tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11536294472283960522024-02-20T09:32:41.114-08:00South From MulhacénLaurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01886493225675415790noreply@blogger.comBlogger48125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1153629447228396052.post-11360416044294101512018-12-10T04:34:00.000-08:002018-12-10T12:55:12.422-08:00<style type="text/css">
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">Impulsive Kindnesses</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">When I walked the Camino de Santiago in 2015 I spent eleven days alone on the Invierno route between Ponferrada and Santiago de Compostela. When I tell people that I didn’t see another Pilgrim during those eleven days, I’m sometimes asked if I was ever frightened or felt endangered. My response always includes one of several stories about the kindness of the local people I met along the way.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">One day was especially hot and I walked for several hours without passing through any villages or seeing another person. I’d misjudged my water needs for the day and my bottle ran dry about an hour before the day’s destination.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">I wandered into a small hamlet and, in search of a place to fill my water bottle, I walked past the yellow arrow indicating the direction of the Camino. </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">A man ran towards me pointing to the path and telling me that I had missed the turn. I nodded and gestured that I was looking for a place to purchase some water. He immediately led me to his home, invited me in, and filled my water bottle. Then he went into another room and returned with an ice cold orange soda which I eagerly accepted.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">Back on the path I reflected on the interaction. I noted that he didn’t hesitate to take a strange woman into his house. He hadn’t stopped to wonder what people might think, or if I might be fearful of him; he saw a need and he responded with kindness. I thought about how different this might have been in the States and I knew that I wanted to live more openly, where kindness was the first impulse.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">This past week a young woman knocked on our door just before sunset. I was in another room when she arrived but she told Sam that she was lost and had run out of water. Before I joined them, Sam invited her in and filled her water bottle. He asked where she was headed and it was unclear. She was planning to camp “somewhere.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">Sam’s paternal instincts were immediately triggered and he knew that she needed dinner and a safe place to sleep. My introverted side wondered how we would entertain her all evening, but I agreed with Sam, and thought of our own daughters and how we would want them to be treated in a similar situation. As we sat down to a pasta dinner we introduced ourselves and invited her to stay the night. She was visibly relieved by the offer.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">The evening passed easily as she entertained us with stories of her various adventures. The next morning we fed her a good breakfast, supplied her with boiled eggs and energy bars for her hike and then walked with her to the trail that she wanted to take into Capileira.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">I shared this story on Facebook because I thought it was a pleasant event. Sam and I have been astounded by the response.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">This is the most “liked” thing that I have ever posted. Comments range from “What a great thing for me to read this morning,” to “Thank you for having kind souls,” to “She was lucky to knock on the right door.”</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">This last comment got me thinking. The thing is, I don’t think there is a “wrong door,” where we live. I believe that anyone on our mountain would have responded exactly the same way. We have noticed over and over again that the first impulse here is to assume the best of others and to respond kindly. We live among gentle souls and in turn are learning to live more gently.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">But what has struck me more than anything is the clear indication that people are hungry for stories of kindness. We are living in a time when our leaders prey on victims and feed on the most hateful and fearful impulses of the people.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">But my friends remind me that at our core we desire kindness and love.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I truly believe that no act of kindness is ever wasted and it is always the correct choice.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">Wishing you all peace during the holidays </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">and in the year ahead.</span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i style="font-size: medium;">Human kindness has never weakened the stamina or softened the fiber of a free people. A nation does not have to be cruel to be tough. </i></span></span><br />
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<br />Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01886493225675415790noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1153629447228396052.post-22508690296036329612018-10-16T07:51:00.000-07:002018-10-16T07:51:34.170-07:00A Quick Trip to Órgiva and an Anniversary<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Living remotely can be disorienting. When you spend days at a time going no where and seeing no one, but each other, you could be living deep in the Maine woods, in the Australian Outback, or on a mountainside in Spain. Our style of living, and our daily activities are different than in Oregon because we live off the grid, far from town, but where we are living can escape our awareness after many days of isolation.</span><div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But then we go to town and are immediately reminded that we live in Spain. Not only are we presented with the reality that our mastery of Spanish has stalled, but there are so many scenes that just were not common in our suburban life in the U.S..</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Today we needed to drive down to Órgiva to check the mail and pick up some packages from the business where we have things delivered. We've had some very heavy rains in recent days and the road down the mountain is a mixture of deep puddles, mud, and treacherous grooves. It is an adventure just getting to the tarmac.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">On the way Sam received a call from the Correos man. He had arrived to deliver a package, but the business was closed and he wanted to know what to do. Sam told him that we were thirty minutes away but we would hurry. <i>Vamos rápido! </i>The man said that was no problem, and he would wait. We raced into town and Sam jumped out of the car to meet the delivery man while I went off to find a parking space.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It was a busy day in Órgiva and we couldn't figure out why. Last week was a holiday week, but this was just a Tuesday in October. As I drove past the church a large crowd was gathered and nearby a hearse was hidden behind massive wreaths of flowers. Clearly someone had passed and it seemed that the entire town had gathered for the funeral.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">After parking I met up with Sam and together we went to do our various errands. The business where our other packages were waiting was closed until 12:30 and we had a few things to take care of. On the way to the Post Office we passed the funeral procession. Traditionally the hearse slowly drives to the cemetery and the people follow behind on foot. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Next we stopped at a new-to-us bar for coffee. We each had café con leche and the man added some cocoa on top as a nice touch. Our total bill was 2 euro and 20 cents. We tried to give him 3 euros, but he refused anything beyond the 2.20.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The street to the Post Office is very steep and towards the bottom we could hear a strange scraping sound. When we arrived we saw that a large truck carrying heavy equipment had gotten stuck on a side street. Now in an attempt to reverse, some part of the vehicle was scraping along the high wall that frames one side of the street.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not gonna make it!</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Finally we returned to claim our packages. As we approached the business, a man went past the Farmacia on horseback. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not unusual to see in Órgiva</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The sign indicated that the business would re-open at 12:30. We waited until 1:10 when a man happened by with a key and let us in to get our packages.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Returning to the car we passed a man who peddles various items for a living. He is always smiling and walks around town enticing people at outdoor cafe tables with his solar powered lamps, belts, and dish towels. We have several of his items and today he greeted us like old friends, without trying to sell us anything since he knows we already have the full collection.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Yesterday we drove to Pitres, a small village to the east of our place. The builder supply there has made several large deliveries of materials to our property and we wanted to pay our bill. While there we also picked up a few items. One particular item comes in several sizes and we were not sure which we needed. The man gave us two packages and told us to bring back whichever one didn't work, and at that time we could pay for the one that did work. We insisted on paying for at least one package before we took any home with us. And then he sent us away without paying our larger bill; he didn't have one prepared and he promised to email us when it is eventually ready. We tried to imagine such an exchange in our previous lives and just couldn't. The trust and kindness we experience here is like that of my childhood in small-town Pennsylvania; but business just doesn't work that way any longer in the U.S..</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And an anniversary...it was ten years ago this month that we first visited this part of Spain. The draw was a description I had read of a B&B in a tiny village called Ferreirola. The words told of an enchanting collection of cottages behind a blue door. When we arrived there we were already in love with las Alpujarras.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sierra y Mar - as enchanting as promised</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Yesterday we went back to Ferreirola, walked past the blue door and took a short walk. It is a walk that we return to several times a year; a place where we are always happy anew; with each other, with Spain, and with all that is good in this world.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In my happy place</td></tr>
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Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01886493225675415790noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1153629447228396052.post-86418630454870113402018-09-27T07:06:00.005-07:002018-09-27T07:06:53.605-07:00But What About Healthcare?
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">One of the questions many Americans ask when they learn we moved to Spain is “what about healthcare?” The question often implies that we’ve moved to a third world country, sacrificing the excellent healthcare offered in the United States. We quickly tell them that we’ve heard very positive things from others who have had medical procedures in Spain and then we tell them that we have private insurance that costs about 1/10th of what we were paying in the States. That seems satisfactory to anyone who has asked.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">During the first 18 months that we lived in Spain we didn’t need any healthcare services and therefore we never used our insurance.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">A Trip to Urgent Care</span></i></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Several months ago I came down with a routine infection, but one that needed attention. Of course it was late in the evening and the local physician’s office was closed. We drove to Órgiva, about 45 minutes from home, where there is an Urgent Care clinic. The door was locked so we turned away looking for another entrance. As we walked down the street an older woman came running towards us gesturing that there was a button to push and that it would ‘Buzzzzzz!!” We thanked her and went back to the door where a man was already waiting with it held open for us.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">I used Google Translate on my phone to share what I believed was my problem, showed him my insurance card and Passport, and then we were directed to a simple waiting room. It wasn’t decorated, there was no soft music playing, and the chairs were the basic plastic variety. But it was adequate.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">After a few minutes I was instructed to enter the exam room. With my limited Spanish, the doctor’s less-limited English, and the help of Google Translate, we discussed my symptoms. He examined me and did some lab work, which was all performed in the exam room. It was very thorough and efficient. Before long I had a prescription in hand along with some complimentary tablets to quickly reduce my discomfort and we were sent on our way.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">The Farmacia across the street was still open and it only took a minute to get the prescription which cost less than 5 euro. That was the only money we paid for this entire experience. There was no co-pay and with such an inexpensive antibiotic, we’ve never submitted that receipt to our insurance.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">We were totally satisfied with this introduction to Spanish healthcare.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">I Think I'll Have Eye Surgery!</span></i></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">In July I decided to pursue laser surgery for my eyes. A year ago, after having worn contacts for over 30 years, I was suddenly unable to tolerate having contacts in my eyes and I switched to progressive trifocals. I was unhappy wearing glasses. I was miserable on hikes as my prescription sunglasses insisted on sliding down my nose, over and over. I didn’t recognize myself in the mirror and I just wanted to be free from glasses.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">I thought that perhaps I would have it done while we were in the States. My insurance here wouldn’t cover elective surgery so I’d need to pay in full regardless of where I had the surgery, and it seemed like something that would be simpler without a language barrier. I called the eye doctor in Oregon and was told that my visit there would be too short to accomplish all that would be involved.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">So I got on my computer and researched laser surgery in Spain, and specifically in Granada, our nearest city. I found a clinic, Vistalaser, with offices in Granada and Malaga. The site answered all of my basic questions and even included testimonials. The information indicated that they offered free consultations, so I had nothing to lose. I completed the on-line inquiry form and asked if I should bring a translator for my appointment.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Within 24 hours I had an email response that I could bring a translator if I wanted, but that they would do their best to communicate with me in English. That certainly was not something that I expected. We agreed on an appointment time and the next week Sam and I drove to Granada for my free consultation.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">I really had no idea what would happen during the free consultation, but I certainly didn’t expect a thorough eye exam. They utilized every machine available and then put me through the more typical exam that I am familiar with. In the end there were four different people, over the course of 90 minutes, who gave me their full attention.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Finally I met with the doctor. He performed some additional tests and then told me that at “your age” they do not recommend laser surgery. Instead they recommended a lens replacement surgery, much like cataract surgery, but without the cataracts. He said that this would avoid my needing to return in ten years for cataract surgery as I would never develop cataracts if I had this particular surgery. In addition, I would be able to see at all distances, because they would implant multi-focal, rather than mono focal lenses. It all sounded too good to be true! But he wanted me to return in a week to consult with his colleague for a second opinion.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">A week later we returned to the clinic and the second surgeon confirmed the recommendation of the first. He would be the one performing the surgery and seemed very certain that all would go well.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">After a quick discussion Sam and I decided to go ahead and schedule the surgery for after our trip to the States. We sat with the scheduler and this was the first time that money was discussed. There was no charge for anything up to this point, but if I wanted the surgery, they asked for a deposit, although it was up to us to decide on the amount.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">We deposited a modest amount, both thinking that I might still change my mind, and we agreed on a surgery date for the week after our return to Spain. I was given a sedative to take the night before my surgery, instructions for a required blood test, and the name of antibiotic eye drops that I would begin using three days before surgery. We stopped next door at the Farmacia and purchased the less-than 5 euro antibiotic eye drops.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">The following day I went onto our insurance provider’s website and found a doctor in Salobreña, a town on the coast. I scheduled an appointment so that I could get the blood test done before we left for the States. We made the hour and fifteen minute drive to Salobreña several days later and I showed the instructions to the doctor there. He wrote an oder for a blood test and I was told to return on Wednesday morning for that procedure. We were a bit baffled by the need to come back, but were not in a position to question anything.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">We returned to Salobreña on Wednesday morning and found the only person in the clinic was the slightly nervous technician. She seemed particularly flustered that morning, but we eventually provided the information she requested and after trying both arms and wiggling the needle a bit, she eventually found the vein she needed to get my blood. Then she told us to return in a week for the results. We indicated that we would be out of the country in a week and she shrugged as she ushered us out the door.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">We were a bit annoyed by this seemingly inefficient routine, but told ourselves over croissants and cafe con leches, that we had different expectations based on our culture and that this is just part of what we’ve signed up for by moving to a remote area in Spain.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Back at home I emailed the doctor and he said that the results could be mailed to me, which was a relief. While we were in Oregon, he did email me the full results with a brief message, “tienes colesterol alto.” But that’s a concern for another time…I forwarded the results to the eye clinic and they responded that the emailed version was adequate.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Day of Surgery</span></i></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">For convenience, we rented an apartment in Granada for the night before and the night following surgery. My appointment was at 8:30 am and soon after I arrived, totally mellowed by the sedative, I was taken into a room and instructed to change into scrubs. Once changed, a hat was put on my head and booties over my shoes and the anesthesiologist started an IV for the light sedative that would be used during surgery, “like too much whiskey,” he said.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">I was led into a bright room with various people busy with their particular tasks and instructed to lay on the table. This all happened in a dream state as the various meds were clearly doing their job. I was aware of some heavy duty tape pulling my cheek down and my forehead up as my eye was fixed wide open. They did the right eye first and, although I’d been told that I would only feel pressure, I was very uncomfortable. I remember slurring that “this hurts more than I expected,” and then the doctor instructed, in English, “Put additional numbing drops in her left eye.” They must have done that because the left eye didn’t experience any discomfort. The surgeon told me to look at the light and then look at my feet, and then I was done.</span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A sample Vistalaser surgery</td></tr>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Back in the room where I’d left my clothes I couldn’t really see anything so I felt around, fumbling through the pile of clothes left there by the next patient until I found a shirt and pants that felt familiar. I dressed and then was led to a dark room to relax for a few minutes. Soon I was taken out to where Sam waited, given sunglasses to wear, instructed to purchase a second type of eye drop and to administer both types every two hours for the next three days, and then was told to return the following afternoon for a follow up.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Recovery begins</td></tr>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">That afternoon and evening I rested, between doses of eye drops, and by the next morning I was seeing pretty well. My follow up was with the first doctor I’d met back in July and he seemed very pleased with my vision and recovery. He gave further instructions for my recovery and I was scheduled to return a week later for another follow up.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">It has now been two weeks since the surgery. I am typing this at my computer without reading glasses and when I glance out the window at the view, I can see clearly. I can’t say that my distance vision is 100% sharp, but I’ve been told that will take several weeks. I have one more week of eye drops and then the following week a final re-check appointment.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">I have been beyond satisfied with this experience. The professionalism and thoroughness of the procedures and the personnel have exceeded my expectations. And the graciousness of each person who has done their best to communicate with me in English when there is no reason for them to accommodate my limited language skills, has been very kind. And while the cost wasn’t inexpensive, it was far less than I would have paid in the States, where this particular surgery has only recently been approved (due to barriers set up by the insurance companies), and is rarely practiced.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">And for those who worry about the quality of healthcare in Spain - in a recent report, Spain was ranked #9 in the world for healthcare, while the United States was ranked #35.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">I think we’ll be ok.</span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Because every blog post needs a beautiful photo</td></tr>
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Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01886493225675415790noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1153629447228396052.post-85971024417556489572018-07-06T09:41:00.000-07:002018-07-06T09:42:16.045-07:00Portugal's Rota Vicentina - and a quick update about Spring 2018<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe6iuOciGqLWoXUfpvwVJG1y8GaL2UuGo_Mg-tfPlZOPJYDV7XUO3QQp0t3qgtSwlPMcj4D5u3zf-NSpdByxxUiF45TXfZr_a5hkzErdrE7znnxlUxkVRiDizt8vyWf8j43X4-Xfbq4hc/s1600/Blog+7%253A7+10.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="706" data-original-width="1075" height="420" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe6iuOciGqLWoXUfpvwVJG1y8GaL2UuGo_Mg-tfPlZOPJYDV7XUO3QQp0t3qgtSwlPMcj4D5u3zf-NSpdByxxUiF45TXfZr_a5hkzErdrE7znnxlUxkVRiDizt8vyWf8j43X4-Xfbq4hc/s640/Blog+7%253A7+10.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the Rota Vicentina</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I know that we are settled because days, weeks, and now months have gone by without my feeling as if there is anything blog-worthy. But the blog has been viewed nearly 11,000 times so there is still interest, and that encourages me to keep sharing.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">This spring we have enjoyed visits with friends from Las Vegas, Oregon and California. We are humbled that anyone will make the effort to come find us here in the mountains of Southern Spain and we truly appreciate the opportunity to share the rhythm of our lives with those who are interested.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTeDALkedrNEYw06u9nOTZRKIJGMeusTR9rcrEu_QgNCJK-8aLWkuCLRq7EqJnNQzcCcd-NfnV0NkuzrQFJnpoTbE6G9tlZHvXm9YyDlcOksPrvzHGhpYTIoyDVrRKlgWHR2kCcTOVcGk/s1600/Blog+7%253A7+13.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="707" data-original-width="941" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTeDALkedrNEYw06u9nOTZRKIJGMeusTR9rcrEu_QgNCJK-8aLWkuCLRq7EqJnNQzcCcd-NfnV0NkuzrQFJnpoTbE6G9tlZHvXm9YyDlcOksPrvzHGhpYTIoyDVrRKlgWHR2kCcTOVcGk/s640/Blog+7%253A7+13.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Friends Mary and Richard visited from Las Vegas for Sam's birthday<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWvKbfgUMBjCuIkGFfHfI_nx16QtLbcvs5JhCyzvpasimBYitJvcg9j1jDs7PCc2Pi5S0vtqRi1WMvUQFnetA8v8O0_wz-0Ks1b_Ia0tCxcKctF7lSTV8G5MyvHh5eb39x41cjWcBR2Y4/s1600/Blog+7%253A7+3.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="698" data-original-width="531" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWvKbfgUMBjCuIkGFfHfI_nx16QtLbcvs5JhCyzvpasimBYitJvcg9j1jDs7PCc2Pi5S0vtqRi1WMvUQFnetA8v8O0_wz-0Ks1b_Ia0tCxcKctF7lSTV8G5MyvHh5eb39x41cjWcBR2Y4/s640/Blog+7%253A7+3.png" width="486" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oregon friend Janelle contemplates Ronda on my birthday</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwUtVQ2CbCAM1IaRTAaPlzxod5JRzEKIPky1n6vmQdwOeaXkaYtVoFgOOUZ9XIEdV2V38Ja6MvvjVwKkTMvS6GVIzmPq-DmDNJWeAouZzlctU7P9QuQ4lsg2l94goiNPnROSxElm1XENQ/s1600/Blog+7%253A7+12.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="700" data-original-width="946" height="472" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwUtVQ2CbCAM1IaRTAaPlzxod5JRzEKIPky1n6vmQdwOeaXkaYtVoFgOOUZ9XIEdV2V38Ja6MvvjVwKkTMvS6GVIzmPq-DmDNJWeAouZzlctU7P9QuQ4lsg2l94goiNPnROSxElm1XENQ/s640/Blog+7%253A7+12.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">California friends Linda and Toni enjoying lunch on the Mediterranean</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">In May we made a spur-of-the-moment decision to fly to Italy to spend time with a friend from Oregon who was returning to the village where he was born. Our time with Carlo was precious as he showed us places from his childhood and shared stories of what it was like living there during WWII as a young boy. Spending time in Italy is always magical and we took every opportunity to enjoy the food and wine while exploring picturesque villages in Tuscany and Umbria, finishing with a few days in Rome. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Touring Carlo's childhood village</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>And in June I went walking in Portugal.</i></span> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Back in January my neighbor's husband decided that she and I should plan a walking holiday. We jumped at the idea but deciding where to go took some consideration. Our trip could take no more than a week, so wherever we went should be within a day's drive from home. We agreed that camping wasn't necessarily what we were imagining; a good daily walk with a shower, a cool drink, dinner out, and a comfortable bed each night sounded appealing. I did some research and then I remembered the Rota Vicentina in Portugal.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Three years ago, the day before I arrived in Santiago de Compostela, I encountered a group of Portuguese in a small bar. We seemingly became instant friends. During that first visit, one of the men, José, told me about the Rota Vicentina, a path along the southern Atlantic coastline of Portugal. He insisted that I must walk it someday and told me it was the most beautiful walk. I filed that information away in my mind where it was soon buried by other adventures, including our move to Spain. But now I looked it up on the internet and sent the link to Juliet. It was quickly decided that this was exactly what we would do!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The Rota Vicentina begins in the seaside town of Porto Covo, south of Lisbon and it follows along the high cliffs and beaches that make up the stunning coastline. The photos promised a gorgeous walk. We decided to go in June, which is late in the recommended time frame because the weather can be quite hot by June, but that was the time that we had available so I got to work planning our trip. </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Soon our group of two grew to four as Juliet's cousin and her friend decided to join in.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our International group</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I planned to do lots of training, as I had before walking the Camino de Santiago, but a wetter-than-usual winter and spring, interspersed with other distractions, meant that I did very little physical preparation. Three days before leaving for Portugal I loaded up my pack and walked to our gate. I was suffering from a back injury and recovering from a recent illness </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">and as I leaned and swayed under the weight of my pack I wondered how in the world I was going to manage.</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> S</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">o I got back online and researched luggage transport options. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">When I walked the Camino I carried my pack every step of the way discarding unnecessary items as I went making my load more manageable, but this walk was meant to be restful and fun, and clearly I was not going to be rested or have fun if I tried to carry my full pack. And so I contacted the transfer service and happily paid the forty euros to have my pack picked up and delivered each day. By the time we started walking the others decided to do the same.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Portugal also had a cooler and wetter-than-usual spring and the week before we went was rainy so we went prepared for any type of weather. But we were blessed to pick the week between the rain and the first heat wave of summer. We had perfect weather. And the result of so much rain was an abundance of wild flowers that were blooming long after the typical season. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0_HdZiOEDDBo_zXTDSfnzWO4VX7fOmVj-31h0YeyvKIf5__8Hs3ElqRKKVRrDp1PRyrdxcaZ0K-oxOGpgP_11JrIb0s2z_Yv03eyPx9rz_ExFCPEeNZqBs2ZMffuKUw4jB_6de3sncy0/s1600/Blog+7%253A7+11.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="710" data-original-width="532" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0_HdZiOEDDBo_zXTDSfnzWO4VX7fOmVj-31h0YeyvKIf5__8Hs3ElqRKKVRrDp1PRyrdxcaZ0K-oxOGpgP_11JrIb0s2z_Yv03eyPx9rz_ExFCPEeNZqBs2ZMffuKUw4jB_6de3sncy0/s640/Blog+7%253A7+11.png" width="478" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So much color</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX6y0Z7h6WA1D5MfiL3btkk-hWEbLVPz84ytg-qVKyQwvTu0kardNu6mzzkWm0xORjcB6PI-78M5jfK8We8V4Ry6NozVE4_K-exXmOKQSjp5-6VRcnaO7RPp0_EGVcWXYjmPmwazM605E/s1600/Blog+7%253A7+4.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="696" data-original-width="930" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX6y0Z7h6WA1D5MfiL3btkk-hWEbLVPz84ytg-qVKyQwvTu0kardNu6mzzkWm0xORjcB6PI-78M5jfK8We8V4Ry6NozVE4_K-exXmOKQSjp5-6VRcnaO7RPp0_EGVcWXYjmPmwazM605E/s640/Blog+7%253A7+4.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lovely flowers</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">We met up with the others in Porto Covo and the next day we started out. The group consisted of a South African, an Aussie, a Brit and an American, which always sounds to me like the start of a joke, but we blended together easily and enjoyed each other's company every step of the walk.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The guidebook stresses that the trail is challenging and that it is not a good one for those with vertigo or a fear of heights. I think this is good advice, but I also think it is given to discourage those who really are not prepared. The physical challenge is mainly from the distances between services. We needed to carry plenty of water (one day I carried three liters) and much of the walking is in deep sand. This isn't so bad on the flats, but walking uphill in sand takes some effort. And there are certainly dizzying heights, but we were rarely in danger of falling off a cliff. So with minimal attention and good judgement, it is a safe and less-than-terrifying route.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCqFr4EPjx0k7gSJ-16QmNBib0N9_EkimxX2ho7QAq8U0b5Sk1CDMSXpNBGXluJLdzc9lHJpdAiRQRGwulEgd0mv95tzY_w9OMwXbQfzqgoZnUcojMKMA7iqkZgqqjFD3k_SqGubxe5HI/s1600/Blog+7%253A7+8.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="716" data-original-width="1084" height="422" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCqFr4EPjx0k7gSJ-16QmNBib0N9_EkimxX2ho7QAq8U0b5Sk1CDMSXpNBGXluJLdzc9lHJpdAiRQRGwulEgd0mv95tzY_w9OMwXbQfzqgoZnUcojMKMA7iqkZgqqjFD3k_SqGubxe5HI/s640/Blog+7%253A7+8.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Watch your step!</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">We averaged twenty kilometers a day taking seven to eight hours to cover that distance. We took hundreds of photos, stopped for leisurely picnics and made time for rest and silliness along the way. The villages that we stayed in each night were charming and we savored the local cuisine from snails to sardines to octopus. Each morning we stopped at the local bakery to purchase <i>Pastel de nata</i>, the typical Portuguese egg tart which made a delightful mid-morning snack.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">This walk was truly one of the most beautiful routes I've ever experienced. In every direction the scenery was magnificent. The flowers painted the landscape in brilliant pinks, blues and yellows and the cliffs and beaches were honestly breathtaking. I cannot recommend this walk highly enough.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYzZ9tXj2FK1hPLI3gd1mI3sex-kouHLgrtFwm3qh3_N5UGLydGfmMBvTdeFXXLxZmyJ9MB9ciQx8-6F56YpNRDgq3fAB7PhunOckHp0f2oOhD_-RxK3DzgkiD2p0hQKZaDuYwBNpKV3A/s1600/Blog+7%253A7+9.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="707" data-original-width="1259" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYzZ9tXj2FK1hPLI3gd1mI3sex-kouHLgrtFwm3qh3_N5UGLydGfmMBvTdeFXXLxZmyJ9MB9ciQx8-6F56YpNRDgq3fAB7PhunOckHp0f2oOhD_-RxK3DzgkiD2p0hQKZaDuYwBNpKV3A/s640/Blog+7%253A7+9.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Truly stunning</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The busiest time is typically April and May although this year many people canceled their trips because of the weather. But it can be walked any time of the year. (We never encountered more than ten other walkers each day during our four day walk.) I would not want to do it in high winds because of the sheer drop-offs, but a clear week in January would be a pleasant time to go. I definitely recommend the luggage transport service and booking accommodations ahead of time offers easy days without worrying about where you'll end the day.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">If you are interested, all the information you'll need is available here: <a href="http://en.rotavicentina.com/">http://en.rotavicentina.com/</a> I ordered the guide book and map and found those useful.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">For a short video of our experience follow this link: <a href="https://youtu.be/lrWvWQ73IKI">https://youtu.be/lrWvWQ73IKI</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Soon we leave for our summer trip to the States to visit family and friends, but we'll be back in Spain in mid-September with more adventures and every-day stories to share. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Hasta pronto~</span></div>
Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01886493225675415790noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1153629447228396052.post-14201305782264666582018-03-27T10:14:00.001-07:002018-04-13T09:27:01.783-07:00Camino Friendships<style type="text/css">
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<b><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">It was day #15 on the Camino. The previous two days had delivered a steady bone-chilling rain and I awoke that morning in Hornillos del Camino to a deafening downpour. I wasted two</span></span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: small;"> euros trying, without success, to work the coffee machine, and I was homesick. By the time I left the albergue the rain had stopped and I stood in the puddled street trying to hook up to wifi to send Sam a text, as I did each morning. There was no signal, so I posed for a smiling selfie I'd send to him later on. I didn't want to burden Sam with my sadness - it was a gift for me to fly to Europe and walk across Spain. Complaining wasn't a luxury I allowed myself.</span></b></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A forced early-morning smile on day #15</td></tr>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: small;"><b>As I walked out of town the chorus of birds lifted my spirits and soon I was taking photos of wheat fields glowing in the early morning light. </b></span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Early morning light</td></tr>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: small;"><b>The dirt track was wet, and in places deep mud made the walking difficult. Flattened wheat suggested that Pilgrims ahead of me had gone off the path into the farmer's fields to avoid the mud, but by now even those newly made paths were muddy so I trudged on.</b></span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yuck</td></tr>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: small;"><b>After an hour and a half of walking totally alone, no others in sight, I stopped to leave a small pile of my dear friend Sue's ashes on a stone wall. Since leaving St. Jean Pied de Port in the French Pyrenees two weeks earlier I had carefully selected places to leave the ashes, always with a view. At times it was as if Sue was with me and I could hear her laughing as I imagined her delight in my experience.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></b></span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I left some of Sue's ashes here</td></tr>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: small;"><b>I paused for a few moments of reflection and then took a short video of the view.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>As I filmed the trail behind me I spotted an approaching Pilgrim. He was gaining on me quickly; an older gentleman, with a slight limp. When he was near I commented on how quickly he had caught up to me.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Laughing he said, "Well no one has said that to me before."<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Our conversation was easy and I welcomed the companionship.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></b></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: small;"><b>Trevor walked ahead of me through the muddiest sections and as I slipped and groused behind him he offered steady encouragement, "We're almost through this section. I see dry road ahead." Not always accurate, but the words that I needed to push on through the thick, clinging sludge.</b></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: small;"><b>Most days on the Camino I walked alone. I enjoyed the solitude and preferred to respond to my own pace rather than that of someone else. But on this day the Camino provided exactly what I needed, and that was a companion to help get my mind off of myself. Trevor and I walked on to Castrojeriz where we checked into an albergue and met up with Cameron, a millennial from New Zealand with whom Trevor had walked earlier.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></b></span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">With Cameron and Trevor in Castrojeriz</td></tr>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: small;"><b>The next day we added Mary from Boston to our little group and later Jackie and Laura, a mother and daughter from Ireland joined us. We were crossing the Meseta, the high plateau that many consider the most tedious stages to walk. But we were all enjoying the Meseta, and the company of each other.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></b></span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The group</td></tr>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: small;"><b>Our last day as a group was in León, eight days after Trevor and I first met up. Jackie and Laura were returning to Ireland, and Trevor and Mary stayed an extra day in León to give injuries a rest. Cameron and I walked together off and on for another few days before I went off on the Invierno route by myself.</b></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: small;"><b>It has been nearly three years since I walked the Camino and I have remained in touch with several of the people that I bonded with while walking. Linda visited while we were still in Oregon, and Lin stayed with us for a few days soon after we arrived in Spain. </b></span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">With Linda in Oregon</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">With Lin in the Alpujarras</td></tr>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: small;"><b>Sam and I enjoyed a fabulous weekend in Porto last May visiting with a group of five Portuguese who embraced me as their friend within minutes of meeting them in a bar near Santiago. </b></span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">With the greatest group of Portuguese friends in Porto for my birthday</td></tr>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: small;"><b>And yesterday Trevor and his wife Christine came and stayed the night with us.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></b></span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Trevor and Christine</td></tr>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: small;"><b>There is something special about Camino friendships. Thousands of people walk the Way each year, but each person chooses a particular day to begin, and as you walk you soon recognize many of the people who started on or near the same date. Days or weeks might pass and then you run into someone you shared a meal, or a bunk bed with.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></b></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: small;"><b>I met many Pilgrims and offered a "Buen Camino" greeting to hundreds, but something clicked with a handful of people and those became my "Camino family." </b></span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Early Camino Family</td></tr>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: small;"><b>Sam has heard the stories and looked at the photos, but there is a special joy for each of us in sharing a bottle of wine and a brilliant sunset with a friend who was a special part of my Camino experience.</b></span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Celebrating friendship</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">New friends Sam and Trevor</td></tr>
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Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01886493225675415790noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1153629447228396052.post-42805072220384913692018-02-18T05:00:00.000-08:002018-04-13T09:26:23.610-07:00Simpler Ways of Being<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Promise of Spring</td></tr>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">I realized this morning that I have not written a blog post in nearly two months. During our first year I posted almost weekly as everything was new and noteworthy; now we are just living our lives and, while we regularly comment on how fortunate we feel to live here, the day-to-day tasks don’t feel quite so remarkable as they once did.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">Today I am sitting in my new writing space. We have done some re-working of the stable so that I can have a room of my own; a retreat space with a view, dedicated to writing and reflection. It is not quite finished, but yesterday we carried a chair up so I could test out the ambiance, and now I am wallowing in contentment as I write this post.</span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The entry to my new space</td></tr>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">The almond blossom started about a month ago. On the south facing slopes the pink and white petals are surrendering to the wind and new leaves. But on north-facing hillsides, the trees are in full bloom and we can look across to the Contraviesa, several kilometers away, and see swaths of delicate color, like ribbons of pulled taffy, flowing down the steep slopes. We have taken several hikes on trails that cut through orchards and, once again, my phone is full of photos of these beautiful blossoms. The honey bees are out on the warmer days and the trees almost vibrate with the happy humming of these miraculous creatures.</span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So much color on the Contraviesa</td></tr>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">After a year and a half of pushing his wheelbarrow all over our very steep property, Sam settled on a vehicle to assist with this </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">Sisyphean</span></span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: small;"> task. He did lots of research and considered many options before settling on an UTV that is covered and has a roll bar and a bed that tilts. One option was a “dumper,” a very noisy tractor-like vehicle that is used all over the Alpujarras, but several weeks ago a friend-of-a-friend rolled his over and he was crushed beneath it. Safety became even more of a consideration.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">For years I have wanted an Italian Ape; a three wheeled cart/truck that is named for the loud bee-like buzzing sound that it makes.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>But again, we were concerned about safety and stability as there are no flat places on our land, and the Ape would have been power-challenged to make it up to our place.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A "dumper" on top and an Ape below; both good options, for other circumstances</td></tr>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">We also wanted something that could get us off the mountain in an emergency. Sections of the road to our cortijo have washed off the side from time to time, leaving the only escape option an even rougher track that goes up behind us and over the top.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">So after considering all those things, including price and availability, this past week the purchase was made. Sam found what he wanted online and we made the three hour drive to Puente Genil to check it out. Vincente greeted us and soon his father, and then his mother and eventually his friend who spoke English came to help with the transaction. The mechanic was sent off on his scooter to purchase a liter of gas so we could test drive the vehicle and before long hands were shook, the credit card was handed over and a delivery date and location negotiated.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">Delivery is always an interesting challenge here. We sort of have an address, but what we actually have are GPS coordinates. Envelopes go to our PO box in a town about 45 minutes away, while parcels are delivered to a business in the same town. Larger packages are delivered either to the BP station, or to the bar or carpenter’s shop in Soportújar. But for this delivery we agreed to meet at the <i>Ermita del Padre Eterno</i>, a small shrine where the tarmac road meets our dirt track.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ermita del Padre Eterno - Also meeting place for deliveries and guests</td></tr>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">Early on Friday afternoon Vincente arrived with his mother and father and our UTV. Kisses were shared all around, Vincente wanted photos of us with the vehicle and then we bid them <i>hasta luego</i>.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Sam drove the UTV up the mountain and I followed behind. While the neighbor kids were excited to go for a ride, it will basically be a work horse and my hope is that it will give Sam’s back and knees a few more years.</span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mom and dad supervise Vincente - the danger sign to the right is for our road.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">Last night we went to the Festival of San Antón in nearby Soportújar. This festival typically occurs in January, but the organizer of Soportújar's particulars was very ill in January and so it was cancelled. After he recovered it was rescheduled, and last night the entire village was out in celebration. There were fireworks, a processional from the church and at 9:00 the bonfires were scheduled to be lit. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We were right under the fireworks!</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; text-align: justify;">The fires are in two huge low-sided dumpsters, filled with olive wood. A third dumpster serves as an enormous barbecue where chunks of pork are grilled and then distributed in thick slices of bread with glasses of local wine. The fires got going closer to 10:00 and we ate our chunks of meat and bread sometime after 11:00. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Getting the party started!</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">This was our second year to attend and we were warmed, not only by the raging fires, but by the kindness that radiated from the townspeople. There was music and dancing and everywhere laughter and happy conversation. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">What impressed us most was the kids. Our friends have two kids who go to the village school and all of their classmates (10 in total) were there. Soon after arriving, the kids were off and we only occasionally saw them during the next three hours. They all watch out for each other and while the ages range from six years old to eleven, and with a gender balance that seems to favor boys - they all are all included in whatever they do. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">Still stunned by the most recent school massacre in the United States, we couldn't help but find joy in the freedom and innocence of these kids, for whom safety is a given and fear is not a constant companion.</span></div>
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Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01886493225675415790noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1153629447228396052.post-87947158729942621162017-12-30T10:57:00.000-08:002017-12-30T11:05:48.967-08:00An Alpujarran Experience<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEFDLZ4Y40fUeJ6EWyk0xOFuv65KwaIKQuI9Sduv1BSEpvPhKoj_NzmnbsPLsy6Lf6Im-YZnoz-lp3LhfnDsVAMGyHlf7kFPSBBxsE5zn_Tp8pQAHnWv5D7722xhb1tVlCV1TT-p3Bst8/s1600/30%253A12%253Ablog+4.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="745" data-original-width="1179" height="404" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEFDLZ4Y40fUeJ6EWyk0xOFuv65KwaIKQuI9Sduv1BSEpvPhKoj_NzmnbsPLsy6Lf6Im-YZnoz-lp3LhfnDsVAMGyHlf7kFPSBBxsE5zn_Tp8pQAHnWv5D7722xhb1tVlCV1TT-p3Bst8/s640/30%253A12%253Ablog+4.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A beautiful day in Las Alpujarras</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">There are some specific characteristics that the people of las Alpujarras share. For example, it is traditional here to use and re-use, and then </span><i style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">re-use for a new purpose</i><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">, any item that is still usable.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Gates are often made from old bed springs and doors can show up in any number of places. We have a large concrete box that contains our water controls, and it is covered with two faded, non-matching, wooden doors that had been inside doors at some point in history. Fences are patched with any number of things - side rails from a child's crib, an old sign, or a rusted out wheel barrow. Bathtubs dot the landscape where they are used as water troughs for sheep or cows.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The history of this area is one of great poverty and the habit of using things for multiple purposes is likely rooted in that history, but it is also challenging to acquire and deliver materials, or to dispose of materials, and so using what you have is a reasonable thing to do. And we have learned that possessing new items, that are used only for the intended purpose, can raise suspicions. After all, only rich foreigners would do that!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Another characteristic, common in the people of las Alpujarras is generosity. This culture, with such a history of poverty, is nevertheless generous and people are willing to share what they do have with anyone who is in need. We have also seen this generosity in the giving and receiving of <i>regalos</i>, or gifts. If you give a gift, or otherwise assist an Alpujarran native, you can expect to receive something in return. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">This year I made two types of sweet nut breads to share for Christmas. I used our walnuts and for one batch I added persimmons and raisins, while the other loaves were made with dried cranberries and orange juice. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVxqHXEtnDkAYUAAdILe-ovNVf38cI8VeELQrldDRttjY71OhsTLc8-xuiIqeQ6uS_l-MbEH3sCd5uQravuTL7rB0XrTT7nsn1kG9Ge4jVBbsDaRgDzevxob8iY3G7Ki_jC6z6atCo8co/s1600/30%253A12%253Ablog+7.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="749" data-original-width="990" height="484" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVxqHXEtnDkAYUAAdILe-ovNVf38cI8VeELQrldDRttjY71OhsTLc8-xuiIqeQ6uS_l-MbEH3sCd5uQravuTL7rB0XrTT7nsn1kG9Ge4jVBbsDaRgDzevxob8iY3G7Ki_jC6z6atCo8co/s640/30%253A12%253Ablog+7.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Harvesting Persimmons</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid8AQ_sdDobVXR0C3rfgPnZGXiPg6SSPAe2FaG4L8mbsYmt_bPTnXOpETsashj6x3TJopy11Xv6QbKu96tjF3uhwEyIYluOj_afu0grpbpLtiolF9TN0o06iabsUq-fmq63r956zeJv6I/s1600/30%253A12%253Ablog+3.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="745" data-original-width="1096" height="434" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid8AQ_sdDobVXR0C3rfgPnZGXiPg6SSPAe2FaG4L8mbsYmt_bPTnXOpETsashj6x3TJopy11Xv6QbKu96tjF3uhwEyIYluOj_afu0grpbpLtiolF9TN0o06iabsUq-fmq63r956zeJv6I/s640/30%253A12%253Ablog+3.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Orange season has begun!</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The day before Christmas we distributed the breads to our various neighbors. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">One ex-pat couple sent me home with a lovely card and a box of tasty chocolates, another ex-pat family made ginger bread cookies and packaged them with a jar of homemade jam. Manuel invited us in for wine and thin slices of Pata Negra jamón - ham from pure bread Black Iberian pigs reared on the open range on a diet of acorns; a native of the Huelva province, Manuel reminded us that this is truly the best jamón, and we agreed! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Jésus was somewhere on the mountain with his flock of sheep so we left the bread and a note card on the front seat of his van. Jésus is a native of las Alpujarras and was actually born in the house where we now live. He is our nearest neighbor and we enjoy hearing the sheep and goat bells each morning as he takes the flock out, and again as the sun sets, when he brings them back to the barn.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nIxpF6MV7ZQ">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nIxpF6MV7ZQ</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Yesterday we were working in the yard and Jésus was out with his flock. He climbed down the hillside to our back gate and we went over to greet him. He is patient with our limited Spanish and seems willing to have the same conversation about the weather each time we see him. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">After thanking me for the bread and declaring it <i>muy bueno</i>, he started to talk about <i>pollo. </i>We were not sure what he was saying but it reminded me that I wanted to ask about purchasing chicken eggs from him. He explained that his hens were not laying in the cold weather, and then we realized that he wanted to <i>give</i> us a chicken, as a <i>regalo</i>. We expressed great appreciation at this generous gift and it was determined that he would bring us a chicken <i>mañana</i>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Then he asked, with gestures, if we knew how to kill it. Sam and I stuttered a bit; we hadn't killed a chicken, but we probably could. If we had to. Maybe. He watched us and then made it clear that he would kill the chicken, but that we would do the plucking and, we assumed, the cleaning. He spoke more about chickens at the supermercado being only 1 month old, but his was 6 months old and much larger. We thought we understood all of that and eventually thanked him again and bid him <i>hasta mañana</i>. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Later in the evening I received a text from a neighbor; Jésus had stopped her on the track and asked her to contact me as he did not think I understood what he was telling me. Some of what he had communicated was that I needed to cook the chicken longer than usual because it is an older chicken and therefore a bit tougher than what I am used to from the grocery store. Hmmmm, Ok!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Last night I slept restlessly. When would the tough dead chicken (TDC) arrive? If it was just butchered it would need to be plucked and cleaned immediately. We would need a large bucket of very hot water to dunk the chicken in before plucking it. How would I heat up that much water with my various pots and pans? I dreamt about Jésus and in the dream he spoke fluent English, but he wanted us to practice our Spanish and that is why he pretends to not speak any English...finally it was daylight. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">We didn't know what time to expect the arrival of the TDC. We wanted to be ready and by daybreak had all of our pots full of water and heating on the stove. He said "mañana," but that could mean morning, or afternoon, or tomorrow! We looked at YouTube to learn how to pluck and clean the chicken. It said not to feed your chicken on its last day, so we figured that must mean it would arrive early in the day. We turned off the boiling pots and busied ourselves in the back yard so we would notice when Jésus arrived. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkY2fK8PjOb96UwDwsG7-r35ys8fm_eKrBzHKWGbs3_Fx-Jp0-BLwZQQVbFUKWeH4pRny1hZ8ASp3tlZqobs6It9YP1pMeARJfJ_zFahvE2ve4fT71ZD8DPE3ZnGiPBu8QIHxl3px3Cak/s1600/30%253A12%253ABlog.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="749" data-original-width="999" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkY2fK8PjOb96UwDwsG7-r35ys8fm_eKrBzHKWGbs3_Fx-Jp0-BLwZQQVbFUKWeH4pRny1hZ8ASp3tlZqobs6It9YP1pMeARJfJ_zFahvE2ve4fT71ZD8DPE3ZnGiPBu8QIHxl3px3Cak/s640/30%253A12%253ABlog.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Using every pot in the house to heat water</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Finally we heard Jésus' two miniature donkeys hee-hawing and then we saw his little white van making its way across the field above us. Gah, it's time! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I re-lit the burners under the various pots of now-cool water and Sam and I went to the gate to receive our gift. Jésus carried an old feed bag that clearly had the chicken inside; remember, re-use <i>every</i>thing! Sam took the bag, we each shook his hand, and thanked him again for the gift, recognizing that this is truly a kind and generous gesture, one that makes us feel very welcomed and accepted.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Sam retrieved an adequately-sized bucket and I carried pot after pot of hot water from the house to fill the bucket. Once filled, Sam dunked our TDC into the bucket, held it there for a few seconds and then placed it into another bucket and started plucking. It was amazing how easily the feathers came off. Next he placed the plucked chicken on top of an over-turned garbage can, in front of the woodpile, as you do, and completed the job of making our TDC look very much like a chicken from the supermercado. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq8mDaUKiNU-vnaA14hyphenhyphenoYrpN5RbTZIBQnAOFdj0N-qNP26PC9ptLedUrrEgLXw068KI-shgRDRV0pXx1ygx8AH7xE4E_Sl9UCg2D5e9Zmgi3dUCIjzHdIz3s70ysgVZi8nqTd_ciHgno/s1600/30%253A12%253Ablog+2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="746" data-original-width="991" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq8mDaUKiNU-vnaA14hyphenhyphenoYrpN5RbTZIBQnAOFdj0N-qNP26PC9ptLedUrrEgLXw068KI-shgRDRV0pXx1ygx8AH7xE4E_Sl9UCg2D5e9Zmgi3dUCIjzHdIz3s70ysgVZi8nqTd_ciHgno/s640/30%253A12%253Ablog+2.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ready, set, go!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVsdSvC5b9pZln8MF7uB6u6iWqJUwEZViGxOQiiZBG07Z9YNyKRLco1zCJO6Ys3_6zAW-KqbksP32gWv9NLdv8axO9g3O6PoytHmtB0S7WmYiSjnhhRXj8gMhmV6CLI8_4SBg8KFJp9Uk/s1600/30%253A12%253Ablog+1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="743" data-original-width="992" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVsdSvC5b9pZln8MF7uB6u6iWqJUwEZViGxOQiiZBG07Z9YNyKRLco1zCJO6Ys3_6zAW-KqbksP32gWv9NLdv8axO9g3O6PoytHmtB0S7WmYiSjnhhRXj8gMhmV6CLI8_4SBg8KFJp9Uk/s640/30%253A12%253Ablog+1.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Almost prepared</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">After some rinsing and then some additional rinsing, I covered our chicken with a dry brine solution and now it is in the fridge, wrapped securely in plastic wrap where it is brining and waiting to become our New Year's Day dinner. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">We are truly honored that Jésus shared one of his chickens with us. It seems that herding sheep does not result in any excess, and to receive this gift in return for our simple Christmas loaves, means more to us than he can know.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG8jNLztcGb8VJ1npBIpimVAViZVrw1l1zys00C-aPVe-vgh5gtAc4vIc22yRhF0QEovEVUmc-d54g6kfxHKlEh6X8nephyphenhyphen1WhXhpkAhrqP0BVWofAUq4poOqHy7BkxeqNSF5HHUmFxdw/s1600/30%253A12%253Ablog+5.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="740" data-original-width="993" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG8jNLztcGb8VJ1npBIpimVAViZVrw1l1zys00C-aPVe-vgh5gtAc4vIc22yRhF0QEovEVUmc-d54g6kfxHKlEh6X8nephyphenhyphen1WhXhpkAhrqP0BVWofAUq4poOqHy7BkxeqNSF5HHUmFxdw/s640/30%253A12%253Ablog+5.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jésus' donkeys with our Scottish friend</td></tr>
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Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01886493225675415790noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1153629447228396052.post-7047141867693087442017-11-29T06:09:00.000-08:002017-11-29T06:09:04.223-08:00Sometimes It Rains, and Other Fun<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlpIg3eddsMM6zA52ysnOIR399qzaVNFGdHWiLPCDsF7p0QheCJvtsdssXiZUTDFg3XTRgP8qoftz7WnAL7HidZgrQzPHCnOSMpeno21wfDjUxYj_PDFYSduJz6BMZch2SnvZxdfuA-_U/s1600/29%253A11%253Ablog+1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="739" data-original-width="1340" height="352" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlpIg3eddsMM6zA52ysnOIR399qzaVNFGdHWiLPCDsF7p0QheCJvtsdssXiZUTDFg3XTRgP8qoftz7WnAL7HidZgrQzPHCnOSMpeno21wfDjUxYj_PDFYSduJz6BMZch2SnvZxdfuA-_U/s640/29%253A11%253Ablog+1.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gathering Clouds Before the Storm</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It's raining. Not just a gentle mist, but a steady, heavy, soaking rain. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Spain is in the midst of a drought and here in the Alpujarras the impact is significant; last week we gave one of the shepherds a ride up the mountain while he talked on and on about climate change and the impact on his flock of 600 sheep. An extended drought could bring an end to the traditional ways that are such a part of the rhythms here.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Snow is falling in the mountains and that is very good news for the animals, plants and people who live here. We are behind where we were at this time last year, but hopes are high for a significant snow pack this winter.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">When it rains we are reminded of how much of our life is lived outside. We typically spend much of the day either working in the yard, hiking, or just enjoying the sunshine.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">On days like this Sam dashes outside to refill the firewood bucket, or clean the drains which quickly fill with fallen leaves. </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Images of a cozy wood-heated cortijo are a charming idea, but the reality involves shoveling hot ashes from the wood stove, wiping up muddy footprints and limiting our use of electricity because without sunshine, the solar system is not producing any power. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Our lifestyle, while dependent on precipitation, thrives on clear, sunny days. </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But for now, two days into a three day storm, we are grateful; the rain is truly a blessing and we have plenty of wood for heat, a generator for electricity if needed, and a roof that doesn't leak, even in the heaviest downpour. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDU5vKuwK8FnLVrwqpH7SZs1Is867xxFLxFUYIEdLLd5vwzB0ANv3zhmdYucigHIKxEPCjHYGa0J5hvn-PFsckvTcnxeRR7RPj-Xz_3GlZkRtQOCh_CoOpyF4PFC2PW0VaPtt4y4_mSio/s1600/29%253A11%253Ablog.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="741" data-original-width="991" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDU5vKuwK8FnLVrwqpH7SZs1Is867xxFLxFUYIEdLLd5vwzB0ANv3zhmdYucigHIKxEPCjHYGa0J5hvn-PFsckvTcnxeRR7RPj-Xz_3GlZkRtQOCh_CoOpyF4PFC2PW0VaPtt4y4_mSio/s640/29%253A11%253Ablog.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Today's View</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Last week we celebrated Thanksgiving with a small group of friends. I wanted to have a traditional meal and we shared it with two British families and one Scottish couple. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I enjoyed preparing dishes that we typically eat at Thanksgiving, but the process was a little more cumbersome. I needed specific ingredients so went to the store with my list, written in English and translated to Spanish, and then I searched until I found what I needed. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Of course there were no displays of Ocean Spray cranberries, but I found dried arándanos at the weekly market in Órgiva, and was able to make a delicious cranberry sauce. Growing up in Pennsylvania, stuffing was made from bags of Pepperidge Farm seasoned breadcrumbs, but this year I made cornbread stuffing and discovered I prefer that. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I cracked some of our walnuts and then used my mother's recipe to make an appetizer of spiced nuts, and I made creamed mushrooms with chestnuts that we gathered on a recent walk. Cutting the stumps from the fresh mushrooms reminded me of time spent at my father's mushroom farm; it is curious how a smell can take us across years and miles to a distant moment in time.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Sweet potatoes, </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">salads,</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">roasted potatoes and nut bread rounded out the meal and a British friend made her first pumpkin pie while another brought an apple crumble; both perfect finishes to the meal.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrnhiC2S33oV7lrzmT9XN39xH_3jSJJ19n9MbfsVXT4SL60RvaxK65FrYTBIjd0su8y4mJy8pMsUHRDb9fBF1CtMB26dWcmdfBBf2Px8r7-aYASl5Ub0-8MM7cUwmtwSRIIJul9EutxbM/s1600/29%253A11%253Ablog+6.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="743" data-original-width="998" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrnhiC2S33oV7lrzmT9XN39xH_3jSJJ19n9MbfsVXT4SL60RvaxK65FrYTBIjd0su8y4mJy8pMsUHRDb9fBF1CtMB26dWcmdfBBf2Px8r7-aYASl5Ub0-8MM7cUwmtwSRIIJul9EutxbM/s640/29%253A11%253Ablog+6.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Traditional Dishes - Stuffing and Sweet Potatoes</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The turkey was Sam's responsibility. One of our neighbors raised three turkeys this year and together they butchered the one we called "Thanksgiving." The process was completed as kindly as these things can be, and several hours later Sam returned home with an enormous bird. It weighed over 15 kilograms, so nearly 35 pounds. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Our initial plan of roasting the bird in our oven clearly needed to be revised. Not only was the turkey larger than any pan we had, but it was also too big for the oven. In the end we roasted the turkey in our barbecue. The bird hung over the ends of the pan, and it cooked more quickly than anticipated, but it was delicious and provided enough meat for weeks to come.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The day after Thanksgiving we drove high above Capileira and then took a short hike to a mirador, or scenic overlook. It was a stunning day and we were able to see all the way to Africa and the mountains of Morocco that are over 200 kilometers away. We passed only two other hikers on the mountain that day. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdkpjeLfxgBy9DSHxD8z_HbjwnY4l-HViHi2y2yFq1Kg5juG62iJSRv8P5OK-gyOQcj8IqNJV2Q1ouMLTE1qgW0DVqm6Vf_QphuF7YGNSn4KuHJea5uNFwl60EfRijhJo3MCvF4qIxgWg/s1600/29%253A11%253Ablog+3.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="726" data-original-width="1392" height="332" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdkpjeLfxgBy9DSHxD8z_HbjwnY4l-HViHi2y2yFq1Kg5juG62iJSRv8P5OK-gyOQcj8IqNJV2Q1ouMLTE1qgW0DVqm6Vf_QphuF7YGNSn4KuHJea5uNFwl60EfRijhJo3MCvF4qIxgWg/s640/29%253A11%253Ablog+3.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking to the Mediterranean and Beyond<br /><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8uM0hyphenhyphenDxZKIXEMgComex_Ck-6RcnSMjcnr2r_N_0EYEQGDSCDLA-tu29d5LkAX24iHyWSRVJjiLjAOvXJqptbjv66t6-cNmItkf9aozNhVuQsXwj6IC_tmXjLUh06ZdFtIZKDFpvbuAM/s1600/29%253A11%253Ablog+5.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="742" data-original-width="1222" height="388" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8uM0hyphenhyphenDxZKIXEMgComex_Ck-6RcnSMjcnr2r_N_0EYEQGDSCDLA-tu29d5LkAX24iHyWSRVJjiLjAOvXJqptbjv66t6-cNmItkf9aozNhVuQsXwj6IC_tmXjLUh06ZdFtIZKDFpvbuAM/s640/29%253A11%253Ablog+5.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wild Horses on the Mountain</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">How can it be that a place so beautiful and peaceful and rugged and wild and amazing, exists only for us? We are thankful that we so often have this all to ourselves, but it is unbelievable too.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGXHky0otyu9iQAOkfYZt26TpXX0vzR9MvwRwj9WFs0mWbRQp1MCdT7qHzjcZhIZ4lTJ1KTL__T0cjnt9HOQ1KnJ0nqFpsyUxkSoT_1eb9ZDEm0VKdOfpycb4Pau0yR_Zn5fgCFyADEyo/s1600/29%253A11%253Ablog+2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="744" data-original-width="990" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGXHky0otyu9iQAOkfYZt26TpXX0vzR9MvwRwj9WFs0mWbRQp1MCdT7qHzjcZhIZ4lTJ1KTL__T0cjnt9HOQ1KnJ0nqFpsyUxkSoT_1eb9ZDEm0VKdOfpycb4Pau0yR_Zn5fgCFyADEyo/s640/29%253A11%253Ablog+2.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nothing Makes Me Happier</td></tr>
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Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01886493225675415790noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1153629447228396052.post-77973500645743196872017-11-09T08:01:00.000-08:002017-11-12T22:36:20.654-08:00Autumn Tales<div style="text-align: justify;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-VmoiImwaAzxag1CeTATP3ntyquauset-opZdATWpTzBLUFK0v5YLKVfKHGqRQ78zijMSC20THZGqIFNlUcJ8E0FiBmJeQhshUNYBsxm7prUmMKrlbwLa2AkZTjt212NPDjMZtUpT5uM/s1600/09%253A11%253A17+blog+9.png" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" data-original-height="681" data-original-width="1400" height="310" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-VmoiImwaAzxag1CeTATP3ntyquauset-opZdATWpTzBLUFK0v5YLKVfKHGqRQ78zijMSC20THZGqIFNlUcJ8E0FiBmJeQhshUNYBsxm7prUmMKrlbwLa2AkZTjt212NPDjMZtUpT5uM/s640/09%253A11%253A17+blog+9.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">We usually try to wait until about 5:00 PM to light the fire. During the day bright sunshine streams in our south-facing windows warming our cortijo. But as the sun slides behind the hill to our west, the temperature drops suddenly and it is time to close the shutters and light the fire. Some days, like today, I light the fire early. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The sun is now popping over the mountain to the east around 8:15 AM. The temperatures overnight are dropping to five degrees celsius, yet once the sun appears, it warms into the teens in no time. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">We start our day outside most mornings, bundled in our fleece jackets; by the time we finish our mugs of café con leche, we have shed the outer layers as the morning sun combines with the hot liquid to warm us inside and out.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">With the shorter days I need to get the laundry washed and hung out in order to capture enough sunlight to dry the load. This morning I started the laundry before my morning coffee and had it on the line by 8:30. Shadows come early to the place where I hang the wash, so soon Sam will put in posts for a winter clothes line, in a location that gets the maximum sun.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBNmdIDxzikeN1EII8v0W3Q7eYbHGAyooWaZVwc4842lfq3hs_VyKgV1hscbL6tFbqel4k7GRWA85mydJQM5-tNNFyOiPlRIjO2HIdejcHzmhmyRnK5bC4HCqZd4cOxPswe6m7xnw1x0k/s1600/09%253A11%253A17+blog+7.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="739" data-original-width="1136" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBNmdIDxzikeN1EII8v0W3Q7eYbHGAyooWaZVwc4842lfq3hs_VyKgV1hscbL6tFbqel4k7GRWA85mydJQM5-tNNFyOiPlRIjO2HIdejcHzmhmyRnK5bC4HCqZd4cOxPswe6m7xnw1x0k/s640/09%253A11%253A17+blog+7.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Early morning laundry</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Today clouded up un-expectantly. The forecast was for <i>poco nuboso</i>, but it was actually <i>mucho nublado</i> as low clouds covered the mountains and hill tops around us. And so today I lit the fire at 3:00. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDrJ4cQQRonOZsJKF5gVOvla3Cer6Zspz_NVirDyFTM3JSbdZiPnTn_UhQQW9x3_oU9AFSM9ajDyHnVcv0k0uVyfySuM61W9T0zvR1mqSBKq_umcCdhZRAj5-JqRqPBEnTzHTzpWdkqQk/s1600/9%253A11%253A17+blog+1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="747" data-original-width="1080" height="442" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDrJ4cQQRonOZsJKF5gVOvla3Cer6Zspz_NVirDyFTM3JSbdZiPnTn_UhQQW9x3_oU9AFSM9ajDyHnVcv0k0uVyfySuM61W9T0zvR1mqSBKq_umcCdhZRAj5-JqRqPBEnTzHTzpWdkqQk/s640/9%253A11%253A17+blog+1.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Early fire</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">We are enjoying beautiful autumn weather. With the exception of one very impressive rain storm, we have had endless dry and warmer-than-usual days. We try to hike at least twice a week and our routes have included walks along the acequia through oak forests, returning to our favorite standby hike around the villages of La Taha, and up to the fire lookout high above our house.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid0Y6uuO0kX8UEMBM7lFTpd6RIWf3Z1Qf2QILVC4SOLTObBl4QglTHN9HT4KKKKi5aE-cMxNuO4OveBFK9VxQiyuP_V3yt0q46mvpWqs5znRcOVNs7awS5CawDXqauo_vzRIItMwFxx88/s1600/9%253A11%253A17+blog+2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="748" data-original-width="1233" height="388" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid0Y6uuO0kX8UEMBM7lFTpd6RIWf3Z1Qf2QILVC4SOLTObBl4QglTHN9HT4KKKKi5aE-cMxNuO4OveBFK9VxQiyuP_V3yt0q46mvpWqs5znRcOVNs7awS5CawDXqauo_vzRIItMwFxx88/s640/9%253A11%253A17+blog+2.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">La Taha walk</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hiking with neighbors who are now good friends</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrvHMYrD8SrY7_9-M1QjQ5a9nE7UqgfYrsvz7Af9h8O3nWbYIojx8gbQzoo3WLMZ8_KVcgoeIDMBMnooXO_XKCc44lvmK6farmlsRdeaqdLpIz0KMnGPPsQDG-lgRsJNrtTgQT4OXf4vI/s1600/9%253A11%253A17+blog+4.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="743" data-original-width="1220" height="389" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrvHMYrD8SrY7_9-M1QjQ5a9nE7UqgfYrsvz7Af9h8O3nWbYIojx8gbQzoo3WLMZ8_KVcgoeIDMBMnooXO_XKCc44lvmK6farmlsRdeaqdLpIz0KMnGPPsQDG-lgRsJNrtTgQT4OXf4vI/s640/9%253A11%253A17+blog+4.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On our way to the fire lookout</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisEM079CDwSBBzt34WyDi4NKJ1beXGS_nPh4fm_JmGlqC_-GzIRK5vp4DFSWlCsPzSMz_UBGkzdDMC4oifl9GFQyREI_NQCjl1YPRRdTMWhViNyJEY84Y9-pwO8IDFeoUEutNFC5_RC4c/s1600/09%253A11%253A17+blog+6.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="742" data-original-width="994" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisEM079CDwSBBzt34WyDi4NKJ1beXGS_nPh4fm_JmGlqC_-GzIRK5vp4DFSWlCsPzSMz_UBGkzdDMC4oifl9GFQyREI_NQCjl1YPRRdTMWhViNyJEY84Y9-pwO8IDFeoUEutNFC5_RC4c/s640/09%253A11%253A17+blog+6.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Through the oaks</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy8JRnWM1eR0y-PGtu8p6PWhjqy9AE3K0toPPVARZbdsZsfeLewga-t0IC2TeQkKAN5IpXhn17g1OJeGuZ7JEJHLlS1C56fXnW5G785STiI9B-kq9TU_4FGxor8dxF8CxW8FV3grt5UaM/s1600/09%253A11%253A17+blog+5.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="745" data-original-width="1079" height="440" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy8JRnWM1eR0y-PGtu8p6PWhjqy9AE3K0toPPVARZbdsZsfeLewga-t0IC2TeQkKAN5IpXhn17g1OJeGuZ7JEJHLlS1C56fXnW5G785STiI9B-kq9TU_4FGxor8dxF8CxW8FV3grt5UaM/s640/09%253A11%253A17+blog+5.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A hidden waterfall</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Last week we went to Órgiva for the weekly market. We typically avoid going to town on Thursday because it is so busy on market day, but sometimes it is fun to participate in the weekly event. There is a vibrant energy in town on market day as people of all ages and varied backgrounds wander among the stalls considering fruit and veggies, clothing and housewares.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">We parked at the edge of town and as we strolled towards the market I took photos of the numerous flowers that color the walls and walkways this time of year. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some of the flowers and fruits of autumn</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The citrus trees are loaded and the fruit is turning from green to brilliant yellow and orange. I think it is perfect that as the days get shorter and the nights get colder, the oranges and lemons ripen bringing cheerful colors and the promise of fresh juice to each day.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">There has been some turnover in our small community. One couple has moved out, going their separate ways and leaving a cortijo for sale. And a bit down the road another couple has arrived, moving here from Australia. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Friendships develop quickly and with ease; probably a product of necessity. Years ago when I moved to Oregon from the East coast of the US I was struck by the openness of the people I met. In the East it seemed that people stayed close to family and lifelong friends, but outsiders were always going to be outsiders. I surmised that the openness in Oregon came from the time of the pioneers arriving by wagon train, each leaving family and everything familiar behind to start over in the foreign, fertile NW territory. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Our experience here is similar. Each ex-pat has chosen to leave the ease of familiarity behind. And in our new lives we find quick acceptance and commonality, enjoying the trust and companionship that comes from genuine kindness and openness. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Those who have been here the longest have not forgotten what it was like when they first arrived and because of that, when someone reaches out, there is always a hand to assist and an encouraging word of assurance that seemingly large obstacles are actually quite manageable. It is those relationships, both with ex-pats, and with some of our Spanish neighbors, that have made this all so pleasantly possible for us, and it is a pleasure to now offer our friendship and encouragement to the newest arrivals.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not the colors of New England, but stunning just the same</td></tr>
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Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01886493225675415790noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1153629447228396052.post-27624309881346536812017-10-18T06:44:00.001-07:002017-10-18T06:44:35.348-07:00First Snow of the Season and Other Adventures<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Sitting down to write, I look out on a grey, wet, chilly landscape. For the first storm of the season, there was no timidity in its arrival; we have experienced wind, thunder and lightening, and periods of heavy rainfall. We lost a limb off the walnut tree, and Sam braved the elements to quickly clear several drainage ditches, blocked by fallen leaves and the dust of a long summer. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But when there was a break in the rain and the clouds lifted for a brief period, we discovered fresh snow on the mountains. Hopefully this will be the beginning of what will build to a good base of lasting snowpack. We have had a year of drought conditions, and the water and future snow melt are much needed.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Snow on the mountains!</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Our house holds the warmth of the summer sun; the thick stone walls retain the heat until the chill becomes too powerful, and then we will light the wood stove and settle in for the winter ahead. Fortunately Sam had all of the wood chopped and stacked before he injured his shoulder back in April. Now while he recovers from rotator cuff surgery, I need only to carry in each day's wood from the adequate supply. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Pleased that we arrived back home in time to bask in a warmer-than-usual, and very sunny autumn, we have enjoyed exploring some of the varied terrains and landscapes of our region.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We hiked high above the villages with views down the valley to our property and beyond to the Mediterranean. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking towards home and beyond</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Another day we drove to the top of the Contraviesa, where, standing on the long ridge, the view south drops to the Mediterranean below and the view north reveals the expanse of the Sierra Nevada mountain range. There we hiked through a cork oak forest which had been recently harvested. Cork oaks are harvested every nine years and when they are harvested a deep, pink bark is revealed. Soon the color will revert back to grey as the cork replenishes on each tree. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Walking in the recently harvested cork oak forest</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beautiful bark</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We joined Spanish Highs Mountain Guides for a hike in the Tabernas Desert near Almeria. This unique area is also the home of "Little Hollywood," and the location for numerous films including <i>Lawrence of Arabia</i>, <i>The Good the Bad and the Ugly</i> and other spaghetti westerns. As we walked, our guide pointed out where various scenes had been filmed. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The setting for a scene in <i>The Good the Bad and the Ugly</i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The cinematic history is interesting, but the landscape is stunning; we especially enjoyed the spectacular Marlstone deposits formed by lime-rich mud and calcium carbonate.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Back at home we continue our near-daily walks to the barranco. It remains a dry stream bed, but hopefully today's rain will provide some flowing water again. Yesterday we took a plastic bag and stopped to gather chestnuts from one of several large trees along the track. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We have been home for nearly a month and are settled back into the slow flow of life on the mountain. Today I have a pot of soup bubbling on the stove and we are happy for a quiet, cozy day in our comfortable cortijo.</span></div>
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Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01886493225675415790noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1153629447228396052.post-29865313476846634322017-09-30T07:10:00.000-07:002017-10-07T05:58:40.000-07:00Returning Home After a Visit "Home"<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">We returned to our mountain home a week ago and already we are settling back into our simple life.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje_7SSfJKq5Xe4QINuSag86aCeuJdpc_qMpQlegxz_a1VPnKL431W8BdmbPJpkDPJMAXadPHNsOcijEftZhX5zRrES5oOA43_24za8nfW2TUyEY8S-i1UzaHchxIpzZ5n5bTgEmvHXC88/s1600/30%253A9%253A2017+blog+4.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="746" data-original-width="1189" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje_7SSfJKq5Xe4QINuSag86aCeuJdpc_qMpQlegxz_a1VPnKL431W8BdmbPJpkDPJMAXadPHNsOcijEftZhX5zRrES5oOA43_24za8nfW2TUyEY8S-i1UzaHchxIpzZ5n5bTgEmvHXC88/s640/30%253A9%253A2017+blog+4.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A flowery welcome home</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Our trip to the States was full and we were overwhelmed by the generosity of friends, and the joy of spending time with each of our kids and welcoming our new granddaughter. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeStdzHJ4QHs-o6ACnJ8JcOflBhsHnPOFvh7W_aZIuJQoVVRz2k3tDaf-v8AFDNR7MQfaek9bRG-FiI96Gis5ptZnNYNEpG3H_Ntsn3ftCdlD_koLMSiecEhjQWe5yXpIZUpgK6m2I6Es/s1600/30%253A9%253A2017+blog.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="602" data-original-width="546" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeStdzHJ4QHs-o6ACnJ8JcOflBhsHnPOFvh7W_aZIuJQoVVRz2k3tDaf-v8AFDNR7MQfaek9bRG-FiI96Gis5ptZnNYNEpG3H_Ntsn3ftCdlD_koLMSiecEhjQWe5yXpIZUpgK6m2I6Es/s400/30%253A9%253A2017+blog.png" width="362" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our first grandchild</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">We were fed and housed by friends and family from Seattle to San Diego, and many locales in between, and from Las Vegas to Lancaster, Pennsylvania. We enjoyed spending time with friends who have visited us here in Spain, and with others we haven't seen in over 40 years. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">But our minds were never far from our home in Las Alpujarras and as the countdown neared our return, we found ourselves longing for the peacefulness of our life here, while experiencing heartache knowing we would, once again, be so far from our loved ones.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">We returned to welcomes from our friends and neighbors on the mountain. <i>Gracious neighbor </i>picked us up at the Malaga airport and when we arrived home we discovered a lovely spread of veggies, and fresh cornbread and homemade jam, and other groceries, complete with <i>Welcome Home</i> cards from his family. Jésus, the shepherd greeted us warmly the next morning, and Manuel brought around a box of peppers and tomatoes and aubergines (eggplant) and a large bag of almonds from his trees. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">In the past I have asked ex-pat friends after returning to their new home, following the first visit back to the States, "Did you feel as if you were coming home?" Answers varied, but I can report that we definitely feel as if we are back home. And that is a comfort to discover.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Throughout the summer we enjoyed sharing stories of our new life with friends and acquaintances, and one question that was asked over and over was, <i>What is a typical day like for you? </i>We tried to explain that our days here unfold and we rarely have a plan for the day when we get up. I thought of that today and realized that today is very typical of our daily life here.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">We woke up when the light came in our window, sometime between 7:45 and 8:00. Sam made the coffee and I set up chairs at our patio table where we spent the next half hour drinking coffee while enjoying the view. We heard the bus that makes an early trip up towards Mulhacén to drop day hikers, and we watched as it switched back and forth up the mountainside across the valley from us. The sun popped over the mountain just after 9:00 and we shed our fleece layers. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwhCILJfWEw5iqTBBNavbNQAyloyA_uCmPitUPArKy2c-hugPGDUyLYDEz0I5nTopHv-PHTqWcXn9hW6VPbUR-HeUpjaR79rA1_DNZP2ZO4tBfbZ4ueT26c7Z_om55ZX_XfMt4B44cf88/s1600/30%253A9%253A2017+blog+2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="748" data-original-width="994" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwhCILJfWEw5iqTBBNavbNQAyloyA_uCmPitUPArKy2c-hugPGDUyLYDEz0I5nTopHv-PHTqWcXn9hW6VPbUR-HeUpjaR79rA1_DNZP2ZO4tBfbZ4ueT26c7Z_om55ZX_XfMt4B44cf88/s640/30%253A9%253A2017+blog+2.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The day begins</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">After breakfast Sam went out to gather piles of weeds he has been pulling since arriving home a week ago and I started a load of laundry. While the clothes washed I cooked some of Manuel's tomatoes and removed the skins in preparation for making tomato sauce. Tomorrow we are going to a gathering with friends and I will take Melanzane alla parmigiana (Eggplant parmesan) to share.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">After hanging out the laundry, we went for a walk to the barranco and back. This is our typical "neighborhood" walk, on days when we don't go elsewhere for a longer hike. On the return I stopped to gather walnuts scattered across the track under an enormous walnut tree. We have a lovely walnut tree of our own and I've been harvesting them since we returned home, but it is hard to resist freshly-fallen wild nuts. We will have a good crop to crack and eat throughout the winter.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Back at home we had a snack and then Sam went back out to water the garden and move some plants around. I got the tomato sauce made and it has now been simmering for several hours. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPLJXbSdq1XTatR8dF_-VMYMux_C-0LIaQoAvjNFbKrFG80LfcQtkcM4LspU-qvXgOCAFhDiiFhKUhn3o-MhOgbtdj5ESuvmrV5O4DcPuN7_7FQuGl96fybzw1GNS_b5UaRLMbGwlBd-E/s1600/30%253A9%253A2017+blog+1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="737" data-original-width="992" height="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPLJXbSdq1XTatR8dF_-VMYMux_C-0LIaQoAvjNFbKrFG80LfcQtkcM4LspU-qvXgOCAFhDiiFhKUhn3o-MhOgbtdj5ESuvmrV5O4DcPuN7_7FQuGl96fybzw1GNS_b5UaRLMbGwlBd-E/s400/30%253A9%253A2017+blog+1.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Making sauce</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I decided to make salad and farinata for lunch. Farinata is a flat bread made with Garbanzo bean flour and it takes about 90 minutes to make. It is a luxury to have the time to make such a treat in the middle of the day. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">We ate lunch at 2:00 and then Sam picked strawberries while I cleaned up the kitchen. It is clouding up now and I need to get the laundry off the line. The house smells of tomato sauce while the outside air is perfumed with the mint that Sam pruned earlier. After blogging I'll rest in the hammock and then we will probably take another walk to the barranco later this evening; or not, we'll just see what unfolds.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">So that is our typical day. There are variations and some days are nothing like any previous day, but the point is, there is no schedule. We can go many days without driving the car, and we never feel like we need to rush off to something. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">We are living life at our own pace and we do it to a natural soundtrack of birds and bugs, and at night to nearly total silence. Occasionally we hear a helicopter and rush out to see what's going on, or we hear the early morning bus to Mulhacén, or dogs barking in the distance, but the gentle sounds of nature and the heavy silence of nighttime heal our mind and spirit, and that is what we missed the most while we were away from home.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiJvH_u3MAwoeWhheG4snzNFNsAwbo5PTik8r2hqnmhzlpMkdpcSrfpDLs_V5xcmIjioOEglf48WCg8dCWy_61C0h9tfq9eiOM5LaOU89mdzGmuv4MwO5klQ0I5RsfJ-96cAjYsWiJvKM/s1600/30%253A9%253A2017+blog+3.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="744" data-original-width="1093" height="434" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiJvH_u3MAwoeWhheG4snzNFNsAwbo5PTik8r2hqnmhzlpMkdpcSrfpDLs_V5xcmIjioOEglf48WCg8dCWy_61C0h9tfq9eiOM5LaOU89mdzGmuv4MwO5klQ0I5RsfJ-96cAjYsWiJvKM/s640/30%253A9%253A2017+blog+3.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The peaceful backdrop for our life here</td></tr>
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Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01886493225675415790noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1153629447228396052.post-76868270031421649142017-06-18T07:15:00.000-07:002017-06-18T07:15:12.024-07:00Quiet on the Mountain<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It appears that things have calmed down among our small group of neighbors and it has been five days since we have had any water issues. We like it that way.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrJRX1plBb9ZfDK8q_kaYXHQgGA6JmSc9NqssLTEq5Dx-u2IHKlwMQT7Q2EUOWDF1JZeolGhbtsjSEvwO03w2FzE6IewVrDRFKMifllNjNnplt2UhAdLQLnZo9RlwE0hXsuQr-H1QeY20/s1600/18%253A6%253Ablog+7.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="735" data-original-width="1137" height="412" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrJRX1plBb9ZfDK8q_kaYXHQgGA6JmSc9NqssLTEq5Dx-u2IHKlwMQT7Q2EUOWDF1JZeolGhbtsjSEvwO03w2FzE6IewVrDRFKMifllNjNnplt2UhAdLQLnZo9RlwE0hXsuQr-H1QeY20/s640/18%253A6%253Ablog+7.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beautiful color on a recent walk to check on the water source</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Spain is in the midst of a heatwave and we have learned to embrace the long afternoon siesta time. Most days it is ill-advised to be outside between 1:00 pm and 6:00 pm. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivUdYSGwW_XgA1ypMA9SydORDkakHj42wiVa6iKGzDki5PC_Ra4P5wMPeg60mWzyogMWzz-EzJ76pwnmrzbiwjGhFDUCJMSZsf8GVWhhfsBp-IW7LLOt4-21A0_UiexXeKyEIV0HZ6H8c/s1600/18%253A6%253Ablog+2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="738" data-original-width="741" height="397" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivUdYSGwW_XgA1ypMA9SydORDkakHj42wiVa6iKGzDki5PC_Ra4P5wMPeg60mWzyogMWzz-EzJ76pwnmrzbiwjGhFDUCJMSZsf8GVWhhfsBp-IW7LLOt4-21A0_UiexXeKyEIV0HZ6H8c/s400/18%253A6%253Ablog+2.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Temps this past week on the Iberian Peninsula</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The loveliest time is after 9:00 when the sun has dipped below the hillside to our West but the sky stays light for another hour. We enjoy sitting outside in the cool dusk playing cards and listening to the sounds of nature closing down another day.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE9hIl9KN1hIbbEoerJMVTsLCuZV79SQ0yFJ6sd2UvpMDRVIaGx4zDNufHoJAAfv09Q8YT8Yvu3GpBVuRoqWSHUIhB2bT87AznjLqwacdf0fcdkcUAgg2SPUwWitlO5b8KrIPkW2hZFiw/s1600/18%253A6%253Ablog.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="737" data-original-width="1063" height="442" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE9hIl9KN1hIbbEoerJMVTsLCuZV79SQ0yFJ6sd2UvpMDRVIaGx4zDNufHoJAAfv09Q8YT8Yvu3GpBVuRoqWSHUIhB2bT87AznjLqwacdf0fcdkcUAgg2SPUwWitlO5b8KrIPkW2hZFiw/s640/18%253A6%253Ablog.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cards at dusk</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This is my last post from Spain for a few months. At the end of June we will return to the States to visit family and friends, to welcome our first grandchild, and to distribute many of the items we currently have in storage. We will also sell the car that we've kept there, now that it is clear that our home is in Spain.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In one sense this trip is a trip "back home," however, without our own house in the States, it doesn't really feel like going home. We look forward to visiting with friends and family, but it isn't a vacation either as we throw ourselves on the generosity of others while we accomplish a long list of must-dos.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">With the on-going political disaster in the States and the daily reports of violence, injustices and gun deaths, from a distance it seems as if we are about to fly into the eye of a hurricane. Our love for friends and family draws us towards what would otherwise be a situation we would make an effort to avoid.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We are leaving just as the apricots and peaches are ripening. Chestnut trees are in full bloom and the pomegranates are starting to form. We have enjoyed generous crops of strawberries, cherries and mulberries; all from our own land.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Each night I talk to the peaches encouraging them to ripen before we leave</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking forward to gathering chestnuts in autumn</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKedrge9VHT3rOQu8cqFKYCjp083c0hm-mweFoitkgEdZQy6HVvhIN_6KnS6C0TD_EgWjk_kvxwluGu-grqkoBy_thrFzS7o3bMiLvCLLJi4ldhgLJSeurZzp8t7UCpReETbLi5T_48VY/s1600/18%253A6%253Ablog+1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="738" data-original-width="988" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKedrge9VHT3rOQu8cqFKYCjp083c0hm-mweFoitkgEdZQy6HVvhIN_6KnS6C0TD_EgWjk_kvxwluGu-grqkoBy_thrFzS7o3bMiLvCLLJi4ldhgLJSeurZzp8t7UCpReETbLi5T_48VY/s640/18%253A6%253Ablog+1.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Anticipating pomegranates in November</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Today my blog has reached 6000 views. </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This astounds me as my intent originally was to share our lives with the few people "back home" who might find it interesting. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I've discovered that the viewers do not include our children. I joked recently about all the attention we showered on the kids and how each piece of kindergarten artwork, every report card, found a place of honor on the refrigerator door, but they can't find time to read through a weekly write-up about our life in Spain. I suppose it shows their independence and lack of concern for us, and that is no-doubt a positive thing. Right?!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I am thankful for those of you who <i>have</i> found your way to the blog. I suspect that many readers come because of my announcement on Facebook of each new post, but I have readers from places where I do not have any acquaintances: the Philippines, Russia, Belgium, South Africa, Turkmenistan, and beyond. I appreciate all of you who have taken the time to read a post or two, and I welcome you into this window on our lives.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I will post once or twice from the United States to share our observations after a year away. Until then, thank you for the support and encouragement that I get from sharing our story with you.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the last remaining poppies of 2017</td></tr>
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Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01886493225675415790noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1153629447228396052.post-79063995885168915312017-06-09T04:24:00.000-07:002017-06-09T04:24:02.502-07:00The Bitter With the Better<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We have entered the <i>lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer</i> here on the mountain although the "lazy" part hasn't really started. Sam has spent nearly two weeks using his strimmer (weed eater) to cut the grass and weeds on our two hectares (five acres). </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I'm certain that most will wonder why he doesn't mow it, but the land is quite uneven, and very steep in places with many rocks, and a mower would not work. In addition, after June 1st it is forbidden to use a blade to cut anything, due to the fire risk. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIgW5LsDm01da_by5XiFMz4daC4uTWksCQnA8aSR0zwBVJIXyN6OtHaiikkurjflkjp2yErEvFwyc46OkcSAMq-W0elegVqm456CYalUG509AhfZb1yhWm7m2ILv9yDVEnmopZHANv-Og/s1600/9%253A6%253Ablog+1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="740" data-original-width="989" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIgW5LsDm01da_by5XiFMz4daC4uTWksCQnA8aSR0zwBVJIXyN6OtHaiikkurjflkjp2yErEvFwyc46OkcSAMq-W0elegVqm456CYalUG509AhfZb1yhWm7m2ILv9yDVEnmopZHANv-Og/s640/9%253A6%253Ablog+1.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sam strimming a hillside</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And so he strims, or strimms? When he refills the tank or changes the strimming cords, I offer up food and water, but otherwise he is out working for 5-8 hours a day. This isn't really what we imagined when we moved from our high-maintenance yard in Oregon, and next year it will be managed differently. We don't yet know what that will look like, but this isn't sustainable.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsQcxH4seGJ6xhf5pbVbie3Yw3eDlia3te4sLBTs2Cre9hevYhQtbdlHBUv8F_yneysyztnxOQ0hGYGxOnlk_T0Yxik5MyayVjeuba4DWE05abiZ5BfYgzi9VQ7Tr0rJvLN7uBfn631-o/s1600/9%253A6%253Ablog+4.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="741" data-original-width="1002" height="472" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsQcxH4seGJ6xhf5pbVbie3Yw3eDlia3te4sLBTs2Cre9hevYhQtbdlHBUv8F_yneysyztnxOQ0hGYGxOnlk_T0Yxik5MyayVjeuba4DWE05abiZ5BfYgzi9VQ7Tr0rJvLN7uBfn631-o/s640/9%253A6%253Ablog+4.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A freshly strimmed section</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The days are long with the sun coming over the mountains to the east by 7:30 each morning and darkness settling sometime after 10:00 pm. This week the moon is bright and shines in our window as we fall asleep around midnight. The days have been hot, but the evenings are pleasant and often we are still outside enjoying the cool dusk at 9:30.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQg1dhWYlvTh-oyJtsmWQ6y65U14OdYH2qTKl6tQ9hYbB76-fTv6I0HH9RrVnKlCV1UA9pqiudRaMlB568aqYLazmXKPJFzqdXSHGOb4fzTDJz2Au48UFC6bavt-xfy5boWhD-vJO-3B0/s1600/9%253A6%253Ablog+5.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="741" data-original-width="991" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQg1dhWYlvTh-oyJtsmWQ6y65U14OdYH2qTKl6tQ9hYbB76-fTv6I0HH9RrVnKlCV1UA9pqiudRaMlB568aqYLazmXKPJFzqdXSHGOb4fzTDJz2Au48UFC6bavt-xfy5boWhD-vJO-3B0/s640/9%253A6%253Ablog+5.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just before sunrise</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWGD90ygSzPe1V1rFFZgQ9C4RQYao_Lkdri038a0oIwTV1RpFsfCo3fTz33P3OwH0fnifa-DNxTK4MxDsSnNGYcIVkI_Upjjqvr4dvi3cDIIEIHD2iKcmW0SmcKRVsNZ5NdIIvzXdxqGE/s1600/9%253A6%253Ablog+3.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="734" data-original-width="554" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWGD90ygSzPe1V1rFFZgQ9C4RQYao_Lkdri038a0oIwTV1RpFsfCo3fTz33P3OwH0fnifa-DNxTK4MxDsSnNGYcIVkI_Upjjqvr4dvi3cDIIEIHD2iKcmW0SmcKRVsNZ5NdIIvzXdxqGE/s400/9%253A6%253Ablog+3.png" width="301" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The nearly full moon as seen through the netting over our bed</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">There is tension in our little community. The details are not completely clear and it is probably best not to share them <i>in a public setting </i>anyhow, but while we were on our little trip to Portugal and Galicia in May, a conflict erupted here at home. The immediate result was that an angry neighbor disassembled, and later removed, the water collection tank that Sam had installed at the fuente several months ago. The impact was that three houses, including ours, were no longer receiving any water from the fuente. We rely on this water source for all of our household water.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">While we were on our vacation we received numerous texts and phone calls from various neighbors about the situation. Perceptions and accusations were shared and hurt feelings and resentments were aroused. Needless to say, this greatly impacted our ability to enjoy our long-anticipated excursion. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">By the time we returned home, one affected neighbor had stuck the pipe back into the stream and, although the tank has not yet been reinstalled, we are all getting water again.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw2WrCdcwCKJOTldypEEP-7J5O1x7kRG5ooAVPzbnna-_S2_ZvwMUpVztcsjkGDMr2BarCfp_Tn9t64EAg-oHq0ZKSUu8Jr7oftfudDMERktLLbuk9MKIEyQkvDfPIytOSiooUkePwy6c/s1600/9%253A6%253Ablog.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="727" data-original-width="994" height="468" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw2WrCdcwCKJOTldypEEP-7J5O1x7kRG5ooAVPzbnna-_S2_ZvwMUpVztcsjkGDMr2BarCfp_Tn9t64EAg-oHq0ZKSUu8Jr7oftfudDMERktLLbuk9MKIEyQkvDfPIytOSiooUkePwy6c/s640/9%253A6%253Ablog.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just a pipe with some screen stuck in the stream where the collection tank once sat</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Unfortunately imaginary lines have been drawn and we've been assigned a side by one set of neighbors. Actually, at this point, we have all been assigned to that side by these particular neighbors. It is unnecessary and unfortunate, but we can't control how others maneuver through this life. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Sam and I came to this part of the world because we want to live quietly. We have raised four wonderful kids and we embraced all of the challenges and sacrifices that involved. But now we want to relax. We want the time and space to be still and to breathe deeply, and to enjoy each other without the distractions of a faster-paced life. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We have been pleasantly surprised by the friendship of several good neighbors and we are content to smile and wave to those with whom we will never be close. But we did not come here for drama. And so we have stepped back from the current situation, waiting to see how the dust settles.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">When I started this blog I promised to share the good, the bad and the ugly. Fortunately it has been very nearly all good. And it will continue to be, but real life occurs everywhere, even in paradise, and I wanted to let you know.</span></div>
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Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01886493225675415790noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1153629447228396052.post-4459173550114283552017-05-29T07:30:00.001-07:002017-05-29T07:30:57.471-07:00Camino Reflections <div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Two years ago today I started my forty-two day journey on the Camino de Santiago. I joined the ancient pilgrimage route in St Jean Pied de Port, in France, and six weeks later I arrived in Finisterre on the Spanish coast of the Atlantic Ocean.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the Camino</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The experience was life-changing in many ways and as I walked through regions and villages that had seemed near-mythical from my extensive research, I wondered if I would ever pass that way again. Over the Pyrenees, through the Basque country, across the beautifully barren Meseta and into the lush green rolling hillsides of Galicia; each day was better than the day before and I marveled at the varied landscapes and cultures of Spain.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Of course that was before I knew that just over a year later I would be moving to Spain. I had dreamt of a life in Europe, but I didn't believe it would ever happen. And so as I walked the 600 miles of my Camino, I wrote in my journal and took endless photos wanting to share it all with Sam, but assuming that he would never see any of it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And now I live a road-trip away from all of it. In February we visited friends on the Meseta and I was able to share some of the route with Sam, and now we are just home from a trip to Portugal and Galicia where together we walked sections of the trail that I had enjoyed most. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The Camino consists of numerous routes and it seems that we run into portions frequently. In 2004 we were in France and unknowingly walked parts of the Le Puy Way (Chemin du Puy) before either of us had ever heard of the Camino. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFQzddYAByeIDX1ITCduko8J4ayEJ8K2mKdgtsZp4e6WJLdjkUvt9LOaWuh9pnC89yBLjg3F2a1EGnLFB48fOMEPiA4nb0fWeG6x9AzVFVI-ooF0TiXZs7g1eDIK57pyZ7bpEkcppGOtA/s1600/Conques.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="446" data-original-width="597" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFQzddYAByeIDX1ITCduko8J4ayEJ8K2mKdgtsZp4e6WJLdjkUvt9LOaWuh9pnC89yBLjg3F2a1EGnLFB48fOMEPiA4nb0fWeG6x9AzVFVI-ooF0TiXZs7g1eDIK57pyZ7bpEkcppGOtA/s1600/Conques.png" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Conques, France - 2004 before I'd heard of the Camino</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The Camino Mozárabe passes through Granada and we have followed yellow arrows around town on several occasions, while running errands. In Seville we walked to a park and I discovered that we were walking on the Viá de la Plata.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhacY5Lm6K9WMTIKYbpW2yUOjx3gVczxyu1w96iybe5jjkUtyEWic-qWNH0i3ijZeyQY_faX2l2a3JDj7AK3eo-4HP5aCiwV5RIW-_neKXy-0vaczR8jj2dS2IxoP5lw9j9zhv3nwcMugk/s1600/Blog+29%253A5.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="743" data-original-width="989" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhacY5Lm6K9WMTIKYbpW2yUOjx3gVczxyu1w96iybe5jjkUtyEWic-qWNH0i3ijZeyQY_faX2l2a3JDj7AK3eo-4HP5aCiwV5RIW-_neKXy-0vaczR8jj2dS2IxoP5lw9j9zhv3nwcMugk/s640/Blog+29%253A5.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Marker in Seville</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Our recent trip to Porto, Portugal was to visit a group of five friends from my walk on the Camino. We had known each other for less than 24 hours, two years ago, but we've stayed in touch, and Sam and I were pleased to have a chance to visit with them in their lovely city. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihZAHupSMC2shTuYFCO4CPG4bJwSYsRclSpg8u8GlUCMuy4aeCxRQYtEuS1sr9so2i7NOYzzqbhZe97ieN4ExZ28D5EXwZNGCw6qBL6t4L3f-sVl8E9OIyabcE8Gfp4u2yD_uIk9kwVjU/s1600/Blog+29%253A5+1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="743" data-original-width="1290" height="368" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihZAHupSMC2shTuYFCO4CPG4bJwSYsRclSpg8u8GlUCMuy4aeCxRQYtEuS1sr9so2i7NOYzzqbhZe97ieN4ExZ28D5EXwZNGCw6qBL6t4L3f-sVl8E9OIyabcE8Gfp4u2yD_uIk9kwVjU/s640/Blog+29%253A5+1.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Re-uniting with Camino friends in Picturesque Porto</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I randomly chose an apartment to rent on the edge of Porto, in Foz, where the Douro river meets the Atlantic ocean. I had no idea that the coastal route of the Camino Portugués, the Caminho da Costa, would pass several feet from our apartment window! Each morning we watched as Pilgrims who began their Camino from the Cathedral in Porto, passed our window about an hour into the first day of their journey. I was delighted by this discovery but resisted calling "Buen Camino" to each one.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In Galicia we based our visit in one of the places I had stayed while walking the Camino de Invierno. The Invierno breaks from the Camino Francés in Ponferrada, and when I walked it I was the only Pilgrim for the (approximately) 230 kilometers of the route. The experience of walking that far alone was tremendously empowering. About half way along I stayed with Penelope and it was a joy to return and to visit with her again.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTGMvYWSR6U4SMZtLagqdOAuTQYVj-y0dRfJj_Uust3suVe0WiFwxDfa8-DkmzSZ_F09ADHrKnFyvzjvtMJpOoBsJ-kz7DMxTEpg9KEbvmzxqplg_lmflwEbzRhI-kjTl3BfVCOe6RM3Q/s1600/Penelope.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="742" data-original-width="994" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTGMvYWSR6U4SMZtLagqdOAuTQYVj-y0dRfJj_Uust3suVe0WiFwxDfa8-DkmzSZ_F09ADHrKnFyvzjvtMJpOoBsJ-kz7DMxTEpg9KEbvmzxqplg_lmflwEbzRhI-kjTl3BfVCOe6RM3Q/s640/Penelope.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Camino just before arriving at Penelope's</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I was thrilled to show Sam stretches I had walked on the Invierno. Together we hiked a steep section that descends to the Miño river and we shared the view that took my breath away when the trees parted, giving the first glimpse of the steep hillsides covered with vineyards down to the river's edge.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_BpDt9KSaEhIaAXKbXp3YummM8kZgA0KZDr7K6hQmXmCNWN55t3QQ9yVo_PFUsqPi-OZ2eiEzzk9MQO_KqkNP8p2Rk8sGQvRoXnpqyRclFCtAxXRHlFWR_OGMlsTcO0MWf_EgH0QK4Lg/s1600/Blog+29%253A5+2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="737" data-original-width="993" height="474" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_BpDt9KSaEhIaAXKbXp3YummM8kZgA0KZDr7K6hQmXmCNWN55t3QQ9yVo_PFUsqPi-OZ2eiEzzk9MQO_KqkNP8p2Rk8sGQvRoXnpqyRclFCtAxXRHlFWR_OGMlsTcO0MWf_EgH0QK4Lg/s640/Blog+29%253A5+2.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A view that took my breath away</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I drove him over mountains on deserted logging roads where I had walked for hours without seeing another human, and we wound along gorgeous river valleys; as we went he appreciated, even more, what I had done. He also noted that, had he realized I would be in such remote places all alone, he would have suggested I not take this alternate route! I will forever be thankful that I did.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Finally, as we drove back home from Galicia we paralleled much of the Via de la Plata. This Camino route stretches across the west of Spain from Seville following an old Roman road. We saw many Camino markers, and several Pilgrims as we whizzed past on the autovía covering in a day what takes Pilgrims weeks to walk.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It is unimaginable to me that I live where I can take a road trip from home to destinations like Porto, Portugal or to any of the Camino routes. I follow several Camino groups on Facebook and at any time there is someone I am aware of who is walking one of the routes. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I am certain that I will find myself walking again before long.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The arrows are calling me</td></tr>
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Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01886493225675415790noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1153629447228396052.post-46899818634438432482017-05-05T11:22:00.000-07:002017-05-05T11:22:14.083-07:00I did it! I got off of the Merry-Go-Round and I walked away.<i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I wrote this post on December 31, 2013. It is amazing to read it now and to see that I made it. When I read the list that I wrote then, of what makes me happy, it describes my daily life here in Spain. </span></i><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">To those who imagine something different for your life - keep dreaming and keep moving forward. It can happen.</span></i><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I'm spinning on one of those playground toys that goes around and around. If it slows someone jumps off and pushes it faster and faster before jumping back on. Sitting in the middle, the centrifugal force makes my head roll around in slow motion, nodding forward then leaning back and then forward and back. I'm dizzy, but it is going too fast to jump off. It slows and I want to make the leap but just then it is pushed again until the scenery is just a blur and I don't dare escape.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The Christmas lights went up just after Halloween this year and now on the last day of December they are being replaced with Valentine's day decorations. Store shelves that only a week ago held last-minute discounts on Christmas supplies are now draped in red and pink with hearts and chocolates and cardboard cupids. Next the Easter bunny will rest briefly on those shelves. Before we know it the stores will be a blast of red, white and blue as we approach that uniquely American July day of celebration. Then it is back-to-school clothes and supplies, just about the time we are ready to start wearing shorts and swimsuits in the summer sunshine. And on and on it goes.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My e-mail box was loaded with Black Friday deals, then Cyber-Monday price-slashing followed by discounts that grew deeper and deeper as Christmas approached. By evening on December 25th, the ads had switched to after-Christmas deals at "rock bottom prices." Some people shop on the 26th to get cheap gifts they will give a year from now, stocking up on half-priced wrapping paper and Christmas cards that will be stored away and forgotten when it comes time to use it all. And soon, about three weeks into actual Winter, the spring clothes will be out and it will be a frenzy of winter clearance sales.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My Oprah magazine arrives promising that 2014 is my year to shine - inside I will learn how to "brighten everything from my mood to my style, one easy tweak at a time." There is a diet quiz that I can take and on page 130 I'll find "Oprah's Foolproof Stress Cure." There is The secret to a great makeover and an "inspiring, powerful," new novel that Oprah has discovered. I am worn out just reading the front cover. Oprah has such high expectations. Inside I am introduced to a few of her favorite things, a "Gratitude Meter," and a plan for finding joy. Phew! In this single issue I might find the power to really get my life together.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I want off. I want to stop spinning. Who is pushing this thing anyhow? Clearly corporate America alone has the strength to make the Merry-Go-Round spin faster and faster without stopping. And I have realized that every time I buy something that I don't need, I am adding strength to the push. Each time I see an advertisement and believe that my life will be just a little bit better if only I had one more..., or a newer version....or a smaller or bigger or faster or shinier - whatever, I help the Merry-Go-Round spin.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And so I am going to focus on getting off of this thing. I am tired of being dizzy and all this head bobbing is clearly not good for the mind in the long-term. I want to put my foot out and drag it in the dirt to try and slow the rotation enough to jump off. I won't take advantage of the after-Christmas or winter-clearance offerings. Even if a shirt is only $10, that is $10 I don't need to spend because I already have too many shirts that I never wear. I don't need more books on my Kindle - I have enough to keep reading for a year or two and even at $1.99, I don't need to add to my collection. When I run out of things to read I'm sure I'll find a deal or two that will help me re-load my library.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I am not making any resolutions for 2014 - even that is some idea thought up to make us all feel inadequate so that we spend more money trying to feel better about ourselves. Joining gyms, buying into diet programs, spending hundreds of dollars on containers so that we'll be more organized - if I want to get fit, lose weight or manage my junk, I can do that in March, or perhaps October - there is nothing powerful about January 1st.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So my effort to slow down the Merry-Go-Round is not a resolution, it is more of a leap towards greater peace. I know what makes me happy (in no particular order):</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Hiking</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Growing my own herbs and vegetables</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Writing</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Reading</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Traveling</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">None of my truest happiness depends on things. There is not a discount available that will enrich any of the activities listed above. I'm letting my Oprah subscription expire- even that I tried to do a year ago but I was sent deal after deal until I finally bit. She offered me a bag of some sort if I renewed my subscription at the low price of $12 for a year, but I had to hurry because there was a limited number of bags. I kicked myself when the cheap, and not very attractive, bag arrived and then the monthly dose of what-I-should-be-doing hype. Not this year Oprah - I'm on to you and I am also done with you. I'm certain I will find more joy on my own than in the pages of a perfumed periodical.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I suspect this will take time. If I put my foot out while spinning at a fast speed I might catch it on something and have to climb back on for a few revolutions. I know that dragging my foot will kick up dust and those on the Merry-Go-Round might yell at me to either get off or get back on. But I will do it. I can't shake the image now and I feel empowered at the idea of eventually walking away while most will continue to spin and spin until they can no longer think straight.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No more spinning</td></tr>
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Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01886493225675415790noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1153629447228396052.post-54643437983489373622017-04-29T06:18:00.000-07:002017-04-29T06:19:21.229-07:00Poppies, People and Purchases<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">As I sit down to write this week's blog I realize that things once noteworthy are now just part of our new normal. For example, the other night we took a walk and the church bells were ringing across the valley but only after a number of <i>clongs</i> did I really hear them as something extraordinary. The views continue to thrill us, but we comment less frequently with amazement that we actually live here. This is certainly home now and I think we will believe that completely when we return from our trip to the States this summer. I have always wondered how expats feel when they return home, from their old home - <i>which feels more like home?</i> I'll be sure to let you know in September.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The poppies are in full bloom up and down the mountain. They began several weeks ago at the lower elevations, but now we have bright red blossoms punctuating our green fields and rock walls. I am thrilled by each bloom; they appear in the morning and then the petals drop off by evening, to be replaced by new blooms the next day. When I walked the Camino de Santiago in 2015 I wondered if I had taken a photo of every poppy in northern Spain. I could not get enough of them. And so it fills me with joy to have poppies here on our property. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaUMOzafylPTXr4wgIEB1EOTzFCmHU_hxWDoxbd9tgPAGlEj_9imQbZqscsWPUpjpbbuNE_dEWrKI89H83J_i4OzYDOwsw-fVdcYKqcXNA942c0NLxNEv-IsPlELuRGGpNcOSj5VSdGG0/s1600/29%253A4%253Ablog+6.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaUMOzafylPTXr4wgIEB1EOTzFCmHU_hxWDoxbd9tgPAGlEj_9imQbZqscsWPUpjpbbuNE_dEWrKI89H83J_i4OzYDOwsw-fVdcYKqcXNA942c0NLxNEv-IsPlELuRGGpNcOSj5VSdGG0/s640/29%253A4%253Ablog+6.png" width="478" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of our own poppies</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Last week we took the drive down to Ferreirola and this time there were fields of poppies where I had stopped to take almond blossom photos back in February. And not only poppies, but a mix of wildflowers arranged more artistically than if they had been intentionally planted. The colorful purple, white, red and yellow flowers are stunning against the broken stone walls of crumbling terraces and ruined Cortijos. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje6LGkaOVhirbDfHBJwSNjA0yBOYkmbKdIOc_cZrKqvU9VIkXRMmPg2AfdRT1jkkUsVKtABRotLVuHgotmo7_lxSTbolRWzrChnagcYfLR7IXsN_tk7fnUQ_io07YgU2gIMs6Rzl-eg50/s1600/29%253A4%253Ablog+5.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje6LGkaOVhirbDfHBJwSNjA0yBOYkmbKdIOc_cZrKqvU9VIkXRMmPg2AfdRT1jkkUsVKtABRotLVuHgotmo7_lxSTbolRWzrChnagcYfLR7IXsN_tk7fnUQ_io07YgU2gIMs6Rzl-eg50/s640/29%253A4%253Ablog+5.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What could be more lovely?</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZs7lP3bm3B65OGGf7yIALHLUOrDOxoPoVmgU8gxkAjEnIAkDqWvzwzrbodbvQCDne12wOtznDL_CYXWEsHDwUuApnrrcrG5JGiXsr6U9f16srWbxSwkazt1KOzVr5gYMWjPQ-i9mg-0M/s1600/29%253A4%253Ablog+8.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="376" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZs7lP3bm3B65OGGf7yIALHLUOrDOxoPoVmgU8gxkAjEnIAkDqWvzwzrbodbvQCDne12wOtznDL_CYXWEsHDwUuApnrrcrG5JGiXsr6U9f16srWbxSwkazt1KOzVr5gYMWjPQ-i9mg-0M/s640/29%253A4%253Ablog+8.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wildflower canvas</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">We have enjoyed several social gatherings in the past few weeks. One would think that living in an isolated location might affect our social life, and it has, but only to make it more active than when we lived in Oregon. Friendships are essential when we go days without seeing anyone but each other, and connecting with people is part of what we have enjoyed most here. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Two weeks ago we got together with a British friend who we first met in March of 2016 on the day that got this entire adventure started. He had come to the Sierra Nevada for a few days of winter skills training and we enjoyed his company while snowshoeing, and have stayed in touch over the past year. This time he returned to Lanjarón for some hiking and scrambling days with <i>Spanish Highs Mountain Guides</i> and we met up for drinks and tapas one evening with a group of expat friends. Several days later we enjoyed hosting him for lunch here at home; it was fun to show someone around and have him recognize things from what I have shared on the blog; (thanks Stewart for your enthusiastic interest and friendship.)</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyJrgecBScp83Irbraw1MzrFYu53X_-2yFfVC3PUUhfk3hz3kjOksGxRf4DqDn2e6Z16zvqbH0B39W4BjusBy_vDBbv_hbMmUUuetpFB4Uon9pgT7prtfQJsGj0mVEAS2sVyu3llway3M/s1600/29%253A4%253Ablog+11.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyJrgecBScp83Irbraw1MzrFYu53X_-2yFfVC3PUUhfk3hz3kjOksGxRf4DqDn2e6Z16zvqbH0B39W4BjusBy_vDBbv_hbMmUUuetpFB4Uon9pgT7prtfQJsGj0mVEAS2sVyu3llway3M/s640/29%253A4%253Ablog+11.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The day we met Stewart (second from the right) in 2016- Photo credit: Kiersten Spanish Highs Mountain Guides</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">We attended a lively afternoon barbeque with another group of friends at a home between here and Órgiva. That day our neighbors took their puppy along so that she could visit with her sister, adopted by other friends, and it was fun watching the two happy labs playing for hours. Part of what we notice is the ease of gatherings; everyone contributes food and drink, kids and pets are usually welcome, and the entire group comfortably visits for hours with no one needing to hurry off. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn01pvDPzXPALS9pxqpnj3msecdv0IDAsoDUdNFxEujpyPPY01fTfBtG-4fM3BtrCyc65mYbAcWm_cBlxBxBJGY9nj66sWck3CafkgMd662utwdOQS4E4ep3ZtpmnmP2ICpDFkD9T5qqI/s1600/29%253A4%253Ablog.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="492" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn01pvDPzXPALS9pxqpnj3msecdv0IDAsoDUdNFxEujpyPPY01fTfBtG-4fM3BtrCyc65mYbAcWm_cBlxBxBJGY9nj66sWck3CafkgMd662utwdOQS4E4ep3ZtpmnmP2ICpDFkD9T5qqI/s640/29%253A4%253Ablog.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Puppy siblings with endless energy</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Another day we went to a birthday party for a one year old who lives a few kilometers down the hill from us; that day the group ranged in age from the one year old to a couple in their seventies, and one neighbor arrived by horseback. The buffet included British favorites of meat pies, sausage rolls, scones and trifle.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZqoipbhE6od23VD_orRBsX1XliPJgv_jGLuYJEM_j4azAOd7kvdZJLc7PqK9v9-zkHX_ZOJ9XHXh9a-T99RPK47ZiDTE1GiVq2qDbSAGe-jRD5RyK86BccJK82UP-nMdmjImiEGSkNNA/s1600/29%253A4%253Ablog+2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZqoipbhE6od23VD_orRBsX1XliPJgv_jGLuYJEM_j4azAOd7kvdZJLc7PqK9v9-zkHX_ZOJ9XHXh9a-T99RPK47ZiDTE1GiVq2qDbSAGe-jRD5RyK86BccJK82UP-nMdmjImiEGSkNNA/s640/29%253A4%253Ablog+2.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Baby's first birthday</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3idQbfzuwpDdZPvLW3huqIeYe3ZOvLBmYbkfWzV0nuU-PuTxPkbZn2jFfyiMp18OqhqyAzhKE_gD0ZXQ2z8q1FEyRkdhwkZdKlccwNE6_26DE-bV7y7hFCqVfIU4UZY5RdpsJx5PAu_Q/s1600/29%253A4%253Ablog+3.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3idQbfzuwpDdZPvLW3huqIeYe3ZOvLBmYbkfWzV0nuU-PuTxPkbZn2jFfyiMp18OqhqyAzhKE_gD0ZXQ2z8q1FEyRkdhwkZdKlccwNE6_26DE-bV7y7hFCqVfIU4UZY5RdpsJx5PAu_Q/s640/29%253A4%253Ablog+3.png" width="584" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The neighbor's Spanish Water Dog came to the party</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Most recently we hosted some neighbors for our first bi-lingual gathering. One couple (and their kids) did much of the translating and the conversation flowed easily. I enjoyed preparing a selection of Spanish and Italian dishes, and it was clear as the evening went on that good food and friendship are a common language.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDYh59WdBfafvPt3fgnC3ZhIF8GFKnKI59UQ3isSJT6CVGWpyM3SITK74AM8S77aDlSStZo5LX0FosUrdNI4L9lPFuSuiDh7Xmjh57PZrNA4IELYhSUgrD362_2Vxh0OMTsJwINN2Eu6E/s1600/29%253A4%253Ablog+7.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDYh59WdBfafvPt3fgnC3ZhIF8GFKnKI59UQ3isSJT6CVGWpyM3SITK74AM8S77aDlSStZo5LX0FosUrdNI4L9lPFuSuiDh7Xmjh57PZrNA4IELYhSUgrD362_2Vxh0OMTsJwINN2Eu6E/s640/29%253A4%253Ablog+7.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Good friends in any language</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiahsYi1SW90buyaQhdvZSVOe4ZNqCAPXmszatBJ4FEw520jP43i1C5bq-FuMeQQ9fadxZ30lyp1oLVrwFRwaBKgajsal-A961aT-Gsi4qnaczMinsDEVpE3ke2zrf0Z9D-x1a0gw_JyI/s1600/29%253A4%253Ablog+9.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiahsYi1SW90buyaQhdvZSVOe4ZNqCAPXmszatBJ4FEw520jP43i1C5bq-FuMeQQ9fadxZ30lyp1oLVrwFRwaBKgajsal-A961aT-Gsi4qnaczMinsDEVpE3ke2zrf0Z9D-x1a0gw_JyI/s640/29%253A4%253Ablog+9.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This kid!</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">We continue to acquire odds and ends; tools and appliances that replace things we sold or gave away in the States.</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Since arriving here in August we have looked for an outdoor table and last week we found just what we wanted. We needed something large enough for entertaining, and heavy enough to withstand the strong winds that thrash the mountainside from time to time. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">We found the perfect table at AlCampo in Motril and planned to fit it in, or on, our car. As soon as the man brought the boxed table out on a trolley we knew that we needed another plan. It weighed so much that I was useless in lifting it and we quickly asked about delivery. For only 15 euro more they would deliver it to us a few days later. We adjusted our plans and called our gracious neighbor so that he could work out a delivery location for us. Two days later the table was delivered to the carpenter's shop in Soportújar, <i>gracious neighbor</i> picked it up in his truck, and somehow he and Sam managed to carry it to the patio. Now assembled it will remain in the same location for years to come!</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFYVIRGTDs0n5PpYcWbixfgj2dDCdDXWR3gS8R7Xp5rYLelvHQWbMFZSv5dCqSfNuUdX66ePtcX8ZdiWQA0z7YigoP7U2k6X9Kff1P6s230eqoCJ1FBtihZ9jGMlYZRMek7pdY25TN0tk/s1600/29%253A4%253Ablog+1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFYVIRGTDs0n5PpYcWbixfgj2dDCdDXWR3gS8R7Xp5rYLelvHQWbMFZSv5dCqSfNuUdX66ePtcX8ZdiWQA0z7YigoP7U2k6X9Kff1P6s230eqoCJ1FBtihZ9jGMlYZRMek7pdY25TN0tk/s640/29%253A4%253Ablog+1.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Marble tiles make this table very heavy</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Sam's latest purchase was a DVD player promised to play U.S. and European DVDs (did you know there is a difference?) The player arrived and we drove to Órgiva to pick it up. Sam opened the box and discovered that the player had a plug for the UK - <i>gracious neighbor</i> provided an adaptor so that we could plug it in and....it won't play U.S. DVDs (we shipped numerous DVDs from the States). We did not receive the player we thought we had purchased so now we need to begin the elaborate process of returning the player.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">On the other hand I am very happy with my new mixer. We bought it from a small appliance shop in Órgiva. The man took the mixer out of the box, plugged it in to show me how it worked, and then demonstrated how to release the beaters and finally he carefully repackaged the whole thing. Perhaps we paid a few euros more than we might have at the mega <i>Media Mart</i> store in Granada, but it was satisfying to support the local merchant and his attention was worth the extra cost. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I get a silly joy from having European appliances. Each time I plug something in without an adaptor I am that much more settled into my life here. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">It is little things that bring us smiles throughout our simple days.</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Life is good.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoj3h3F1nJllTIH4Q3m1A9l71fkmYeh0SMxf2X6NwtPvDQ_aY8jFHLF39hbCCMKPJuGcD0OC4l105GJN7jls1lKsYsIksrEvy3G0E4VpKRM6bpzv1SQ0_sETi5f1g_YT8B8HabenHaajk/s1600/29%253A4%253Ablog+10.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoj3h3F1nJllTIH4Q3m1A9l71fkmYeh0SMxf2X6NwtPvDQ_aY8jFHLF39hbCCMKPJuGcD0OC4l105GJN7jls1lKsYsIksrEvy3G0E4VpKRM6bpzv1SQ0_sETi5f1g_YT8B8HabenHaajk/s640/29%253A4%253Ablog+10.png" width="354" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I love this village house</td></tr>
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Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01886493225675415790noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1153629447228396052.post-56378499674948111142017-04-16T08:18:00.000-07:002017-04-16T08:18:06.152-07:00The course of time is not controlled by the lives that leave ripples in it. <div id="quote_text" style="box-sizing: border-box; direction: ltr; line-height: 1.5; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So...one day Pooh and Piglet and Rabbit and Roo are all standing on the bridge playing Poohsticks. They all drop their sticks in the water when Rabbit says <i>"Go!"</i>, and then run across to the other side of the bridge to see which stick is the winner. </span></div>
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-<u>The House at Pooh Corner </u> A.A.Milne</div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">When my kids were little, <i>Poohsticks</i> was a favorite game. We would often take walks to a high bridge near our home and when we got to the bridge the kids would each pick out a stick, drop it off one side of the bridge and then run across to see which stick floated out first. Sometimes only one stick emerged, sometimes neither made it under the bridge to the other side. <i>But the water kept flowing regardless of what kept the sticks from making it through.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In a river, small objects get caught up in the current and are moved further down stream before settling again, large logs wedged against a boulder divert the water until the river seemingly follows a new course; small pebbles are buried under silt, and sticks left spinning in an eddy will eventually rot and disintegrate. <i>But all the time, the water just keeps flowing.</i> </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEsRSTYv2RUNQXAvYRMgA3WtVnKDAnmIghLBkM9de-y-1uOKl9-JeaVpBB20sI-eO4Gw59A6vn_T3lHtWULIzKF_QEvcBsGeKyMPDgvSSXTB8apU_xmRSv8VDq_zjg_1z3qq8o71DD8ZQ/s1600/16%253A4%253Ablog.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEsRSTYv2RUNQXAvYRMgA3WtVnKDAnmIghLBkM9de-y-1uOKl9-JeaVpBB20sI-eO4Gw59A6vn_T3lHtWULIzKF_QEvcBsGeKyMPDgvSSXTB8apU_xmRSv8VDq_zjg_1z3qq8o71DD8ZQ/s640/16%253A4%253Ablog.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Waterfall on a recent hike</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I have been thinking recently about the flow of time. Much like a river, <i>time just keeps moving along. </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Living so far away from family and lifelong friends forces me to recognize that time for us, and for those we "left behind" does not stand still. While the relationships are alive in our hearts and minds, the day-to-day activities of life demand forward movement. The physical space that we once filled is now filled by others and likewise, new friends have settled into the flow of our lives. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This summer we will welcome our first grandchild, and we will be in the States when she is born. Another ex-pat friend was just in the States to meet her first grandchild and I know that she left part of her heart there when she finally needed to return home to Spain. I recognize that we will also experience the ache of saying good-bye to our granddaughter when autumn arrives and we return home.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In the years ahead, friends and family will pass away and we will not be there in the final moments. In time, Sam and I will have injuries and illnesses, and no family will be near to help care for us. These are some of the more painful realities of choosing to live in another country. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But there are others who fill in those spaces left empty by our move to Spain.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Last night we babysat for two delightful neighbor kids, and as I watched Sam "gallop" around the table during a rousing game of "Pony-opoly," it was clear that we are filling the role of grandparents to these kids, as their actual grandparents live in the UK. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-K_9SH93NOl-Rfq8bJ4kklt68WnInXbov2MhqhZx9eCYe3PHxkoUCFaF9fWBsEDbhBzV6VO6FCiIHF7KyADXDH1NOt1exfD9t0_mDUOkul0_UQykodlizGY0MsxF_VdpbCsyfTZeNaMw/s1600/16%253A4%253Ablog+8.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-K_9SH93NOl-Rfq8bJ4kklt68WnInXbov2MhqhZx9eCYe3PHxkoUCFaF9fWBsEDbhBzV6VO6FCiIHF7KyADXDH1NOt1exfD9t0_mDUOkul0_UQykodlizGY0MsxF_VdpbCsyfTZeNaMw/s640/16%253A4%253Ablog+8.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On a walk with one of <i>our</i> British grandkids.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Another neighbor is temporarily without a washer and I have done several loads of laundry for her; she said that it makes her Belgian mother happy to know that someone is helping out her daughter; and I hope and trust that others will be there for our kids in the same way when it is needed.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg39OPToACbD0qoioSfRLRG5I1ysLEP3rbnI2nWazNOxRygtXJZ0xXEH5Ns_QnQM5xacgnJ_aS9FqwrBbaE3JPj9Ea5d1noPKyoa8TZbjcf-pbq_kXi3nJsI9rJGyF30_8tu8xEP7P0sl4/s1600/16%253A4%253Ablog+7.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="596" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg39OPToACbD0qoioSfRLRG5I1ysLEP3rbnI2nWazNOxRygtXJZ0xXEH5Ns_QnQM5xacgnJ_aS9FqwrBbaE3JPj9Ea5d1noPKyoa8TZbjcf-pbq_kXi3nJsI9rJGyF30_8tu8xEP7P0sl4/s640/16%253A4%253Ablog+7.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Laundry delivery</td></tr>
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<br /><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">When we return to the States this summer there will be many changes, some more obvious than others. Everyone we see will be one year older, as are we. There will be new houses where last year there were only trees. Roads will be recently widened; favorite shops and restaurants may be gone. All reminders that time moves on. </span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The course of time is not controlled by the lives that leave ripples in it. </span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Meanwhile in Spain we continue to enjoy each day. Sam is working hard cutting back the spring growth of weeds, but he stops and looks around and tells me, "I love it here." </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibS29M8ocfc6rHZsespx0cJ50ASl0PzarwgkTR23SfiPLkWsJL8nDPwtaV3mSJLOxBle5HN1TSv_B2fEXHDGs12quwkaqUgTd28Kr6BRBWrZ3hQxRn6YxQiPMucuFdTH2aUzAthyecX1g/s1600/16%253A4%253Ablog+4.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="474" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibS29M8ocfc6rHZsespx0cJ50ASl0PzarwgkTR23SfiPLkWsJL8nDPwtaV3mSJLOxBle5HN1TSv_B2fEXHDGs12quwkaqUgTd28Kr6BRBWrZ3hQxRn6YxQiPMucuFdTH2aUzAthyecX1g/s640/16%253A4%253Ablog+4.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Loving our view</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We wake each morning when the sun comes in our bedroom window and I frequently comment, "Oh look, another beautiful day." </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia8nJdtsje8G-VHtOuYDIiH5_c6p2tLydkLhEkNyyxpESOQzbW4_KBROptCOLEIUvbtuFA3qelYXBzqjzfU_j7j9b31Z0XWGmO1GCpK-XmoSq92fU55wOt8oNiCfrx_DL8rNQ-en819wI/s1600/16%253A4%253Ablog+6.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="474" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia8nJdtsje8G-VHtOuYDIiH5_c6p2tLydkLhEkNyyxpESOQzbW4_KBROptCOLEIUvbtuFA3qelYXBzqjzfU_j7j9b31Z0XWGmO1GCpK-XmoSq92fU55wOt8oNiCfrx_DL8rNQ-en819wI/s640/16%253A4%253Ablog+6.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The actual color of the sky most days.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Each night this past week we fell asleep smothered by the light of the moon as it shone in the same bedroom window.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGub4PzJhjJ1FS40afbF18ILW7Wi4I_pcauHZOUJz9llSZpcjMNf-5yOESb5dAydhw8osdVUMd1swkhb_6r64_8KatRbm9yQon5UTYfoivIBolG-3jPvr_AEZHSXBxAndcZOpjNzPJF0g/s1600/16%253A4%253Ablog+1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGub4PzJhjJ1FS40afbF18ILW7Wi4I_pcauHZOUJz9llSZpcjMNf-5yOESb5dAydhw8osdVUMd1swkhb_6r64_8KatRbm9yQon5UTYfoivIBolG-3jPvr_AEZHSXBxAndcZOpjNzPJF0g/s640/16%253A4%253Ablog+1.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Full moon shining in the bedroom window (the lights of Bubion in the distance)</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Time flows on, but all we have for certain is this moment, and we remind each other regularly to stop, take in the moment, let go of the things we cannot control, or that simply don't matter, and accept the calm that our peaceful surroundings offer.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpjn-eamr556CR5g6RhTsme-3uhKlEA0RTeFXbEwVE-YH40QsU9tCFH7YHPEwPCZ5XBicti5-cbG_VS6muAkUQb6jStw7Rb6NsPK0Hr_Mq0mWBOYc6OHIT73cSFitT1R_IDqpqGq8PsSw/s1600/16%253A4%253Ablog+5.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpjn-eamr556CR5g6RhTsme-3uhKlEA0RTeFXbEwVE-YH40QsU9tCFH7YHPEwPCZ5XBicti5-cbG_VS6muAkUQb6jStw7Rb6NsPK0Hr_Mq0mWBOYc6OHIT73cSFitT1R_IDqpqGq8PsSw/s640/16%253A4%253Ablog+5.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A poppy growing out of one of the walls.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We have enjoyed a full week of beautiful weather. Early in the week we went in search of poppies. I've been told of a particular area that will dazzle me with fields of red poppies, and I don't want to miss that. We drove up through Pampaneira, past the turn-off to Bubion and Capileira and on to Mecina. The narrow winding road down to Mecina recently rewarded us with fluffy pink almond blossoms, and now those trees have all leafed out, but we were too early for the poppies.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We drove on to the tiny village of Ferreirola and parked the car there. This is the village where we stayed when we first came to the Alpujarras in 2008 and we return frequently for the short hike to the old mill at the Río Trevélez. Each time we walk to the river we discover plants that we hadn't seen before. It was October when we first visited Ferreirola and the chestnut trees were full of burrs, bursting open and ready to drop. We have walked there in winter when the landscape is barren, and now in Spring there are wildflowers, fruit and nut trees in blossom, and brilliant green young leaves unfurling on the trees. It is a place that fills us with joy.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Happy on my hike outside Ferreirola</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Thursday we went into Órgiva to take care of some business. Traffic was backed up and it took three changes of the light to get us through town. It turns out that this weekend is the BIG religious festival for Órgiva; <i>El Dia del Senor</i>, the Day of the Lord. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">On Thursday the statue of <i>Al Señor de la Expiración</i>, Our Lord of the Expiration, is taken down from the wall behind the alter in the church while out on the street there are thousands of fireworks exploding. We arrived just in time to hear the fireworks and afterwards I went into the church where many people were waiting for their turn to kiss the statue (crucifix) of Jesus. Apparently the crucifix was carved in 1599 and this festival has been going on for over 400 years.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Inside the church in Órgiva with <i style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Al Señor de la Expiración</span></i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">On Friday of El Dia del Senor, the statue is taken out of the church at 6:00 pm and paraded around the town throughout the night. We missed that, but we were able to hear the on-going fireworks echoing up the valley.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Yesterday we picked up Bea (a local woman who has helped us with translation) and we drove to Motril where we had an appointment at the <i>Comisaría de Policía Nacional</i>, National Police Station, for our residency application. This process can be cumbersome, but we were well informed about all that we needed to take with us. Our folder was full with multiple copies of our passports, both Italian and USA, the paperwork from Pampaneira showing that we have registered at the town hall there, our NIE documents (like a Social Security Number), our proof of private health insurance, and our bank statements demonstrating that we have the required income of 550 euros each per month, and passport-style photos. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The room was packed but our wait was very short. We were greeted by Peter Garcia and he scanned the paperwork and seemed satisfied that all was in order. But he was puzzled about why we would leave the USA to live in the tiny mountain village of Pampaneira. I said, "One word: Trump," and he said, "Ah, sí!" </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Soon we were off to the bank to pay the fee (for some reason they do not take money at the police station so a trip to the bank is always part of these procedures.) We enjoyed the walk into town and were fortunate to be first in line at the bank. A quick stop at the Fotocopy store to make even more copies off all the documents and then back to the police station. In less than 90 minutes we accomplished the entire task of attaining legal residency status. We now have cards that are good for 5 years and when we renew them, it will be good forever! </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQlBX-eZphQDsQBj6oU7hnlMg4FC2qngL3GLGvVx_tV3ea5HbkTnA3Mwr0yv5BXV5jJ-MxKRv_8QRCUiJ8kUHktwIWKm6ATGY7Ctanzck25qcxkhbHILLy9npe1rGf4dWVwxsqt_3Vhh0/s1600/1%253A4%253Abog+3.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQlBX-eZphQDsQBj6oU7hnlMg4FC2qngL3GLGvVx_tV3ea5HbkTnA3Mwr0yv5BXV5jJ-MxKRv_8QRCUiJ8kUHktwIWKm6ATGY7Ctanzck25qcxkhbHILLy9npe1rGf4dWVwxsqt_3Vhh0/s640/1%253A4%253Abog+3.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bea and Sam on our walk to the bank in Motril</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Afterwards we took Bea for a celebratory lunch at a seaside restaurant where we enjoyed fresh sardines, lightly breaded and grilled to perfection.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Seaside lunch spot</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Today we were up early and Sam was off before 8:00 for week #3 of the acequia cleaning effort (see last week's blog). </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A beautiful start to the day</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">He took his shovel and rubber boots because with the warm weather, the water is flowing and boots are necessary for the hours of working with snow-melt flowing over your feet. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">After a few household chores, I settled at the outdoor table with a mug of hot chocolate and a book. The birdsong was the only sound I could hear and the sun took the chill from the morning air. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Settling into a peaceful day</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Before the mug was empty I had a text from Sam telling me that he had fallen and hurt his shoulder and could I please drive up the mountain to pick him up. I knew he would need to ice his shoulder immediately so I threw some frozen peas into the insulated shopping bag and took off up the track to find him. I parked as close as I could and then started to walk towards where I knew he would have been working. I walked for several kilometers before finally meeting Sam who was making his way back out along the acequia with his backpack and shovel. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Walking in the clean acequia on my way to find Sam</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I traded one of my hiking poles for his shovel and we continued back towards the car. At one point there is a steep downhill and Sam lost his footing, falling again onto the injured shoulder and his wrist. It was painful to witness and I knew how discouraged he felt. Apparently he had dislocated the shoulder with his first fall but popped it back into place on his own and then tried to continue working before admitting that he really needed to take the day off. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Finally we made it to the car and back down the mountain to home. A kind neighbor shared a "miracle ointment" and we strapped a variety of frozen vegetable bags onto his shoulder throughout the afternoon. A few ibuprofin and hopefully he will get some rest tonight.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We ended the day out on our rocks - just beyond the fence line, and right at the edge of our property. The view up the valley to Mulhacén and down to Pampaneira is stunning. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Relaxing on our rocks</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I shared a photo on Facebook and someone commented that I am living her dream. I realized that those are the exact words I used to tell friends who had moved to Spain or Italy and it hit me that actually <i><b>I</b> am living my dream</i>. </span></div>
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Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01886493225675415790noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1153629447228396052.post-19009648872680108142017-03-26T09:09:00.000-07:002017-03-26T09:52:08.354-07:00Friendship, Muy Trabajo, Adventure and The Rest of the Story...<div style="text-align: justify;">
It has been a full two weeks. After enjoying a week of summer-like weather between visitors, the day that we picked up my high school roommate from the Malaga airport the weather changed. As we drove up the mountain in the thickest fog we have seen here, I know that Mary Jo wondered what she had signed up for. When we arrived at our cortijo, the snow began to fall. Fortunately I had laid a fire that morning and soon the house was warming to coziness. </div>
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I've decided that weather reports are of little value as the forecast for Mary Jo's visit called for day after day of rain and/or snow; but after only one day of weather that kept us inside, we enjoyed sunny days and were able to do all the things we had planned. She had come from Ann Arbor, Michigan and told me before she arrived that she was leaving 14 degrees Fahrenheit (-10 Celsius) with wind, and that if I could improve upon that, it would be great! And it was great!</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Showing Mary Jo around the area - Trevélez</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A hike near the fire lookout</td></tr>
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What a gift to have a visit from someone I've known for so long. Neither of us is where we imagined ourselves during late-night talks in our bunk beds at Boarding School, but we both feel fortunate to have ended up where we are.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Forty-one years of friendship</td></tr>
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On the day that Mary Jo and I went to Granada, Sam joined about 25 others, a mixture of Spanish and ex-pats, men and women, and began to clean the acequia. This is an annual multi-day activity involving someone from each property that benefits from the water that flows down the mountain through the ancient water channels. During the autumn and winter, leaves, dirt, and other debris fill the channel, while wild boar do their part in collapsing rock and dirt walls. This all needs to be cleaned out and repaired before the snow melt begins and the water starts to flow. If the acequia remains clogged, then there will not be enough water to fill the albercas and cisterns for the cortijos and for irrigation.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sam hiking in our leaf-filled acequia before the cleaning began</td></tr>
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The acequia cleaning crew starts with the strimmers (weed-eaters) who clear anything that is growing in and along the channel, then come the "leafers," who scoop out the loose leaves and trimmings, next workers with hoes clean up the sides and loosen the compacted mud, and finally the shovelers toss it all out, heaving the piles of dirt and debris as far from the channel as possible. The Spaniards frequently bring a dog or two along and this can be a problem if a Retriever is in the group as there is a constant effort on the part of the dog to return what has been tossed out!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Acequia cleaning, day #2</td></tr>
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The workers gather at 8:00 and work until 17:30. This year it is expected to take 4 or 5 Saturdays to complete the 14 kilometer stretch for which our "neighborhood" is responsible. Yesterday was the second Saturday and the further they progress, the longer it takes to walk into the day's section, and then back out at the end of it all; it also seems that there are fewer participants each week. </div>
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Last night our neighbor came over for dessert and he and Sam talked at length about "there has to be a better way." It was agreed that cleaning the acequia is muy trabajo, very hard work. Our neighbor is 38 years old, so even the younger men find it a physical challenge. The Spaniards seem to accept this as something that just must be done, and there were some very old men doing their part. It is so important to understand all that is involved culturally for these men who have done this all of their lives, but it is hard to resist imposing a bit of other-culture strategy on it all. </div>
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Yesterday while Sam worked like a "medieval slave," as our neighbor described it, I drove into town for some groceries. It was a beautiful day and much warmer down in the valley than here at home. After stopping at the necessary shops I decided to go on a short adventure. </div>
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Just outside of Órgiva, across the Seven Eye Bridge (named for the seven arches), I turned right, went through the narrow tunnel and drove on for a couple minutes. There is a pull-over on the right hand side next to some high rocks, and I've been curious about why the pull-over is there and have wondered what I have been missing each time we pass on our way to or from the coast. It seemed like a good day to explore. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRixFqe66gDgcZOM1fWjyibW5P7teUt21OvKt1agIENQZZkCPdaweXen-Ug7FoVLA6BXgDCCGN_7nP0aymjhynfB9PjXdh7bSWooxjObcBaDe3KOLD0c_5rn1sdPMo31i0lXjB1J2Kcrc/s1600/26%253A3%253Ablog+8.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="474" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRixFqe66gDgcZOM1fWjyibW5P7teUt21OvKt1agIENQZZkCPdaweXen-Ug7FoVLA6BXgDCCGN_7nP0aymjhynfB9PjXdh7bSWooxjObcBaDe3KOLD0c_5rn1sdPMo31i0lXjB1J2Kcrc/s640/26%253A3%253Ablog+8.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Who could resist climbing to the top?</td></tr>
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There are paths all over the hillside, but it quickly became clear that the paths have been made by goats, and following goat paths is not always fruitful for a human. The animals care nothing of views, and their sure-footedness meant that I ended up in places where my lack of sure-footedness became alarmingly apparent. </div>
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As I scrambled up a precipice, small rocks and dirt fell away from me, and I wondered if perhaps I should have told someone where I was going. But curiosity drove me on. I ended up high on the rocks with a stunning view towards home. The Rio Guadalfeo flowed far below in front of me while behind me, seemingly tiny cars enjoyed a Saturday drive along the twisting road that hugs the side of the Sierra de Lujar. Wildflowers are scattered across the rugged terrain and I breathed deeply taking in the scents of a warm spring day. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6cktWjlhpFEsiL0CkAxEmygRVxoA_FFwNjPvjI9MUSm_PFLk3HSQhmNwshKkmXa58kXRs-OS-DXKCP5bzG5ddXU0zAoJ7GgEinUlSkZJ8b-hrs2m_bnf7iZMtx8_oM_ipBgKizr47Bdw/s1600/26%253A3%253Ablog+6.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6cktWjlhpFEsiL0CkAxEmygRVxoA_FFwNjPvjI9MUSm_PFLk3HSQhmNwshKkmXa58kXRs-OS-DXKCP5bzG5ddXU0zAoJ7GgEinUlSkZJ8b-hrs2m_bnf7iZMtx8_oM_ipBgKizr47Bdw/s640/26%253A3%253Ablog+6.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tiny cars far below</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivrun6H5YeixJe3SnRt7RJfocCPngjVdwd-mK7bbzge0oxUDy52P4_lvVCeo9laOa91Qd7og7ljLb2cnGSCwMSjxMzBFTONzpqyhhH68PaQmfLKS8zxzXjcobctrLNZR4Fc16EIQDJbRQ/s1600/26%253A3%253Ablog+7.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivrun6H5YeixJe3SnRt7RJfocCPngjVdwd-mK7bbzge0oxUDy52P4_lvVCeo9laOa91Qd7og7ljLb2cnGSCwMSjxMzBFTONzpqyhhH68PaQmfLKS8zxzXjcobctrLNZR4Fc16EIQDJbRQ/s640/26%253A3%253Ablog+7.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Towards home </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieSJRaSdeU5sHMUSdlpf6DYwAI2IESBWFRuYo_RUg7-hmZEdMuh7xUOEZ2Va7KKFC1v164ZC5bU8JWruDzM7dEPpK3RMyD7WqfkdD8Fx1bRUPCepBarkqzAJ77ItIO0fD7Eg-cwkFVXGU/s1600/26%253A3+blog+10.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="473" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieSJRaSdeU5sHMUSdlpf6DYwAI2IESBWFRuYo_RUg7-hmZEdMuh7xUOEZ2Va7KKFC1v164ZC5bU8JWruDzM7dEPpK3RMyD7WqfkdD8Fx1bRUPCepBarkqzAJ77ItIO0fD7Eg-cwkFVXGU/s640/26%253A3+blog+10.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wildflowers</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgobqOoWiZBPYkwZkKs0vOcJT4vmGsbanHnzoZ-yvWPX_7dx8qLc6HJZzbb9DF5WWEcAYXUrnRDtVu-uCnz6Hk0hu3CYaMqA1BWKBCCVzHo929eqjSH4H3SGHMQSSIQ4q3xQNVpsiKfrCc/s1600/26%253A3+blog+11.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="619" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgobqOoWiZBPYkwZkKs0vOcJT4vmGsbanHnzoZ-yvWPX_7dx8qLc6HJZzbb9DF5WWEcAYXUrnRDtVu-uCnz6Hk0hu3CYaMqA1BWKBCCVzHo929eqjSH4H3SGHMQSSIQ4q3xQNVpsiKfrCc/s640/26%253A3+blog+11.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Poppies are starting!</td></tr>
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And now, the rest of the story....I have mentioned our fuente from time to time and in my last blog I shared some photos of the rusty barrel that has served as our first place of collection, amongst the ferns, about a kilometer from home. On Wednesday Sam and our neighbor Joseph decided to take on the task of replacing the barrel.</div>
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We were off early to Pitres to see what the building supply yard had in the way of small water tanks. Sam and Joseph teamed up to find the necessary Spanish to describe what they needed and then we discovered that the merchant, Antonio, has quite a bit of English. So our needs were spelled out in broken Spanish and then summarized back to us in English. </div>
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Yes, it was understood what was needed, but something would have to be ordered. I think we were all relieved that the job could be delayed for another time. But then Antonio had a thought; he might have just the thing! Keys were uncovered and a door unlocked and there sat the perfect item. A small tank intended for making wine, but exactly the size that we needed. Having settled that issue, the three men sat down on the floor and sorted through a box of valves and parts until everything necessary was collected.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEBloMVNNEqYhFYoHywkHNpgujRzuxrlf1Vo735AnHiCMVT1cS9bRXiD2z-GZvw8q5RgK3DWTRre1tUzN9AHPSk-2T3DcbT14oFf4pXIbmQIEFuXoFMV4sA1KQk5hdOIGDpNkZigy1RiY/s1600/26%253A3%253Ablog+3.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEBloMVNNEqYhFYoHywkHNpgujRzuxrlf1Vo735AnHiCMVT1cS9bRXiD2z-GZvw8q5RgK3DWTRre1tUzN9AHPSk-2T3DcbT14oFf4pXIbmQIEFuXoFMV4sA1KQk5hdOIGDpNkZigy1RiY/s640/26%253A3%253Ablog+3.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the floor sorting through a box of parts</td></tr>
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It took all afternoon to dig out the old tank, make a deeper hole, drill holes into the new tank, replace the intake pipe and hook it all up. I busied myself at home until Sam called. His first words were, "Don't panic." Does that ever help anyone NOT panic? </div>
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Joseph had cut himself badly. Sam wrapped the cut tightly with teflon tape (the man is resourceful and calm in an emergency!) and now Joseph was on his way home to stitch it up himself. Sam thought I should walk up to see if I could help. Fortunately Joseph assured me that he could take care of it and he would be fine. I walked on to the fuente to check on the progress and before long Joseph returned, bandaged and back at the barrel replacement effort. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJO7ecu1cuauOaLdY3pvSTcIZDnEH-PCPOs2zT05k2s9iJHpg6VGbfeZb0hLDJCDK_8IYkZPw5RdBdzV5ghU4njAvceDqkcu-lFyQcEYM_LyfAVcwiPcBJbrRHzngNcOeujqrkBHK-B24/s1600/26%253A3%253Ablog+4.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJO7ecu1cuauOaLdY3pvSTcIZDnEH-PCPOs2zT05k2s9iJHpg6VGbfeZb0hLDJCDK_8IYkZPw5RdBdzV5ghU4njAvceDqkcu-lFyQcEYM_LyfAVcwiPcBJbrRHzngNcOeujqrkBHK-B24/s640/26%253A3%253Ablog+4.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Teamwork</td></tr>
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By dusk the project was completed and the new system is working perfectly. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwahL8yo6-EEyBoN83F4QP50RIezwXKYlDPHgkzTAA30ZySpYHSEdeZETKl3dhcJaPQKkMgz4_p9NtucsVeyHlhNUEn7kidYPVw7prjGo9WrvCLnJ4z7b39eYB7qUYCXYS99x4OUUXE3A/s1600/26%253A3%253Ablog+5.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwahL8yo6-EEyBoN83F4QP50RIezwXKYlDPHgkzTAA30ZySpYHSEdeZETKl3dhcJaPQKkMgz4_p9NtucsVeyHlhNUEn7kidYPVw7prjGo9WrvCLnJ4z7b39eYB7qUYCXYS99x4OUUXE3A/s640/26%253A3%253Ablog+5.png" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Finished project!</td></tr>
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<b>Water is everything.</b></div>
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<i>For many of us, clean water is so plentiful and readily available that we rarely, if ever, pause to consider what life would be like without it. - Marcus Samuelson</i></div>
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Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01886493225675415790noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1153629447228396052.post-26837696510667036112017-03-12T09:48:00.001-07:002017-03-12T10:56:37.572-07:00One Year Later<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">One year ago this weekend we first visited what is now our home. We had not been looking for a house in Spain, but a lunch invitation got it all started. I have been re-reading my journal from a year ago and when I read the words, "we may have found a house to buy," even I don't believe it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">A year ago yesterday we came here for lunch. The drive up the mountain was truly the most stressful driving experience I had ever had; and I've had a few (including learning to drive on Long Island, New York, and inching along the Amalfi Coast with the Gas-Empty light flashing!) I had no intention of ever making that drive again.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">But that day, after a long, leisurely meal and a lovely visit with the previous owners, Sam asked, "Could you live there?" I immediately responded, "Well, yeah!" </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><b>What I was really thinking was, "There?! Up that road? In the middle of nowhere?!" </b></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">But I had wanted to move to Europe for years and I was not going to pass up this opening.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The next day we drove to Bubion - the town just across the Poqueira gorge from our house. We spotted the property and then decided to walk to it. We took the path to the river and then made our way up the other side until we were just below the property. We kept calling it "our place," but I don't think either of us believed we would actually purchase it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Well, as they say...the rest is history. We have now lived here for nearly eight months. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivQi9yNdoqJwcvoXnvPU5LaKtn0_aFXJbm-7E81Ww5qMCANQtjqhuuPwSMhY0pN9u56t52ijYgHAT8d-t9JU0wu1fwoLXM5eottt6fgsFxgZtiMRMLeG5BrbwlX9gWuSimMuEAuu68KIs/s1600/12%253A3%253Ablog.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="348" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivQi9yNdoqJwcvoXnvPU5LaKtn0_aFXJbm-7E81Ww5qMCANQtjqhuuPwSMhY0pN9u56t52ijYgHAT8d-t9JU0wu1fwoLXM5eottt6fgsFxgZtiMRMLeG5BrbwlX9gWuSimMuEAuu68KIs/s640/12%253A3%253Ablog.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Crazy? Perhaps, but this is the daily view.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">When we decided to make the move we agreed to wait five years before giving up. I thought it would take a long time to settle in, make friends, learn the rhythms of life in a different culture, etc., and I didn't want us to spook and run "back home" before we gave it a chance. So we agreed on five years.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">What actually happened was that in fewer than five days, we knew that we were never going back! We have not had any regrets. Of course we miss our family and friends, and we haven't found band-aids or plastic wrap that work as well as what they have in the States, but this is home now and we have no plan to ever leave. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">So, one year later....Yesterday we walked to the fuente, the spring that is the source of our drinking water. We go regularly to clean the screen that covers the barrel where the water collects. The screen had gotten torn and so yesterday we went to replace it. Once Sam removed the old screen he realized that the barrel also needs replacing, so he patched together a temporary cover, with the plan to do some major replacing of pipe and barrel in the weeks ahead.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfglVgaUpHz1WrO0hdHIP6VGVXk8jw13y3jCFi8MLKdda-KBkLXtvNsFqU4-84eaY5wSzx5GttrGT4qWieaWsOYI8BDBXZmTrGpbeyZ7C9c8yXDXcpDK529uhBQDq0HkJ4ej-81uHgfW0/s1600/12%253A3%253Ablog+1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="474" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfglVgaUpHz1WrO0hdHIP6VGVXk8jw13y3jCFi8MLKdda-KBkLXtvNsFqU4-84eaY5wSzx5GttrGT4qWieaWsOYI8BDBXZmTrGpbeyZ7C9c8yXDXcpDK529uhBQDq0HkJ4ej-81uHgfW0/s640/12%253A3%253Ablog+1.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This leaky barrel needs to be replaced! (Don't worry, we use multiple water filters for the drinking water.)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiedebyJaGo6HVTw5eRMLbtetRhxVDvI3yXD7UTEhxWppnRIDG-Bep45DW8944G7YCQU061BrQ8ZonmdbEqXDcqWHq_gaqlJfRKNEd8PGH0Q0znSe8xfQP7Lt5c4bFhnXlcOxqOBvmV99E/s1600/12%253A3%253Ablog+2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiedebyJaGo6HVTw5eRMLbtetRhxVDvI3yXD7UTEhxWppnRIDG-Bep45DW8944G7YCQU061BrQ8ZonmdbEqXDcqWHq_gaqlJfRKNEd8PGH0Q0znSe8xfQP7Lt5c4bFhnXlcOxqOBvmV99E/s640/12%253A3%253Ablog+2.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">New screen for a temporary fix.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My view as Sam tried to increase the water flow and I reported on the level of success.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The birds are returning from Africa and each morning we wake to the chorus of song birds that rest in our trees. Various types of bees create a constant humming as they busy themselves in the blossoms of our apple, peach, pear, and apricot trees. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A happy bee in a peach blossom.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Apple blossoms with a view</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdZKFIgLNt2k7uTDqMhwZDCpkwgm4jEcjpn1PEuJ6fWMEYY_jAYjMjs0sQBeyb8KkkViOqrgiPZlJKFMVMSBNpAxDqvoN-97aD0StkkCoQfzp9JuTicYPDoD8pMTS78RKdBWntCasww38/s1600/12%253A3%253Ablog+7.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdZKFIgLNt2k7uTDqMhwZDCpkwgm4jEcjpn1PEuJ6fWMEYY_jAYjMjs0sQBeyb8KkkViOqrgiPZlJKFMVMSBNpAxDqvoN-97aD0StkkCoQfzp9JuTicYPDoD8pMTS78RKdBWntCasww38/s640/12%253A3%253Ablog+7.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I think these will be apricots</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Today I did some spring cleaning in preparation for our next visitor who arrives tomorrow. The summer-like weather is still with us and so the laundry dried easily on the line and when I mopped the floors they were soon dry as well.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">These are the simple routines of our new life. We work for awhile and when we want to, we sit down and enjoy a snack. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Afternoon snack</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Throughout each day we stop and marvel at our views. When we hear the sheep and goat bells, we step outside and wave to the shepherd. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">We are fortunate </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">to have the best-possible neighbors, who have become treasured friends. On Wednesday I hiked with my friend Kiersten, who played a large part in our ending up living here, and just last night we enjoyed a raucous gathering in Lanjarón, celebrating the 50th birthday of another one of our friends.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Happy 50th Suz!</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">And we are so pleased to share our life with those who are making the effort to come visit. Tomorrow we welcome my high-school roommate. When we met in 1976 neither of us would have ever imagined that she would be flying from Michigan to Southern Spain for a visit in my Cortijo on the side of a mountain. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">And yet...</span></div>
Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01886493225675415790noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1153629447228396052.post-92096180712865033822017-03-05T12:30:00.001-08:002017-03-05T12:49:31.982-08:00A Trip up North, A Visit from Kids and a Coating of Sahara Dust.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Two weeks ago we left home for a roundabout trip to pick up one of our kids, Andrew, and his wife Lisa in Madrid. The drive to Madrid takes about 6 hours if you go directly there, but I thought we should see something along the way, so we scheduled a few extra days.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The first night we stayed in Béjar, a town just south of Salamanca, founded in 400 BC and on my must-see list since 2008.<br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">The next day we drove up to a section of the Camino de Santiago. I walked the Camino in 2015 and have wanted to take Sam back to show him parts of the Way. We visited several villages on the Meseta, the high central plateau that defines the Camino between Burgos and León. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">San Antón </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The outskirts of Castrojeriz<br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">We drove along a section of the Camino from Castrojeriz to Moratinos.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOUIdgn-xZoCuVCnpQu9pUndaJgsWOkj-Qj-0GpxX59blQCgMcedCXrTutSXxLdqY9kgngn37v1knP9JE-wMmilPcJXQDvczRLSoxu-p6H_6oOQmHl1b_AtxWCozp1a9DmQjN3I2mbjMc/s1600/5%253A3%253Ablog+3.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="432" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOUIdgn-xZoCuVCnpQu9pUndaJgsWOkj-Qj-0GpxX59blQCgMcedCXrTutSXxLdqY9kgngn37v1knP9JE-wMmilPcJXQDvczRLSoxu-p6H_6oOQmHl1b_AtxWCozp1a9DmQjN3I2mbjMc/s640/5%253A3%253Ablog+3.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This view was just as spectacular as when I walked, but what took me three days on foot, only took a couple hours by car. We saw very few Pilgrims out on this February afternoon.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">We spent the night in Moratinos, a village of only 20 people; every Pilgrim passes through Moratinos, but many may not remember. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Last June the sister of an ex-pat friend shipped a painting to our house in Oregon, from her home in Pennsylvania. We included it in the shipment that we sent to Spain from the States. It arrived at our new home in late October and we finally delivered it to our friend in Moratinos.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fabulous sunset on the Meseta as seen from Moratinos<br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">Finally we drove on to Madrid where we stayed for three nights in an apartment that is conveniently located between the Prado museum and Retiro Park. We have returned to this same apartment four times now and Anna welcomed us both with a warm embrace.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunset in Retiro Park<br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">After enjoying a few days of wandering Madrid and eating delicious meals, it was time to pick up the kids from the airport. We found them easily and hit the road for the six hour drive back to our home. After nearly 24 hours of travel, they were sleepy but managed to stay awake to enjoy the scenery as it changed from city, to pastures dotted with oaks, then vineyards, and finally endless miles of olive trees. Our goal was to show them the sunset as we drove up the mountain, but as we neared Granada it was evident that there would be no sunset. We had heard while we were gone that the Sahara desert had blown north and covered much of southern Spain. Typically the Sierra Nevada mountains tower over Granada, but on this day there was nothing but a thick haze.</span></div>
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When we arrived home everything was covered with a layer of fine, pinkish-brown sand and the next morning Sam was busy cleaning the terraces while I washed windows.</div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">Even Mulhacén was covered with sand from the Sahara</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The rest of the week was spent showing Andrew and Lisa as much as possible of our life in Spain. We probably didn't schedule in enough time to just sit and enjoy the peacefulness of our home, but we fit in several easy hikes, a day at the coast, and a trip to Granada and the Alhambra.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">Hiking near home with Andrew and Lisa</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Lisa enjoys the view from further up the mountain from our house</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">At Puente Palo</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Andrew's first time in the Mediterranean</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">Grilled Octopus</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">In the Cathedral in Granada</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">At the Alhambra</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">View over Granada from the Alhambra</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">Exploring Pampaneira</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">I got to share my beloved Almond blossoms with the kids!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">Andrew enjoying the scenery</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Too soon it was time to take Andrew and Lisa to Malaga to begin their long journey back to Seattle. We stopped in Frigliana for lunch and to show them around a typical White Village. As we enjoyed our meal, the rain began to fall, and after dropping the kids at the airport we drove home through downpours and battled raging winds along the coast. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">A typical doorway in Frigliana</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The wind tossed the car back and forth as we drove up the mountain, but the rain had passed. When we pulled into our driveway snow started to fall; we were relieved to have made it safely home from the airport.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">The sunset after the rain, and before the snow</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">It is a joy to share our lives with friends and family and we had a great time with Andrew and Lisa. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I will be taking another break between blog posts as we welcome a dear friend next Sunday for her first visit to Spain.</span></div>
Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01886493225675415790noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1153629447228396052.post-41907624422446680442017-02-19T07:33:00.004-08:002017-02-19T07:39:13.064-08:00Projects and Puppies, Panoramas and Pigs<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The news from the States continues to make my head spin; imaginary terrorist attacks in Bowling Green and Sweden being reported by the White House staff and even the President - and I just learned that the House of Representatives has passed an NRA-backed Bill that legalizes the killing of bear cubs in wildlife refuges. I wake up each day believing that this-will-be-the-day that somehow, someone will have stopped this hand basket ride, but no, it just gets worse. And each day I am torn between rage and the deepest sorrow I have known.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And so I will pull back, again, and focus on what is right in front of me, and for a few minutes I will bring you along on this journey that offers so much beauty and peace, far away from the madness.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-ILcn2obAgN_RaqItmRqC4MvgTAaZpQVoOjZRDpIqKANLDjInIO05VZEECbxbOAzPjo9Mii-0vnTi6p2Wx6AJ5bMOvosykD8IH2fYoumWBY1WZHhD5pvrnehqbtnoj5hML_UYXRzfE4Y/s1600/19%253A2%253Ablog+1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="372" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-ILcn2obAgN_RaqItmRqC4MvgTAaZpQVoOjZRDpIqKANLDjInIO05VZEECbxbOAzPjo9Mii-0vnTi6p2Wx6AJ5bMOvosykD8IH2fYoumWBY1WZHhD5pvrnehqbtnoj5hML_UYXRzfE4Y/s640/19%253A2%253Ablog+1.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our new neighbors' new horse (and Mulhacén)<br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sam gets some love from our neighbor's puppy and her visiting sister</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This week we enjoyed a hike that provided a restorative day with good friends as we walked for hours up and down hillsides through forests of cork oak and orchards of almonds and figs. The views of the Mediterranean </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">were not as promised</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">, but instead there were trees emerging from the fog, and distant bells that became cows as we walked near to them. It was a day above, and at times in the clouds, and it was lovely. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An olive tree emerges from the fog</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking towards home from the Sierra de Contraviesa</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some hobbled horses among a herd of free-range cows</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Almond blossoms just beginning</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5vVeTTM9F5KDKIEBI6C1jRoNzZRZEU00B-K59FP8Xp5d-ELr2BSNavIiY6CF4xxFrUgYFrRQM3gbOm7UAuvOKSKsUpfweYe10A4-hI02CcAW7Xwqdp_T1feYFCqSAnHTlm6llnqS7vIE/s1600/19%253A2%253Ablog+3.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="466" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5vVeTTM9F5KDKIEBI6C1jRoNzZRZEU00B-K59FP8Xp5d-ELr2BSNavIiY6CF4xxFrUgYFrRQM3gbOm7UAuvOKSKsUpfweYe10A4-hI02CcAW7Xwqdp_T1feYFCqSAnHTlm6llnqS7vIE/s640/19%253A2%253Ablog+3.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sam and Rich having a short rest</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Sam has several projects going including a wall of shelves in the storage/utility room. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEW8ipBsISglhZ5pHBEWsrEivpxU5yYgOw7bKPiIxw51UgAI1aW81Qjcd-KSViX9eG7uXkUISTvK2n_ojQ5ZdwCA1kk73xSI8CllkQHQfzDVWcVextClVXIxrJ3jFROgm1r_jTFFnF-m8/s1600/19%253A2%253Ablog+10.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEW8ipBsISglhZ5pHBEWsrEivpxU5yYgOw7bKPiIxw51UgAI1aW81Qjcd-KSViX9eG7uXkUISTvK2n_ojQ5ZdwCA1kk73xSI8CllkQHQfzDVWcVextClVXIxrJ3jFROgm1r_jTFFnF-m8/s640/19%253A2%253Ablog+10.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An entire wall of shelving</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">On Thursday several neighbors gathered to help move a heavy piece of equipment and then we sat on the terrace enjoying coffee, cookies and conversation. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our new Belgian neighbor, our British neighbor, our Spanish neighbor and Sam moving the shredder</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Manuel continues to build stone walls on our property, shoring up terraces in a way that will last far in to the future of this land.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dry stone walls (no cement) defining the terraces on our land</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And y</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">esterday Sam participated in a </span><i style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">mantanza</i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">, or pig slaughter. He decided that if he is going to eat pork, then he should understand all that is involved. The whole thing was conducted as humanely and respectfully as possible, and he took photos, but I decided not to post any here. I went later in the day and instead took photos of the peacocks that live on the same farm.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A proud peacock</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I am taking a couple of weeks off from the blog. We are going to pick up our first set of "kids" who are coming for a visit. Andrew and Lisa will fly into Madrid and we look forward to sharing our new life with some of our family. I'll be back in March to share some of that with you.</span></div>
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Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01886493225675415790noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1153629447228396052.post-80252994557849369362017-02-12T06:55:00.002-08:002017-02-12T13:41:46.744-08:00Adventures in Shopping<div style="text-align: justify;">
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When you move to another continent and only ship a few basics from home, it is inevitable that shopping plays a major role in the first months of your new life.</div>
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After divesting of the bulk of our belongings in the States we determined that never again would we have so much stuff that required so many decisions. We sought a simple life with possessions that were for using, not for show. I wanted a table where anyone could sit, whether the neighboring shepherd, or a family with young children, and there would be no worries of scratches or other damage. I pictured a couch that would invite relaxation without worrying about the leather, and I wanted dishes, rugs, and decorations that we would enjoy, but be able to walk away from if that was needed.</div>
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Thank goodness for IKEA. I blogged months ago about our big trip to IKEA and the delivery of the bulk of our furnishings. Since then we have returned several times for additional items, some large, but mostly smaller things like pillows, blankets, lamps, etc. </div>
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IKEA overwhelms the sensitive shopper. We arrive with a strategy and once through the doors it is a bit like trying to win one of those survival shows. The urgency to get what we need, (without discovering items we have never considered, but find tempting once we know they exist) results in increased heart rates and frequent hot flashes and occasional moments of snapping at each other; and that's before we put anything into the cart!</div>
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Finally everything on the list is located, with only a few extra items thrown in (who wouldn't want ultra-cool storage containers or collapsable bins for recycling?) Then it is time for the check out. I don't understand why the belt where you place your items is so tiny at IKEA, but we manage. Sam unloads while I hurry to the receiving end with my pre-purchased IKEA blue bags and madly load the products as they are tossed towards me by the cashier. </div>
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Pushing the cart out the doors always causes us to release a long breath with the relief of having survived the experience, our relationship still intact. Loading the car is the next challenge, but Sam is gifted when it comes to packing so I stand aside until he gets it all arranged in a way that prevents jostling, and then we are done! Each trip to IKEA we imagine taking time to visit old-town Malaga, or have lunch at a beachside restaurant, but once we get it all in the car we only want to get back home and we end up in a focused drive barely noticing the beautiful miles of Mediterranean coast just to our right.</div>
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Hardware stores have also played a significant role in our new life. Soon after arriving we found ourselves needing everything from power tools to paint, and from door handles to spigots. Consequently we are now familiar with several local hardware stores of varying sizes. The CAMI in Órgiva is a small-town store staffed by women and it seems to carry everything imaginable. The front of the store is stocked with supplies for vegetable gardens and pets and then there are the nuts, bolts and screws followed by wood stoves and irrigation supplies and on and on. Maria, the younger woman is always ready to help us, and with her extensive knowledge she finds exactly what we need. </div>
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Leroy Merlin, a large store much like Home Depot in the States, is in Granada and we made many trips there early on, but now avoid driving that distance if at all possible. We first discovered Leroy Merlin when we were here on vacation a year ago and I honestly think it contributed to Sam's belief that he could live in Spain. He came to life as we wandered through the aisles of light fixtures and plumbing parts. Everything is just a bit different than what is offered in the States and it all seemed very cool. I think it was a relief to know that there was a place to find the items that he would need for home maintenance and improvement projects.</div>
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Aki is our latest discovery in hardware stores. On the coast near the town of Motril, Aki is a rougher version of Leroy Merlin. Not quite as shiny and new, but with many of the same items. We have had several trips there recently for boards and buckets and brackets. Aki shares a parking lot with Al Campo and that brings me to grocery shopping...</div>
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In the many years that I imagined living in Europe I pictured myself purchasing products from the local butcher, baker and cheese maker. And that is possible, but not always practical. Parking in these small towns is challenging as the few small lots are not near any of the shops, so whatever you buy needs to be carried a distance to the car. I have yet to buy one of those wheeled carts with the canvas bag attached that everyone seems to have, but now I understand the need and hope to have my own before long. But for now I have only shopped in local towns for a few supplies that can be carried easily to the car. We have gone to weekly markets for fruit and veggies and occasionally stop at a bakery for bread, but haven't really gotten a well established routine that results in consistently purchasing what we need from small specialty shops.</div>
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We do the bulk of our grocery shopping at one of three larger stores. These stores have parking lots and shopping carts and with our goal of only shopping every couple weeks, it is just simpler than the quaint experience I had imagined. Carrefour has the largest selection, but it is also in Granada and making that drive has lost its charm. Mercadona is closer, but the selection, while still generous, is limited primarily to Spanish products and occasionally I find a need for something exotic, like Greek olives or imported wine (and by imported I mean, from the North of Spain!) Al Campo has a varied selection and it is convenient because we can park once and do both the regularly needed hardware stop at Aki and also get groceries. </div>
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We traveled to Europe 8 times before I finally asked how to access the shopping carts. I'd look longingly at the nice rows of carts, but they were all chained together and I couldn't figure out how to release one cart from another. Unlike in the States, there are never rogue carts blocking parking spaces, or abandoned with the front wheels on the curb - here they are all nicely hooked together in their allotted location. </div>
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On the first 7 trips to Europe, we used the available plastic baskets and filled them awkwardly to the brim, wondering each time if there was a membership card or such that allowed access to the carts. It turns out to be quite simple. There is a slot on each cart where you insert a coin (50 cents, 1 or 2 euro) and that releases the chain that holds your cart to the one in front of it. When you are through shopping you plug your cart back into another cart, and out pops your coin. It is brilliant really as no one leaves stray carts in the lot and employees don't need to spend time gathering up carts. Something so simple, but it works very well.</div>
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Still on the topic of shopping carts - the wheels are not the same as in the States. I am used to a cart that has front wheels that spin completely around, but the back wheels are stationary so that when you turn a corner, the front turns and then the back follows. The carts here have all four wheels set so that they can turn in any direction which causes a drifting phenomenon and once there is any amount of weight in the cart, it is nearly impossible to turn sharply, but the effort is good for the abdominal muscles. Shopping is a 2-person effort for us, beginning with the challenge of pushing an unpredictable cart. Once I have any amount of stuff loaded in the cart, Sam takes over the pushing and by the end, one person pushes while the other guides the front end keeping it from taking out other customers or end-of-aisle displays.</div>
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For the most part picking out what we need is fairly straight forward. Occasionally we look up a word to be sure that what is in the can or jar is actually what we want, but usually the photo, or our limited Spanish is sufficient. Each store devotes an entire aisle to jamón. There are huge pig legs hanging in the jamón aisle and I don't know how one decides which leg they want to purchase. The other day we saw some in velvet sacks that were priced at 499 euros for a leg! </div>
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In the fruit and vegetable aisle we pick out what we want and then weigh it and a sticker pops out with the price, which we attach to the bag. If you show up at the checkout without having weighed and priced your produce, you don't go home with it. In Carrefour an employee does the weighing and stickering, but in Mercadona and Al Campo we do it ourselves. </div>
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The fish counter is impressive with everything from whole octopuses to swordfish, and each store has a nice selection of cheeses. Eggs and milk are not kept cold. You can find fresh milk in small quantities, but most milk is ultra-pasteurized and sold in 6-packs that have a shelf life of many months. We use very little milk, but we like to have a good supply on hand, so this works fine for us as we always have a 6-pack in the storage room and it won't go bad. Eggs are also sold off the shelf and no matter how modern the store, the eggs have not been washed. They are stored at room temperature and frequently have chicken poo and a feather or two stuck on them. But the yolks are a deep-yellow shade that I have never found in the States (except from back yard chickens).</div>
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Checking out is the final challenge. After a quick "hola," the cashier will ask if we need a bag and how many. Each bag needs to be purchased, but we have carried our own for years, so that part is simple. Sam unloads the cart after carefully plotting the order that will make bagging it all easier, but once the cashier gets ahold of the food I feel like the duck in a shooting arcade. Boxes and jars, cans and bottles come flying at me as I try to distribute the weight in the shopping bags. Each time I am determined to keep cold items together and to spread out the bottles and cans, but within a minute I am just stuffing things any place I can. One friend said she just puts it all back into the cart and then does her bagging out at the car where there is no frantic pressure. I think that is a good plan that we will adopt.</div>
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Once at the car we get it all unloaded and I sort through the bags for anything that needs to be kept cold and those go into the cooler for the long trip home. We have learned to keep plastic bags in the cooler after a leaky bag of shrimp coated everything on one of our drives home. Our freezer still smells like shrimp, and not in a pleasant way.</div>
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And finally, about citrus fruit - it is the season! Nearly every trip to town we stop at one of the roadside vendors for a sack of fresh oranges and a bag of lemons. By sack I mean 15-20 pounds of oranges, for 4 euros! There is a woman outside Órgiva who sells oranges and lemons and those have become our favorites for juice. A man further up the road sells avocados and kiwis and they have been a special treat. Further up the road there is a man who sells oranges that we like, and he charges 2 euros for a sack, but he is only there on Sunday and we rarely go out on the weekend. </div>
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We are slowly establishing routines. We know which store carries the best muesli, or where to find ricotta cheese, and that Al Campo has the toothpaste we prefer. We no longer look for cough drops or bandages at the grocery store as we understand that those types of items are purchased at the Farmacia. A friend recently brought my favorite cold and flu medicine back from the U.K., and when our kids come to visit in two weeks they will bring a number of small items that we have not yet found a suitable substitute for. But after nearly 7 months I think we have the shopping adventure pretty well sorted.</div>
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<i>And now a couple photos for my parents and others not on Facebook...</i></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieDB2_l602cpg8l5Jma61nlsBm-N_bGMDSE916lV3kaZfR9lvMgQeJU1WeoUzZ5VEEs00MMWEL7js90cj53Psucw3OCH1AFhKFB0zTTa0yzO0FoouY-GOafyC0OGECygl52rj9qrbhLs8/s1600/12%253A2%253Ablog.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieDB2_l602cpg8l5Jma61nlsBm-N_bGMDSE916lV3kaZfR9lvMgQeJU1WeoUzZ5VEEs00MMWEL7js90cj53Psucw3OCH1AFhKFB0zTTa0yzO0FoouY-GOafyC0OGECygl52rj9qrbhLs8/s640/12%253A2%253Ablog.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fresh snow on the hill above us</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGTDHxUGc-hPEw9XLF9EtEF56kFBbYrRh_kC8kpl-7WMy_LFCQuSLNeYcojwWfqKyHy7O23GviKufGYLaOjmhrf4cIrGNxi9pSYdUA5ObUFWesXlI_vOd-zmd_sBe3MTiHVGejNBpo6AI/s1600/12%253A2%253Ablog+3.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="388" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGTDHxUGc-hPEw9XLF9EtEF56kFBbYrRh_kC8kpl-7WMy_LFCQuSLNeYcojwWfqKyHy7O23GviKufGYLaOjmhrf4cIrGNxi9pSYdUA5ObUFWesXlI_vOd-zmd_sBe3MTiHVGejNBpo6AI/s640/12%253A2%253Ablog+3.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A recent sunrise on an early morning departure for IKEA</td></tr>
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Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01886493225675415790noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1153629447228396052.post-46542316760274012312017-02-05T06:34:00.001-08:002017-02-05T06:34:54.536-08:00Rambling thoughtsToday is a beautiful sunny day, but the wind is blowing with such force that we are stuck inside. I ventured out earlier this morning to take my daily photo of Mulhacén, but hurried back in with the wind pushing me towards the house.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_6ZVpx8APlYIRVLSZThlqFNtwf0M8hnraDq3O2vFBcl09qZ_pl7S2sj0L3sCFysOZqQv6qp2xU3H6K9jOSxkbb3rfnRz6nLzhVWXnGaAs173jLmX5-O59MxtXc_IoBAQ9loCWDCMlnhE/s1600/5%253A2%253Ablog+10.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="472" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_6ZVpx8APlYIRVLSZThlqFNtwf0M8hnraDq3O2vFBcl09qZ_pl7S2sj0L3sCFysOZqQv6qp2xU3H6K9jOSxkbb3rfnRz6nLzhVWXnGaAs173jLmX5-O59MxtXc_IoBAQ9loCWDCMlnhE/s640/5%253A2%253Ablog+10.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yesterday's daily photo because today it was hidden in the clouds</td></tr>
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It has been a typical week. On Monday Sam went to Órgiva with our neighbor to pick up some fence posts and I followed in our car to purchase a few groceries, get money from the ATM, and pick up the mail.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggFPwiI2bvGuFWoRYfCkTrmOs1wPeKLM05yPX4ok8E00j7Xzl1JlmvJs7iSv8kpGRIsk-icjCpVXKOerDCi0ZLC7QS4aaPPmcHEdtv7wQtbwqb0Xfcc0_kFW6ur7MU3s9unAwUlT_iZmU/s1600/5%253A2%253Ablog.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggFPwiI2bvGuFWoRYfCkTrmOs1wPeKLM05yPX4ok8E00j7Xzl1JlmvJs7iSv8kpGRIsk-icjCpVXKOerDCi0ZLC7QS4aaPPmcHEdtv7wQtbwqb0Xfcc0_kFW6ur7MU3s9unAwUlT_iZmU/s400/5%253A2%253Ablog.png" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The church in Órgiva</td></tr>
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On Tuesday we had a load of firewood delivered. The previous owner had ordered a truckload for us before we moved in, and that was a tremendous help. But the stack was quickly shrinking and we decided that we would be more comfortable if we got a second load.<br />
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Paco arrived about 9:30 in his truck filled with olive wood. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqL0pKBchcuUvxn145U_D7XSMn104KBBpZVy4Gq3qjMS82mZgi3pStQ3a6azw5JrcJlEFXsVv_qCnlGRuyFS4iNqqkncGsyWXlKwbrxl0dOsNvb93PFZO38JV5JmXh3ort9iu8NZvjzcA/s1600/5%253A2%253Ablog+8.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="466" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqL0pKBchcuUvxn145U_D7XSMn104KBBpZVy4Gq3qjMS82mZgi3pStQ3a6azw5JrcJlEFXsVv_qCnlGRuyFS4iNqqkncGsyWXlKwbrxl0dOsNvb93PFZO38JV5JmXh3ort9iu8NZvjzcA/s640/5%253A2%253Ablog+8.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yay for Paco!</td></tr>
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Fortunately almost all of the pieces are the correct length for our not-large stove, so other than stacking, there was little else that needed to be done. The quantity was nearly twice what we had gotten in the summer, so we should have plenty to finish out this winter and get through next winter as well. We have learned that having a well-stocked pantry and a full woodshed are two of the great feelings when you live remotely.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSHYSt7jYtPZ94ZxAw0klYIjyCFJ98ner8mE-kBhU7LdDpIUyTG91Ci901e_fGd5TSBnBCb0EI7De-vgsb8o241e1AgmaESxhq7h32ZNf8lr0tUBJd0nMBdaaZFAMrrgu6hDrBsk9S3mo/s1600/5%253A2%253Ablog+9.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSHYSt7jYtPZ94ZxAw0klYIjyCFJ98ner8mE-kBhU7LdDpIUyTG91Ci901e_fGd5TSBnBCb0EI7De-vgsb8o241e1AgmaESxhq7h32ZNf8lr0tUBJd0nMBdaaZFAMrrgu6hDrBsk9S3mo/s640/5%253A2%253Ablog+9.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ahhh.....</td></tr>
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Sunny weather has been the norm for much of the week. There is a particular hike we have done each time we vacationed in Spain and a year ago we did the hike and caught the tail end of the almond blossoms in a small orchard that we pass through. On Wednesday we did part of the hike (the part that did not involve climbing straight up or straight down the cliffside), but were surprised to discover that the buds were still tightly closed on the trees. We will check back in a week or so.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp9fzN0_Z6-Tsth25uWyh1kZz1XBVyphBOwzfoSNNVc36eOtWBMnCdoTueSKWR0bxwnXJroZ7Lb8Ve2nzJ1Jl05XV5KPzqBfvx45I6uagsZ9CEe7Tsof9JlIkD6xgzn5U8hqd-7za9u3o/s1600/5%253A2%253Ablog+2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp9fzN0_Z6-Tsth25uWyh1kZz1XBVyphBOwzfoSNNVc36eOtWBMnCdoTueSKWR0bxwnXJroZ7Lb8Ve2nzJ1Jl05XV5KPzqBfvx45I6uagsZ9CEe7Tsof9JlIkD6xgzn5U8hqd-7za9u3o/s640/5%253A2%253Ablog+2.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking across to the villages of La Taha while hiking</td></tr>
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After our hike we drove on to Trevélez, the highest village in Spain, and enjoyed a delicious lunch surrounded by a local crowd. This village gets a good share of tourists, but in January, on the far edge of town, there seemed to be only locals out and about. As we drove out of town towards home we passed a teen-aged girl who was hitchhiking. We stopped and agreed to deliver her to Pitres, another village between Trevélez and the turn off to our place. She had more English than she was comfortable using, but between our Spanish and her English we managed to keep a conversation going for the 20 minute drive together.<br />
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There are signs that spring is just around the corner. Of course the almond blossoms at lower elevations are a brilliant indication, but even here at 1300 meters we have bulbs beginning to burst with color, small purple flowers scattered throughout the grass, and one of the strawberry plants has a bloom.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMWcjNcIiJw5an9h7V5FDK1lYfnk9yGgS2nJY79R_2yZrNMpTssobrO74FNmbeF9nk7vXIKxDErNovV_-F-fPB0Db9PU9JJA4ZBLkZ6ARz4JUmv8acAqYKpl1dcao74shpLkxVWa-JvPw/s1600/5%253A2%253Ablog+1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="490" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMWcjNcIiJw5an9h7V5FDK1lYfnk9yGgS2nJY79R_2yZrNMpTssobrO74FNmbeF9nk7vXIKxDErNovV_-F-fPB0Db9PU9JJA4ZBLkZ6ARz4JUmv8acAqYKpl1dcao74shpLkxVWa-JvPw/s640/5%253A2%253Ablog+1.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Almond blossom</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9du6wvQ2hPhgoApKcxnijIJQfkyqjirgMH-Rm9t6EjRWrhSjYAPesJ4mmzbaDF7Zzhuy8bDhVvRO72XbBRZYQ5pstKb9iOAsrVWgIjPxGh3r_GSnf5wB1ValkprHaEGo_QkOp6W3nTE8/s1600/5%253A2%253A+blog+7.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9du6wvQ2hPhgoApKcxnijIJQfkyqjirgMH-Rm9t6EjRWrhSjYAPesJ4mmzbaDF7Zzhuy8bDhVvRO72XbBRZYQ5pstKb9iOAsrVWgIjPxGh3r_GSnf5wB1ValkprHaEGo_QkOp6W3nTE8/s640/5%253A2%253A+blog+7.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A rose in our yard</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhquhhGWaE_a-SGypfSCkUYxbfpb4qRFJqw7F3Y5-NJxyr6iw-MQ_W2iYTVfTBBcWMU0Jt8EBVEwqrlpnOKpxIzb4gvR5272eSjSR5MWpvXqzXg6p7Ti0mD8EhyphenhyphenqSgNdzBpjCQNRWNZ4bs/s1600/5%253A2%253Ablog+5.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhquhhGWaE_a-SGypfSCkUYxbfpb4qRFJqw7F3Y5-NJxyr6iw-MQ_W2iYTVfTBBcWMU0Jt8EBVEwqrlpnOKpxIzb4gvR5272eSjSR5MWpvXqzXg6p7Ti0mD8EhyphenhyphenqSgNdzBpjCQNRWNZ4bs/s640/5%253A2%253Ablog+5.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These sweet flowers are scattered throughout the field</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtNjs9hh6XYwju2e-vTLZnPXYESvTqdj_-YLMVJqaFZJ9_e8V22hnsgzMbiuK47H0nmvH59FFCDmpJ9-VmyuCgFDyJC-JmAD8gUwPfYeMYjoqwnlAUzb37soxPpNNP7rXJPMoaYB-DL7E/s1600/5%253A2%253Ablog+6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtNjs9hh6XYwju2e-vTLZnPXYESvTqdj_-YLMVJqaFZJ9_e8V22hnsgzMbiuK47H0nmvH59FFCDmpJ9-VmyuCgFDyJC-JmAD8gUwPfYeMYjoqwnlAUzb37soxPpNNP7rXJPMoaYB-DL7E/s640/5%253A2%253Ablog+6.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hyacinth is blooming</td></tr>
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We noted yesterday that the arrival of spring doesn't carry the same relief that it did in Oregon since we have had so much sunshine this winter. Many days we are in t-shirts even though the nighttime temperatures drop near or below freezing. I remember the first daffodils in Oregon - Each year when I spotted the bright yellow flowers, I felt like someone had loosened the grip on my throat. I knew there would be weeks of rain still to come, but the promise of spring was there and that meant I would start the climb out of my seasonly-depressed mental cave.<br />
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This winter I never entered that cave - there has been depression, but because of American politics. I can't imagine how I would be handling this horrific time in the dark wet days of an Oregon winter.<br />
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We will never know for sure what started us on the road that brought us to this place, at this time, but we are so thankful to be here now.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_w_rZODgyWTOxiQDnw1kmJEAhRn66ftEFJfID7jjyw5WFtsh_Ah8ZQ5h5XqQHrB7YGiUX_Lmvcttbvre1fNU2xz0PIGITOIoU56GgPinTb8fvw3v1rR3A0FM3UinxCLPEcs-BDjWoLPI/s1600/5%253A2%253Ablog+4.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="438" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_w_rZODgyWTOxiQDnw1kmJEAhRn66ftEFJfID7jjyw5WFtsh_Ah8ZQ5h5XqQHrB7YGiUX_Lmvcttbvre1fNU2xz0PIGITOIoU56GgPinTb8fvw3v1rR3A0FM3UinxCLPEcs-BDjWoLPI/s640/5%253A2%253Ablog+4.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A sunrise photo, just because...</td></tr>
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<br />Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01886493225675415790noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1153629447228396052.post-20384350187429359342017-01-29T07:38:00.000-08:002017-01-29T07:38:55.969-08:00A Long Week and a Short Get-Away<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This week we needed a break. Not from the paradise that we are fortunate to call home, but from the increasingly worrisome morning routine of scanning the headlines to learn what happened in the U.S. while we slept. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So on Monday we went to the coast. After a quick stop for a few items at the hardware store and the grocery in Motril we drove down towards the Mediterranean for lunch. The restaurant is right on the beach and we enjoyed sitting outside in the warm sunshine watching the waves gently glide onto the deserted stretch of coastline. After lunch we took a stroll along the water, stopping to pick up colorful stones as we walked. The swoosh and swish of the continuous waves arriving then filtering through the pebbled shore as they recede, was comforting. We seemed to have the entire beach to ourselves on this warm January day, and it was just what we needed.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvzt6-LpBM-j84Qyw2QTlpDhJu6i9a-DTtqyXP6mhc_7be2KIsUYXMB_IIPGsi65zO6bsEicyjoot_eXvsH_xxX0elhDs43N5MYWr9UEdwbNrNs9m07F7fLCm9bhD7jSJzvKpKlVQ3vPs/s1600/29%253A1+blog+13.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="422" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvzt6-LpBM-j84Qyw2QTlpDhJu6i9a-DTtqyXP6mhc_7be2KIsUYXMB_IIPGsi65zO6bsEicyjoot_eXvsH_xxX0elhDs43N5MYWr9UEdwbNrNs9m07F7fLCm9bhD7jSJzvKpKlVQ3vPs/s640/29%253A1+blog+13.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The beach in Motril</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Tuesday morning we were off early to explore some villages that have been on my must-see list since our trip to Spain in 2008. Our first stop was in the white village of Frigliana set high on a hillside with steep mountains for a backdrop and a view across the Mediterranean to the mountains of Africa. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_EllNyB5qFEqJYpd3IpkSTdQsPV9NP_RVW4Rc5Ba1skc-m15_yD3mL6OKisoZebhMsyFJzS2-Ap6roBqJWFKjyDyrLElQmocLWcEbuXGIC0ZBGMdR0WTQqZCQRwrL-AgYoCvIXgd4o-w/s1600/29%253A1%253A+blog+10.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_EllNyB5qFEqJYpd3IpkSTdQsPV9NP_RVW4Rc5Ba1skc-m15_yD3mL6OKisoZebhMsyFJzS2-Ap6roBqJWFKjyDyrLElQmocLWcEbuXGIC0ZBGMdR0WTQqZCQRwrL-AgYoCvIXgd4o-w/s640/29%253A1%253A+blog+10.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View across the Mediterranean from Frigliana</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It was a cloudless day and the whitewashed houses were brilliant against the deep blue sky. We started with a stop for coffee and at first resisted the touristy atmosphere. There were several busses and many Northern Europeans and Brits wandering about. But after our coffee we decided to go ahead and explore since we were there. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The narrow streets that wind up the hillside revealed charming doors painted in a range of pastels. We visited an art gallery and stopped frequently to take photos of colorful flowering plants, village cats, and the postcard-view. It didn't take long to get into tourist-mode ourselves and in the end we found the town to be delightful and worth re-visiting when we have guests to entertain.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Narrow street in Frigliana</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBtCRrru_U8m_zMte9rdRvu_9ifz2KQ4miHxXJ2Iwdk6dYoDviKr4st5maBkSLlR3ZcT3V6aYo4ZzuDhHFkrsKxvHdbJyMkrnZqvNDyAY3VOOh3jjJdw2R26U6widaCXQ5Qfq_1WR_3K0/s1600/29%253A1+blog+11.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBtCRrru_U8m_zMte9rdRvu_9ifz2KQ4miHxXJ2Iwdk6dYoDviKr4st5maBkSLlR3ZcT3V6aYo4ZzuDhHFkrsKxvHdbJyMkrnZqvNDyAY3VOOh3jjJdw2R26U6widaCXQ5Qfq_1WR_3K0/s400/29%253A1+blog+11.png" width="297" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wonderful doors in Frigliana</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwdk1rshzKpBsziQjnI1HiC6YuZ1BfXAUTUrFHR_s231SXoZdUwybd8jjUVs2c3TqafV91cyBKE0Nx2M6EgYUC71P17jtdJzwa-9BDgGU6urS60kLRJglGEya5NSb9xNh2RU0SI3BZr5o/s1600/29%253A1%253Abog+9.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwdk1rshzKpBsziQjnI1HiC6YuZ1BfXAUTUrFHR_s231SXoZdUwybd8jjUVs2c3TqafV91cyBKE0Nx2M6EgYUC71P17jtdJzwa-9BDgGU6urS60kLRJglGEya5NSb9xNh2RU0SI3BZr5o/s400/29%253A1%253Abog+9.png" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another beautiful door</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Back in the car we maneuvered through the narrow streets until we were on the other side of Frigliana headed towards Torrox. Several kilometers out of town we found the sign for the village of El Acebuchal. The drive on the narrower-than-one-lane road would have been a white knuckle experience back in 2008, but we did it with relative ease and after about 8 kilometers dropped down into the tiny village. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">El Acebuchal, once <span style="background-color: white; color: #111111;">an important </span><span style="background-color: white; border: 0px; color: #111111; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">staging post on the ancient mule-trading routes between Competa, Frigiliana, Nerja and the city of Granada,</span> had been abandoned after the Spanish Civil War. In the summer of 1948 Franco evicted the 200 inhabitants and the Guardia Civil moved into their homes to fight the Republican rebels who had dug into the rugged mountains in the surrounding area. Eventually the village was only a collection of ruined houses and became known locally as the "Village of Ghosts." Now it has been almost entirely restored by descendants of the last inhabitants and there is a thriving restaurant that attracts visitors to the village. We enjoyed a delicious meal there surrounded by Brits and Germans. Another tourist-oriented stop, but worth the trip.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjExLr9K8VPnQkagwVaCrwkZSZU8Pqe_f_1OpMikfEM9yTXh25o4Lk72OOO28ZF6N48OZ-qB1WGKZ7vUhACF4EGDPGqGlFqcx31tzb2uXcgBILATehqmhSpI1T8vG4L5X6WgoUpgembe3E/s1600/29%253A1%253Ablog+8.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjExLr9K8VPnQkagwVaCrwkZSZU8Pqe_f_1OpMikfEM9yTXh25o4Lk72OOO28ZF6N48OZ-qB1WGKZ7vUhACF4EGDPGqGlFqcx31tzb2uXcgBILATehqmhSpI1T8vG4L5X6WgoUpgembe3E/s640/29%253A1%253Ablog+8.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lunch in El Acebuchal</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNazxi0asW8t2QHdAF7Zt_4un8rbt5VECLqXQa0mzgEbgWyIKMXFl-O4sW6bHQv2QLnhUQ_hyphenhyphenCRA4dqQS_TBXCYxbBVSC8G8HWmq8hcn6w5YvmRFdTRjtXLVDbpFfUSOdtj_t9aOy49wk/s1600/29%253A1+blog+7.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNazxi0asW8t2QHdAF7Zt_4un8rbt5VECLqXQa0mzgEbgWyIKMXFl-O4sW6bHQv2QLnhUQ_hyphenhyphenCRA4dqQS_TBXCYxbBVSC8G8HWmq8hcn6w5YvmRFdTRjtXLVDbpFfUSOdtj_t9aOy49wk/s640/29%253A1+blog+7.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A street in El Acebuchal</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The waiter discouraged us from taking the 13 km dirt track out the west side of the village, so we returned to the tarmac road the same way we had arrived, and then continued west. I had decided on a route ahead of time but Sam noticed it was a red and white line on the map. He consulted the key and discovered that red and white meant "Winding and Dangerous." I thought that sounded perfect! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We found the narrow twisting road and it did have a few places that were concerning, but compared to what we have gotten used to, it was lovely. There were even guardrails and we only encountered a few cars in the hour and half journey. I kept pointing to various views only to be instructed to "keep your eyes on the road!" </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The almond trees are starting to bloom and to me there is nothing prettier than the fluffy pink blossoms. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS3x-o8DCP3jhk3L4cs6ue7YiB7bkdNRMtny359qqJN_obPbgX8_NhpoDiv_LTrwRufGeZKDCaIa54iGAvarm_lwlfTCVqOVDI5GCknEiUNnJbhyphenhyphene3l4aG8VC1oOODLNGqXs8TT9oYcl8/s1600/29%253A1+blog+6.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS3x-o8DCP3jhk3L4cs6ue7YiB7bkdNRMtny359qqJN_obPbgX8_NhpoDiv_LTrwRufGeZKDCaIa54iGAvarm_lwlfTCVqOVDI5GCknEiUNnJbhyphenhyphene3l4aG8VC1oOODLNGqXs8TT9oYcl8/s640/29%253A1+blog+6.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Almond blossoms</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGjLABKILW_ivRSiyYoIyEInnHorCzEzzjZJdZHAtu9GhYHX1Y2np1FZgli5yAAUK7YNCLTBY1HIa9rbIAoW1kR1XGcU8t9PtWS-SI8M81dTRJNFbUQxrzgM939TVwZTl2_YkxySXEeZA/s1600/29%253A1%253Ablog+5.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGjLABKILW_ivRSiyYoIyEInnHorCzEzzjZJdZHAtu9GhYHX1Y2np1FZgli5yAAUK7YNCLTBY1HIa9rbIAoW1kR1XGcU8t9PtWS-SI8M81dTRJNFbUQxrzgM939TVwZTl2_YkxySXEeZA/s640/29%253A1%253Ablog+5.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lovely</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Steep hillsides, terraced and planted with fruit and nut trees were all we could see in every direction. Occasionally a narrow driveway would disappear over the side and we said repeatedly that we would never live there! I can't imagine plunging off the roadside onto one of those drives.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Finally we arrived at our hotel on Lake Viñuela. A booking.com find, we were upgraded to a corner room with a lake view in this luxury hotel, for 56 euros. And that included an extensive breakfast buffet the next morning! It was a lovely location and our room was very comfortable. The heated bathroom floor was especially welcomed after our relatively cold cortijo. We enjoyed our evening and a spectacular meal in their dining room. We will definitely return to Hotel La Vinuela.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ6fEhRKw2YRora_nPPaoXYJSyQSqiPUZKwplHHeNqaoFW9NTFsufXMewShb9HCeKa8uk-TKjafDsFvhLoAnO0hKHEXgPTO5JVbB4fUPNTEZgWRsY61KFVzwP3c52uaScJg01PC4ZUGGg/s1600/29%253A1+blog+15.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="548" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ6fEhRKw2YRora_nPPaoXYJSyQSqiPUZKwplHHeNqaoFW9NTFsufXMewShb9HCeKa8uk-TKjafDsFvhLoAnO0hKHEXgPTO5JVbB4fUPNTEZgWRsY61KFVzwP3c52uaScJg01PC4ZUGGg/s640/29%253A1+blog+15.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our patio and view at Hotel La Vinuela</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Wednesday we found another winding road through almond orchards to make our way towards the IKEA in Malaga. It was the end of our peaceful getaway, but we needed to purchase some furniture for the guest room. Purchases made, and car packed tightly we headed back home. Whether we are away for an afternoon, an overnight, or a week, when we pop over the hill and see our cortijo below us and Mulhacén in the near distance, we are happy to be back.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In other news, we have new neighbors. A young couple from Belgium has moved in with their three horses, a collection of dogs and some cats. They are lovely people and we are happy to include them in our group of exceptional neighbors. They have not yet received the permit to build a shelter for their horses and this week we have had very cold nights, some with snow and high winds. We offered our vacant stable to them and we have enjoyed going out in the morning and seeing two lovely horses looking out the stable doors. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid3cxAZgSXqkSSny65hOzrQWLKr64V6YZga3NOmZuvOlHbhfks5E-o7FGjcjKsrLZ7fUd-N9Kq20Qo3Ei96O3SV4D6YWvaPiOqbp_4hzMsioZTWE2dyvgtkS-IJVT6SVMkiuDXO2MOfFs/s1600/29%253A1%253A+blog+4.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid3cxAZgSXqkSSny65hOzrQWLKr64V6YZga3NOmZuvOlHbhfks5E-o7FGjcjKsrLZ7fUd-N9Kq20Qo3Ei96O3SV4D6YWvaPiOqbp_4hzMsioZTWE2dyvgtkS-IJVT6SVMkiuDXO2MOfFs/s640/29%253A1%253A+blog+4.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fun to have horses in our stable!</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Friday afternoon we invited the new neighbors and another neighbor family for dinner. I was making veggie chili and cornbread so I just made more. It was a stormy night but having a houseful of kind people was the coziest atmosphere imaginable. Today we walked across the field to see our neighbors' new puppy and as we walked back home a couple hours later we remarked on the magic of this life. We woke up this morning with no plans but ended up visiting the puppy, staying for coffee and cake and then returning home with gifts of oranges and laurel branches and some Kombucha starter. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhclQQN5XbcMNajeCisJ-0pjfFScRsRDo1DapegQID15V0kVdSSLgEoopwSVrvOQgkCnC2LAIeGaJI3amMBE49f5V43PlvEA6Ok_vXTUGgMISaawR4wokaYjzH721cJef0fOiDxAguqQKM/s1600/29%253A1%253Ablog.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="388" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhclQQN5XbcMNajeCisJ-0pjfFScRsRDo1DapegQID15V0kVdSSLgEoopwSVrvOQgkCnC2LAIeGaJI3amMBE49f5V43PlvEA6Ok_vXTUGgMISaawR4wokaYjzH721cJef0fOiDxAguqQKM/s640/29%253A1%253Ablog.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view on our walk home from our neighbor</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">There is so much right here to remind us each day that many people are kind, and life is good.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaKSg5cjKPsbdAVeAcBK09Ixtr39GDVCptoLrTIIxBKmz8qMk5hkB3-I0fXTqWbxmTS54kYdLVgMbnhunrLhAWL-7j7kCd1PTy66wN-DGZvBGbSttHLzJbgS2aXnPb11oXJCI2sy9cWIw/s1600/29%253A1+blog+14.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaKSg5cjKPsbdAVeAcBK09Ixtr39GDVCptoLrTIIxBKmz8qMk5hkB3-I0fXTqWbxmTS54kYdLVgMbnhunrLhAWL-7j7kCd1PTy66wN-DGZvBGbSttHLzJbgS2aXnPb11oXJCI2sy9cWIw/s640/29%253A1+blog+14.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Flowers on a wall in Orgiva</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSXChReQv3kgb5CCf4cF0GyvV0q27ciO6c7yVcC6JmPw7NvHWrKOM4YHuApU1T90x3Le38Kcvfp3iWLiR2jS8-DqdKltnOlAcuV8zW5U4gfwPdeFiT2M6rgYav3G21Jtl2IXjz2VEkeMw/s1600/29%253A1%253Ablog+3.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="474" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSXChReQv3kgb5CCf4cF0GyvV0q27ciO6c7yVcC6JmPw7NvHWrKOM4YHuApU1T90x3Le38Kcvfp3iWLiR2jS8-DqdKltnOlAcuV8zW5U4gfwPdeFiT2M6rgYav3G21Jtl2IXjz2VEkeMw/s640/29%253A1%253Ablog+3.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our hyacinth is blooming!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpoALr1Jyk07TyB3HuDTp6OXL4A4ajNxksVtnVdnIJpZN86TLe9jJ1jv1UoEwuC5zsE7a8QrDbfgMR-0NzBNQ7kdLJzmcDBLqr6bJg3W8wEmkZtz4e5ySgky8chvLL7DM1AEjhZI7J5nQ/s1600/29%253A1%253Ablog+2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpoALr1Jyk07TyB3HuDTp6OXL4A4ajNxksVtnVdnIJpZN86TLe9jJ1jv1UoEwuC5zsE7a8QrDbfgMR-0NzBNQ7kdLJzmcDBLqr6bJg3W8wEmkZtz4e5ySgky8chvLL7DM1AEjhZI7J5nQ/s640/29%253A1%253Ablog+2.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just another photo from a recent walk in the neighborhood</td></tr>
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Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01886493225675415790noreply@blogger.com5