How Water Almost Washed Out Córdoba

For the past three weeks, due to a broken washing machine, I have washed clothes by hand. My landlord doesn't understand the need to wash sweaty clothing during a summer of daily temperatures hitting 40 – 50 degrees Celsius, so his search for a replacement has been slow, to say the least. When technicians finally came to fix the old one, I felt relieved, until there was a problem cutting the water. Due to my favorite friend, Mr. Language Barrier, I didn't understand what was involved in turning off the water to my flat. The techs very quickly, in Spanish, said “Youneedtogetaplumberorsomeonewithakeytoturnitoffdownstairsinthewaterroom.” I had no idea what they were talking about, as I'd never done it before. They left, water dripping under the sink where they'd disconnected the water hose. “But I'm leaving for Córdoba in a few hours,” I said.

“Have a nice trip,” said the tech, and he slammed the front door closed.

I called my landlord, who was not in town. He very quickly, in Spanish, said “Youneedtogetthekeytoopenthewaterroomdownstairsandturnoffthewatertoyourflat.” This key, which I didn't have, involved knocking on several neighbours' doors, finding no one home, and having to walk all the way to one neighbour's workplace in order to get her key. “When are you leaving for Córdoba?” my landlord asked, as I huffed back to my flat.

“At 1 p.m.”

“It's only 11:30 a.m., there's plenty of time,” he assured me. Uh, do you know what country we're living in? I thought. 1.5 hours is NOT enough time to deal with this problem.

Sure enough, I was right. By the time I struggled to turn off the water, waited for my landlord's relative to come and try to turn off the water as well, and cleaned up the mess from the leak in my flat, I had missed my window for the Blablacar. I ended up having to settle for a bus 3 hours later. I called my travel buddy and begged him to meet me for a mandatory alcoholic drink.

As the wine settled into my veins and relaxed me, I excitedly looked forward to forgetting the catastrophic morning and hearing great music at the Guitar Festival of Córdoba. The concert of the night: Chicuelo, Santiago Lara, and Alfredo Lagos. Three absolutely talented guitarists. It was a mesmerizing evening, watching their fingers fly over the strings.

We stayed at the very comfortable, centrally-located Hotel González overnight, and made the most of the next day: a visit to the Mezquita, a climb up the Cathedral tower, an indulgent visit to a microbrewery, and a fabulous meal of salmorejo Cordobese and THE BEST CROQUETAS I've ever eaten, at Casa Pepe. We survived the intense heat by walking in the shade, always having a granizado or cold water in hand, and popping into every air-conditioned shop that was open on a Sunday.

Córdoba's antique centre requires, at minimum, a full day. Every turn you make, you stumble across a unique restaurant, or shop, or historic site. This was my third visit and I realized that there were still more hidden spots that I had no time to see. I'll be visiting Córdoba again, hopefully this time without a flood.

Buscando un piso: The Search for an Apartment

I've moved into a new apartment, closer to the city center where the action is. Well, new is not the word to describe it. It's quite old, like almost all apartments in Spain. It's also on the second floor, and the amount of heat it retains is quite a difference from the other bottom-floor apartment I was in. This new place has air conditioning, but it dries out my throat and uses up a lot of energy - hence, a lot of money. Until I'm able to buy a couple of fans, I've been cuddling up to my boyfriend, Mr. Cold Gel Pack, as I sweat myself to sleep.

Renting an apartment in Spain is a whole other ballgame compared to in your home country. The biggest barrier: language. I often relied on friends to call landlords and find out information. I can do it myself, but it's difficult via the phone. I also wanted to avoid using inmobiliarias (rental agencies), so nailing down appointments to view flats was a game in itself.

How's the new place?

It's a small space, with three bedrooms but really only room for 2 people. The kitchen, which has no oven (this happens sometimes in Spain), is tiny so only one person can fit. So far, every morning I have been woken up at 7 a.m. by shouting neighbors, renovation noise from upstairs, or the heat. I paid a fortune today for industrial-strength earplugs.

So why am I happy with the new place? Besides its great location near the center, I detect a good vibe being here. It's a place where I can put down roots. I know how long I'm staying, and I've already lived in Jaén for a year, so I don't have that discombobulated feeling from having to move from one city to another. It's nice to be able to plan decorations.

Plus my new roommate performed an energy cleansing ritual, in order to dispel the negative energy of the previous tenant. It allows us to start fresh. I don't normally perform such things, but I do believe in the healing effects they can have. I felt refreshed after the ritual. The place feels like it has good energy, and that sensation has transferred to me as well. Home sweet home.

Five-month Update

Wow, it's cold here in Spain. I don't have heating in my apartment, but neither do many of my friends so I'm not alone in my suffering. We do what we can to survive, such as sitting with the brasero for months, drinking coffee, coffee, and more hot coffee, and huddling indoors in warm bars. Honestly though, some nights I feel like I'm camping. Funny enough, years ago I had considered living in a camper and traveling on the road, making a living by working online or obtaining odd jobs here and there. Not that it's the same, in my HUGE apartment. Despite the fact that it's an absolute bitch to stay warm in, I still love the views of the sun rising and setting over the Sierra, my quiet street, and my caring neighbours.

In terms of my job as an English teacher..... uff, I feel like I'm working like a dog. It has been a true immersion experience, in that I work almost as hard as my friends in the village do. The difference for me has been my popularity – people are absolutely clamoring for my time, and as much as I want to help all of them pass their exams it's been impossible to say yes to everything. I'm hoping next year I'll have more time to help them, as they're all absolute darlings and invite me to hang out all the time.

Teaching the young kids English words for 'family'

There's a moment that stands out in my memory.... one night after school, some students invited me for a drink, at a bar I'd never been to. At one of the tables were two brothers. One of my students used to be their teacher, and asked me if I liked Flamenco music. He walked over to the brothers and asked them to play something. Out came the guitar and, in the near-empty bar, our group started dancing sevillanas (a type of local dance) to the sounds of Flamenco singing. So random; so Spanish!

Speaking of hanging out, Spaniards work hard and damn do they play hard, too! I can't count the number of times we've been at the bar, and I've asked what time they start work in the morning and they say “7:30 a.m.”, and I look at my watch and it's 3 a.m. Yeesh. One of my friends asked what my secret was for looking so young. Besides being Asian, I said the other secret was I SLEEP.

So I'm having a really good time here.... it's not an exciting, go-to-the-beach-all-day, travel-every-weekend kind of life, but I'm sincerely quite happy living in the pueblo. So happy that I've renewed my contract for the coming year. As a second-year renewal, I could have applied for a change in region, but I've chosen the exact same pueblo and same school, too. We'll see what the next few months bring!