Soooo good to be here.
Soooo good to be here.
On arrival in Spain, I fell asleep, woke, vomited, and fell asleep again.
I spent the next week lying in the sun (sun! sun! how I’ve missed you dear sun!) and moaning. Fever, dizziness, achey body aside, it was great. I felt like a tuberculosis victim sent to an infimary on the spanish coast.
From the sofa I’d call “Call me Florence Alice Robins the Third, and fix me some chicken broth!”
Timshel took time off his programming work to care for Reuben whilst I got over what was probably a flu. Later in the week, when Reuben became ill and I wasn’t any better, we walked through cobblestoned lanes to the village Chemist. With phrasebook in hand (translations of vomit, fever, aching body) we began an impromptu pantomine of mime, smiles and vigirous nodding of the head. We left with some drugs.
Drugs, Sun, good friends to catch up with: I was happy.
Reuben loved the challenge of a new environment to explore and two new playmates. He even worked out how to open the blind (see picture). He had two days of ill health but then seemed to recover sufficiently to develop a fascination with wooden spoons. Between the blind and the spoons, he was happy.
Timshel rises to the challenge of a new language with unbridled enthusiasm. His spanish conversation partner was the lady who worked at the deli-counter of the local supermarket. He would return home with sausage, cheese, olives, and the spanish word for “camel”. He was happy.
It was lovely to see Chris and Claire. Friends from Melbourne, Australia, they had spent a year here in Comillas, screen-writing (Chris) and creating childrens books (Claire). They seemed healthy and well-occupied, and gave us a real education on spanish culture, food, and wine you could buy for 60 cents (euro). We boughts lots of wine and croissants. They were happy.
I like Spain.