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6 pears2 lemons2 grapefruits1 cauliflower¼ cabbage4 spring onions3 leeks5 celery sticks10 carrots2 red peppers3 white potatoes5 red potatoes1 zuccini9.10€ (roughly = $13.50CAD)
Went to the central market the other day, as I typically do at least once a week, and bought some produce. It seemed like an awful lot for the price, but I can't remember how much fresh food costs in Canada. Apples are certainly cheaper there, and better: I remember buying big bags of them at the Hamilton Market for $2.50. Bought fresh clotchinas (Valencian mussels, which are just beginning to be in season) last night and made a nice pasta/seafood dinner. They were also really cheap (2.50€), and can probably be bought more cheaply, purchased as they were at my local supermarket. Delicious!
Woke up in a wonderful mood Monday morning to find this on my doorstep. Not the Audi—some middle-aged moron no doubt wields it daily between here and his cubicle, struggling to pay his car bills—no, the shitmobile locked to the tree, which is now missing its rear wheel thanks to some other shithead, who stole a broken wheel off the back of a bicycle that hardly rides at the best of times. Why didn't he steal my basket? At least it works. The back wheel, on the other hand, was wobbly, missing a couple of spokes, and prone to fall off on occasion...but it served. Just the week before, in fact, I had been riding to work when the same rear wheel suddenly fell off. It was the first time this had happened in 6 months and I took it in stride. I'd just put it back on on Thursday, which, for a technically challenged bastard (literally) like me, is no mean feat. Not to mention that it was a real pain in the ass...That bike cost me 50euros. I got it from Alan, the director at my school, and he's going to buy it back from me when I go for 40euros. Well, it's going to cost me 45euros now to replace the fucking wheel, which really rubs me the wrong way, especially considering that a brand new bike only costs 100, but, it's in my interest to fix the fucker and get back on the seat, since the repair basically pays for itself when I sell it back to the big guy.Incidentally, I'm not bitter (I'm just fucking angry!): what really fucking pissed me off was precisely that I was in such a good mood, even after I walked past my crippled bike and continued on to work resignedly on foot. It was only when I realized how much it was going to cost me that I really got pissed off, I was actually grudgingly content this afternoon as I carried the bike on my shoulder the kilometre to the shop, until I recieved the second half of the second kick in the face of the week. Ride on.O.
It´s the small things in life (I hate those stupid commercials that increasingly seem to begin with "it´s" without previously establishing the noun for which the pronoun stands): morning coffees in the sun, a damn good sandwhich (with toppings—the traditional Spanish bocadillo, while delicious, is sometimes, dishearteningly, basic—while the delicious and unique combination of jamón serrano (cured ham) and grated tomato with oregano and olive oil really hits the spot, what one all too often gets is simply ham, or ham/cheese. ie. no lettuce, tomato, no sauce, etc.), a cold beer after work, finely-spun soft cotton undies. Well, here´s where it hit me, the first shit in the face of the weekend—a small piece of shit, as the little dogs of Benimaclet are wont to lay, but shit nonetheless: hoping to save a little cash, I decided to head to the seconds store to buy two packs of discount, but high quality, underwear. Having planned the stop for the half hour window that falls in between my Spanish class and the dead time of 1:30pm to 5:00pm, when the whole city shuts down, I had stuck a 10€ bill in my back pocket before leaving the house, already relishing my (cheap) squeeky-clean new polyester undies (the ones that dry really quickly and are really convenient when you´re travelling, or strutting around the house). Going out of my way to get there, I get there, struggle through another embarrasing conversation with the girl in the shop: "yes, the size 32 socks." "but socks don´t come in that size""well, those things with one hole on each side for your legs that...yeah those..exaaactly", ...only to find that I´d lost my money on the way there. Bicycling home dejectedly, underwearless, through the obstacle course of old ladies doing their daily shopping right at rush hour, just when the stores are about to close and all the working people head home (or to the stores so they can make their lunches), I reflected on my nasty surprise: 10€ may seem trivial, but losing them really was a kick in the sack: I´d set aside that money especially for new underwear—an altogether functional, if stylish, item that nevertheless seems frivolous when it comes to laying down 7.50€ - 12€ (euros!) a pair (regular price). Isn´t it ironic, I thought, that just when you try to save a bit of money, you lose it? Whatever. It´s the first time in a long time I´ve lost my money. Bound to happen at least once in awhile. *I have since purchased a pair of edgy silver boxer/slips, which I found hidden behind the regulary-priced (7.90€) underwear at H&M, for 2.90€. This has somewhat made up for Friday´s disappointment.
If you ever get a chance to fly through Frankfurt Hahn, take it. What a lovely little airport. This is the second time this year that I´ve been through the airport and it really is a treat: tiny, comfortable, nestled in the German agricultural heartland, it boasts cheap pretzels and coffee (.90cents), 2 outdoor patios – one of which has a view of the landing strip, the other of rolling farmland – and a golf course. It´s just small enough to feel like home for a few hours. – Bryan! I´m really sorry I didn´t contact you. Had I known we´d be in Frankfurt for 6 hours, and brought my cell phone with me to Sweden, maybe we could have had a coffee/beer in town. As it happened we had more than enough time since our flight (from Stockholm) landed at Frankfurt at a little before 9am and our flight to Valencia left at 3:30pm. Next time buddy. Oh, by the way: I have your double CD set "Edad de Oro del Pop Español", which you left behind with Alan, to which I have been rocking out for the past week or so. Don´t forget to pick it up next time your here!
Incidentally, these pictures are NOT of Frankfurt Hahn Airport and surrounds – it´s not that nice. Rather, they´re from my trip to Sweden! I didn´t take so many pictures. The first three days in Stockholm my fingers were too cold to want to take out the camera, and the rest of the time, I dunno, just didn´t feel like it. But here are a couple photos from in and around Kalmar, the city of 60,000 where Amanda´s mom is 
from. Kalmar is about halfway between Stockholm and Copenhagen, in the South of Sweden. The first photo is a Purple Nun Flower, a unique flower that can only be found in a tiny valley on the island of Ohland, which I think means Island, called The Valley of the Nuns. The third photo is from this lovely little place: it´s an outdoor chapel. Really beautiful spot. The middle photo is of Kalmar castle, minus the castle – oops! But you can check that out online if you really want to.
6 pears
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