The same but different

It's still early days I suppose, but I'm starting to get a handle on the "missing" elements of life (as we knew it) in Spain.

I've always liked the geographical connection; living in the north-east of Spain vs England means radically different things in terms of exactly how far the wind can penetrate your clothing, but there are lots of familiar aspects to life here, largely to do with attitudes, expectations and the local people in general.

I've noticed a similar thing in other countries, where the climate up north is that little bit harsher, life in general more of a challenge and government is perceived as being remote and disinterested. Curious that Western capital cities tend to be further south, or west, or anywhere but north-east of the country, while in Japan, China and India that's exactly the place to be if you're a soft southerner type and need to be close to the action. Whatever, it seems to me there's a natural kinship between these remoter communities that gets reflected in everyday life. People here are like those toffees with the chocolate in the middle, sweet enough but pretty tough on the outside, warm and reassuring once you get into them. The same was true of a lot of Catalan folk I met, although the language issue made much harder work of the toffee.

Catalan people (again, in general) actually reminded me very much of the Scots, which might be a more appropriate comparison. Many north-easterners identify more with southern Scots than southern English anyway, although they don't necessarily share the notorious tight-fistedness common to both them and the Catalans. The old joke is that copper wire was invented by two Scots fighting over a penny, but since living (more pointedly, working) among the Barcelones I'm fairly sure the invention should actually be credited to a guy called Jaume, who beat it so hard it stretched from Manresa to the Outer Hebrides.

We're actually finding the cost of living here to be very comparable with Spain, or at least the region we lived in, which has always been the most expensive. Maybe it's just the intense competition between the major supermarkets here, or perhaps the fact that Barcelona and Newcastle are at opposite ends of their respective national cost-of-living tables. Some familiar things have had to go for cost reasons, like the daily bottle of fabbo Penedès, which has given way to the occasional glass of Aussie shiraz. Other things are just baffling, like for some reason our being unable to buy a decent loaf of bread anywhere. It was the worst thing about Spain for years, but I'm missing the village bakery's wood-fire baked pages like crazy and nowhere seems to be able to match its wonderful doughy crustiness here at all.

Enough time has passed to be missing friends, too. We just had a bunch of emails and the overwhelming feeling I'm left with is one of being utterly anonymous here, as if I forgot to pack my identity in the dash for the airport, or had it confiscated by security as an unsuitable hand luggage item. And I'm still missing the bottle of Asturian cider that they did confiscate. It's all part of settling in somewhere new of course, but the more I do, the more I can barely wait to get back for a visit. Even if I do end up missing the takeaways, and the beer, and...

first day at school

Well, it was a late night and an early morning, with some of us almost unable to sleep with the excitement of it all. I have to say she didn't look like herself in her new uniform:-) but she was very happy and bounced all the way to school - "Papa, Papa, Mama - STOP! I'LL go infront, you follow me, I'll show you the way!!" Brill. Had a little moment when Mrs Gowland the headteacher took her away. Kept wondering what she was up to all day long. But managed to go swimming on my own while Mam looked after Oscar, who is becoming more, well, just more every day.

It was a blast from the past going to Chester-le-Street baths; my dad used to take us almost 30 years ago & it's still exactly the same. Anyway, Elly bounced out of school at 3.15 into an incredibly windy afternoon and ran all the way home pulling poor Benji with her. Her teacher, Mrs Muxworthy, said she'd had a good day, went a bit wobbly at lunchtime but everyone wanted to be her friend and she'd painted a nice picture of a flower.

I still can't get used to doing all of this stuff in English, and driving on the other side of the road still doesn't come naturally at all. But by far the biggest culture shock I'm suffering is the sheer choice of things in the supermarket. Last week, for example, I went to get some sugar. You can get caster sugar, golden caster sugar, organic golden caster sugar, Tesco's home brand, Silver Spoon, light brown cane sugar, dark brown cane sugar, and different varieties and brands of all these besides... it's the same with flour, and pesto, and toilet paper, cereal, bread and almost everything demands a substantial amount of consideration, which when you have a bouncing Elly and a bawling Oscar bodding around, isn't the most effective way to shop. And all of the supermarkets are in competition with each other too, and so there they are on the shelves, slagging each other off. 'Earl Grey teabags 1p cheaper than Morrison's' claim Tesco's. So far I've played it safe and gone organic wherever possible. Apart from usually being pretty good it cuts down the options dramatically!

Enjoying the weather oddly enough and the sheer Englishness of it all. Missing wholeheartedly Virginia and the Casal, the warmth of the sun, the coffee. But not the dusty house!

Out of the frying pan

This is our old place in Spain. No, not the big place at the top; ours was the grey-fronted house fourth from the bottom of the street, which used to run from the riera up to the castle but these days is cut off by a busy trunk road. It's not this sunny all of the time, just most of the time... it's south facing, so even during winter the sun hits the whole row all day long.

We've been gone just over 2 weeks and it's still hard to believe we don't live there any more. I guess the knowledge that we we'll be back soon for a visit stops us missing it so much, although Elly (to use the English spelling she chose) does keep asking longingly after her school friends. We look at photos of them on the computer, which seems to help a lot, and tomorrow is her first day at her new school, so she'll have a whole bunch more friends in no time. We hit really lucky with it: just round the corner and very highly-rated, it's one of those quintessential single-storey, red brick places with white panelled windows. They had two vacancies in Reception and might even have some cover work for Nik.

Come to mention it, the whole life-in-a-northern-town experience is treating us pretty well all round. Still not properly used to pasteurised milk, something called "pub grub", biting easterly winds or seeing the postman every day, but all these things are really very agreeable. Yes, even the wind & the cold; I'd forgotten how fresh and clean the air gets up here. It's kind of rural in much the same way as Canyelles, with lots of wild and wonderful space between neighbouring villages. The freezing misty mornings of our first week have given way to blustery, showery days with only fleeting glimpses of sunshine, but it's really atmospheric and the skies somehow manage to be oppressively dull and endlessly fascinating at the same time. So far, the novelty hasn't worn off in the slightest, although recent reunions with haddock and chips, clotted cream scones and Old Speckled Hen probably have a lot to do with that. I'll most likely calm down soon and try them in separate containers.

One thing is the same as ever: it takes an obscene amount of time to get a broadband connection. It's taken so long to post this... almost 2am and I just know I'll be here another hour trying coax my dialup to upload it. Frying pan, fire...