Yesterday we harvested the first fruits of our composting and planting project from the stackable garden, enjoying peppery, crisp red and green lettuce and basil leaves. Sadly the other vegetation is proving a bit slower to to sprout and has suffered from the heavy storms of the last two weeks and hidden enemies nibbling away at them. Dominick discovered (thank you internet!) that those responsible for holding the foliage hostage to their appetites were miniscule red spider mites, who hide out on the underside of the leaves, quietly decimating them unseen. So we are making some home-made insectides of garlic, vinegar and cayene to target them and most of it should be salvageable.
I decided today was a good time to tackle the borders of weeds and the leaves and general debris that came with the storms. Plus gardening seemed an excellent distraction from working out with my kettle bells (although I still beat my current record and reached 800). I managed to fill four garbage sacks with weeds and leaves, but left just enough to keep the habitat eco-friendly or should I say: gecko-friendly. We need the lizard population to help with the flies, but they like leaves and general coverage for their attacks as well as shelter, so some must remain to keep them happy.
Having scrubbed most of the dirt from my face, knees and hands I trekked down to the bins down the road with a couple of other bags of recycling - bottles, jars and cans. And I got "pulled over" (if a pedestrian can technically be detained as such) by the police. I had no idea what he was saying except he kept saying the word NO, actually yelling it and the word 'siete' which is seven. From this I conjectured that 8 bags were too many and I could only deposit 7 and so I 'lo siento-ed', with more deference than I felt, and continued to put bags in and separate out the bottles and plastics and metals. At this point the 50-something moustachioed cop hooted the horn loudly and got out of the van and started really yelling at me. Something that hasn't really happened to me since 1991 when I was at school. He was so animated I couldn't understand a word and was feeling rather worried. Had I accidentally committed the unforgivable crime of putting a plastic item in the glass bin or vice versa?
Finally, and rather angrily, he drew me to a tiny sign on the road side of the last bin and I understood that he was trying to say rubbish can't be deposited during the day - only at night. I felt very stupid, but also somewhat annoyed - I'm on foot, I don't see signs on the roadside because I am approaching from the pavement, not the road. Maybe you could put the sign on all the bins on both sides. Luckily my not very advanced Spanish prevented me from arguing and getting myself into anymore trouble. And so I had to bring all the weeds back. I guess we could just burn them since we can't use them for compost, but there is probably a rule about fires during the day, which is probably wise given it's a pretty hot day and already in the 70's....
On the positive side I do like the fact that there is so little crime that the local police have little else to do but see kids across the road and pounce on unsuspecting emigres attempting to dispose of rubbish outside the correct hours for doing so.
Tuesday, March 12, 2013
The F-Word Part 8: The Wise Women of the Canaries
The Canary Islands have gone through times of prosperity and economic hardship. Right now is a downturn for most of Spain's provinces, as well as much of Europe. But once upon a time they were nothing to do with Spain and relatively autonomous. I've been trying to learn as much of the history as I can from local publications and internet research but the material is sparse.
Fuerteventura has a population of around 103,000. When I think that I used to live in a suburb near London that had twice that in the space of a few square miles, it seems incredible. However unemployment is beginning 2013 at 33.7% for the 2.3 million residents of the seven sister islands:
Fuerteventura has a population of around 103,000. When I think that I used to live in a suburb near London that had twice that in the space of a few square miles, it seems incredible. However unemployment is beginning 2013 at 33.7% for the 2.3 million residents of the seven sister islands:
In the three weeks after we arrived and had no internet I took to researching everything I could about the island the old fashioned way books, newspapers and magazine articles. I tried to piece together some of the history of the islands and their connection to the rest of the world.
We knew already that there were archaelogical discoveries of ancient civilisations from our trip to the little fishing hamlet Pozo Negro or Black Well. On our first visit here in January 2012 this was one of the isolated communities we fell in love with; a cluster of white houses encircling a pebble beach scattered with a few fishing boats and a couple of tiny locally run seafood restaurants overlooking the sea. On the winding road approaching Pozo Negro there is a museum off to the left with dozens of ruined structures where it is believed the earliest known inhabitants resided from Africa. The Saharan sandstorms from Africa and strong Atlantic winds have eroded and destroyed most of the early remnants of human civilisations and little is known about them. Although it is a volcanic island, there hasn't been any volcanic activity here for about 5000 years. There is though plenty of seismic activity and lots of low level earthquakes in the vicinity. El Hierro suffers the most and has had 7 small earthquakes already in March and 4000 earthquakes and tremors were recorded in 2011.
Still despite extremes of weather and the storms that have regularly cut off power and closed schools and ports over the last couple of weeks, some remnants of ancients civilization remain. The rest must be pieced together through the limited historical evidence that exists. Prior to the the Norman and Spanish conquerors who discovered the Canaries in the 1400's there wasn't a great deal of contact between the islands and the rest of the world. Ancient texts describe the islands as being inhabited by mystical creatures such as "dragons, cyclops and sea monsters" and others as the location of the lost city of Atlantis, possibly swallowed by the sea as the plates beneath shifted causing volcanoes and earthquakes. There were no papryus recordings or scrolls and the only remaining 'written' histories come from rare cave paintings preserved from the elements and glyphs, although very few have been discovered. Pliny the Elder wrote in the first century that explorers found no inhabitants on the island but ruins of great buildings.
It is believed that the first inhabitants around 1B.C. were from North Africa and were extraordinarily tall blonde people (perhaps the Nephilim, the offspring of so-called fallen angels, gigantic in stature). They originally dwelt in the caves which provided the most protection and shelter from the fierce winds and harsh sun. In some of these caves mummies have been discovered where goat skins, furs and salt have been used to preserve the bodies.
The earliest written histories specific to the Canaries describe two great women, Tamonante and Tibiabin. Tamonante counselled and governed the early tribes, settling disputes and determining justice. Tibiabin was a prophetess/soothsayer/witch according to these texts and used 'demons or natural judgment' to prophesy and was worshipped as a goddess, who also presided over ceremonies and rituals as a priestess. They were sought as wise women by the male leaders. At one point Tibiabin predicted the arrival of "powerful people" by sea "in white houses" and she advised the tribal leaders to welcome these foreign visitors rather than recieve them with hostility, promising benefits to the land if handled diplomatically. The tribal leaders refuted this counsel and when shortly after Europeans arrived to capture the peoples as slaves they defended their islands as best they could.
Initially their defense was successful. When Norman baron Jean de Bethencourt invaded in 1402, his army of soldier/sailors were both badly organised and poorly disciplined, little better than pirates. Consequently the Canarians were given some victories benefiting from their knowledge of the land, it's elements and the secret long distance form of communication which still exists today. "Silbo Gomero" is a form of phonetic whistling which enabled them to communicate over greater areas and helped them resist the early conquistadors. It is preserved as a cultural language and is currently being revived and taught in some local schools.
However the conquerors continued to press the islands especially as they became of note as an important trading post between Africa, Europe and the Americas. Tenerife was the last island to fall to the "Guanches" in 1495. It had taken almost a century for the indigenous populations to be captured and converted to Christianity with many thousands of fatalities along the way. And today they remain under the government of Spain, although with their own president.
It's difficult to say whether the advice of the two wise women, had it been heeded could have changed the course of history. It is probably likely that the Conquerors with their great wealth and resources would have succeeded anyway, but I admire their attempt to strategically approach these invaders with peaceful methods in any case.
Friday, January 18, 2013
The F-Word Snapshorts: The Stackable Garden Part 2
So for anyone who read my post about the Stackable Garden and composting a couple of months ago (http://ninawilliams-crumpetcapers.blogspot.com.es/2012/12/the-f-word-part-4-stackable-garden.html) here is how it's going now - pretty flourishing it would appear, but appearances can be deceptive.
All manner of veg and herbs are growing well, however Dominick spotted some interference from the infiltrating insects so we are trying a natural pesticide now - made of garlic, water, washing up liquid, hot peppers and onion placed in a spray which will hopefully deter the insect invaders who think that this is yummy for them!
In addition - the compost, although kept in a dark room outside, has somehow given access to varieties of insects that should not be able to get in. Weirdly some of them seem to be actual fruit flies that have lost their ability to fly - as if their wings are sealed up, so despite weeks of dedicated recycling of all waste this may not be viable for going into the next stackable garden.
All manner of veg and herbs are growing well, however Dominick spotted some interference from the infiltrating insects so we are trying a natural pesticide now - made of garlic, water, washing up liquid, hot peppers and onion placed in a spray which will hopefully deter the insect invaders who think that this is yummy for them!
In addition - the compost, although kept in a dark room outside, has somehow given access to varieties of insects that should not be able to get in. Weirdly some of them seem to be actual fruit flies that have lost their ability to fly - as if their wings are sealed up, so despite weeks of dedicated recycling of all waste this may not be viable for going into the next stackable garden.
The F-Word Part 7: Barriers
So it's a new year and the sun is beating down whilst I look at images of beautiful snow across my friends' facebook pages. I remember how much I used to snuggle under the feathery barrier of my duvet during winter, hoping the eerie white glow from outside would be from an overnight fall of snow, closing down the public transport so I wouldn't have to go to work. The worst scenario was a light sprinkling in the morning, not enough to stop the trains entirely, but lengthy delays standing outside and then battling to get on the one train that made it through with hundreds of other people, only to get to work, wet and cold, and then for the snow to really fall hard. I'd spend the day anxiously reading travel reports showing all my lines home being closed, praying that the powers that be would send us home early, only to find that would give me a red mark for being late because of the delays in the morning and then for that to be reflected a few months later in my pay review.
I did deliberately chose to live on an island that has no trains or tubes and never has any snow so those obstacles are removed. But wherever you move there are obstacles and it would be ingenuous not to expect that. That said, I don't think I anticipated just how hard the language barrier might be for me.
I've spent the last 7 weeks studying Spanish every week day for 2 hours, accumulating phrases and responses and words. And I am still far from able to conduct a conversation in Spanish. I've only met two or three people who speak English and the onus is really on me to learn, otherwise only Dominick receives my conversational "gems". I practise my new phrases on Dominick, but apparently my accent really sucks and I need to get pronuniciation down as much as vocab.
I do love the language - I enjoy learning it and there is a huge thrill when I do make myself undertstood through language more than hand gestures. Yet when it comes to being thrown into a situation where I must think and speak quickly and understand I may as well be deaf and mute. I'm confident enough in the supermarket now - to ask for veg to be weighed and ask for carrier bags or how much something costs. But anything else totally throws me, like the postman coming today with a package I ordered over three weeks ago with guaranteed 48 hour delivery. Ordering things and receiving them are no simple task and usually an extra fee is required to receive items of mail as most things are taxed when they come in, hence the delay in receiving anything. Any unusual items (not in an envelope) get sent to customs first and then they assess how much tax they can add to the product or just hold it and leave a slip in the letter box asking you to send receipts for the item which takes a couple of weeks and then it arrives and then you have to cough up the euros. However, when I don't really understand what the postman is saying, well then I tend to panic and have no idea how to respond or ask questions.
I can only speak a little Spanish and usually that is when I have sat for a good five minutes practising what it is I want to say in my head or under my breath before I have a go, but in normal life you don't get five minutes to rehearse responses to unexpected situations.
It gives me a new sense of empathy for immigrants to the UK who have very little English at their disposal and how hard they must find it. And also an understanding of why people who do move countries often gravitate towards their own language/ethnic/groups because it is easier.
The best gift I think you can give kids, apart from being loving parents obviously, is give them a shot at another language when they are super young. Have someone in your life regularly as a family that can engage them while their brains are fresh and acquisitive in a second language that they will never forget the building blocks for.
So it would be easier to just seek out the ex pats here but I will perservere because language barriers are made to be broken, no matter how often I embarass myself or get flustered.
I did deliberately chose to live on an island that has no trains or tubes and never has any snow so those obstacles are removed. But wherever you move there are obstacles and it would be ingenuous not to expect that. That said, I don't think I anticipated just how hard the language barrier might be for me.
I've spent the last 7 weeks studying Spanish every week day for 2 hours, accumulating phrases and responses and words. And I am still far from able to conduct a conversation in Spanish. I've only met two or three people who speak English and the onus is really on me to learn, otherwise only Dominick receives my conversational "gems". I practise my new phrases on Dominick, but apparently my accent really sucks and I need to get pronuniciation down as much as vocab.
I do love the language - I enjoy learning it and there is a huge thrill when I do make myself undertstood through language more than hand gestures. Yet when it comes to being thrown into a situation where I must think and speak quickly and understand I may as well be deaf and mute. I'm confident enough in the supermarket now - to ask for veg to be weighed and ask for carrier bags or how much something costs. But anything else totally throws me, like the postman coming today with a package I ordered over three weeks ago with guaranteed 48 hour delivery. Ordering things and receiving them are no simple task and usually an extra fee is required to receive items of mail as most things are taxed when they come in, hence the delay in receiving anything. Any unusual items (not in an envelope) get sent to customs first and then they assess how much tax they can add to the product or just hold it and leave a slip in the letter box asking you to send receipts for the item which takes a couple of weeks and then it arrives and then you have to cough up the euros. However, when I don't really understand what the postman is saying, well then I tend to panic and have no idea how to respond or ask questions.
I can only speak a little Spanish and usually that is when I have sat for a good five minutes practising what it is I want to say in my head or under my breath before I have a go, but in normal life you don't get five minutes to rehearse responses to unexpected situations.
It gives me a new sense of empathy for immigrants to the UK who have very little English at their disposal and how hard they must find it. And also an understanding of why people who do move countries often gravitate towards their own language/ethnic/groups because it is easier.
The best gift I think you can give kids, apart from being loving parents obviously, is give them a shot at another language when they are super young. Have someone in your life regularly as a family that can engage them while their brains are fresh and acquisitive in a second language that they will never forget the building blocks for.
So it would be easier to just seek out the ex pats here but I will perservere because language barriers are made to be broken, no matter how often I embarass myself or get flustered.
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
The F-Word Part 6: Wetsuits or nudity?
Ever since I learned to swim I have loved it - I'm not an expert and my strokes couldn't be called Phelpsian, but I did swim the equivalent of the English channel - 26 miles - a few years back for ASPIRE (the spinal charity). I should add I did this over the period of 10 weeks in the local swimming pool and not all at once. Still being a hardy and confident swimmer, used to the all year round uninviting cold of the Welsh side of the Atlantic and equally determined to confront the frothy waves in March as September, I've often wondered why people wear wet suits for surfing.
Here in Fuerteventura the water is comparatively warm: sometimes it feels warmer than the air temperature and frequently like a bath that is filled with epsom salts and has been left standing for an hour. Yet surfing is popular here and I want to learn, but don't like the idea of suiting up or see why I should, if I am happy to spend hours in the ocean swimming. As long as you move you don't get cold, right?
A trip to the popular Flagbeach (below) a week or two ago taught me a lesson I will never forget.
Sometimes here I lie awake before dawn because I can't wait to get up and start my day, but don't want to wake my sleep passenger. In London that only happened at weekends - weekdays, I clung to my duvet, like a feathery shield, postponing the day on the train and in the office. I woke up that morning as the sun rose, with clear blue skies spreading like giant kingfisher wings engulfing the islands. The sound of dead leaves rattling in the breeze against the door promised wind and waves. It was cool, fresh and windy when I stepped outside, the perfect morning for practising some body-boarding and a swim. We drove to our usual beach, a white sandy expanse of about 300 metres, edged by volcanic rocks and usually only a handful of people. However, the tide was high and the waves breaking too close to shore for riding, so Dominick suggested we try a different beach with a more conducive facing to catch the waves. We headed north and found parking near Flagbeach which is popular for surfing, kite surfing and wind surfing.
The waves definitely looked bigger and stronger, breaking further out and already people were speeding across them with kites, bouncing 20 feet into the air and landing back in the water. No one was swimming and everyone in the water was wearing wetsuits. Wusses I thought as I gamely headed into the sea. It was colder than I expected but not unbearable. Dominick stayed on the dunes watching the kite surfers, as he intends to take lessons. I ran back for the virgin body board and dived back in the water.
I ended up in way over my head quite literally. The waves, whilst no more than 6-8 feet were faster and more frequent and powerful than I have ever experienced. The other major difference here is that in the UK the ground does not drop out beneath your feet, you can paddle and wade in and it takes a long while to get in waist deep. Here you can be up to your ankles and then waist deep with the next step - it's really steep and the sand so soft there is no grip. I suddenly got pulled under and over and didn't know which way was up. My bikini bottoms were ripped down to my knees. At first I just laughed, tried to regain my modesty and waved at Dominick that I was fine, as I found footing. As I was righting myself another wave broke over me, blinding me and the next completely barrelled me over.
I couldn't get to my feet as one wave threw me over like a piece of flotsam and the next pulled me back out. I caught a glimpse of where I was being dragged and realised that I was perilously close to the kite surfers. One clip with a board and I would be gone. I saw Dominick get to his feet looking concerned. At the same moment I lost my grip of the body board and the leash tangled itself around my neck and under I went. It was my first time not feeling in control when in the ocean. I couldn't even get the right way round to swim and the incessant crash of the waves was so powerful I couldn't disentangle myself from the leash - the more I tried, the more it tightened with the pull of the waves. Next thing I knew I was face down on the bottom sucking up lungfuls of sand trying to breathe. There were a few seconds between waves when I managed to get to the surface, choking and snorting up sand - a new experience as I don't think I ever ate sand, even as an adventurous toddler. I pulled the cord off my neck and the board took to the air as easily as if it were a balloon or a kite. The next wave dragged me across the sand into the shallower water for about 15 feet skinning my knee and shin raw. Modesty forgotten, I crawled out like some prehistoric creature that had just learnt to walk on land. Every orifice, including my ass, was caked full of sand and I spent the next few minutes coughing sand up as Dominick looked rather worried and decided not to go in the sea this time.
I gained a whole new respect both for the ocean and the surfers who wear wet suits. They aren't simply for the cold - they protect you against the burn of sand and rocks which can rip the skin of you in a few short seconds.
It was a rather subdued Nina that walked across the dunes to the car, coughing up bits of sand. Still when we got home Dominick got the pleasure of hosing me down as I couldn't go into the apartment as a human sand bag!
From now on I will stick to the beaches I know and that have other people swimming in them, enjoy the nudity and when it's time, I will definitely suit up!
Here in Fuerteventura the water is comparatively warm: sometimes it feels warmer than the air temperature and frequently like a bath that is filled with epsom salts and has been left standing for an hour. Yet surfing is popular here and I want to learn, but don't like the idea of suiting up or see why I should, if I am happy to spend hours in the ocean swimming. As long as you move you don't get cold, right?
A trip to the popular Flagbeach (below) a week or two ago taught me a lesson I will never forget.
Sometimes here I lie awake before dawn because I can't wait to get up and start my day, but don't want to wake my sleep passenger. In London that only happened at weekends - weekdays, I clung to my duvet, like a feathery shield, postponing the day on the train and in the office. I woke up that morning as the sun rose, with clear blue skies spreading like giant kingfisher wings engulfing the islands. The sound of dead leaves rattling in the breeze against the door promised wind and waves. It was cool, fresh and windy when I stepped outside, the perfect morning for practising some body-boarding and a swim. We drove to our usual beach, a white sandy expanse of about 300 metres, edged by volcanic rocks and usually only a handful of people. However, the tide was high and the waves breaking too close to shore for riding, so Dominick suggested we try a different beach with a more conducive facing to catch the waves. We headed north and found parking near Flagbeach which is popular for surfing, kite surfing and wind surfing.
The waves definitely looked bigger and stronger, breaking further out and already people were speeding across them with kites, bouncing 20 feet into the air and landing back in the water. No one was swimming and everyone in the water was wearing wetsuits. Wusses I thought as I gamely headed into the sea. It was colder than I expected but not unbearable. Dominick stayed on the dunes watching the kite surfers, as he intends to take lessons. I ran back for the virgin body board and dived back in the water.
I ended up in way over my head quite literally. The waves, whilst no more than 6-8 feet were faster and more frequent and powerful than I have ever experienced. The other major difference here is that in the UK the ground does not drop out beneath your feet, you can paddle and wade in and it takes a long while to get in waist deep. Here you can be up to your ankles and then waist deep with the next step - it's really steep and the sand so soft there is no grip. I suddenly got pulled under and over and didn't know which way was up. My bikini bottoms were ripped down to my knees. At first I just laughed, tried to regain my modesty and waved at Dominick that I was fine, as I found footing. As I was righting myself another wave broke over me, blinding me and the next completely barrelled me over.
I couldn't get to my feet as one wave threw me over like a piece of flotsam and the next pulled me back out. I caught a glimpse of where I was being dragged and realised that I was perilously close to the kite surfers. One clip with a board and I would be gone. I saw Dominick get to his feet looking concerned. At the same moment I lost my grip of the body board and the leash tangled itself around my neck and under I went. It was my first time not feeling in control when in the ocean. I couldn't even get the right way round to swim and the incessant crash of the waves was so powerful I couldn't disentangle myself from the leash - the more I tried, the more it tightened with the pull of the waves. Next thing I knew I was face down on the bottom sucking up lungfuls of sand trying to breathe. There were a few seconds between waves when I managed to get to the surface, choking and snorting up sand - a new experience as I don't think I ever ate sand, even as an adventurous toddler. I pulled the cord off my neck and the board took to the air as easily as if it were a balloon or a kite. The next wave dragged me across the sand into the shallower water for about 15 feet skinning my knee and shin raw. Modesty forgotten, I crawled out like some prehistoric creature that had just learnt to walk on land. Every orifice, including my ass, was caked full of sand and I spent the next few minutes coughing sand up as Dominick looked rather worried and decided not to go in the sea this time.
I gained a whole new respect both for the ocean and the surfers who wear wet suits. They aren't simply for the cold - they protect you against the burn of sand and rocks which can rip the skin of you in a few short seconds.
It was a rather subdued Nina that walked across the dunes to the car, coughing up bits of sand. Still when we got home Dominick got the pleasure of hosing me down as I couldn't go into the apartment as a human sand bag!
From now on I will stick to the beaches I know and that have other people swimming in them, enjoy the nudity and when it's time, I will definitely suit up!
Well some of the nudity at least...
Monday, December 10, 2012
The F-Word Part 5: Spanish & Skyrim
Lots of you have asked me - how is my Spanish coming along? The truth is, besides being busy with the move, I’ve been putting off learning Spanish in any kind of
constructive way since we got here over 5 weeks ago, only learning the odd new word
here and there to add to my Spanish vocabulario.
For the record, it's not my first encounter with the language. My long-lost parents began their marriage as JW missionaries in Northern Spain and only left after my mum got pregnant with me (perhaps they should have paid as much attention to contraception as travel and language!) Nevertheless I brought an early termination to their adventure, but they never lost their love of the Spanish culture and language. Around the age of 10 they decided that regular school was too much of a bad influence on their religious ambitions for a nice, spiritual girl and withdrew from public education and decided to teach me themselves at home. As a language was part of the school curiculum they opted to teach me Spanish, which largely consisted of giving me a large black book full of pictures of elephants and the word 'grande' beneath or a mouse, with 'pequeno' underneath. From this and some conversational Spanish with my parents during lessons, I learned most of the Spanish I have now, which is surprisingly well remembered and has been really helpful as a framework and having at least a limited understanding of what people are trying to communicate to me.
Even with this background Spanish I have been a little fearful of trying again 25 years on, thinking perhaps I am too old to retain it or even learn a new language and have procrastinated even though I know to make a success of this move, I cannot leave Dominick to be my mouthpiece in public forevermore. Whilst nursing my latest crop of mosquito/gnat bites I thought about what am I really good at and enjoy doing? Anyone who knows me well would know that I love video games. From the very earliest console tennis on atari to complicated, absorbing RPG's for xbox like Skyrim ( from where our house name, Breezehome originated). This led me to thinking if I can remember obscure potion ingredients for several dozen potions - that charred skeever tail,
blisterwort, blue dartwing and daedra heart are the four components for a
restore health potion in Skyrim which will potentially save my character’s life
in mortal combat against a Serpentine Dragon, then surely, I reasoned, I can
remember the four key components to concoct a simple sentence. The noun, the
verb, the conjugation and the adjective. This thought spurred me on - after all I can remember and use endless combinations of minerals to smith virtual weapons because I use them. I learn what they do and therefore I remember them - they are part of my knowledge. Hence today after making mushroom omlette and beans for breakfast I knuckled down to a morning of Spanish lessons, using Michel Thomas cds recommended to me by a lady I met at a restaurant we visited in January, who like us fell in love with the island and moved here permanently from the UK.
(http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Michel_Thomas.) Michel Thomas was a Pole who survived a number of internments in Nazi concentration camps and went on to arrest the Hangman of Dachau at the end of the second world war in 1945. He had become an expert on languages and worked with the French Resistance and also US Army Counter Intelligence. In a way his assimilation of language skills ensured his survival and became his future career as a language teacher, with his own school in Beverley Hills. His students included many famous Hollywood actors of the time such as Grace Kelly whose marriage to the Prince of Monaco necessitated the learning of French.
His calm reassuring voice begins by telling the listener that "any form of anxiety or tension inhibits true and effective learning" and goes on to say there is no homework and no need to memorise, just listen and repeat as the lessons proceed. "Let it be absorbed as knowledge and what you know, you will not forgot". Fears of inadequacy and ineptitude put aside I spent the morning developing my language skills. I haven’t really gotten onto adjectives just yet, but I have learned how to formulate a few basic sentences and phrases and learned that the stress always goes on the penultimate vowel-syllable in a word. Most importantly I learned that inflection alone changes a statement to a question without the need for the word ‘do’, which does not exist and has been hindering me from conversation as I couldn’t think how to phrases things like 'Do you have...?'.
My question of the day is: Lo siento, pero por que no lo tiene para mi ahora, porque
lo necessito ahora?
Rougly translated as 'I'm sorry, but why don't you have it for me now, because I need it now'.
This could have been very helpful when trying to discover why we still hadn't got cable, phones and internet a couple of weeks ago.
Ahora tengo corazon - now I have heart! So here is to Fus-Ro-Dah and my new Spanish Dragon Shouts!
PS If anyone knows how to get the inverted question mark symbol on an English keyboard in Word - please let me know.
Thursday, December 6, 2012
The F-Word Part 4: The Stackable Garden
One of the great delights of living here is the ease with which we can recycle. We both wanted to be a bit more environmentally conscious in our new lives. Our UK lives involved in an inordinate amount of waste - we got through a giant bag of rubbish every day and without transport to the nearest recycling unit, I am ashamed to say we recycled very little.
Nearly every street corner here has recycling and waste bins, which are entirely necessary to keeping the house as cockroach and fly-free as possible and smelling sweet! Partly this is because the sewage pipes here are too narrow to take anything except human waste - so no toilet paper or sanitary products can be flushed unless you want to really piss off your neighbours and/or have a flooded toilet. Every bar, restaurant and public restroom has little bins beside the toilet facilities for the disposal of toilet paper, but obviously in the mostly warm weather you need to empty these regularly. Hence here the large wastebins in every residential area are emptied daily. This system of sanitary waste disposal would never work in the UK, where in some areas the council only collect household waste once a fortnight, which inevitably attracts foxes, mice, rats and insects in hordes over the summer - not to mention the rancid smell!
In addition to the main waste bins there are paper, plastic, tin, glass and oil bins, so every morning this is my first destination. However, apart from a few wine bottles, water bottles and jars, we have very little to throw away now, thanks largely to our compost and stackable garden project. We also try to be imaginative and find an alternative, practical use for as much packaging and waste as possible. Hence our first seedlings were planted in used egg cartons in shallow soil ready to be transferred to the larger planter and then to the stackable garden. After the seedlings are ready to move to a planter, the egg cartons are then shredded and put in the compost, ready to decompose and provide the rich earth for the next planting stages.
Following much research on the internet we discovered almost everything in terms of food and paper waste can be composted. Hair from your hair brush (although probably not if you use lots of hairproducts), the contents of the vaccuum cleaner, dead leaves, crushed egg shells, vegetable and grain scraps, used kitchen towels and napkins, bbq ash, rice, stale bread, toilet rolls, shredded junk mail ( not the glossy kind),pizza boxes, milk cartons, wine corks, nail clippings, tea bags, coffee grounds, old wine, beer (not that I tend to waste much of this!) and even urine (although we haven't tried that - yet!) So I keep a sealed compost bin in the kitchen and most of the vegetable ends and egg shells go in here ready to be moved. The important thing is to keep the dry matter (paper, dead leaves, dried garden waste and grass equal to the wet matter - the fruit and veg scraps. We've re-purposed some of the storage containers from moving here and now they are compost bins, soil bins and sand bins kept outside in a dark utility room. Pretty much the only thing I can't recycle are meat, chicken and fish bones and left-overs, but these can all go to make stock for soups, sauces, gravies and stews.
Creating the stackable garden itself was the most fun and a feat of constructive ingenuity; although as it involved use of power tools, I mostly watched as Dominick did all the hard work. This is where I learned one of my first new words of the language - FERRETERIA, absolutely nothing to do with small furry animals, which was my first guess. This means literally ironmonger, or hardware store, the kind of shop that is almost extinct in the UK and US, overtaken by the larger monopolies who have enormous warehouses on the outskirts of most towns. In Fuerteventura, these mainly family-run smaller enterprises are almost as common as supermarkets, selling everything from pegs to lightbulbs and power tools and an invaluable resource for us.
We used a new plastic household dustbin, which I used to pack items to ship over and then turned out to be far too big to use as a bin here, given you can't keep waste in the house more than a day. He used a stanley knife, hairdryer and a scrubbing brush with the bristles ripped out to cut 3-5 inch slits in the sides of the bin (depending on what veg or herb you plan to grow in that area), then drive pockets into the plastic using the heat from the hair dryer and the wooden brush handle as a wedge (but any piece of wedge shaped wood would work). Unfortunately the first few didn't come out so neatly, as the hairdryer couldn't get the plastic hot enough to bend easily, so we bought a heat gun (See power tools picture above) and this made the plastic much more malleable. After a couple of nights work we had the stackable garden shell.
Next, another visit to the ferreteria to get the items to craft the irrigation system. For this we needed a length of hard plastic pipe (like the kind you use for guttering and drainage), a small saw to cut it to size and an electric drill to make holes at regular intervals around the pipe, for water to seep through to the plants. Once the irrigation funnel was ready it was placed in the centre of the bin (not forgetting a few holes in the base of the bin for air and water circulation and drainage). We placed soil around the pipe to pack it in tightly and then last of all a midnight jaunt to the sand dunes to collect a storage box of sand. The pipe in the middle is filled with sand and this prevents rainfall and water from deluging the multiple plants, slowly filtering it through to the roots from the holes along the cylinder.
And this is the end result, or should I say the beginning, as we haven't gotten to the final planting, growing and harvesting stages yet. The compost will take about a month to be ready and we will slowly start adding it to the stackable garden to enrich the soil. In the meantime Dominick planted some seeds in egg cartons and chatted to them regularly in the hope they would grow. Much of this is trial and error, learning what works and what doesn't according to the climate and resources available. One thing we did not take into account is that the tapwater here is desalinated sea water and still very salty and so tap water can't be used on the seeds, and therefore disappointingly nothing sprouted in the first week, despite the glorious late autumn weather. The second week we had tremendous rainfall and the agg carton got swamped and most of the seedlings washed away. However, I rescued a couple of sprouting seeds and put them in a larger planter, we kept them out of the heavy rain and only used bottled water for additional watering. There are never frosts here or any snow so there is no danger of them freezing and dying, but the wind is a hazard and can over-turn them, which has happened once, so you do need to keep an eye on the weather, which can change from sunny to stormy in seconds.
So now we have our first tiny emerging crop of organic salad onions, spinach and various herbs - all of which are quite difficult to get hold of here or don't exist at all. It will take time, but we hope to be able to grow enough to supplement our salads and veggies without resorting to imported frozen stuff from the mainland or farther afield. It's great if you are short of space and can be done indoors on a smaller scale using water bottles and containers as long as you get some natural sunlight through your windows.
If you have a similar project and any ideas please share!
Apparently it is a public holiday here today - so Happy Spanish Constitution day to you all!
Nearly every street corner here has recycling and waste bins, which are entirely necessary to keeping the house as cockroach and fly-free as possible and smelling sweet! Partly this is because the sewage pipes here are too narrow to take anything except human waste - so no toilet paper or sanitary products can be flushed unless you want to really piss off your neighbours and/or have a flooded toilet. Every bar, restaurant and public restroom has little bins beside the toilet facilities for the disposal of toilet paper, but obviously in the mostly warm weather you need to empty these regularly. Hence here the large wastebins in every residential area are emptied daily. This system of sanitary waste disposal would never work in the UK, where in some areas the council only collect household waste once a fortnight, which inevitably attracts foxes, mice, rats and insects in hordes over the summer - not to mention the rancid smell!
In addition to the main waste bins there are paper, plastic, tin, glass and oil bins, so every morning this is my first destination. However, apart from a few wine bottles, water bottles and jars, we have very little to throw away now, thanks largely to our compost and stackable garden project. We also try to be imaginative and find an alternative, practical use for as much packaging and waste as possible. Hence our first seedlings were planted in used egg cartons in shallow soil ready to be transferred to the larger planter and then to the stackable garden. After the seedlings are ready to move to a planter, the egg cartons are then shredded and put in the compost, ready to decompose and provide the rich earth for the next planting stages.
Following much research on the internet we discovered almost everything in terms of food and paper waste can be composted. Hair from your hair brush (although probably not if you use lots of hairproducts), the contents of the vaccuum cleaner, dead leaves, crushed egg shells, vegetable and grain scraps, used kitchen towels and napkins, bbq ash, rice, stale bread, toilet rolls, shredded junk mail ( not the glossy kind),pizza boxes, milk cartons, wine corks, nail clippings, tea bags, coffee grounds, old wine, beer (not that I tend to waste much of this!) and even urine (although we haven't tried that - yet!) So I keep a sealed compost bin in the kitchen and most of the vegetable ends and egg shells go in here ready to be moved. The important thing is to keep the dry matter (paper, dead leaves, dried garden waste and grass equal to the wet matter - the fruit and veg scraps. We've re-purposed some of the storage containers from moving here and now they are compost bins, soil bins and sand bins kept outside in a dark utility room. Pretty much the only thing I can't recycle are meat, chicken and fish bones and left-overs, but these can all go to make stock for soups, sauces, gravies and stews.
Creating the stackable garden itself was the most fun and a feat of constructive ingenuity; although as it involved use of power tools, I mostly watched as Dominick did all the hard work. This is where I learned one of my first new words of the language - FERRETERIA, absolutely nothing to do with small furry animals, which was my first guess. This means literally ironmonger, or hardware store, the kind of shop that is almost extinct in the UK and US, overtaken by the larger monopolies who have enormous warehouses on the outskirts of most towns. In Fuerteventura, these mainly family-run smaller enterprises are almost as common as supermarkets, selling everything from pegs to lightbulbs and power tools and an invaluable resource for us.
We used a new plastic household dustbin, which I used to pack items to ship over and then turned out to be far too big to use as a bin here, given you can't keep waste in the house more than a day. He used a stanley knife, hairdryer and a scrubbing brush with the bristles ripped out to cut 3-5 inch slits in the sides of the bin (depending on what veg or herb you plan to grow in that area), then drive pockets into the plastic using the heat from the hair dryer and the wooden brush handle as a wedge (but any piece of wedge shaped wood would work). Unfortunately the first few didn't come out so neatly, as the hairdryer couldn't get the plastic hot enough to bend easily, so we bought a heat gun (See power tools picture above) and this made the plastic much more malleable. After a couple of nights work we had the stackable garden shell.
Next, another visit to the ferreteria to get the items to craft the irrigation system. For this we needed a length of hard plastic pipe (like the kind you use for guttering and drainage), a small saw to cut it to size and an electric drill to make holes at regular intervals around the pipe, for water to seep through to the plants. Once the irrigation funnel was ready it was placed in the centre of the bin (not forgetting a few holes in the base of the bin for air and water circulation and drainage). We placed soil around the pipe to pack it in tightly and then last of all a midnight jaunt to the sand dunes to collect a storage box of sand. The pipe in the middle is filled with sand and this prevents rainfall and water from deluging the multiple plants, slowly filtering it through to the roots from the holes along the cylinder.
And this is the end result, or should I say the beginning, as we haven't gotten to the final planting, growing and harvesting stages yet. The compost will take about a month to be ready and we will slowly start adding it to the stackable garden to enrich the soil. In the meantime Dominick planted some seeds in egg cartons and chatted to them regularly in the hope they would grow. Much of this is trial and error, learning what works and what doesn't according to the climate and resources available. One thing we did not take into account is that the tapwater here is desalinated sea water and still very salty and so tap water can't be used on the seeds, and therefore disappointingly nothing sprouted in the first week, despite the glorious late autumn weather. The second week we had tremendous rainfall and the agg carton got swamped and most of the seedlings washed away. However, I rescued a couple of sprouting seeds and put them in a larger planter, we kept them out of the heavy rain and only used bottled water for additional watering. There are never frosts here or any snow so there is no danger of them freezing and dying, but the wind is a hazard and can over-turn them, which has happened once, so you do need to keep an eye on the weather, which can change from sunny to stormy in seconds.
So now we have our first tiny emerging crop of organic salad onions, spinach and various herbs - all of which are quite difficult to get hold of here or don't exist at all. It will take time, but we hope to be able to grow enough to supplement our salads and veggies without resorting to imported frozen stuff from the mainland or farther afield. It's great if you are short of space and can be done indoors on a smaller scale using water bottles and containers as long as you get some natural sunlight through your windows.
If you have a similar project and any ideas please share!
Apparently it is a public holiday here today - so Happy Spanish Constitution day to you all!
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