visit to the dentist

I have a few stories to tell about my adventures here in Spain but have been too busy to share them with all of my 2 of my readers. So sit back and enjoy another installment of...

El Americano...perdido!!!!

So Carme and I arranged to have our annual dental teeth cleaning appointments back to back. That way we can go together and spend more time together. Or is it because Carme hates to drive and I would be the one driving? Why drive yourself when you can get Spencer to do it. There is a dentist here in Tossa but for some reason...we were going to Girona (40 km away).

When Carme and I first started dating, what seems to be 100 years ago, she never ever wore a pair of jeans. She was appalled at American women and their love for denim. She even made fun of the people who wore jeans with a jean jacket, especially if the two articles of clothing did not match in color, style or texture. But what does Carme know...she still laughs at people who wear holiday sweaters. She was forever in slacks or a skirt, like a real lady should be. I was mystified by her European ways of fashion...I was love struck! She clearly knew something I did not know. This is how she hooked me! Eventually she broke down and bought a pair and now she loves them.

Well I have been here in Spain for 9 months and I have a news flash...
EVERYONE in this country wears jeans! There aren´t a pair of slacks to be seen in a 10 kilometer range. The teachers at Alex’s school all wear jeans to school. I am not talking about your basic everyday Levi´s. I am talking the faded ones that look like you slide into home base time and time again on your stomach. Carme chalks it up to a change in fashion. Sure she had been in America 10 years so I would imagine anything could change in 10 years.

The point of this rant is that when we walked into the dentist´s office...or any professional office for that matter, everyone wears jeans. The only time I have not seen jeans was in a bank but the only person not wearing them then was the janitor. The rude and unreceptive receptionist at the dentist office was wearing jeans. The dentist was wearing jeans! Everyone in the waiting room was wearing jeans. Yes, Carme was wearing jeans but I was wearing shorts...not jean shorts...khaki. It´s like perpetual casual Friday´s in this country. Every day is Friday it seems. I even saw a cop wearing a matching jean uniform. Woah.

Anyhow, that´s not the best part. Carme went in to get her teeth sharpened first as I sat in the waiting room counting the ratio of jean wearers to non jean wearers. If there were a war tomorrow...the khakis would be extinct in 5 minutes. Just then Carme came around the corner to let me know it was my time after the dentist picked out a new sharpening stone for my larger teeth. Carme stayed in the room with me to translate. I have never felt intimidated at the dentist but in a different language...I might have unknowingly agreed to have all my teeth pulled out in Spanish or something.

Everything was pretty much routine and, translation aside, I pretty much got the hang of her comments and instructions. The only difference is that back home, my hygienist would call in the dentist after the cleaning and he or she would inspect the work that was done. Much like the crew boss at the end of the line in the movie Carwash. You know the person doing the final inspection of your car before you are presented you newly cleaned vehicle.

The last thing I had to do in the chair was definitely the most amusing thing I had ever experienced when it came to my dental health. The hygienist coated my teeth with some special Turtle Wax or something and instead of polishing...she put a mouth piece in my mouth. I was puzzled at first as I initially thought I had fell asleep in the chair and was dreaming I was in Rocky XXIIV. I desperately hung to every word this woman was saying to me to see if her intentions now were to punch me in the mouth and I needed the protection.

She then explained to me she needed to dry my teeth

...long pause...

You need to what?

This was turning out to be more like a carwash then I had imagined. She then took what looked like the exhaust on the back of your standard clothes drying machine and strapped it to my mouth and quickly left the room like a hair stylist would do when they used to put my grandmother under the hair dryer at her local beauty salon on early Saturday mornings. Instead of air blowing into my mouth, there was this low suction pulling air from my mouth. It was not enough pressure to suck my cheeks into my jaw line but just enough to cause air to rush in my nose and out my mouth. I burst into an uncontrollable laugh at the feeling this machine was giving me. I could not contain myself. It was like biting into a Peppermint Patty. Carme watched in amazement as I turned several shades of purple trying to control my laughter. She was not aware that I was laughing and thought I might be suffocating as my eyes grew larger and filled with tears. And if anyone was ever in close proximity of me when I am really tickled, I howl when I laugh that hard. It sounds much like a low guttural moan of a cat in heat.

The machine doing the "ventilating" gave off a low hum so initially; Carme could not hear my laughter under this Hannibal Lecter mask. All I could think of was if my nose were stuffed up from a cold and no air could pass thru my huge nostrils, would my face implode from the pressure of the suction. First my nose would cave in taking in my upper palette and then the rest of my unusually large head until I was left with nothing. I cried with laughter even harder at that visual. I was now hysterical with laughter. Just then the hygienist was within ear shot and out of the corner of my teary right eye, I saw her panicked face as she lunged for me in the chair and dismantled the harness from my mouth.

Relief fell over the room as they both realized I was laughing. I tried to explain that I was laughing due to the rush of wind coming thru my nose and out of my mouth and how it tickled so much. Carme, embarrassed and rethinking her life with me, explained that I am incredibly ticklish. The hygienist just put on a fake smile and nodded her head as if she understood. But then again, I think she was relieved I was not dying in her seat this morning.

The decision has been made...

Well like the title says...we will be here in Spain for another year at least.

to update everyone on what´s going on:

I found a little shop to house my business "Costa Brava Serveis Informatics" right near the heart of Tossa´s commercial center. The shop is in a great location on a widely used street with much foot traffic. That will be good as it will keep my advertising costs to a minimum. I worked for 3 weeks getting the shop in order to open this week. We did lots of painting as Carme picked out shades of yellow for the interior and I painted and designed the banner and did most of the painting. Of course we visited IKEA for the furniture for shelves to put products for selling. The competition is still not friendly with me but why should they when I am here to kick their butts, right? I finally placed my first order with a supplier (cd´s, dvd´s, toner, and other small items) due to the fact that despite not being too far away, sometimes you just don´t want to make that drive to the nearest town for a new keyboard or toner for your printer.

The summer here is starting to pick up as groups of Germans, English, French and Dutch people make their way thru the town. On occasion, you can overhear random conversations in their native tongue. Still I cannot separate one group from the other as any number of these pasty while fellows will aimlessly walk thru the streets without a shirt on showing off their tattoos and sunburns. Every now and then I hear what I think is English but hard to pick up words when the Scottish mixed their native tongue with English. Such eavesdropping can cause a headache.

Alex is finishing up his last few days of school and doing great. He has picked up the language which gives him the confidence to talk with anyone, unlike myself. I am a bit slower but I am coming along. With me sitting in my store all day with a random client coming in from time to time affords me the time to study and practice day by day. I am a bit nervous but I know it´s for the best in the long run. I dream about the day I can be considered bilingual. The ability to speak two languages might be something spectacular if we return to the US one day for good.

Alex seems to be losing a touch of his English so we are starting to spend some time with me teaching him English. I am sure you are cringing as you read this as my spelling is horrible (as my English friend Helen has pointed out). I think it´s more laziness since I do have spell check. When I write I just have to get the words out of me or I will never write. I will try to spell check this when I am finished, I promise.

My soccer coaching classes are going horribly. I am not sure why the club is so determined to get me in these classes but I show up every day like clockwork. It´s hard to grasp onto the material since I am still learning the language. For the most part I can understand the material handed out, but the in class conversations seem to lose me. They are nice enough to try to speak in Spanish but there is no slowing them down when conversations get loud and with many voices going, I just give up and my brain shuts down. So far there have been a series of maybe 5 classes with about 2 or 3 to go. They tell me without attending the classes I could not coach next year and I can only assume I did such a good job that the club wants me back. I feel proud to have made a mark in some way. I look forward to next seasons, indeed. Still as I fail test after test, I was informed that I have already "passed" and these classes are a formality. I will be ready next time we have classes in the next few years for sure.

Communion

A few weeks ago, the family got all dressed up and we went to attend a family friend´s first communion. Anna is the granddaughter of one of my mother-in-law´s best friends, Anita. Anita and her family used to live in the apartment under Carme and her family for most of Carme´s youth. Carmen and Anita are still good friends and always invite each other´s family to family functions. Anita and her family came to our wedding and Natalia´s.

So one good invitation deserves another one. So we travelled Maçanet, which is a skip inland from Tossa, where Anna and her parents live. Like all small towns in Spain, and there are millions it seems in a square kilometer, There is at least one church, Catholic of course, that is the hub of social and religious events. People here, despite all considering themselves to be Catholic, only visit the church for "special" events like weddings, deaths and COMMUNIONS!!!

I cannot even begin to tell you the significance of this event, as I am southern Baptist and you can be baptized anytime you want and go and tattoo it on your forehead to make sure everyone is aware of your born again status. But I think it´s a coming of age in the church for a youngster when they truly begin their personal relationship with God and taking in the bread and wine, the ritual of the body of Christ.

After the event we ventured to another nearby city, Santa Coloma de Fornes. There we had the reception in this beautiful setting. Carme faintly remembered the reception place as she attended a wedding there and only remembered the first hour of the reception. I am learning how much of a drinker she was.

The meal lasted pretty much 3 hours as we were treated to 8 or 9 tapas, or appetizers, while we sat at our tables. The main course was a lovely seared and pan roasted cut of meat with a roasted split fig and caramelized apple sauce. Then for desert, we were brought a chocolate soufflé with a molten chocolate sauce aching to erupt when we cut into it. Lastly, we were treated to a final celebration "cake" of what seemed to be layers of some flaky crust with the typical non descript cream and baby strawberries with a strawberry glaze on top. Light and beautiful and if not for the glaze, tasteless. As I have said before, desserts here are works of art but leave much to the imagination when it comes to taste. I am just a child of butter cream frosting and pound cakes!

so far, so good...soccer update

A little update on what´s been going on in my life...

Last Friday was the last practice of the season. Two of our players, Pepe and Naysim (the one that is smitten with Carme) were invited to "play up" with the professional team. Now Tossa is a small town so we don´t have the money and talent pool to be considered a formidable force at any level but still, I am sure Tossa could beat the snot out of the Richmond Kickers. It´s hard to call them a professional team when I see them working their day jobs around town. but to clarify why I was impressed with my two boys, there is a professional team (they get paid to play but not much), a "B team" of professionals (I know more of them than the professional team) and they are boys older than 19 who want to keep playing after the Juvenile age group (my boys), then cadets (14-16), Alevin (12-14), Benjamin (8-12) and so on and so on. So my boys skipped right up with the professional team so it was sad to miss them at our game but still...happy for them.

Also there were 3 boys from our club who have been invited, after the school year, to come to Barcelona´s professional training facility. It´s like some kid in middle school getting picked to join the Celtics basketball youth academy if they had one. Here they invest a lot of time and money into kids who seem to have potential as young as 8 years of age. The kids who make it past the invitational are put up like a boarding school of sorts. That means a lot of sacrifice from the child and the family as an investment into the future and their education.

One boy, Sebastian, from the cadets, was selected. I always thought he was special and this just confirms it. He is a quite lad, maybe 13 years old, who still has not had the benefit of puberty settling in just yet. I was ecstatic to find out that he was selected as one of the 3 (the other 2 being much younger). And as sappy and emotional as I am, I wanted to congratulate and hug him. Still he and I have said not much more than hello to one another due to the language barrier. He has played for me several times when we needed a player to fill in our ranks when our bench was thin (usually from our boys working or going on vacations). He seems to understand me when I give him directions and support from the sideline and make the corrections I bark out. Still maybe one day I can say when he turns professional, that I coached him back when.

On another sappy note, despite language barriers, I can see the jealousy running amok thru the camp from the other boys. Some person went so far as to put a thumbtack thru his face when the picture of him in his FC Barcelona (football club) training gear on our bulletin board at the club. It saddens me to know that we can´t all just find the brightness in one of us getting a shot at the big time. I so wish I could sit and tell him that he should not look back and go forth with speed and determination. Those same people "hating on him" will be here tomorrow, doing nothing but "hating". I want to lift him on my shoulders and let him know that those friends rearing their ugly heads...well they are showing that they were never really friends in the first place and it´s time to let go and move on.

So practices are over and our last game was played. We got slaughtered. Benito got into a scuffle with another player and they both got ejected from the game at minute 12. We were already down 2-0 at that time. Don´t ask me how but before I knew it there were two shots on goal and they sank them both. If I did not know any better, like basketball, they counted one goal as a 2 pointer like it was made from some really far away line like a 3 pt goal! And as soon as I turned my head, bang! The other team scored their 3rd goal. I instantly felt sick.

Still we had the second half to go and most of the squad was screwing up but we had many cadets on the bench to play. We put on the likes of Joel, Sebastian, Jose, Christian, and Gerard...all who will be coming to the team next season. And they played well and struck at goal often. For a second I thought we would come back and win the game but no such luck. We ended up losing 7-5. Oh well.

Still I am actively at the club on a seemingly daily basis. Alex still has practice and I still have classes. It´s not as bad as you think. I do get bombarded with 2 hours of rapid fire conversations, but I find it much easier to read Spanish than to hear it. When I see the words, I can figure out the idea of the focus, but conversations go off in tangents and then swing from Spanish to Catalan to some other gibberish I think they are making up to see if I am paying attention. It´s hard to stay focused but I am still in it. Would look nice to have a Spanish National coaching license. Oh btw, on my test I got a 6.5 out of 10 considering I did the whole test in Spanish.