Driving a car to CALAHONDA - Laughter is the best medicine

THIS IS MY HOUSE IN THE BEAUTIFUL Sitio de Calahonda near Mijas.  My posts will be a bit erratic now that I am at my rental house on the Mediterranean… life will be slower, quieter and restful.  But, yesterday was one of those days where laughter is indeed the best medicine (and today also…but I’ll get to that in a bit.)

The Hotel Colón in Ronda was $33 per night and not far from the train station, so I booked it and let it surprise me.  And, of course, it did...if it sounds too good to be true, it usually is.  It was situated near a huge roundabout (there are hundreds of these circles in Spain) where young people congregated with their pop music blaring, motorbikes revving up and screaming around the circle…but no roosters, dogs or bells.  The room was tiny, but clean and perfect for me.  Once I walked in after taking a taxi from the train station (about 6:30 pm) I didn’t leave the hotel.  And I didn’t get to sleep at all…between music, motorbikes and worries over renting a manual-shift rental car the next day in Malaga.  

At 7:15 a.m., I was in a taxi clutching a white plastic bag with a breakfast the hotel clerk gave to me since I was missing breakfast.  What?  I was very surprised to find a croissant wrapped in foil, two breakfast buns, an apple and a bottle of pineapple juice inside.  It was a perfect breakfast on the train.  The train went through El Chorro and El Caminito del Rey (where Angela Ruiz is taking me next Sunday) and through Álora, where my great grandfather was born (Miguel Romero Fernandez).  (Steven and I went there in 2012).  Nostalgia hit me and I was back there again —- remembering how happy I was that Steven was driving the car, not me.

And now it was my turn.  Was I crazy to think I could remember how to drive a stick shift?  This will be the second thing in the past few months I thought I’d forgotten how to do and I managed it once.  Maybe I can do this?  No!  I CAN do this…my mantra on the train…over and over again.

Once at the car rental place after I got off the train and a little taxi ride, the woman handed me a little card and sent me on my way.  What about the key?  She’d unlocked the car with this bizarre piece of plastic.  I loaded the trunk and sat in the driver’s seat.  Huh.  Where’s the key and the key hole?  I glanced down at the dash and saw a round button that read “Start/Stop.”  How easy this is, I thought.  When I pressed the button, it read, “Put in the key.”  Mmmmmm.  Ok, I more or less caressed the entire dash looking for something to lead me in the right direction.  Then I got my face down there by the button and saw a hole that looked like a hotel room key hole.  I looked at the plastic thing again and pushed it in.  It worked!  

Then, a big sigh, I started the car and drove out without killing the engine.  I was definitely “on a roll” literally.  And then: BANG — I was in the middle of traffic.  But, of course.  With Lyn’s creatively-drawn map in the seat beside me and hopefully in my head, I headed toward Los Nuñez.  I nearly cried twice;  not when I was lost, but when I saw the two landmarks: a turquoise fence and then the Shell gas station.  I was on the right road toward Campanillas.   THANK YOU, LYN MURPHY!

I got overconfident then.  (Who, me?)  When I got to Campanillas, I decided to look for the grocery store we went to last week.  When I couldn’t find it, I decided to turn around and go straight to Los Nuñez instead of looking for wine to take with me.  She’d invited me to lunch with her and Saidie and I’d wanted to take something instead of taking, taking, taking.  

It was a narrow street, very narrow.  And a car was coming toward me.  I pulled over, let the woman by and responded to her thank you wave.  Then I went forward (so proud of myself driving this car…) until I found myself on a narrower dead end street.  When I put the car into reverse, it didn’t behave!  I tried three times until I was nearly in tears since I kept rolling closer and closer to a little blue car.  Ok, I thought.  I know the road ahead is very steep and probably has steps down there but I’m going forward anyway.  And I was so happy to see it was a road, narrow but drivable.  So, I need to practice the reverse shift…  I would have just chunked my way down steps anyway just to avoid the reverse shift.  I was shaking by now, but turned at each sharp corner until I was back on the main road. When I passed the church where my grandfather, Ben Ruiz Romero, was born, I knew I was headed in the right direction.

When I wove my way back through Campanillas and all the little villages to get back to Los Nuñez, the look on my face to have finally arrived must have told Lyn I was nearly apoplectic because she had a big hug and kisses.  I was so happy to be there!  And then I stopped in my tracks.  I still had to drive to Calahonda, 30 minutes west on the highway.  BUT, for now, it was lovely.  Wine and tapas by the pool, good conversation, laughter and then our friend, Saidie arrived.  They are both such dear women.  I am enchanted with both of them.  (Everyone was sure the wine would be diluted with the big lunch...)

We had a special salad followed by spaghetti that Lyn prepared and then the clock told me I had to stop putting it off.  The car was packed up with all the stuff I’d left at Lyn’s during my Córdoba and Algondales visits and it was time to get moving.  Lyn had shown me a short-cut to A-7 through Puerto de la Torre and I headed off, down the narrow hills, across the bridge and pointed the car toward Malaga.  My friend, R, told me to drive slow and easy and that’s exactly what I did.  The A-7 was a smooth highway and I began to recognize towns as I sped by.  

When I saw the sign to Calahonda, I was delighted.  

And then I saw it was a toll road.  I saw a sign with “20” on it and I had a 20 cent coin ready.  A woman was stopped before the gate and asked if I could help her with their car’s GPS?  No, not a clue…but she told me the told was 2,80 euros.  The 20 was km per hour.  Oh.  So, I scrambled for the coins and drove up to the pay station (nobody there).  I’ve done this before, I thought.  I tossed the coins into the box at the same time I saw, push the button for amount.  Huh?  I opened the car door, scooped up the coins again and pushed them into coin slot instead.  Good thing the machine didn’t eat the coins since that was all I had and a stream of cars were idling behind me.  Once through, I started really laughing as the beautiful, tree-lined road led me down toward the Mediterranean and the little town at the foot of the hills I'd conjured in my head since last June.  

Another roundabout and I found Avenida de España.  I knew my house was off this street and several roundabouts and lost turns later, I found it.  But, it was on a steep hill (oh no…could I manage the car without killing engine?  And would I have to back up anywere?)  Playing it safe, I parked at the bottom of the hill (flatter area there) and found four grilled gate entrances.  I was told to ring house #30 to get the key.  When I found it, I was elated when an Englishman answered.  He graciously met me, took me to my house and showed me around, carefully explaining everything.  Tony is my new Calahonda friend.  He told me if I needed anything, his house was just below my patio and to toss pebbles if he needed to come up here.  (Interesting…and I don’t have any pebbles). 

By then, I had a stress headache and my neck was killing me from carrying those heavy bags on my shoulder (?)  After Tony left, I saw the blanket folded up on the couch, I snuggled under it and knew my day was already over.  It was only 7:30.  So, I did what I should do…went straight to bed with aspirin in a darkened bedroom and slept.  No post last night so I don’t know when you will read this one since I didn’t post it before midnight to get it to you the next morning.

I know this is long…but I must tell you about the house.  It is built on a hill with several groups of houses (townhouses) below me toward the sea tiered, so each house looks over the top of the one below.  There is a cherry tree bedecked with pink blooms just over the rim of my outdoor room patio.  The house is beautiful.  Master (locked) bedroom up 14 steps and two bedrooms, bath and washer down 14 marble, curved steps with three landings.  

Washer:  After much contemplation, translating instructions and pushing buttons, I got it going this morning.  The washer and dryer is ONE machine.  I ran into this when Caroline and I was in Canterbury, so I wasn’t surprised.  I just had to work at it.  

My bath:  This was another story.  I couldn’t figure out the hot water tank.  For those of you ladies who like a BATH, this story is definitely for you.  I didn’t want a cold dunk, so I decided to do what my mother would do.  Pretending I was camping, I warmed up hot water in the neat hot water pots they have here.  

The first, second and third pots of steaming water (5 minutes to heat up each pot) I walked the boiling water down those 14 marble steps and then back up again to plug in another 1.5 liter pot.  Each time, I’d add a little water (cold) to the tub to take off the steam so I could get into the tub, scrub up and wash my hair (on my knees of course).  

By the third trip down, I shook my head at myself.  Why on earth was I doing this?  (I am sure you are thinking the same thing).  I unplugged the pot and took it down into the bathroom and added five more hot pots from there.  Each time it bubbled up, I jumped out, poured it into the tub, and put on another pot.  By then, I was sitting in about 4” of water.  It was warm.  My hair was clean and I was laughing again.  I only put this crazy episode in here because so many of you will laugh and you know I firmly believe laughter is a good thing…

The car parking:  Last night, I pulled half of my bags and two heavy grocery bags up the steep hill and by the time I got to my security gate, I was a mess.  So, I left the rest in the car, hopeful that by this morning, there would be a spot to park nearer my gate.  And YES!  I met my new, neighbor-friend, Tony, out there and he carried everything in for me too.  What a gent.  And he looked at the hot water heater for me.  Oh…was I supposed to turn the switch on the wall too?  Like a light switch?  Shaking my head again, I felt silly but he puffed up as he helped the damsel in distress.  And now I have hot water, so I returned the pot to the kitchen to do the job it is meant to do...

As I am writing this post, my patio doors are open, a slight breeze is ruffling the brown curtains and I am  sipping a glass of Tinto Verano with Límon because it is now after 1:00 (smile)

Tony told me there is a wide boardwalk by the beach and several English pubs on the main street.  But, I want to find a dive like Karen McCann and her husband, Rich, told us would be so much better...During the daytime, of course.  I haven't decided whether I want to leave my new abode at all today... Besides, now that the washer is done, I have to figure how to change the monster into a drying machine.  Oh, the work that awaits (smile).

AND in the meantime — I am being a slug on the patio, gazing out to sea, smelling the flowers.  Something I haven’t done in some time and I am enjoying the feeling, filling myself up with laughter from the inside.  It truly is the best medicine and really, I am not in need of any medicine, I just enjoy the laughter.  And my Tinto Verano, of course.