Life in La Unión

As I sprayed the antiperspirant under my armpit my mind strayed to getting in touch with the phone company. The flat is beginning to look a little barer because things have been migrating back to Culebrón for the past few weeks. At the end of the month I will leave La Unión and before I go I need to cancel the phone and Internet connection. I realised I would need to know the number I wanted to cancel. I have no idea of the land-line number for the phone here because I never phone the flat and if I did I would just press something on my mobile. In fact I don't know any phone number except that of my mobile phone. And the address. The phone company would probably need that too. I know the street name but I'm not absolutely certain whether it's flat 3 at number 11 or flat 11 at number 3. When I need a physical address I never use this one so all I need to know is how to walk to the front door. Although some people would disagree with me it's not a memory problem. ...

I only turn out for event type football games - World Cup and European Championship basically. Last night it was Holland Spain. When one watches football there is really only one suitable drink. No point in sipping a sherry in front of the telly at home. Football means beer. Beer means a bar. Bars mean atmosphere. I reckoned half an hour beforehand would be plenty of time to bag a seat. As a lone drinker I thought I may not be that welcome - taking up valuable selling space. It's true the Cantina, with it's big screen, was pretty much all reserved. The customers had war-paint, flags and paraphernalia. Not so in the bar where I most often buy alcohol or the bar I use more for coffee. Plenty of space and no sign of football fever. I have no idea if England still dresses up with flags and banners before the big football events but Spain doesn't so much. It's not as though the World Cup isn't going on. Telly and radio are full of it and there are lots of football ...

In the days when I used to trade birthday parties with Andrew Gwizdak, Rachael Iredale, Denzil Broadhurst, Elizabeth Clegg and John Hobson it was sandwiches, trifle and pin the tail on the donkey. Then my parents came up with a wheeze. With a packed tea from Thomas's the bakers we went for a birthday party to the Queens Hall in Leeds to see Billy Smart's Circus. The last circus I remember after that was when I was about fifteen and I went with Garry and maybe Tracey to a circus in the Boxhall playing field. I'm sure there were animals. They were different times and mistreating animals, at least in the form that circuses do, was not considered a sin. I vaguely remember people standing on the backs of horses, dogs jumping through hoops and men putting their heads into lion's mouths but what I remember more are the strong men, the jugglers, the knife throwers, the unfunny clowns and the tightrope walkers. Even then I liked the tackiness of circuses - the leopard ski...

The country is gripped by election fever but, rather than tell you about that, I'm going to tell you about my fun with the tax people. In Spain the tax people, Hacienda, prepare a draft return which they send to each tax payer. It's called a borrador. If you agree with the draft you sign it, send it back and either collect the tax rebate or pay the shortfall. Nowadays the process is generally an electronic one but it's still possible to deal with your tax return through your bank, your accountant or by going directly to a local tax office. Now, since I turned 55, I've been collecting a pension from Teachers' Pension. Whilst I was working I also contributed to an additional voluntary contribution scheme with the Prudential and their scheme now pays me some forty quid a month in pension. When I started to get these pensions I wrote to the UK tax people and told them my situation and asked what I should do about paying what taxes where. As I remember it t...

I went to a "pop" festival yesterday - well one day of it anyway - the SOS 4.8 Festival in Murcia. Pop in case you expected opera or classical or flamenco or jazz. I'm not really a festival animal. I don't keep up with modern music, I will not dance, I don't even sway. I noticed last night I wasn't bothering to applaud either. I usually have to drive so my drinking is limited and I haven't used any non scrip drugs for years. I am also around 30 to 40 years older than your average festival goer and, to top it all off, till 4 July I'm on my own. So why go? Maybe it's the noodles. I do like noodles and there are always vegetable noodles at festivals. The SOS Festival is not a big name do even by Spanish standards. The Prodigy, Damon Albarn and The Pet Shop Boys were the big names - basically 80s and 90s bands. With some of the bands I had no idea about their nationality - bands like The Kooks (Brits apparently) or Phoenix (French). Of the Spanis...

Somebody told me that we expats are to be denied the cold weather allowance on our state pensions. It gets pretty cold in our house in Culebrón in winter I can tell you but it's beginning to warm up nicely now. I'm a bit of a list writer. I always have been. I've kept a diary for years and a few years ago I took to adding a little note at the foot of the page with the maximum and minimum temperatures and a Today programme like weather summary - sunny and warm, cold and miserable. In La Unión I have nowhere to put a maximum minimum thermometer so that it stays out of the direct sunlight. Instead I started to use the maximum and minimum records from the state weather service for my diary log. There are weather stations where I work in Cartagena about 15kms from home, Torre Pacheco is 16kms away and San Javier Airport is 22kms away. Pretty close. Good enough to give me a fair indication of the weather in La Unión. Yesterday it was 25ºC and 16ºC in Cartagena, 23ºC and 1...

They really couldn't make it any easier. Name and address, delivery address, old passport number and not much else. That's done on-line, then you pay - just short of £103. Next you print out the form which tells you the documents you need to enclose, a couple of passport photos and away in the post. Spaniards carry ID cards so even the smallest town has a photographer to take the appropriate photos. There are photo booths too but I thought a photographer would know the rules. The photos of me were pink and silver haired but then that's me. I thought there was a lot of shoulder and chest though and not enough face. True enough when I tried them against the template on the passport application form my face was too small. Also the photographer had guillotined the photos with a serrated edge which gave them a nice 1960s feel something I suspected that HM Passport Office may not find quite so charming. So I drove to a photo booth in Cartagena. The blurb on the outside said...

My mum is in Spain. She's come with her pal Sheila to see the Easter parades in Cartagena. Easter is a big thing in Spain. All over the country during Easter Week, or Semana Santa, people wear costumes that were the inspiration for the Klu Klux Klan. Big pointed hats and long robes mask the vanity of their wearers; costumes that prove penitence. Lots of people walk barefoot. Big floats or "tronos", heavy wooden constructions topped with life sized wooden carvings depicting Biblical scenes are carried here and there. Watching the processions is a spectator sport. Find yourself a tight corner where the carriers have to work hard to manoeuvre their tronos. Whether you pay for one of the street side chairs, reserve your table at a bar along the route or just bag some pavement space you get to pass judgement on the handling of the tronos. Whenever there is any sort of street event in Spain there will be street vendors and their barrows. The most typical fiesta barrow...

Migas, is an very old and very traditional Spanish dish created to make use of stale bread. It was traditionally eaten by shepherds. It's easy to see why if you imagine them spending days on the hills limited to what they could easily carry with them. Stale bread flavoured with garlic and olive oil or lard cooked over a camp fire is a lot better than nothing. On good days the migas might even include the spicy chorizo sausage, ham or salted pork. I was in one of those little road trains. The things that hold you up in your car in the narrow streets of historic city centres. A man was holding forth on the different versions of migas. He was agreeing with the guide who, outside the interpretation centre dedicated to cave dwelling, had told us a little story. You need four people to make good migas - she said. Un tacaño, un generoso, un estupido y un listo or a tight fisted person, a generous person, a stupid person and a clever person. The miser won't put sufficient w...

It was Father's Day on Wednesday and I didn't get farther than the local bar. I have the day off on Friday and I decided it was time to shrug off this lethargy; to do something. It wasn't a huge thing but I went to Cartagena and did a tour of the local exhibitions. At the Archaeological Museum they had some good and well seen photos on the theme of women in flamenco; at the Palacio Molina they had photos, some of which I thought were excellent and some very ordinary, by a group of professional photographers who once belonged to a now extinct local photo group; at the Byzantine walls museum some paintings by a chap called Miguel Ángel Quiñonero which I thought were laughable and at the MURAM there were some paintings gathered together under the title Spanish painting 1875-1935 some of which I really liked even if it was only for the completely over the top gilded frames. They let me down at the Old Town Hall where the exhibition was being mysteriously re-organised in mid...

I'm not doing much at the moment. Preparing lessons or drinking whisky whilst smoking and reading in the nearest bar doesn't provide much raw material for blog posts. I've become a bit of a Billy No Mates . I still go to the pictures but even that is becoming faintly depressing. I saw three films this weekend. All of them were dubbed into Spanish and the only one I understood in its entirety was Philomena. I suspect that I understood it because it has a British sensibility - like me. My classical music tastes are a bit plebeian too - very Classic FM. That's probably why my favourite bit of opera is the aria Nessun Dorma from Turandot. That's the tune that Pavarotti took it to number two in the BBC top forty back in 1990 when it was used as the World Cup theme song. I like the Jussi Bjórling version best but my reason for that is also a bit prosaic. I first heard it as Ken Russell's contribution to the 1987 film Aria. Not exactly a Glyndebourne experience. ...

I don't think I'm particularly stupid. I've always been a little antisocial in a no dancing, no karaoke sort of way and that's probably getting worse along with my ever whitening hair. Nonetheless I don't think I'm unpleasant. You wouldn't know that though if you were speaking to me in Spanish. In fact you would be certain I was stupid, rude and grim faced. The people I work alongside are a pleasant bunch. The boss invited us out to eat on Thursday night to celebrate his birthday and I really - really, really - didn't want to go. When my colleagues speak ordinary speed Spanish between themselves using everyday idioms I don't know what they are saying. This annoys me. I would use another expression that includes an expression related to sexual intercourse combined with another related to directional urination but my mum reads these blogs so I won't. It upsets me that I spoil their evening by sitting there glum faced and I go home cursing mysel...

I've never been good at popular culture. Maggie has a penchant for those gossip magazines; the sort that mix the "Mother's anguish for teenage son" with how Rihanna had taken to carrying a turnip around as a talisman. I can never fathom how she remembers all the names let alone recognises the same person in photos that look as alike as chalk and cheese to me. A few years ago we went to a music festival in Benicassim. As with all festivals I'd gone primarily to sample the vegetable noodles. I did have a passing interest in the music with the thought of seeing old timers before they died and newcomers who may one day be famous. The Ting Tings and Leonard Cohen as I remember. As we wandered around the site we came across some bloke playing Flamenco music on one of the stages. It was good. The crowd was sizeable but there was none of that fighting crush you get with the headline acts so we stayed a while. The singer turned out to be Enrique Morente. I was impresse...

Every month there is a survey about the things which most concern ordinary Spaniards. Recently corruption has been up there in the top three usually just behind unemployment. Over the past few years there have been several high profile corruption cases and, because the Spanish justice system still hasn't bought many computers and is notoriously slow, most of them are still current news stories. Anyway there are new scandals almost on a weekly basis. The King's son in law is in court on corruption charges and the Infanta, a Princess in British terms, has to declare in court tomorrow. The ex treasurer of the governing right of centre Partido Popular is currently on remand accused of handing over wads of money in brown envelopes to lots of prominent people - one name on his payment list is that of the President. Everybody seems to be in on it from prominent business people and heads of regional government through bankers to town mayors and even to the unions who are accused of...

Generally there was a lot of jostling, no, let's be honest, shoving. There were pushchairs snapping at my heels. Then suddenly it all started to slacken off. Not a lot but there was space to move. Around me I heard food words. Lots of people seemed to be talking about migas. The word means crumbs. Migas are a common dish all over Spain but I think the Murcian ones are made with bread crumbs, garlic and lots of fatty meat and sausage rather than the sort made with just flour, water and garlic. Apparently the town is locally famous for its migas. It was nearly time to eat and whatever the tourist board people may tell you about Spanish events the real core of any celebration is eating and drinking. Fifty three Spaniards and I were on a coach trip to Barranda from La Unión. Mari Carmen, the tour operator, addressed everyone she spoke to directly by first name including me. It was a little club. Microphone in hand Mari Carmen, explained about the Fiesta de las Cuadrillas Started ...

Maggie tells me I'm a bit deaf. She says I have the telly and the radio on too loud and that I don't understand her. Me, I didn't think there was a problem. Maybe I have problems understanding Spanish and I hope a bit of extra volume will help. In fact I like to use headphones or earphones when I can. So today I went for a hearing test. I was a bit annoyed that they kept me waiting as the parking meter ticked away and when the woman beckoned me into her office with a "Come on" I wondered if we were going to have a conversation in broken English. But no, she let me speak in Spanish. Broken Spanish instead. The test was simply a range of beeps in each ear at different frequencies. "Perfect" she said. "For my age?" I asked. '"No, more or less perfect, a bit of loss of low frequency in the left ear but absolutely fine." It was a good answer. Hearing loss may have given me a good excuse for my problems with Spanish b...

I like trains. Even the old slam door commuter trains didn't put me off. I'm just an old romantic and I think Orient Express rather than standing room only, overheated or freezing carriages, uncomfortable seats and the detritus of empty coffee cups that were the usual stuff of my UK train experiences. The other week when I caught the train from Madrid back to Cartagena we passed through Murcia station. Peering out of the window through the nightime double reflections I thought the station architecture and the bar looked interesting. I made a mental note to have a little excursion there one weekend. I bought the tickets online yesterday and made the trip today. A diesel multiple unit out and a carriage and loco set up on the way home. I travelled from and to Torre Pacheco which is an unremarkable little town just outside Cartagena. When I bought the tickets I was quite surprised how many trains there were each day between Cartagena and Murcia and I was even more surpr...

I've just had a really enjoyable holiday in Sri Lanka. At times it seemed like hard graft as we trudged kilometres or puffed and panted up steps but it will give me stories to bore anyone who will listen for years to come. Teaching English has made me very aware of my native tongue. I am more and more amazed by the power of the English language. In Sri Lanka, in Qatar, people addressed me in English and I spoke to them in English. Sometimes there was some confusion but the truth is that I have more difficulty speaking Spanish in Spain than I did speaking English in Sri Lanka. You'd have to ask the people I spoke to if it were the same for them! I haven't done the research but my impression is that Sri Lanka isn't incredibly poor. We certainly weren't besieged by outstretched hands or made to squirm at our wealth amongst bodies disfigured with disease or hunger. On the other hand it was pretty obvious that we were from a different, richer, more caring and bette...

It may well have been the Fat Duck but anyway it was a posh restaurant. A friend had been invited there. He said that the food was good but that the service was better - the waiters were at his elbow a second after he realised that he needed one. Like most things in life Spanish waiters follow a normal distribution. Some are terrible, some are superb and the vast majority do a good enough job. Customers need the waiters in Spanish bars to be more attentive than their British counterparts because the culture of table service as opposed to bar service puts the onus on them to spot you. Generally they do, generally the service is quick enough and generally the relationship between customer and server is neutral. By neutral I mean that the service is neither toadying nor overly friendly. That can be a difficult relationship to maintain. Generally that's how I remember being served by people in the UK but the last time I was in England I noticed a couple of times that servers we...

There is a proposal for a new Citizens Security Law in Spain, La Ley de Seguridad Ciudadana, which is Orwellian in its scope. Unauthorised demonstrations will be outlawed, taking videos of police officers or insulting police officers can lead to fines. Fines can be up to 600,000€ for certain offences such as unauthorised protests at a nuclear power station. Turning up for a protest wearing a mask or anything that makes it difficult for a protestor to be identifiied can lead to a fine of 30,000€. Obstructing a public official from going about their normal duties could also cost 30,000€. There is lots more. Now there are plenty of laws in Spain to deal with violence and public disorder but the problem may be that the courts are just a bit too woolly for our present government. The Vicepresident, Soraya Sáenz de Santamaría, had a bunch of people protesting outside her house about the current spate of evictions. She took 27 of them to court but, back in May, the judge threw the c...