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!
Thursday, December 6, 2012
Monday, December 3, 2012
The F-Word: Snapshorts: Treasures
When we were in the process of moving we had to give so much away as we couldn't bring a lot, but I had to bring some personal 'treasures' - mementos from loved ones. It's nice to have reminders of folks around our little home.This was painted my lovely friend Tracey Bainbridge in 2003 and is of me. (It should be the other way round - link won't let me rotate the image!)
This was also painted by Tracey and is now serving as a curtain in my kitchen to protect the passing kids on their way to school from seeing my naked breakfast making! I love the stained glass effect I get in the morning when the sun shines through it.
This lovely cross-stitch bag holder is also proving very useful in the kitchen and was made for me one Christmas by Sylvia Willmot in Scotland, who remembered my life-long love of birds.
Another cross-stitch, that makes me smile everytime I see it and reminds me of Lannie Waggy, who gave it to me for my birthday a few years ago.
And of course my severely whittled-down book collection keeping just my favourites that I plan to
re-read when I am too old to do anything else and without which I would never feel at home.
As with all treasure collections - you have to add to them. This beautiful and erotic Gustav Klimt print is the first picture Dominick and I bought together, and I we're both a bit in love with her. http://www.klimt.com/en/gallery/early-works/klimt-wasserschlangen2-1904.ihtml
Wednesday, November 28, 2012
The F-Word: Snap-shorts
Dominick catapulted us both out of bed just after 4 a.m. this morning having heard a mosquito in his ear. After ten minutes searching for the invisible wretch, it met its timely sizzling demise courtesy of the electrocution tennis racket.
However if we'd not woken up as the cocks were crowing we'd have missed this beautiful moon, the photo doesn't do it justice but it was set against the clouds, casting them all in silver.
However if we'd not woken up as the cocks were crowing we'd have missed this beautiful moon, the photo doesn't do it justice but it was set against the clouds, casting them all in silver.
The F-Word Part 3: Food
So shopping is of itself an experience - especially for food. Unless I take my Spanish dictionary - it's not always clear what a product is, so cooking can be a bit random.
I made a chilli the first week here and was about to add a tin of tomatoes to the fresh tomatoes when I discovered the three cans I'd bought believing them to be tomatoes were some kind of tomato soup. For the record Fritos does not mean tinned tomatoes even if the picture on the can looks like that!
Canarian Potatoes are a local speciality served with most meals rather than chips. They are minature baked potatoes with a salty, slightly crispy jacket and usually come with Mojo sauce which is a spicey bell pepper sauce, sweet and sharp at the same time and goes with almost everything I am finding. I'm so glad I have something to stand in for Nandos piri-piri sauces and this goes really well on chicken kebabs for the bbq.
Almost everyone has a bbq of some kind - it's generally too hot for my special roast dinners - both to eat and to cook indoors. Sadly the rain of the last week has meant switching to the hob indoors and I am missing the smell of charcoal.
Another oddity we discovered is that the tea and coffee we made at home tasted foul - all salty and bitter and really undrinkable. This is due to the high salt content in the water which you can taste if you drink straight from the tap. So for hot beverages we've switched to bottled water. A side effect of so much salt in the water is that everything rusts really quickly - pans, cutlery, cars. Within two washes a brand knife will be showing signs of rust so as far as possible its best to use plastic - pity they haven't invented plastic cars yet though!
It's quite easy to get old favourites though and I was relieved to find marmite on the supermarket shelves...so I neededn't have smuggled this one in after all!
I made a chilli the first week here and was about to add a tin of tomatoes to the fresh tomatoes when I discovered the three cans I'd bought believing them to be tomatoes were some kind of tomato soup. For the record Fritos does not mean tinned tomatoes even if the picture on the can looks like that!
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| The one on the right is the proper stuff! |
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| Mojo Sauce |
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| Here's a monster kebab Dominick made the other night about to hit the flames! |
Another oddity we discovered is that the tea and coffee we made at home tasted foul - all salty and bitter and really undrinkable. This is due to the high salt content in the water which you can taste if you drink straight from the tap. So for hot beverages we've switched to bottled water. A side effect of so much salt in the water is that everything rusts really quickly - pans, cutlery, cars. Within two washes a brand knife will be showing signs of rust so as far as possible its best to use plastic - pity they haven't invented plastic cars yet though!
It's quite easy to get old favourites though and I was relieved to find marmite on the supermarket shelves...so I neededn't have smuggled this one in after all!
Some of the packaging is weird as I posted on www.facebook.com/crumpetcapers about "slutty bread".
Does anyone remember the yellow Yorkie chocolate bar with the almond nuts in? Well I have been missing that for years since they discontinued it, but I think I might have found a replacement with dark chocolate!
I will have to wait until Saturday (cheat day - to be explained in a further blog) to trial it!
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
The F-Word Part 2: Of Flies and Fish
Perhaps it will come as some
consolation if you’re stuck at work reading this, it’s not all fun and frolics on this island off the coast of Africa. Pests do abound as
I discovered on our first morning here a few weeks ago.
These prehistoric-looking creatures scuttle more rapidly than I could
ever have imagined and you can get an excellent work-out chasing them with a
shoe, but they are pretty hardy and usually survive the first few whacks,
should you be quick enough to catch them. I’ve never actually encountered such
large insects outside of a zoo. We discovered that every household needs a can
of Raid and quickly obtained some. Dirty plates, used cups and every crumb must
be cleaned up fastidiously and immediately to detract them. All food including
in cupboards must be sealed tightly at all times. Otherwise you will find them
having left-over parties in the kitchen, leaving piles of black poop up the
walls and wherever they move. And definitely no toast and tea in bed! However, comparing
this unanticipated challenge to the alternative of commuting on a train
squashed against strangers for three hours every day to spend 8 hours in an
office with mice running around, I’d definitely take las cucarachas.
Not all the creatures cause a nuisance though – the butterflies and dragon
flies are enormous and beautiful. Lizards are common to spot around the apartment and help with the flies. The birds and chipmunks are relatively
unafraid of people and will even eat from your hand in some places.
There are no sheep or cows or
really much in the way of agricultural farming because the island is mostly
desert and there is nowhere for them to graze. The most common sight are the
goats. We took an off road journey and found a dog herding them (see below),
which was rather odd, but not another human in sight for miles. The goats
provide milk, cheese and meat and for the island and roam freely throughout the
mountains.
I remember from our January visit
that tiny cockroaches got everywhere in the self-catering apartment we stayed
in, but they were small and I put it down to our choice of budget
accommodation. It never occurred to me that these wee beasties were just babies
and that they grow to the size of the mouth of a pint glass and even longer if
you count their feelers. This is about two-thirds of the actual size.
Mosquitos also abound, but it’s definitely worse if you are near water.
In the holiday villa we rented a few weeks ago there was a pool and this seemed
to invite mosquitos in droves. Unfortunately we didn’t see them, just the bites
they left. These take forever to heal and are itchy for about a week. I have
had several on me including two on my face,
whilst they seem to prefer Dominick’s feet.
You can’t really avoid them, but you can stay covered up (I am seriously
considering adopting the hijab if I get anymore on my face!) although that’s
not really ideal when it gets up to 80F in the day and doesn’t drop below 72F
at night and there is no air conditioning apart from in some of the
supermarkets. You can also buy wristbands which emit citrus odours to deter them,
but they are only really efficient if you wear them on each wrist and ankle. Or
you can spray every four hours with insect repellent and hope for the best. It
doesn’t seem like the locals get bitten as much as us, so we’re hoping that we
get some kind of immunity after so many weeks/bites.
The biggest bane are the flies
– you can’t eat outside anywhere without having swarms of them landing on you
and your food and they do not take a siesta either so it makes sunbathing
impossible. I am so glad we brought our electronic fly swatters! Mysteriously
as the sun sets at 6 they all vanish and so eating out in the evening is the
best time.
Not all the creatures cause a nuisance though – the butterflies and dragon
flies are enormous and beautiful. Lizards are common to spot around the apartment and help with the flies. The birds and chipmunks are relatively
unafraid of people and will even eat from your hand in some places.
There are no sheep or cows or
really much in the way of agricultural farming because the island is mostly
desert and there is nowhere for them to graze. The most common sight are the
goats. We took an off road journey and found a dog herding them (see below),
which was rather odd, but not another human in sight for miles. The goats
provide milk, cheese and meat and for the island and roam freely throughout the
mountains.
Best of all though F is for Fish and
this is in glorious tasty abundance. I’ve never enjoyed such delicious prawns,
shellfish, sea bass, dorado, snapper and tuna mostly caught fresh on the shores
that morning. Fish has quickly replaced my life-time favourite of fillet steak.
It is the staple, and really only other available, protein that is not imported
from Spain or further afield. Luckily we’re both fans of fish and goats cheese!
Overall flies and fish win out
over “mice and men” for me. I realise that there is no complete freedom from
challenges and stresses, but what I can do is choose which ones I prefer to be
fettered by and adapt to them.
Friday, November 23, 2012
The F-Word Part 1
Tuesday 13 November 2012
F is for Fuerteventura and a strange new life for me and Dominick, escaping the ever-tightening noose of London which, with the commuting, over-crowding and grey skies, meant we were only enjoying a fraction of our lives and not living in any sense fully. Life was all about surviving the journey to work, surviving the daily stresses, surviving the combat of getting home and then trying to raise a smile for one another when we got there.
In January of this year we came to Fuerteventura, knowing nothing about it, except it was a cheap package holiday that promised a little space and sunshine, a reprieve from an exhausting 2011 work-wise. We loved it and we decided there and then that we would move here and learn to live, instead of just survive.
From the moment I came home I fantasised constantly about going back - permanently. In the meantime I wasted no time constructing my survival strategy for the rest of the year, namely booking another week in November. It's what we all do - come back from a fantastic holiday and immediately look to the planning the next one I guess, and the planning and dreaming is half the fun.
To both of us the desire to move full-time was not just a fantasy, but a firm goal. I started to live as if it would happen, not knowing how we would make it possible, but determined as I always am when I set my mind to something seemingly impossible ( a bit like marrying Dominick, which I decided pretty much in a couple of days of meeting him). I started packing up belongings and for every weekend of the last few months took a bag of clothes, shoes, ornaments, books, games and dvds to charity shops, gradually shedding everything I knew I couldn't take with me. I told everyone I met I was moving, I just didn't know when. I got used to the raised eyebrows and doubtful expressions, as no one really believed me...and sometimes I wasn't sure if I totally believed me either.
We thought we'd have to wait another year so Dominick could get British citizenship in 2013, having resided in the UK for the statutory three years since he arrived in 2010 and then we'd be able to live in another part of the EU. One frustrating afternoon at work, as the Olympic euphoria in London had finally given way to damp weather and spirits, I felt desperate for a quicker escape route so I did some more research into the legalities, impulsively employed an immigration lawyer and discovered that, as the spouse of an EU citizen, Dominick could move anytime. We'd still have to apply for residency and depending on whether we had jobs and a place to live and no criminal records, we'd be able to get it. Dominick engineered a way to work from home as his company began to outsource to Eastern Europe. I had just gotten my honours degree in late August (after 6 years of studying whilst working), so I hoped that might help with obtaining a teaching position, but with the cost of living being so low, we figured if we were prepared to live frugally we could manage on one income for a while.
Finally we had a way to be here forever or as long as we want to be (pending successful residency applications) and so I tore up our return flight tickets, handed in my notice at work (HURRAY!), found an apartment and we flew to Fuerteventura for our holiday in November with no plans to return.
It's exciting, a bit scary and so very much to learn, but we're loving it and am so thankful to be here with Dominick. Sometimes it seems if you wish for something very hard, plan as if there is no way it won't happen and live as if it is about to, then it will.
F is for Fuerteventura and a strange new life for me and Dominick, escaping the ever-tightening noose of London which, with the commuting, over-crowding and grey skies, meant we were only enjoying a fraction of our lives and not living in any sense fully. Life was all about surviving the journey to work, surviving the daily stresses, surviving the combat of getting home and then trying to raise a smile for one another when we got there.
In January of this year we came to Fuerteventura, knowing nothing about it, except it was a cheap package holiday that promised a little space and sunshine, a reprieve from an exhausting 2011 work-wise. We loved it and we decided there and then that we would move here and learn to live, instead of just survive.
From the moment I came home I fantasised constantly about going back - permanently. In the meantime I wasted no time constructing my survival strategy for the rest of the year, namely booking another week in November. It's what we all do - come back from a fantastic holiday and immediately look to the planning the next one I guess, and the planning and dreaming is half the fun.
To both of us the desire to move full-time was not just a fantasy, but a firm goal. I started to live as if it would happen, not knowing how we would make it possible, but determined as I always am when I set my mind to something seemingly impossible ( a bit like marrying Dominick, which I decided pretty much in a couple of days of meeting him). I started packing up belongings and for every weekend of the last few months took a bag of clothes, shoes, ornaments, books, games and dvds to charity shops, gradually shedding everything I knew I couldn't take with me. I told everyone I met I was moving, I just didn't know when. I got used to the raised eyebrows and doubtful expressions, as no one really believed me...and sometimes I wasn't sure if I totally believed me either.
We thought we'd have to wait another year so Dominick could get British citizenship in 2013, having resided in the UK for the statutory three years since he arrived in 2010 and then we'd be able to live in another part of the EU. One frustrating afternoon at work, as the Olympic euphoria in London had finally given way to damp weather and spirits, I felt desperate for a quicker escape route so I did some more research into the legalities, impulsively employed an immigration lawyer and discovered that, as the spouse of an EU citizen, Dominick could move anytime. We'd still have to apply for residency and depending on whether we had jobs and a place to live and no criminal records, we'd be able to get it. Dominick engineered a way to work from home as his company began to outsource to Eastern Europe. I had just gotten my honours degree in late August (after 6 years of studying whilst working), so I hoped that might help with obtaining a teaching position, but with the cost of living being so low, we figured if we were prepared to live frugally we could manage on one income for a while.
Finally we had a way to be here forever or as long as we want to be (pending successful residency applications) and so I tore up our return flight tickets, handed in my notice at work (HURRAY!), found an apartment and we flew to Fuerteventura for our holiday in November with no plans to return.
It's exciting, a bit scary and so very much to learn, but we're loving it and am so thankful to be here with Dominick. Sometimes it seems if you wish for something very hard, plan as if there is no way it won't happen and live as if it is about to, then it will.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Come on Slovenia!
Today I will be a traitor and supporting Slovenia. Why? Because today I hate being in England.
I hate the weather, the misery of up to 3 hours daily commuting in this heat, the lack of air conditioning - the cattle-cramped train carriages sticking thigh to thigh to my fellow passengers, inhaling sweat and curry fumes from hundreds of alien pores, elbows jabbing me, my knees forced up to my chest and craning for a tiny bit of polluted air from the three inch window vents, praying the driver will speed up at least to get some air in and get us to the office on time for once. If only we had a siesta time in the summer like other equally hot European countries, or could just start and finish a little earlier. Last night as I waited for a delayed train, after being delayed in the office it was still so hot I burned even through my clothes in places. Summer in the city is no fun at all.
I long to lie naked on cool, smooth black rock marooned by the incoming tide and to plunge into freezing Atlantic sea. But picturing it is about the closest I can get to cooling off. Instead I look at the hollow moon of the Millennium Wheel as I cross the river and fantasise that it could be turned into a giant fan to lend some reprieve to the humidity and heat in London, or better still to stir up a massive vortex, a worm hole to somewhere with ice and penguins and Eskimo kisses.
It's not quite the "vent" I wanted, but it helped.
I hate the weather, the misery of up to 3 hours daily commuting in this heat, the lack of air conditioning - the cattle-cramped train carriages sticking thigh to thigh to my fellow passengers, inhaling sweat and curry fumes from hundreds of alien pores, elbows jabbing me, my knees forced up to my chest and craning for a tiny bit of polluted air from the three inch window vents, praying the driver will speed up at least to get some air in and get us to the office on time for once. If only we had a siesta time in the summer like other equally hot European countries, or could just start and finish a little earlier. Last night as I waited for a delayed train, after being delayed in the office it was still so hot I burned even through my clothes in places. Summer in the city is no fun at all.
I long to lie naked on cool, smooth black rock marooned by the incoming tide and to plunge into freezing Atlantic sea. But picturing it is about the closest I can get to cooling off. Instead I look at the hollow moon of the Millennium Wheel as I cross the river and fantasise that it could be turned into a giant fan to lend some reprieve to the humidity and heat in London, or better still to stir up a massive vortex, a worm hole to somewhere with ice and penguins and Eskimo kisses.
It's not quite the "vent" I wanted, but it helped.
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