This Spanish Life

During the last few weeks I've been extra busy with work. I'm a teacher and so the time of year leading up to Christmas means report writing, preparation and planning for next term, rehearsals and performances of after school shows and various other Christmas mayhem. Consequently my Estepona murals project had taken a bit of a temporary back seat (until this week!) but I hadn't completely neglected thoughts of my blog. I had been planning on checking out San Pedro's newest, and much talked about feature as soon as I found some spare time! And so, after school on the last Thursday before the Christmas holidays I ventured out with my youngest son Henry, my friend Carmen and her little boy Marcos to the brand new San Pedro boulevard. 

Now I remember how San Pedro was many years ago, in those dark days before the new tunnel was even thought of, when we frequently had to drive mind nurmbingly slowly, often stopping completely, through San Pedro and Puerto Banus because the traffic was so badly congested. And I remember when the plans for the tunnel were announced and we were all optimistic at the (far off) promise of a smoother run whenever we ventured that way. That very first day in 2007 when the main road was closed and the traffic was diverted along the smaller roads that run past the school where I work was an absolute nightmare. On that morning my journey to school, which usually takes 10 minutes, took me about an hour and a half and I remember hoping that it wasn't going to be that way every day! Luckily it wasn't but we were all diverted along these minor roads that weren't really suited to the job while the main road was dug up. This lasted for 5 years at which time the tunnel was finally completed.

Then began the works on the boulevard above the tunnel. For 16 months my children and I have driven past the boulevard every morning on our way to school, watching how it was developing and my boys have been increasingly more excited at the newly installed parks that they could see being constructed along the length of it. My youngest was convinced that the bridge was actually a roller coaster and so was marginally more excited than his wiser, older brother!

And then, on Friday 12th December 2014 the boulevard was finally opened. 

The following Thursday was the day we went to explore it. Through the masses of people walking along and through the multitude of children swarming like excitable ants over the parks we could just about make out that it is all very shiny and new and very bright and colourful. Henry went running off to climb the tall lighthouse climbing frame with several covered tunnel slides sticking out from it at different levels. Once at the very top he called to me through the bars, "Mummy! Mummy! I'm stuck!" (You can just see him in the photo below, clinging on a desperately to the bars!). Apparently the slide from the top was too scary for him and so I had to fight my way through the numerous children crowding over the lighthouse in order that I could climb up the ladder to reach him. I was eventually able to help him down to the next level so that he could go down a slightly less scary slide. Once I had fought my way back down the ladder, through the unceasingly high volume of small people fighting to get past me to climb up the ladder we decided that it might be a safer option to go for a walk over the bridge which offered considerably less chances of getting stuck. 

The bridge is 300m long and has been designed to reflect the sea. The architect named it 'Un Mar de Sensaciones' and due to its sea-like qualities it provides lots of very steep, bumpy, wavy bits for children to tear up and down and for older, less-steady-on-their-feet type folk to shuffle cautiously down. 

On the other side of the bridge we discovered yet more parks. For parents of young children the boulevard is a haven of play areas and places to explore. The boys absolutely loved it. Over the 55,000 sq/m boulevard there are 6 parks, the largest of which is 650sq/m. There are also a few very nice cafes/restaurants where you can drink a 'Tinto de Verano' (or more appropriately at this time of year a 'Tinto de Invierno') out of glasses made from jam jars! Alternatively, if you are feeling the cold like I was, and you would prefer to defrost rather than get squiffy then you can have a lovely pot of tea for a surprisingly mere €1.50! Make sure you get what you actually order though. I had ordered some English tea but when it arrived at the table it didn't seem quite right and I remarked to my friends how it smelt a bit spicy,like Christmas! Unfortunately the lovely, seasonal smell didn't quite compensate for the fact that when mixed with milk my tea tasted rather disgusting and on checking the label I found I actually had Pakistani tea! Maybe I should have joined everybody else and had a jam jar of alcohol after all! 

Having traversed the boulevard for an hour (in inappropriate footwear for the task) I had had just about enough of walking. My feet were killing me and it was declared time to go home.

The boulevard is a lovely place to go though, probably even more enjoyable if you are wearing suitable shoes, and it is a fantastic place for children. It promises lots of future events and it has a Facebook page too - 'Boulevard San Pedro', so look it up and see what's on. Or just go to have a wander, or possibly to rescue your child from the top of the lighthouse or maybe even to enjoy some Pakistani tea! 

(I'm still not sure what this metal structure bit is for though. If anybody knows what it is, please tell me!)

 Well, it's been a while since I started my art trail hasn't it? 20 days to be precise, but this isn't because I have lost interest in my mission already. I can only explain this away as me having been very busy at work for the first part of my absence and then swept up in Christmassy type things for the last part of it. But today I was determined to get out on my bike and find some more murals! And I did! 

There was one small hiccup in my plan though. I have recently been having technological issues with my phone. You see I am one of those people that puts my phone on to charge at night and then I unplug it in the morning. Apparently this is not a good thing to do and it has resulted in my phone battery swelling into a pillow shape that doesn't quite fit in the phone anymore. This means that my battery is ok for a short while but then, when it feels like it, the power percentage remaining rapidly depletes in front of my eyes until moments later my phone will beep that the battery level is critically low and then it turns itself off! In preparation for my mission I had charged my phone to 100% and having set my app to record my distance travelled and time taken I cycled off into the wind. I had been forewarned about the possibility of it being a bit windy out but I hadn't listened, choosing only to notice the cloudless, blue sky and so instead decided to wear my Summer cycling clothes of shorts and a vest top, despite it being the end of December. As the chill wind hit me I was sure that as I cycled on I would warm up. And I did. After about 15 minutes pelting along the N340 I did indeed feel very slightly less hypothermic.

As I arrived in Estepona I excitedly cycled through the back streets looking for murals. I hadn't gone far when I found one! It was a black and white mural called 'La mirada de un niño' by Francisco Alarcon. I reached into my bag to get my phone out to take a photo and found that my pillow battery had decided to escape from inside the phone (which isn't too difficult seeing as the back doesn't fit on too well since the battery grew) and so I had to put it all back together before I could take the photo. This wasn't so much of an inconvenience though because just as I had got off my bike a rather dishevelled woman shuffled along and stopped right in front of the mural eating 'pipas' and spitting the shells all over the place. Oblivious to my tuts and stares that were intended to signal that she should move along a little bit, she stayed there showering the ground with her spat out bits. Luckily in the 5 minutes it took me to reassemble my phone and log in and get the camera up and running she had shuffled off to spit elsewhere. 

This wasn't the most exciting of murals in my opinion but on returning home and looking up about the mural online I discovered that had I just turned around and looked at the wall behind me I would have seen the second part of the mural, depicting a girl with a bowl of lentils! Unfortunately I didn't notice this and so will have to save taking that particular photo for my next outing.

I popped my camera back in my bag, cycled on a mere few feet and found another mural! This was one I had been hoping to find as I've seen pictures of it before and it's a great one. The child in the mural above is perhaps supposed to be looking at this next one. It's called ' Día de pesca' and it's by José Fernández Rios. It's the biggest vertical mural in Spain and it is painted over 6 walls of a block of flats, taking up over 1000 square metres of the building. I like this one because you need to get just the right perspective to fully appreciate the design which is of a fisherman casting his line to catch a fish, but when you do it looks fantastic. Amazingly it only took 3 weeks to paint which seems quite fast to me.

I hurried to get my camera out once more only to find that the pillow had popped out again! Tutting in annoyance I had to put it all back together again before I could take my photo. 

As I took my photo I saw that the battery level was getting low! I noticed that despite the fact the battery had come out twice the app that records my distance travelled was still going! I hastily attempted to close it down in an effort to save battery but instead managed to open up the Internet browser and then Whatsapp which I'm sure didn't help my battery preservation efforts. The clock on the phone was also showing the wrong time but I wasn't too fussed about resetting it seeing as my distance/time app was probably going to be all wrong anyway. I also noticed that my photo hadn't quite captured the best viewing angle of the mural but I was hoping to get at least one more mural ticked off before my phone completely died so I determined to take a better picture next time and hurried off. 

I cycled along again and soon saw another mural! I quickly turned off the main road towards it and raced to get my phone out again. Unfortunately it had switched off though and when I tried to restart it the battery level showed 2% and it started beeping again. Defeated and disappointed I decided to call it a day and set off for home, making sure to come back next time to get a photo of it.

I cycled back home and plugged the phone in to charge. Rather frustratingly, as I plugged it in, the battery showed 47% as opposed to the 2% of power that it had offered me while I was out and about. Silly phone. On the plus side by some miracle my distance tracker had somehow continued recording how far I had gone and it informed me I had travelled 21.3 km in minus 15 minutes, which I have to admit is a super human effort and a new personal best! 

Until next time............

I love to go running. I am at my happiest when I'm running. After a day at work, after a day with the children, after any day I get great pleasure from pulling on my trainers, turning up my music and heading off on a long run. Deep in my heart I am a runner, but in reality I am a runner with tendonitis. Tendonitis caused by too much running. It can be a cruel world. So necessity dictated that I find a new, kinder-to-my-knees form of exercise. And so I discovered a new love. Cycling. And now, on most evenings I can be found cycling around Estepona. That was until one Monday a few weeks ago, because on that Monday I had arranged to go out for lunch with some friends in Marbella. For me Marbella is great as long as I don't have to park there. I hate trying to park in Marbella. In fact the only thing I hate more than trying to park in Marbella is having to pay to park in Marbella. I hate paying to park anywhere actually. And taxis, I hate paying for taxis too. Consequently I will do my utmost to avoid paying for taxis and paying for parking and seeing as finding a free parking space on the street in Marbella is such a rarity I usually end up driving round and round for ages in the vain hope of finding one. So it is no surprise that I don't often go to Marbella, unless of course somebody else is driving or I'm getting dropped off. 

A few days before our lunch date was due to take place my thoughts had turned to my parking related stress. Until that is, I remembered my new love, my bike! Right there and then I declared 'I will cycle to Marbella!' And so that is what I did. The night before I mentally plotted my route. I'm well used to cycling on the main road by now but I had never really strayed outside of the familiar ground of Estepona. Of course I have driven to (well, mainly through) Marbella many times, and I know the roads well, but roads are a completely different experience when you are on a bike. Things you do without a second thought when in a car can become momentous obstacles to overcome when cycling. Tackling roundabouts, crossing lanes on busy roads to merge into a new road and avoiding the tunnel were just some of the things I had to navigate. So that night I visualised my route, planning how I would manage the tricky bits and eventually I felt content that I was prepared.

When I set out on that Monday afternoon there was a lovely gentle breeze and I was in a positive frame of mind. I had packed my backpack with baby wipes, a change of top, two lip balms, a lipstick and perfume thinking that I would need them to freshen up on arrival. However, as I pedalled along from home to the main road I was thinking maybe I wouldn't need such things on account of it being so breezy and cool. Well those thoughts soon evaporated. Once I reached the main road the cool breeze quickly abandoned me and was replaced by sweltering heat from the blazing sun above me as well as radiating from the road beneath me and which was  only exacerbated further by my continuous, energetic pedalling. My sweaty palms made it very difficult to change gears and Marbella suddenly seemed to be a long way off! Nevertheless I continued on through Estepona and past San Pedro getting steadily hotter and redder. I successfully avoided the tunnel and then merged back on to the main road, getting even hotter and redder. I continued past Puerto Banus and finally managed to get into the correct lane to go down Marbella's Golden Mile, still growing hotter and redder. Now this particular stretch of road has lots of traffic lights which gave me ample opportunity to drink water, wipe the copious amounts of sweat from my face, try and fan away a little of the redness, clear the sweaty fog from my sunglasses and reapply lip balm! I was also able to interact a little with my fellow road users. People would smile at me from their cars, and at one apparently never ending red light I noticed two old men in a van next to me waving through the open window. I smiled and gave a little wave back and then looked back at the light. Still red. Out of the corner of my eye I could see them waving again so I smiled and waved back then checked the light. Still red. Again I caught sight of them waving again and felt compelled to give a little wave back. Hurry up and change light! Eventually after a little more smiling and waving was exchanged the light finally changed to green and on I went. I cycled all the way down to the centre of Marbella and turned down towards the sea. I cycled along the paseo a while longer until I finally found my destination. I locked up my bike and did a quick survey of my appearance.

My top was soaked to a darker shade of pink, my little cycling shorts were uncomfortably damp, my face was bright red, I felt a little sunburnt, I was literally dripping with sweat, my hair was a soggy mess and I imagined I probably smelt a little unpleasantly too. I stood outside what turned out to be a very elegant restaurant where I was met by the sight of my friends pristinely dressed in pretty floaty dresses, with immaculate hair and make up and smelling a lot sweeter than I probably did. I checked my Sports Tracker phone app - 22km! I had cycled 22km! That was further than I had imagined! I went up to the table, exclaimed "22km! That was 22km!" by way of greeting and then hurried off to the bathroom where I baby wiped and perfumed myself into something approaching acceptability, applied a bit of pink lipstick (which completed my red face just perfectly), changed my top and emerged to see that a rather long queue that had formed while I was transforming. 

But I had done it! I had cycled to Marbella! I had avoided the trauma of trying to find a parking space! I hadn't had to pay for parking! I hadn't had to pay a taxi! Mind you, I also had to cycle the 22km back again but I chose not to dwell on that for too long for fear it may cast a shadow upon my very lovely afternoon. As it turned out though I did 46km in total, due to a slight navigational error on the way home which resulted in me having to do a bit of impromptu off-roading through some unexpected wasteland littered with thistles, broken glass, discarded car parts and other assorted litter before eventually retracing my steps and searching out an altogether more suitable, less hazardous route. I may not hurry to cycle to Marbella again, but I had done it and I had enjoyed it! 

Last night we went out for dinner. You see, we are currently having a short, family holiday in Orellana de la Sierra in Extremadura and part of being on holiday is going out for dinner, and attempting to conduct ourselves in a restaurant friendly manner. When I say we I am including my two young sons, Sam and Henry, aged 6 and 4 respectively. They give me lots of things to write about and certainly keep life interesting! But anyway, I digress. We had settled on a restaurant located on the peaceful, beautiful water front in Sierra de la Orellana that incorporated a playground and lots of open space for the boys to run around in. The table where we sat was not so far away that we couldn't monitor their behaviour but it was far enough away that we could deny any knowledge of them being anything to do with us should such a pretence become advantageous. 

We weren't immediately discouraged by the fact that the car park was deserted and there were no other people there, we just put it down to the fact that it was perhaps a little early for the locals to be going out. So the children went off to play and we went to the bar to order a drink. The lady behind the bar seemed a little odd as she drifted over but I ordered a glass of wine and a beer regardless and we sat at the table waiting for her to bring them over. Just then another family turned up so the boys had some other children to play with and we didn't feel quite so uncomfortable at being the only people there. We sat for some time but our drinks never arrived so I returned to the lady at the bar. Smiling I said to her, "our drinks?". She looked confused. I explained further,
"I ordered a glass of wine and a beer." 
No, she had no idea what I was talking about. 
"A few minutes ago. I ordered a wine and a beer. You don't remember? Oh well never mind, can I have a glass of red wine and a beer please?"
"Tinto de verano?"
"No thank you. Just a glass of wine."
"Tinto de verano?"
"No, just a glass of wine."
"Tinto de verano?"
(At this point the father from the other family who had sat nearby to us stepped in to 'help'.)
"She is asking if you would like a tinto de verano."
"I know. I don't. I want a glass of wine."
"Ah, ok. She wants a glass of wine."
"Tinto de verano?"
"No. Just a glass of red wine please. In a glass. Just wine. Red wine please."
The message finally received she pottered extensively about behind the bar opening numerous cupboards and fridges before finally locating a box, not a bottle, of wine. How lovely. But at least it was wine, it was red and it wasn't tinto de verano. I wasn't about to complicate the matter further and so we had our drinks and watched the children play contemplating whether we should stay there or go on somewhere else to eat. Just then the lady bought over a glass of water and put it down on the table. 
"Oh. Is this for us?"
"Yes of course."
"We didn't order it."
"No? Are you sure? Then who did?"
"Erm, perhaps those people over there?" 
"Ah, yes. Sorry."
Off she went. 
I walked up to the bar to order some food. There was a man who had just turned up and so, hoping that he might be a bit more together I called over to him. I gave him our order which he wrote out very slowly in full, no abbreviations, referring to the menu in order to include every word as it was written, which although was quite time consuming it did offer some confidence that the food order might not be quite such a challenge for them to deliver as the drinks had been. The menu didn't actually have too much to offer for those who weren't partial to consuming a whole plate of cheese or a whole plate of chorizo or a whole plate of anchovies or a whole plate of fried red peppers, and so we had decided, rather unadventurously, on three burgers,one lomo de cerdo with potatoes and two portions of chips. He disappeared behind a curtain out the back and we waited. 
"Mummy! Is our dinner nearly ready?"
"Not yet. Not long though. I'll call you when it comes."
This continued for about twenty minutes at which point the man brought out two burgers.
"Here you are. We only have two burgers."
"Oh. Ok. There were only two? So I can't have one?"
"You can, it will be here in about half an hour."
"Oh. Well that's a bit too long to wait. Maybe I should order something else."
I scan the menu quickly trying to find something else that appeals. A whole plate of small fishes? A whole plate of squid? I was wondering why we hadn't done this bit about twenty minutes earlier when the man must have realised he only had two burgers. There's nothing I really want but needing to choose something I go for a tortilla de patatas. So the man disappears off behind his curtain once again.
"Boys! Dinner is here!"
They come running up excitedly and tuck into their burgers. Fifteen minutes later they finish and go off to play, and still there is nothing else. Eventually the lady emerges bringing the lomo de cerdo and potato (which it turns out is actually chips) and my whole plate of tortilla, obviously not home made but clearly shop bought, previously frozen, now almost defrosted and partially heated up so that some bits are hot, some bits are icy, most bits are lukewarm and all of it is stodgy, tasteless and bland. Smothered in ketchup and mustard I force as much of it down as I can, adding to my festival of potato by having a few nearly warm chips too and just to add a slight bit of flavour to my experience I share a bit of the verging on warm lomo too. With visions of the lady reappearing with two more plates full of chips which we although we had ordered we definitely couldn't stomach, we ask her for the bill. She looks surprised.
"No, you can't have the bill."
"We can't?"
"No not yet. He has gone and I can't do the bill."
"Will he be long?"
"I don't know. Maybe half an hour."
"But we need to go."
"I don't know how to do the bill. I don't know the prices."
"Oh ok. Well I'll get a menu and we can show you what we had and see how much it is."
So I get a menu and reel off the prices. She writes down the following
7.00
6.50
3.00
3.00 and starts to add them up in some bizarre scrawled written addition. 
So I help.
"It's 19.50. That all adds up to 19.50." 
"Yes? It is?"
"Yes. The food all adds up to 19.50."
So she writes it down.
"Now you need to add on the drinks."
"You had drinks?"
"Yes. We had a glass of wine (she scrawls 2.00), two beers (she scrawls 1.80 twice) and two pineapple juices (she scrawls 1.50 twice)."
So now her list looks like this 
19.50
2.00
1.80
1.80
1.50
1.50
She spends several minutes filling the paper with other written sums while we watch and wait, before she finally totals up.
"That's 12.30" she finally declares.
Hardly quite believing that she has managed to come to such a total despite the fact we had told her the food alone cost 19.50, we momentarily consider correcting her, but then we think about the very long wait, the very rubbish food, the potential for illness as a result of consuming it, the nasty wine from a box, the distinctly odd service and we think, sod it, we're paying 12.30. 
So we pay, quickly gather up the children before 'he' returns and rumbles the mistake, strap them into the car and drive off in a cloud of dust. I feel a small, momentary twinge of guilt but that is soon forgotten as I feel slightly queasy from the solid mass of tortilla settled in my stomach, and as I hope that we are not struck down by food poisoning my conscience becomes decidedly less troubled. 

So no, our first holiday dinner out didn't turn out quite as expected. We hadn't been able to sit out until late, as we had hoped, watching the sun setting over the lake, listening to the happy laughter of the children carry on the cooling breeze while we relaxed and enjoyed a few drinks, but for once we weren't the focus of attention. For once we weren't the crazy ones. Not by a long chalk and for once that was quite a novelty!