My American friend was called a “trampa” awhile back. A “trampa” is one who tricks. Not one who turns tricks. This is an important distinction. In other words, my friend’s Spanish is just good enough that people are unaware that she occasionally misses the meaning of things. It’s really not that hard to do. To become … More La Trampa
Recently, I’ve walked new American arrivals through my city, sharing the stories of these cobblestone streets. I tell them the names of the various shopkeepers, speaking of Dani, Ramon, and Manolo, with a casual, but studied familiarity. We walk along the paseo, and share glasses of cerveza at a table near the shoreline. The sun … More Like Sandpipers
My husband has quietly integrated himself into our pueblo by joining the local running club. Each evening (because of course the Spanish run in the evening), he meets up with Paco, the other Paco, Bernardo and Javi. There are others….a woman known as “Rubia” and another gentleman called “El Marino.” Together, they run along the calles … More Within Him
We are celebrating our Espanaversary today—one year in this land of olives, bougainvillea and white-walled pueblos. Physically, I have changed. My hair is longer, and I’m more inclined to wear scarves, skinny jeans, boots, harem pants, and feria dresses than in the past. Maryland Nancy: Spain Nancy: I have eaten: the eggs of cuttlefish, squid … More Espanaversary
My husband is presently unemployed, courtesy of our government. While the powers that be figure out solutions, he sleeps in, walks our kids home from school, and reads books in the backyard. All in all, not a bad way to spend a day. Except for the not-getting-paid part. And the being-deemed- “non-essential” part. I read … More Notes from the Shutdown.