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| What to do first? |
| 01.27.04 (4:08 pm) [edit] |
It's all change again. This is just a quickie, so can't/won't bore you with the details. I had a call from our lawyer about an hour ago to say we can have the keys to the new house on Friday. So, I'm in the middle of trying to juggle everything to see if its possible to move within the next few days.
I probably won't be posting for a while. Hope all stays well for you all (good luck Flaring), and unless it all changes again I'll post afresh from The Land That Time Forgot.
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16 Comments
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| The chicken story |
| 01.26.04 (9:24 am) [edit] |
As promised, here’s the chicken story for SofP.
When we first arrived in Spain we rented a house from an American couple who were also our neighbours. They were lovely people and helped us a lot seeing as we hardly spoke a word of Spanish, but sadly he was unwell and died a couple of months after we arrived.
The church was full for the funeral. We didn’t have a clue what was going on, but found somewhere to sit and waited as more and more people crammed into the pews around us. We stood as everybody else did, and took their cue to sit, kneel etc. At one point the priest said something and smiled, the response from the congregation was to start kissing each other. At this point my brain decided the whole thing was out of its capability so closed down. From somewhere an English voice hissed “kiss whoever is next to you.” I looked to my left to see the biggest, horny handed, son of the soil ever created. I swear, this man had one eyebrow which covered the whole of his forehead, and a beard which finished just below his eyes. The man mountain was smiling at me. The brain was saying “pucker up” but my lips were trying to recede to the back of my head. That was when I noticed that under his coat he was holding two chickens. Brain went completely to mush. I turned right to see Paul looking equally shocked, and in my panic I lurched at him and gave him a big kiss.
The service went on; A dog strayed into the church and was busy sniffing around. Man Mountain started shuffling. My brain woke up and started to register what was about to happen. Yup, the chickens escaped and deposited a generous dollop of slime on me before being spotted by the dog. The priest went on as if nothing was happening while Man Mountain chased the barking dog, which was chasing two frantic chickens around the church.
The service ended and we all stood around outside, chatting. The strangest thing was that nobody mentioned the incident, or the fact that by now the chicken slime I had all down my shirt was starting to ripen. I knew at that point that life here was going to be interesting.
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8 Comments
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| Lost in translation |
| 01.25.04 (12:33 pm) [edit] |
Lost In Translation
When Braniff translated a slogan touting its upholstery, "Fly in leather," it came out in Spanish as "Fly naked."
Coors put its slogan, "Turn it loose," into Spanish, where it was read as "Suffer from diarrhea."
Chicken magnate Frank Perdue's line, "It takes a tough man to make a tender chicken," sounds much more interesting in Spanish: "It takes a sexually stimulated man to make a chicken affectionate."
When General Motors introduced the Chevy Nova in South America, it was apparently unaware that "no va" means "it won't go." After the company figured out why it wasn't selling any cars, it renamed the car in its Spanish markets to the Caribe.
Ford had a similar problem in Brazil when the Pinto flopped. The company found out that Pinto was Brazilian slang for "tiny male genitals". Ford pried all the nameplates off and substituted Corcel, which means horse.
When Parker Pen marketed a ballpoint pen in Mexico, its ads were supposed to say "It won't leak in your pocket and embarrass you." However, the company mistakenly thought the spanish word "embarazar" meant embarrass.
Instead the ads said that "It wont leak in your pocket and make you pregnant."
An American t-shirt maker in Miami printed shirts for the spanish market which promoted the Pope's visit. Instead of the desired "I Saw the Pope" in Spanish, the shirts proclaimed "I Saw the Potato."
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6 Comments
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| House move update |
| 01.24.04 (8:54 am) [edit] |
The removal company have been jumping up and down and hassling us for a moving date (understandably). The lawyer said she was waiting for the valuation report from the bank, the bank said they were waiting for the valuers to report back. I was sticking pins in the figures I'd made of the valuers. Eventually I called a friend who lives in the Land That Time Forgot to belly-ache to her about the whole situation and she told me we were moving on Friday 13th Feb'.
*Brain goes into "sorry mate, you're on your own trying to understand this one...this is way too Andaluz for me" state*
Me: But, erm, how do you know that?
Her: My cleaning lady told me...
Me: Oh yeah, course she did. Now this might sound stupid, but how does she know?
Her: Her sister knows the woman who is holding the keys for the vendors (who are in Sri Lanka).
Me: But...
Her: Welcome to village life.
A call to the lawyer confirmed this was true. *Brain turns to mush again and throbs quietly*
So, it all looks set to happen on Friday 13th, which by the way isn't unlucky here, it's Tuesday 13th here. Phew!!
Anybody want two little figures complete with removable pins?
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15 Comments
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| Dear Sir |
| 01.20.04 (12:18 pm) [edit] |
Some parental excuses for their child's absences, including actual spellings:
My son is under a doctor's care and should not take P.E. today. Please execute him.
Please excuse Lisa for being absent. She was sick and I had her shot.
Dear School: Please ekscuse John being absent on Jan. 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, and also 33.
Please excuse Roland from P.E. for a few days. Yesterday he fell out of a tree and misplaced his hip.
John has been absent because he had two teeth taken out of his face.
Carlos was absent yesterday because he was playing football. He was hurt in the growing part.
Megan could not come to school today because she has been bothered by very close veins.
Chris will not be in school cus he has an acre in his side.
Please excuse Ray Friday from school. He has very loose vowels.
Please excuse Tommy for being absent yesterday. He had diarrhea and his boots leak
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5 Comments
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| Dreams |
| 01.19.04 (9:15 am) [edit] |
Imagine taking a bag of sugar cubes and spilling them out onto a table. That is what a traditional Andaluz village looks like; An organised chaos of white boxes.
The ground floor of most houses was (and sometimes still is) kept for the mules, and people would build a room at a time, buying and selling space as finances dictated. The outcome of this is that houses creep upwards and sideways, over neighbouring houses. Wills are a new concept here. Until now it was law that, at death, your property was portioned off and each family member was given a certain percentage depending on where they come in the pecking order...Wife/husband, sons then daughters. Each person can then sell off their room(s) should they want to. It's a red tape nightmare, and makes for some interesting living situations. (A friend of our's recently bought a house, and also got a room in another house across the road in the bargain. Another friend has a house whose roof belongs to the local baker. He has legal access to use the roof terrace, and in the summer uses his right to pass through our friend's house to sit on his terrace.)
Although we have all the papers to show our house is OK in this respect, I keep dreaming that somebody turns up and lays claim to part of the house. The dream always ends in one of two ways;
1, We all live together. HUH?
2, I open the situation in "Photoshop" and erase the intruder from the picture. (Usually laughing hysterically as I do it)
[b]I think I might be going mad.[/b]
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8 Comments
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| fiddle, fiddled, gone |
| 01.17.04 (9:55 am) [edit] |
I'm a fiddler. That's what I do, I can't help myself. Maybe I need to go to FA and do the "my name is Andaloo, and I'm a fiddler" thing.
As a kid it wasn't unusual to hear my Mum shouting into the blue yonder, "Andaloo, have you been fiddling with the television settings again" or "who's been fiddling with the fridge...Andaloo!" One Christmas my parents decided to help me focus my fiddling and bought me a "Mecano" (sp?) set. I never built anything with that set, but used the tools to take the back off the television to see how it worked. (Just remembered...I wasn't as bad as my brother who, on receiving a "tool set" for a birthday present sawed off one of the coffee table legs!)
Anyway, as you can imagine, getting my first computer was like fiddler's heaven for me. I can now fiddle to my heart's content, and do. Which leads me to why I started this post. The other day I was fiddling with my links list and lost it. (A major set-back of fiddling is that you have to be prepared for the latest idea not to work.) So, I killed my links list.
If anybody is wondering why they've been ejected from my links, its nothing personal, I've just got to fiddle with it to get it back to where it was before I started.
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3 Comments
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| But then I thought *WTF* |
| 01.15.04 (8:56 pm) [edit] |
Hit a bit of a low today. I guess it's not surprising after a couple of weeks of being high on the thought of moving etc. I feel as if I'm spending my life signing cheques and getting nothing but promised delivery dates in return. When you think about it I'm moving house (stressful), going from town to country ( :shock: ), closing a good business and starting again in a new area :( and attempting to maintain what little sanity was there to start with. *twiches eye and rocks backwards and forwards*
Oh, take no notice of me, I'm tired.
On a good note; Mail is delivered to the house (chin drops to floor) AND, I repeat AND an ADSL line is available! Wahaaaay
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4 Comments
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| Letter of complaint |
| 01.14.04 (10:38 am) [edit] |
I wish I could say the below letter was written by me but it wasn't. It was sent to me a long time ago and I just found it again. I think it's worth an airing.
Subject: [b]HOW TO WRITE A LETTER OF COMPLAINT[/b]
What follows is a superb example of English humor -- albeit a letter that was truly written and sent.
The piece suggests that Americans and Canadians are not the only ones who get poor service from their ISP and/or cable companies. (NTL is a cable operator in Britain.)
Dear Cretins:
I have been an NTL customer since 9th July 2001, when I signed up for your three-in-one deal for cable TV, cable modem and telephone. During this three-month period I have encountered inadequacy of service which I had not previously considered possible, as well as ignorance and stupidity of monolithic proportions.
Please allow me to provide specific details, so that you can either pursue your professional prerogative, and seek to rectify these difficulties -- or more likely (I suspect) so that you can have some entertaining reading material as you while away the working day smoking B&H and drinking vendor-coffee on the bog in your office. My initial installation was cancelled without warning, resulting in my spending an entire Saturday sitting on my fat arse waiting for your technician to arrive. When he did not arrive, I spent a further 57 minutes listening to your infuriating hold music, and the even more annoying Scottish robot woman telling me to look at your helpful website. HOW? I alleviated the boredom by playing with my testicles for a few minutes -- an activity at which you are no-doubt both familiar and highly adept. The rescheduled installation then took place some two weeks later, although the technician did forget to bring a number of vital tools -- such as a drill-bit, and his cerebrum.
Two weeks later, my cable modem had still not arrived. After 15 telephone calls over four weeks, my modem arrived, six weeks after I had requested it, and begun to pay for it. I estimate your internet servers downtime is roughly 35% -- the hours between about 6 pm and midnight, Monday through Friday, and most of the weekend. I am still waiting for my telephone connection.
I have made nine calls on my mobile to your no-help line, and have been unhelpfully transferred to a variety of disinterested individuals, who are, it seems, also highly skilled bollock jugglers. I have been informed that a telephone line is available (and someone will call me back); that I will be transferred to someone who knows whether or not a telephone line is available (and then been cut off); that I will be transferred to someone (and then been redirected to an answering machine informing me that your office is closed); that I will be transferred to someone and then been redirected to the irritating Scottish robot woman. And several other variations on this theme.
Doubtless you are no longer reading this letter, as you have at least a thousand other dissatisfied customers to ignore, and also another one of those crucially important testicle moments to attend to. Frankly I don't care. It's far more satisfying as a customer to voice my frustrations in print than to shout them at your unending hold music. Forgive me, therefore, if I continue.
I thought British Telecom was shit; that they had attained the holy piss-pot of god-awful customer relations; and that no one, anywhere, ever, could be more disinterested, less helpful or more obstructive to delivering service to their customers. That's why I chose NTL, and because, well, there isn't anyone else is there? How surprised I therefore was, when I discovered to
my considerable dissatisfaction and disappointment, what a useless shower of bastards you truly are. You are sputum-filled pieces of distended rectum incompetents of the highest order. BT -- wankers though they are --shine like brilliant beacons of success, in the filthy mire of your seemingly limitless inadequacy.
Suffice to say that I have now given up on my futile and foolhardy quest to receive any kind of service from you. I suggest that you cease any potential future attempts to extort payment from me for the services which you have so pointedly and catastrophically failed to deliver. Any such activity will be greeted initially with hilarity and disbelief --- will quickly be replaced by derision, and even perhaps bemused rage.
I enclose two small deposits, selected with great care from my cat's litter tray, as an expression of my utter and complete contempt for both you and your pointless company. I sincerely hope that they have not become desiccated during transit -- they were satisfyingly moist at the time of posting, and I would feel considerable disappointment if you did not experience both their rich aroma and delicate texture. Consider them the very embodiment of my feelings towards NTL, and its worthless employees.
Have a nice day. May it be the last in your miserable short life, you irritatingly incompetent and infuriatingly unhelpful bunch of twats.
A. Gorman
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8 Comments
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| Three hours and counting |
| 01.13.04 (9:49 am) [edit] |
Santa brought me a gum infection (thank you, you fat old troll).
I have to say, I'm terrified of dentists. When I was a kid the school dentist was a butcher. My childhood experiences have left me with a total fear of dentists. But;
I went to a dentist about my gum a couple of weeks ago. He was VERY kind and understanding, but told me that I needed some root canal treatment. I've been on a course of antibiotics for the infection and have to go back in three hours from now to start the treatment. Yeah, I started counting down the hours about six hours ago. I know I'm being a wuss, I never pretended to be anything else. OK lets forget tall, muscular and Italian. Oh, and there's that thing on my C.V. and the tax return, and does cutting ten years off my age for my passport count?
*Deep breaths* "Nurse, where's my paper bag?"
[b][u]Later[/u]:[/b]
If there's anybody reading this who hasn't been to the dentist for a while because of fear I can honestly say "go". It was completely pain free.
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3 Comments
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| "The List" revisited |
| 01.13.04 (12:04 am) [edit] |
A couple of people have asked me how I feel my life is now, having read the below list. It's a tough one to answer.
I've never really felt unhappy. (God, how lucky is that!) It's true though. Obviously I've been pissed off, or unhappy with a situation but I've always been in a position to do something about it. Before leaving UK we were both teaching. It's fantastic work and I REALLY felt I was doing something worthwhile. The thing I was unhappy with was the fact that no matter how much I did it was never enough. You can only rely on somebody's "goodwill" for so long, it eventually wears out. So, we made a conscious decision to move to a culture where free time was valued. That's not to say we expected (or do) work less, but here your private time is respected. You know what? We probably get more done in less time because of the atmosphere it's done in.
As for the private stuff? I'm equally as happy now as I was fifteen years ago. (Oh God, am I sounding like a tree hugger?) The big change in my life happened last year when we became a legal couple. It has far too many legal and emotional implications to go into here, but needless to say it's a life altering thing to experience.
So, does that answer any of your questions or just add more? I don't know.
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4 Comments
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| List stolen from Billly |
| 01.11.04 (11:01 am) [edit] |
[b]15 Years Ago, I:[/b]
1. Was 29 and teaching in a technical college in UK.
2. Was well respected in my work.
3. Was becoming disillusioned with the British work ethic.
4. Was dreaming of far off places.
5. Was living in an apartment so close to Southampton football ground that walls shook when somebody scored a goal.
[b]10 Years Ago, I:[/b]
1. Was trying to get to grips with my new life in Spain.
2. Was grinning most of the time.
3. Was trying to set up my own business.
4. Was optimistic.
5. Was frustrated because there was always too much month left at the end of the money.
[b]5 Years Ago, I:[/b]
1. Was able to talk to Spanish friends without sounding like a two year old.
2. Was proud that there was a bit of money left at the end of the month.
3. Was looking forward to a summer in Thailand.
4. Was probably the most sociable I've ever been.
5. Was driving around in a beaten up Seat Marbella.
[b]3 Years Ago, I:[/b]
1. Was preparing to move to Estepona.
2. Went back to UK for the first time in seven years.
3. Was getting to know my family again.
4. Was wondering if it really was possible to live in one province and work in another (two hours away).
5. Was becoming a "dab-hand" at moving house.
[b]1 Year Ago, I:[/b]
1. Was getting tired with driving.
2. Was amazed I went back to UK for a ball and enjoyed it.
3. Was trying to contact friends lost along the way over the years.
4. Was organising a big party.
5. Was officially made a "legal couple" with my partner of twenty one years.
[b]Yesterday, I:[/b]
1. Had breakfast on the beach.
2. Ate leftover Chinese take-away for lunch, then fell asleep in the sun and woke myself up snoring.
3. Gave in to the red whelts around my middle and bought a pair of trousers one size bigger than usual.
4. Accepted the quote from the removal company.
5. Watched "The Hours" again and loved it.
[b]Today, I:[/b]
1. Woke up and lay in bed listening to the street cleaners.
2. Watched the BBC news online whilst enjoying my first cup of coffee.
3. Read my friend's blogs.
4. Will finish this, then get showered.
5. Will go for a long walk.
[i]There were more things on this list, but I have to go so cutting it short.[/i]
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9 Comments
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| Pic for FC |
| 01.08.04 (2:07 pm) [edit] |
Here's a pic for FC.
I finally managed to get a removal company to at least come and talk about the possibility of doing the move for us. As you can see though, the streets are really narrow. Wish me luck.
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5 Comments
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| Lesson One |
| 01.07.04 (4:42 pm) [edit] |
Things you don't think of when falling in love with an old house; Lesson one.
Tiny cobbled streets just wide enough to get a small car down are laughed at by removal companies. Oh yeah, now why didn't I think of that before? Not to worry, still only half way through the phone book and still three weeks till moving day. (Grown men begging are a sad sight to behold.)
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7 Comments
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| Kings and Castles |
| 01.06.04 (10:42 pm) [edit] |
Today was a public holiday here (Los reyes) so we took advantage and went back up to the Land That Time Forgot to see the house again. The drive up from the coast is lovely. It's bull country (no pun intended), so it's mile after mile of fields filled with the beautiful beasts living the good life before the truck comes to take them off to the ring. Personally I don't like to think about the thereafter...but that's too big an issue to go into here. As you climb the countryside gets greener until you turn a bend in the road and see the village dripping down a hillside, amidst a frill of cork trees. Cork farming is the main income for most villagers.
I still feel REALLY nervous about living out in the sticks, but when I went into the house I knew (again) it was right.
I can't believe that in three weeks we'll be living there. I'm not sure yet whether I'll be able to blog from home. I asked about internet connection and was told, "oh yeah Paco at the bottom of the village has got a computer" so I'm not sure what that means. Telephones are a novelty there. *aurghhhhh* I may get a connection...slow, but a connection.
I took loads of pics. This isn't the best because it was taken from the car, but it shows the whole village and gives an idea of the size of the castle. Ours is one of the houses closest to the castle. [image]Andaloo_1321365999 .jpg[/image]
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9 Comments
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| Spanish boyfriends, dishwashers and everything |
| 01.05.04 (11:04 pm) [edit] |
Thoughts:
A really good friend came over tonight with her new boyfriend. It was the first time we'd met him and I felt so sorry for him. He's Spanish and we're all English. As hard as we tried we all kept slipping into English...it's hard enough for somebody in that situation, but that poor bloke must have felt really out of place at times. Sometimes words just get in the way.
We paid the deposit on the house today. No going back now.
When you buy a house here you buy all the furniture etc aswell. Normally you pack your clothes into a suitcase and go. Along with the house you buy all the contents. I've even known people move into houses to find things like dressing gowns still hung up in the bedrooms. (ewwwww)
The house we're buying was a ruine for years. (It's about 150 years old), but somebody bought it and completely renovated it. So what we're moving into is like a new house in an old shell, but empty. :cry:
We started looking at stuff for the kitchen today. I NEVER thought I could get so involved in dishwashers etc. This is a whole new world.
I've been amazed at our friends reactions to our move. They're genuinely sad that we're going to the land that time forgot. We're all going to have to work that bit harder at being friends in the future, but something tells me it'll work out. [i]Espero[/i]
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7 Comments
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| Sold, to the puzzled looking townie |
| 01.04.04 (10:00 am) [edit] |
We've been house hunting for quite a while, but yesterday we found it. The one. The palacio de Andaloo (and Andaloo's mate). Isn't it weird how you know as soon as you walk in? I really do believe in that gut feeling that tells you "buy me."
[b]However...[/b]there's a bit of a drawback. The house is in the land that time forgot. Its only forty minutes inland from here but; The shopping centre consists of Garcia's supermarket, known in the real world as a mini mart. People ride around on mules, no I'm not joking, and yes the mules live in their houses with them. This is going to be a fantastic education! Andaloo the townie is going rustic. OMG
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9 Comments
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| Three Kings for Flaring |
| 01.03.04 (8:45 am) [edit] |
January 6th is Three kings or "Los Reyes" here in Spain, the equivalent of Christmas. Its a lovely fiesta, totally for the kids and great to watch.
For a couple of days before the fiesta white vans drive around the streets announcing to all the kids that the kings will soon be coming, reminding them to be good etc. Infact, these vans are collecting a gift with a name tag for every kid in the town from their parents. It amazes me that the kids either don't see, or choose not to see the gifts going in the back of the van.
On the night of the 6th the Kings arrive in a long procession, carrying the gifts for all the kids. (Each town/city does it differently, in Granada they arrrive on elephants, in Malaga they arrive by boat, here in Estepona they're on camels. Anyway, its a long procession, a bit like carnival, and at the back are the Kings, throwing sweets to the kids as they pass.
They make their way to the town's biggest plaza. The Kings sit on thrownes on a big stage, and one by one the kids names are read out and they go up to collect their gift from the Kings. Awwwww
(No kid is left out. If parents can't afford a gift they submit their kid's name anyway and one is provided). It really is a lovely fiesta! I'll try to get some pic's and post them.
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5 Comments
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