cliffs to the side, is still best left to someone other than me however.
• ‘Mañana’ doesn’t actually mean ‘tomorrow’, when uttered by anyone in official administrative positions. If it can be done more slowly and irritatingly, it will be, and it can’t be done today because the office is just closing and anyway the paperwork isn’t quite right
• Conversely on the practical front, extreme weather is something a society can live with – forest fires, tree-felling winds, flood-inducing rainfall… none of these things grind the country to a halt the way they do in the UK, it gets fixed promptly without too much fuss and life goes on.
• That there are other vegetarians in Spain – although so far none that I have met are Spanish..! The fabulous Montgo Vegetarians are a great bunch and not a hair shirt or pair of dungarees in sight.
• How awesome the night sky looks on a clear night – especially during a power cut
• I’ve also learned all manor of practical things: how to wire a 2-pin plug, how to get a fire going even from damp wood, how to watch UK TV via a proxy server, and how to make coffee on a barbeque

Things I still haven’t really worked out, or just have no idea about…
• What the actual procedure is for post too big for the letterbox… some of it seems to get randomly delivered by private car, other might be waiting for us at Correos, it’s all very confusing
• What the exact translation of the slightly scary sign with a gun on it means at Grenadella National park (probably something about hunting)
• When we will ever get the promised 10meg adsl
• What on earth our electricity bill is going to look like after all these heaters blasting away
• How the girl’s school can justify charging 6€ for uniform socks
• Why the local radio stations play such cheesy rubbish

Things I want to prioritise for our second month in Spain
• Getting some decent walking boots and doing some walking
• Finally getting on the Padron (and investigating the potential nightmare of applying for full Residencia)
• Organising Spanish lessons – nope, osmosis is not going to do it (not in Javea working with Brits all day!)
• Going riding with Cassie
• Get more photos onto this blog –even though the resizing is a bit of a pain
• Getting my Spanish company properly set up
• Calling friends for chats instead of relying on Facebook –we have the ip phone set up in the office so it doesn’t cost anything – just psychologically feels like we can’t chat as its too far
• Having even more fun, outdoor family time and really getting to know the wonderful new area we live in. Another ‘OMG can’t believe we’re really here moment’ just in the offing!

Every now and then we find ourselves drifting along feeling like everything’s pretty normal now and we’re getting the hang of stuff, but then something pops up and slaps you in the face to say ‘hey remember EVERYTHING’S different now and don’t you forget it!’

Usually this is in really lovely amazing ways, such as waking up to see sunlight on next doors palm trees glowing orange through the bedroom window, an awesome dawn, or the kids first paddle on the beach… I hope I never stop getting those ‘OMG we’re here! We’re actually living by the sea, by the Med, like I dreamed..!’ moments… if it ever gets to that point I deserve to get sent home.

Occasionally though your face gets rubbed in it in a not nice at all way, such as last Thursday, when we both took time off work to try and register on the ‘padron’ like dutiful citizens -as well as making access to state healthcare more straightforward, the main reason one does this is for the benefit of the local town hall, it’s their electoral register and they receive funding on a per-head basis for local services. So we filed up with what we thought were the right bits of paper, only to be told our rental contract was no good – well, we could see her point as it was a bit scrappy and altered etc, we explained the landlord was out of the country so she said come back with a receipt for the deposit.

Bit despondent we headed home, pausing in Javea for a couple of shops, whereupon we saw the local plod pulling people over. Richard immediately got a bit paranoid, because the amount of regulations and things you have to carry etc, its very complicated. He was muttering away to himself as we got back in the car, ‘spare bulbs – in the glovebox – tools to change bulbs – passenger door – hi vis jackets…’ I told him to snap out of it and stop being silly. He even contemplated taking a longer way home to avoid their junction, but then we thought no that’s daft and turned left onto the clear and empty road as we had done many times before.

We were immediately waved over by a sweet young Policia, and politely informed that the extremely faded graphic in the centre of the road was in fact cross hatched and it was illegal to cross it, we mustn’t do it again. We haltingly thanked her and it was all going smoothly and swimmingly, until the point she established that we weren’t yet legally registered… at this point everything changed, and you saw Euro-signs ‘ker-ching’ in her eyes. “Then it’s a fine” – delivered from that point in patronisingly impeccable English, she relieved us of the seemingly random amount of 63 Euros… whilst we listened to her colleague pull over a Spanish driver alongside us, warn him for the same offence, and wave him on. Only non residents have to cough up on the spot, presumably such a minor violation is scarcely worth the paperwork to collect by post, but new arrivals are fair game. We just barely had enough cash between us – had we been a Euro short she had the power to frogmarch us to a cash point or impound the car if she took a fancy to it, we were utterly powerless and treated completely unfairly. We left shaking with rage. The actual ‘offence’ could have been questioned legally very easily given the state of the road markings, but the blatant way in which it was applied so unfairly was gobsmackingly outrageous…we felt completely powerless, given our limited language and status here… no one in Spain had before made us feel like that and we hope it’s a long time before it happens again.

The following day we were made aware of a big difference in another way, waking up to really weird weather – dull grey skies, high winds but WARM… it was very strange. Cassie came home from school insisting her teacher had said it was a tornado, we think she meant sirocco (we hoped!). Next day was Saturday and it was much brighter but seriously high winds – we watched the palms from the bedroom window bending to the ground, glad our villa was actually in quite a sheltered nook (certainly compared to some we’d viewed). It was quite fun to be cosily (well, draftily) inside, an uninvolved observer – until the power went off. Not so much fun! Panic over, all back on 20 minutes later… for around 5 minutes. Then it went off, and didn’t come back on.

Richard managed to get through eventually to someone at Iberdrola, the provider, and established something was indeed wrong and they were trying to fix it – soon it would be fixed. Well that’s ok then.

It wasn’t fixed on Saturday. Richard took the kids off to the Port to collect Cassie’s new school skirt from the tailors (about an inch and a half had to be taken from the side of it to make it fit), and when he got back they’d witnessed some serious devastation down at the beach – recycling bins overturned, hoardings down, etc. Most of the town did appear to have power, the outage was quite localised, so at least I knew internet cafés referred to as ‘Saros Office - Plan B’ were accessible – but we couldn’t imagine it’d still be a problem come Monday surely..?

Candlelight and torches were just about fun for one evening, as well as the interesting game of trying to eat the entire perishable contents of the fridge, but the kids were anxious going off to bed with the winds still howling and no landing light. We left their LED fairy lights on, and blew out all the candles, as we washed in the last tepid water from the tank.

In the morning still no power, and the interesting challenge was our first non-family guests expected for lunch! First things first and we hit Scallops for breakfast – hadn’t actually been there since Cassie’s birthday, but today required caffeine for a start. Without mains gas we were without so many basic things, and the electric company could only promise the problem was still being worked on and would hopefully be sorted ‘later’. We could see trees down in the roads nearby, and hopeful signs of men working on cables in the road… but cancelling lunch wasn’t an option not least as my phone battery was on its last legs and the house phone had run down completely!

Failing to turn up a camping gaz stove from anywhere open on a Sunday in Javea, we went back and improvised a cold lunch for Sam, Jim Charlie and Timmy, who had taken such lovely care of Merlin over Christmas (actually we got a brief 5 minutes of power – oh great its fixed, plug everything in – oh no its off again!) They were great company, everyone was polite about the salads and cheese, and as it was a bright sunny day and the actual gales subsiding we then lit the BBQ to boil water for tea and coffee after! Followed by a couple of pizzas and things that were mouldering in the large white box we normally used as a refrigerator.

The kids had a brilliant afternoon tearing around with their friends, and whilst it wasn’t quite how I’d envisaged our first Spanish BBQ experience it was fun improvising. And our lovely lunch-guests then invited us all back to their place, out in the campo with its own generator, to make free with their hot water and all get showered – friends indeed. They even finished off our grilling and plugged in all our portables, and offered desk space for morning if we needed it… we were so grateful.

When we got back we saw lights on! But by the time we got in the house they were off again. It transpired we could have lights – great – but the plug circuit was damaged somehow, every time we re-enabled it the whole lot tripped and we were back in the dark on a count of 3. Hours – seemingly – of switching, isolating, testing, tripping (and swearing) later we finally isolated the problem to the security light in the garage… so we switched that off, flipped the trip, and held our breaths…. Lights still on! Bit by bit we plugged everything else back in, and it worked.

Some things we’ll try not to take for granted in future. Keep full charge on all laptops and mobiles for a start…. Spain is indeed different!