Allie in the South of Spain

Here in Spain I have noticed that old wives´ tales are still fairly common. I think these myths are probably based somewhat in reality but that doesn´t make them true (and any less ridiculous in some cases). For example, I have been scolded by a Spanish friend for going to open the refrigerator without shoes on. Why? Because I might electrocute myself. Though I appreciate that he was trying to keep me safe, I am fairly certain that as a kid I would yank open the freezer sopping wet from swimming in the lake in search of an Otter pop and never got zapped so I would draw my own conclusion on the odds of me getting a shock. Apparently, it was the combination of not having my feet covered that might cause electricity to travel through the fridge and into my body, as if on a tile floor (because carpets are virtually nonexistant here in the south of Spain) my feet (though quite large) might create enough static electricity to cause a reaction with the metal of the doorhandle. Now, I can ...

Today Jose, Megan and I went and spent the day in Cadiz because (surprise surprise) Spain has a holiday and people had the day off. We arrived midmorning and wandered around the city, visiting the museum (interesting because Cadiz might be the oldest city in Europe), the cathedral (because this is Spain of course) as well as the Torre de Tavira (an old watchtower where you get great views of the city as well as the opportunity to see it through a camera obscura which reflects realtime images from a lens onto a mirror onto a disk, or at least that is what I understood of the mechanics as explained by the not-so-enthused guide). We had a seafood lunch and then wandered down to the beach. I am somewhat sad to say that one of my favorite parts of the day was seeing all of the wild cats who live down on the breakers next to the water. I really wanted to lure one close enough to steal it but of course, Jose was the voice of reason. Instead I contented myself with playing a sort of "Wher...

Here is Spain, they number their floor levels differently than we do in the U.S. Instead of beginning on the first floor, they start at the ´planta baja´. The first floor is only counted after you go up one flight of stairs. What is the big deal you might ask? Well, I live on the fourth floor here in Spain (which would be the fifth in the U.S.) and there is no elevator. It is kicking my ass literally. Imagine climbing Mount Everest, you start off enthused, by the second floor you need to stop at base camp and eat a Powerbar. By the third you have strapped on an oxygen tank and half the expedition has either abandoned or died. By the fourth the sherpas are dragging you the rest of the way. Moving was especially fun as you might imagine, hauling things up and down the steps. For some reason at nighttime I get especially confused when climbing up to my apartment because I have almost tried to open the downstairs neighbor´s door twice now, both times stone cold sobe...

My nephew Miles Daniel Potter was born prematurely a few days ago. He lived but a short while before passing away. My sister and her husband got to hold him and love him, and finally say goodbye. My mother was also there to welcome him into the world as well as when he left it. She told him about all of the people who loved him and would miss him. But is any of this really any consolation? How do you grieve a life that was never even begun? How do you say goodbye to someone you never met but loved all the same? Why did this happen? Growing up I used to hate when my mother would tell me that "life isn´t fair." I guess she was right all along. Life isn´t fair, and it sucks. My family is devastated and I am halfway around the world. I always wanted to be an aunt, and I was for a little while without even knowing it. What now? Where do you go from here? There is nothing anyone can do to make it alright because it´s not. If you are the praying type, please pra...

Last weekend Kate came to Sevilla to spend the weekend. This also coincided with my move into my new apartment (FINALLY!!!!!!). Okay, one thing at time. Kate arrived on Friday morning while I was at work. We met up and went out to lunch as well as some shopping at the Factory which is a clothing outlet here in Sevilla (yes!). That night we went out to a Spanish disco where Kate felt it necessary to creep on a ton of people, very obviously taking pictures until a pair of gay guys caught her and actually posed for the picture. They then proceeded to ask me to add them on Tuenti (Spanish broke ass version of facebook) so they could see it. I liked the disco minus the 9 euro drinks, the four hours of bad techno music and the random skanks who came out onto a platform every few songs to "entertain" the crowd. Now, I can handle go.go dancers or whatever you want to call them but these girls didn´t even dance. They just posed and not even to the rhythm of the music. Lame. At least t...