first week back in spain

O.K.

So here I am again in Spain, Canary Islands. I love this place. It´s warm. It´s more or less sunny all the time. From Amanda´s place—and nearly everywhere in the island that enjoys any elevation—you can see the city (Las Palmas) down in the distance, the mountains behind and to both sides with the little villages spotted across the valleys and peaks climbing up into the mist, the sea below... it´s Vancouver without 10 months of rain, or the Olympics.

Amanda must have read my mind because as we leave the airport and fly down the highway, I notice we´re headed South and not North, as we would do were we headed to her house in El Monte, as I´d expected. I point this out and she´s surprised that I´ve clued into this so quickly, but I remind her that she lives on an island the size of the GTA, and that from her house in the North to her apartment in the South is not even as far as Toronto-Hamilton. This is my third time here and I explain to her that I now know that if the sea is on my left, then I´m either headed South or I´m on the wrong side of the island.

Sweet! This means a weekend in San Agustin, lying on the beach, sipping cervezas on the balcony as I marvel at the deep blue of the sea below and the fact that I´m wearing a t-shirt.

The only hitch in the plan turned out to be the weather (horrible according to Amanda; "fucking alright!" according to me. What else do you call 23C, partly sunny?). Actually, that was fine, but on Saturday and Sunday, our second and third full days at the beach, it was really windy, so we had to return to her apartment and drink white wine and eat tapas (whooh...shitty). We´d planned to visit this secluded beach called Montaña Arena, which you can only reach by following a steep trail along the sea cliffs behind an encampment of Canarios, who spend their summers living beside the water in their trailors roasting in the sun, but we met a couple returning along the path who told us that the tide was so high there was barely anywhere to sit, and aside from staring at the newly arrived Kayak, still beached a day after bringing another load of West African refugees to Europe, there was nothing to do except freeze your ass off on the rocks. So we headed home.

San Agustin is where ¨the South¨of the island begins. Just beyond a small peninsula and bay begins Playa Inglés, where all the beer-guzzling Brits get dropped off for their holliers. It´s a beautiful, is somewhat strange, place. San Agustin has always been the beach for the locals, but it´s also home to an enclave of Swedes and Germans, who have built a comfortable community of 400 or so cottages, nestled in the green hills overlooking the sea. There´s a shopping centre by the beach with an odd combination of cheap dollar stores, Bars de Manolo, Swedish and German restaurants and casinos. It´s kinda like the low-key tourist resort, with a healthy dose of Canarios spread out anywhere they can, with their lawn chairs and folding tables, playing dominoes beneath their umbrellas and eating endless bags of chips, nuts and other high-fat/low culture foods. I like it. And the beach is marvelous. It´s not golden brown, or white like in Cuba, but coarse and grainy, with black volcanic streaks through it. The water is clear and cold, with a steady current. It´s 5 minutes walk down from Amanda´s apartment and extremely handy for those days when feel too lazy to drive to the more exotic beaches or the most famous stretch of sand here on the island: Maspalomas (Morepigeons?). Really though, I know it doesn´t sound tough, but getting into the burning hot car after a day at the beach is about as off-putting as things get here. You feel drained and energy-less and sun-baked. So, I´m happy enough ensconced at the local beach, just close enough to home to run up and get an ice-cold cerveza or have a nap in the shade.

Amanda seems glad to see me (this is good: that´s why I´m here, right?), but seems kinda stressed out between her new job, and living at home again (although this seems to weigh on her a lot more when I´m around), applying for grants, and generally not having a very clear idea of what the immediate future will look like. I´ve become pretty comfortable with uncertainty and indecision in the last few years, but when it is nearly constant it does begin to wear on you. For example, both of us have applied for grants to study abroad (well for me, abroad means here) in the summer. We applied in January and won´t know until May (at best) whether we´re getting the funding. The problem is, the Swedish school (Amanda is applying to study in Sweden in July) wants her to register and pay NOW. The Spaniards, on the other hand, at the school were I wish to study, thought I was extremely premature in calling about course calenders already. Afterall, they still don´t know themselves what´s on offer this summer. Bit of a culture clash. I´ve also applied for a grant as an English Language and Culture Assistant for October to May. In contrast, I find out exactly 2 weeks after the application deadline whether I have been accepted. I don´t know if they will give me a place in the Canary Islands, though, or in Valencia, or not at all, and I don´t know which place I would like them to give me a grant for either. Amanda has also applied for a really cool and wierd position on a National Geographic luxury cruise ship. If she gets the position, she´ll be off around the world for 2 months at a time, with 1 month break. At the moment she´s working at a Shipping Agency that handles foreign ships´paperwork and other problems, and that´s how she was pointed in the direction of the job. How will that change things if she gets the job? I dunno. Aside from all those considerations, basically we need to decide whether to stay here in September or go to Valencia.

So, everything is a little up in the air at the moment. Just trying to maintain as many options open as I can and chill out a little bit everyday along the way. I´m trying to find work here in the Canaries and will approach life here as if this is where I´m going to be living, just to give it a fair shot and keep myself sane in the meantime. I´ve dropped-off some resumes at some English academies and I´m going to put up some signs in the neigbourhood for private classes. There are lots of rich kids around who need english tutors, so that shouldn´t be a problem.

We´ve managed to get ourself a place already, only one week in. I have to admit, I was a bit surprised when Amanda first told me about some apartments for rent in her neighbourhood that were available NOW. I had thought we´d be at her place for a few weeks at least, but we´ve decided to move in together and avoid the imposition and slight discomfort implicit in showing up at your girlfriend´s house for 3 months, minimum.

Amanda´s (parents) house is in a neighbourhood called El Monte (The Mountain), which is located in Tafira, a suburb of the city of Las Palmas. Technically, she´s on the very edge of the furthest municipal district of the city, but she´s actually closer to the village of Santa Brigida, a 5min drive up the crazy winding road. Our new place is in the epicentre of El Monte: the main street, which consists of 2 or 3 restaurants, a bar (yes!) a pizza place, SPAR, a hairdressers´s, post office, gas station, bus stop, a lot of traffic and, right below our window, the taxi stand! We´ve rented in a place called El Monte Inn, a sort of short-term residence for husbands temporarily estranged from their wives, young couples, students and other rogues. We have a little terrace and free access to a washing machine. All that for 500€/month aint bad, considering it´s furnished and we don´t need to commit to any longer than 3 months. Not the cheapest thing around, or the largest, but considering the circumstances, I´m quite content. And since it´s located where it is, I should be able to host any potential clients at home!

I think Amanda´s folks are a bit dissappointed we´re leaving, and Amanda also seems quite content here and not-at-all-anxious to go, but it was really her initiative with the apartment: I think she´s afraid I will feel uncomfortable living in her parents´place for 3 months (probably correct) and that this will give us more freedom. I think it´s also the more "adult" thing to do, take a bit of responsibility, pay the rent, buy groceries, etc. We have to go by the apartment tommorrow and sign the contract and hand over a grand. Then we move in this weekend. Naturally, we´ll have to have a little celebration.

That´s it for now.
Take it easy, take it all.
Owen.