It has been a while since I wrote, as I'm travelling. Now, are you ready for a long read?
Came across this recently...
'You can't control how some people treat you or what they say about you, but you can control how you react.
And on that note, I had made a firm decision to make peace with my neighbours, with whom I have had conflicts since arrival and have been referred to as the Joshua's Business (or Jehovah's Witness). Naughty me! While waiting to see Heloise and her grumpy husband Rastus, I asked the universe to show in all fairness who is talking within reason here, whether them or myself equally. It so happened that I did not come across any of the family, including their son when I wished to declare my state of peace in the hood. The next thing I heard was a lot of thumping of feet and movement in their apartment above mine, and then there was silence for the following evening. 'Great', I thought, they have left on holiday, bliss'.
However, the following day, as leaving the entrance hall to the house to go out, I noticed a patch of dampness spreading across the ceiling and immediately went on the phone, trying to contact them with no luck. Oh NO! There was no one home, and no contact number was left. Grrrrreat! Cancelling my weekend to York for Easter was necessary as I watched the patch spread by the day. There was no question of breaking into their flat, despite my solicitor's reassurance I actually had a right to do so. However, my plumber reminded me that the water control for their supply came from my basement and could be turned off! And so I did with a considerate note or two stuck to the neighbours' door, explaining the situation and asking them to contact me as soon as they returned.
Two weeks passed fast, and only the day before leaving for my trip to Tehran, I heard a loud bang on the front door. I opened it to see Rastus standing with his son Brucie behind him. The father was shouting again! Right at me. 'Oh Dear', I thought, 'what now?' I was now being blamed for leaving a bag to collect the falling paint from the ceiling daily, he said:
"I can see the paint falling; you didn't need to put that bag there for me to see!"
'Que?' 'What?' Went through my mind while I looked at him in disbelief.
I simply told him how confused I was and asked why he did not throw it away!
So I continued: "Listen, please, I really want to live in peace here."
His son took my side, and the next thing this Jehovah's Witness started to tell his son to go up and get into a wrestle with him. So, I called the wife and said to them: "Listen to your son; he's the only one making any sense here."
He added, "I would like us to live in peace. Please forgive me if I've offended you in any way, and let's get on with our lives."
Thank goodness they took my word, and since there has been peace in the neighbourhood. I have no problem asking for forgiveness because I felt it was the other way forward, and they were civil enough to accept and move on. Since I returned from Tehran, the hallway has been repaired, and I had an enjoyable conversation with Heloise, which was great. They calmed down, realising it was about me being difficult here and asking for my rights. I added: "You can leave your trolley, your shoes and anything you wish in this hallway; I don't care any more." Now that is a lot coming from fussy me!
Came across this recently...
'You can't control how some people treat you or what they say about you, but you can control how you react.
And on that note, I had made a firm decision to make peace with my neighbours, with whom I have had conflicts since arrival and have been referred to as the Joshua's Business (or Jehovah's Witness). Naughty me! While waiting to see Heloise and her grumpy husband Rastus, I asked the universe to show in all fairness who is talking within reason here, whether them or myself equally. It so happened that I did not come across any of the family, including their son when I wished to declare my state of peace in the hood. The next thing I heard was a lot of thumping of feet and movement in their apartment above mine, and then there was silence for the following evening. 'Great', I thought, they have left on holiday, bliss'.
However, the following day, as leaving the entrance hall to the house to go out, I noticed a patch of dampness spreading across the ceiling and immediately went on the phone, trying to contact them with no luck. Oh NO! There was no one home, and no contact number was left. Grrrrreat! Cancelling my weekend to York for Easter was necessary as I watched the patch spread by the day. There was no question of breaking into their flat, despite my solicitor's reassurance I actually had a right to do so. However, my plumber reminded me that the water control for their supply came from my basement and could be turned off! And so I did with a considerate note or two stuck to the neighbours' door, explaining the situation and asking them to contact me as soon as they returned.
Two weeks passed fast, and only the day before leaving for my trip to Tehran, I heard a loud bang on the front door. I opened it to see Rastus standing with his son Brucie behind him. The father was shouting again! Right at me. 'Oh Dear', I thought, 'what now?' I was now being blamed for leaving a bag to collect the falling paint from the ceiling daily, he said:
"I can see the paint falling; you didn't need to put that bag there for me to see!"
'Que?' 'What?' Went through my mind while I looked at him in disbelief.
I simply told him how confused I was and asked why he did not throw it away!
So I continued: "Listen, please, I really want to live in peace here."
His son took my side, and the next thing this Jehovah's Witness started to tell his son to go up and get into a wrestle with him. So, I called the wife and said to them: "Listen to your son; he's the only one making any sense here."
He added, "I would like us to live in peace. Please forgive me if I've offended you in any way, and let's get on with our lives."
Thank goodness they took my word, and since there has been peace in the neighbourhood. I have no problem asking for forgiveness because I felt it was the other way forward, and they were civil enough to accept and move on. Since I returned from Tehran, the hallway has been repaired, and I had an enjoyable conversation with Heloise, which was great. They calmed down, realising it was about me being difficult here and asking for my rights. I added: "You can leave your trolley, your shoes and anything you wish in this hallway; I don't care any more." Now that is a lot coming from fussy me!
And you know what? I don't even notice that trolley any longer.
Now, let me return to my memories of my May trip to Marbella and Sevilla.
For some reason, my booking to Malaga was for Thursday, 1 May; however, when I tried to check in the Tuesday before, what was booked (by myself) read Wednesday, 30 April! Shoot. So, I began packing that afternoon, took till 3:30am (only one piece of luggage) and fell asleep through my alarm and the minicab ringing the doorbell for twenty minutes at 5:45am. Managed to wake up at 7:25am instead. Oops! I have only once missed a flight in Dubai, so I went online and tried to book a later flight. There was an underground strike and no taxi to take me to the airport for the next flight. Well, when it rains... It pours. Eventually, I managed the 17:40 flight that afternoon with a smile. All was fine.
The bus to Marbella from Malaga Airport was the most convenient. It ended up by cab, after 22:00 hour with a suitcase and a carry-on at the NAGA Thai restaurant where Lori, Sanchia, Aubella and a few other ladies finished their food. I ordered a mediocre curry, and we left shortly after to head to Lori's new place where I was staying.
Thursday, 1 May came, and I was already in Marbella! Lori had organised a Sevillana flamenco teacher, Millie, to come over almost daily to teach us the necessary moves, which was an absolute delight. Millie was what I would imagine a typical middle-aged Spanish lady would look like, yet when she danced with all the flairs a woman can behold, those hand moves and a confident attitude in her looks, she turned into a sex Goddess! Truly. The lessons were strict yet full of fun and laughter. Lori had already started her classes, and I had much to catch up with, which took work to achieve in four or five lessons. Oh well, one can only try. On that first day, Lori had found a lady who sold flamenco dresses in her workshop, and so Millie drove us for at least an hour to get there that afternoon in the heat. Three hours later, having tried everything and anything that fitted our bodies, my shopping consisted of another three flamenco dresses, and there was no recollection of how many Lori ended up buying, never mind all the accessories that went with each dress. At least Lori lived in Feria-land. We were only going to the Seville feria for three days and I already had three dresses made in Hoi An, Vietnam a month earlier for this occasion. All done now!
As it happened, an old friend of mine, Maggie, had also moved to Marbella. So we spent a whole day on Trocadero beach reminiscing on past memories of going to a Prince concert in Marbella's bullring with the Ex and other friends, the parties we organised there and regular visits to the Olivia Valère nightclub. It was lovely seeing her, and glad she got to meet Lori and her friends, as we can never have enough good buddies to add flavour to our lives. Victor's Beach was another destination we spent a couple of afternoons on, with a great DJ playing on Saturday afternoons, but the food was not much to write home about.
The older a friendship gets, the more memories to share as our bond strengthens.
One Saturday evening, we were invited to the glam second anniversary of Glow Gym by Ivana, whom I met upon arrival at the NAGA restaurant briefly; she was like a Barbie doll. Accompanied by Lori and Sanchia, we walked into the white tent, champagne flowing, and soon Spanish musicians arrived on the scene, where we danced and left to La Sala, a bar absolutely packed with people, inside out. Did not stay long and headed home. Another lovely evening of drinks and canapés was spent at Maggie's delightful home, and it was generally a beautiful time in Marbella. With flamenco lessons at hand, the five dresses for the Feria packed in two suitcases as I was leaving from Seville on the way back home, we headed to our three-day destination of colourful times ahead; the Feria.
Sanchia was the designated driver, as she knew the road from Marbella to Seville only too well, and it took us just over two hours. Once we got to the apartment where the three of us were staying, we made a wholesome salad and began dressing up for the Feria. We had three days to try out only some of our many purchased outfits! Each Andalucian city holds a feria of its own, taking place every year at the same time, and Seville or Sevilla's is the most glamorous one, I had been told. People had gone out of their way to have the most stunning flamenco dresses tailored, and the men equally made an effort to turn up in their suits and ties. The sun was out, and the temperature was mainly in the early thirties. Once all was made up with the exaggerated hair, combs and flowers, large-size earrings, and other accessories to suit the costumes, we had the taxi waiting downstairs.
There were decorated Casetas at each side of the cobbled streets where carriages were pulled by horses equally spruced up with tassels of matching colours. To get into the guarded tents, we had to know the right people, which, thanks to Sanchia, we did.
Her boss, an elegant elderly gentleman, got us into one of the grander pavilions and straight to the bar, ordering a jar of white wine and lemonade; well favoured at the Feria, Rebujito is what it's called with plates and plates of tapas. He chatted with us and then left us to enjoy the rest of our evening.
What I kept being told by the Spaniards at the fair was:
"The feria is all about 'comer, bever, bailar'!"
And that is 'eating, drinking and dancing'.
I was happy to leave my friends dancing and take walkabouts where I could do loads of people watching and taking hundreds of photos of everything that passed me by.
Now, let me return to my memories of my May trip to Marbella and Sevilla.
For some reason, my booking to Malaga was for Thursday, 1 May; however, when I tried to check in the Tuesday before, what was booked (by myself) read Wednesday, 30 April! Shoot. So, I began packing that afternoon, took till 3:30am (only one piece of luggage) and fell asleep through my alarm and the minicab ringing the doorbell for twenty minutes at 5:45am. Managed to wake up at 7:25am instead. Oops! I have only once missed a flight in Dubai, so I went online and tried to book a later flight. There was an underground strike and no taxi to take me to the airport for the next flight. Well, when it rains... It pours. Eventually, I managed the 17:40 flight that afternoon with a smile. All was fine.
The bus to Marbella from Malaga Airport was the most convenient. It ended up by cab, after 22:00 hour with a suitcase and a carry-on at the NAGA Thai restaurant where Lori, Sanchia, Aubella and a few other ladies finished their food. I ordered a mediocre curry, and we left shortly after to head to Lori's new place where I was staying.
Thursday, 1 May came, and I was already in Marbella! Lori had organised a Sevillana flamenco teacher, Millie, to come over almost daily to teach us the necessary moves, which was an absolute delight. Millie was what I would imagine a typical middle-aged Spanish lady would look like, yet when she danced with all the flairs a woman can behold, those hand moves and a confident attitude in her looks, she turned into a sex Goddess! Truly. The lessons were strict yet full of fun and laughter. Lori had already started her classes, and I had much to catch up with, which took work to achieve in four or five lessons. Oh well, one can only try. On that first day, Lori had found a lady who sold flamenco dresses in her workshop, and so Millie drove us for at least an hour to get there that afternoon in the heat. Three hours later, having tried everything and anything that fitted our bodies, my shopping consisted of another three flamenco dresses, and there was no recollection of how many Lori ended up buying, never mind all the accessories that went with each dress. At least Lori lived in Feria-land. We were only going to the Seville feria for three days and I already had three dresses made in Hoi An, Vietnam a month earlier for this occasion. All done now!
As it happened, an old friend of mine, Maggie, had also moved to Marbella. So we spent a whole day on Trocadero beach reminiscing on past memories of going to a Prince concert in Marbella's bullring with the Ex and other friends, the parties we organised there and regular visits to the Olivia Valère nightclub. It was lovely seeing her, and glad she got to meet Lori and her friends, as we can never have enough good buddies to add flavour to our lives. Victor's Beach was another destination we spent a couple of afternoons on, with a great DJ playing on Saturday afternoons, but the food was not much to write home about.
The older a friendship gets, the more memories to share as our bond strengthens.
One Saturday evening, we were invited to the glam second anniversary of Glow Gym by Ivana, whom I met upon arrival at the NAGA restaurant briefly; she was like a Barbie doll. Accompanied by Lori and Sanchia, we walked into the white tent, champagne flowing, and soon Spanish musicians arrived on the scene, where we danced and left to La Sala, a bar absolutely packed with people, inside out. Did not stay long and headed home. Another lovely evening of drinks and canapés was spent at Maggie's delightful home, and it was generally a beautiful time in Marbella. With flamenco lessons at hand, the five dresses for the Feria packed in two suitcases as I was leaving from Seville on the way back home, we headed to our three-day destination of colourful times ahead; the Feria.
Sanchia was the designated driver, as she knew the road from Marbella to Seville only too well, and it took us just over two hours. Once we got to the apartment where the three of us were staying, we made a wholesome salad and began dressing up for the Feria. We had three days to try out only some of our many purchased outfits! Each Andalucian city holds a feria of its own, taking place every year at the same time, and Seville or Sevilla's is the most glamorous one, I had been told. People had gone out of their way to have the most stunning flamenco dresses tailored, and the men equally made an effort to turn up in their suits and ties. The sun was out, and the temperature was mainly in the early thirties. Once all was made up with the exaggerated hair, combs and flowers, large-size earrings, and other accessories to suit the costumes, we had the taxi waiting downstairs.
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| Ladies dressed up all over town. |
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| Entrance to Sevilla Feria |
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| Carriages of all kinds! |
There were decorated Casetas at each side of the cobbled streets where carriages were pulled by horses equally spruced up with tassels of matching colours. To get into the guarded tents, we had to know the right people, which, thanks to Sanchia, we did.
Her boss, an elegant elderly gentleman, got us into one of the grander pavilions and straight to the bar, ordering a jar of white wine and lemonade; well favoured at the Feria, Rebujito is what it's called with plates and plates of tapas. He chatted with us and then left us to enjoy the rest of our evening.
What I kept being told by the Spaniards at the fair was:
"The feria is all about 'comer, bever, bailar'!"
And that is 'eating, drinking and dancing'.
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| The Casitas |
I was happy to leave my friends dancing and take walkabouts where I could do loads of people watching and taking hundreds of photos of everything that passed me by.
The night fell, and we moved to another case with more of Sanchia's friends, where Lori seemed to thoroughly enjoy her newly acquired dancing skills, which she practised over and over with our friend, but I would have preferred to make my moves in the arms of a skilled male companion. There was so much distraction from good-looking people that I was happy to watch the dazzling crowd. So, unlike most festivals, I have attended them in the past few years!
Lori and I spent the second afternoon after our hairdressing appointment sightseeing this immaculately architectural city. Walking through the narrow pedestrianised back streets, so clean it was as though time had stood still after the last proper city clean up! It is clear why this Andalucian capital is so popular with tourists; the food they serve at most small tapas bars we tried in town was deliciously unusual and tasty.
Lori and I spent the second afternoon after our hairdressing appointment sightseeing this immaculately architectural city. Walking through the narrow pedestrianised back streets, so clean it was as though time had stood still after the last proper city clean up! It is clear why this Andalucian capital is so popular with tourists; the food they serve at most small tapas bars we tried in town was deliciously unusual and tasty.
In the afternoon heat, a ride on the overpriced carriage of one man and one horse seemed the only way to travel through the park and main streets.
From the ornate Seville Cathedral in its magnificent Gothic style to the Maria Louisa park, which went on as if in a city of its own, beautifully manicured with paths escaping the sun under the leaves of trees and flowers.
On the second day at the Feria, Lori and I were well matched in the colours of orange, yellow and brown in full flamenco finery, hair done. Sanchia wore a classic black and white dotted number with a red bolero jacket.
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| A sneak inside a courtyard |
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| A typical alleyway |
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| Maria Louisa Park |
From the ornate Seville Cathedral in its magnificent Gothic style to the Maria Louisa park, which went on as if in a city of its own, beautifully manicured with paths escaping the sun under the leaves of trees and flowers.
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| Within the park |
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| Marie Louisa Park |
On the second day at the Feria, Lori and I were well matched in the colours of orange, yellow and brown in full flamenco finery, hair done. Sanchia wore a classic black and white dotted number with a red bolero jacket.
After joining Sanchia's friends, mainly couples and children, my girlfriends left right outside the casita we were at and started dancing to the live band. I stood inside by the bar observing when a smiley gentleman with a glass of beer at hand approached me and began speaking in full-blown Spanish. It is rather strange how my language flourishes when need be!
Pablo introduced himself and began telling me of his career in the army before offering his hand for a Sevillana dance. My dance moves were well on the way to improving by the minute. Pablo's friends standing by the bar seemed well impressed! After a song or two and noticing the guy's wedding band, I joined my friends and moved to another case (tent). The Feria begins after midday and finishes in the early morning hours. The crowd changes as the children swap their places with the teenagers as nightlife begins. It was all in full swing every time we left around 2am, but wearing espadrilles with hills could have its toll on a girl's feet.
On our last day of the Feria, Aubelle had decided to join us from Marbella. So, she arrived at the flat by midday, and the same chaotic routine began of girls getting ready to spend more festive times together. As Lori and I had been on our city tour, we had decided to stop at the Alfonso XIII Hotel for a bottle of bubbly before heading to the Feria. I wore one of the flamenco dresses in white and large blue dots, which was made for me in Hoi An, Vietnam. Where else?! Haha.
Pablo introduced himself and began telling me of his career in the army before offering his hand for a Sevillana dance. My dance moves were well on the way to improving by the minute. Pablo's friends standing by the bar seemed well impressed! After a song or two and noticing the guy's wedding band, I joined my friends and moved to another case (tent). The Feria begins after midday and finishes in the early morning hours. The crowd changes as the children swap their places with the teenagers as nightlife begins. It was all in full swing every time we left around 2am, but wearing espadrilles with hills could have its toll on a girl's feet.
On our last day of the Feria, Aubelle had decided to join us from Marbella. So, she arrived at the flat by midday, and the same chaotic routine began of girls getting ready to spend more festive times together. As Lori and I had been on our city tour, we had decided to stop at the Alfonso XIII Hotel for a bottle of bubbly before heading to the Feria. I wore one of the flamenco dresses in white and large blue dots, which was made for me in Hoi An, Vietnam. Where else?! Haha.
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| The lobby of Alfonso XIII Hotel |
We left the hotel early evening in daylight to look for a taxi to head to the Feria, with little success when a proper carriage with two men in bowler hats riding it asked if we liked a lift on the bridge at the traffic light that we attempted to get on the carriage with our fancy, long and tight dresses. How much fun that was! I sat with my back to the carriage drivers, next to Sanchia, without noticing the boys. Taking in all the blessings God sends our way and now, a carriage to take us to the Feria! As Cinderellas to the ball. How amazing is that? At this moment, I noticed the girls giggling over the hottie dude riding the carriage behind me. As he turned our way to say something, I looked back up to see what they were talking about and was immediately taken by his cute looks and smile, so I said (in 'my' Spanish):
"Que guapo es!" As in, 'How cute are you?!'
Antonio's (not quite Banderas, but close!) smile grew more expansive, and I presume he must have looked straight down my cleavage, sitting high on his seat. It never ceases to amaze me how easily distracted men get at a split between two firmly-skinned balloons! Oh well, each is on its own. So, we began flirting openly as I jokingly scratched his firm back with the sound of a tiger. The flute or two of champagne had done wonders, and the girls laughed aloud. The boys rode around the Feria and offered to take us to the back stables to discard the carriage and then drive us to the fair afterwards. Lori amazingly recalled being taken to the same ground where the horses were kept. The only other time she visited the place was in her early twenties. Here she was, repeating the same history!
"Que guapo es!" As in, 'How cute are you?!'
Antonio's (not quite Banderas, but close!) smile grew more expansive, and I presume he must have looked straight down my cleavage, sitting high on his seat. It never ceases to amaze me how easily distracted men get at a split between two firmly-skinned balloons! Oh well, each is on its own. So, we began flirting openly as I jokingly scratched his firm back with the sound of a tiger. The flute or two of champagne had done wonders, and the girls laughed aloud. The boys rode around the Feria and offered to take us to the back stables to discard the carriage and then drive us to the fair afterwards. Lori amazingly recalled being taken to the same ground where the horses were kept. The only other time she visited the place was in her early twenties. Here she was, repeating the same history!
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| Outside the Feria |
Once through the guarded entrance, we were let out of the carriage in the compound, where the boys got busy dismantling the carriage and taking the horses into the stables. We were feeling peckish, and there was a sizeable private tent with a bar and food being served where we headed. Food was the last thing on my mind with all the excitement, so when Antonio, who had told us he was also a matador, entered the tent and, after another Sevillana dance with me, asked if I would like to look at the horses with him. Sure, I thought, and he took me by the hand in my highly platformed sandals on the uneven ground, and we went out into the darkness, lit by the lights of the funfair close to the Feria. The horses looked stunning earlier in the day, shining in their velvety skin under the sun, but seeing their head hanging out the stables in the dimmed lighting outside was not as impressive. Then Antonio showed the way into another large tent with a royal carriage hidden in the enclosed area, and he asked if I would like to try it out. Yes, again, was the obvious reaction. As I sat in the back seat of the carriage, waving to the empty space outside, he joined me for some cheeky fun and laughter.
Next, we were given a lift by Antonio to the Feria and went on to join Sanchia's friends again, from one case to the next. More comer, never, and bailar until late again before heading back to the flat for a short rest and catching my flight back from Sevilla to Gatwick.
I am not taking any part of my life lightly. My life is my fantasy!
To some, I live in a bubble, one filled with happiness. I keep away from anything that makes me sad, be it the news or unkind words and gestures; they are unnecessary and definitely from any criticism; they are only another person's perception of how they wish to see me; that is their choice.
Next, we were given a lift by Antonio to the Feria and went on to join Sanchia's friends again, from one case to the next. More comer, never, and bailar until late again before heading back to the flat for a short rest and catching my flight back from Sevilla to Gatwick.
I am not taking any part of my life lightly. My life is my fantasy!
To some, I live in a bubble, one filled with happiness. I keep away from anything that makes me sad, be it the news or unkind words and gestures; they are unnecessary and definitely from any criticism; they are only another person's perception of how they wish to see me; that is their choice.
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