BritBlog

This blog, ie mine - Itchy feet at forty - is about our life in Spain, and a bit about Gibraltar too.

We have made mistakes like everyone does. And we have had lots of good times as well.

We want to share this with other people who want to move, live, travel, work, whatever, in this area. No ulterior motives.

I am seriously racked off with Brit Blog: The Blog aka The British Blog Directory for rejecting my application to join their list of blogs. They don't even have a very big list.

What is going on? Do I have to be scantily clad from Ibiza to get on it?

Here is what I received.

Dear BritBlog applicant,

We are sorry to tell you that your application to join BritBlog was not successful.

Before you get annoyed, please read on...

Perhaps you have not fully understood our submission policies, so if you have not yet read them but still wish to join, please take a moment to review them now:

http://www.britblog.com/help/submission_policy.php

It may be that we could not determine if you were British or not. We get a lot of spam applications each day, so if you think we've made a mistake please let us know!

Your blog may have been rejected due to a lack of content. If your blog is new and is lacking content, please do re-apply once you have made more posts.

Please remember that we get large volumes of applications each day, and while we take care when reviewing new applications it is still possible for us to make mistakes. If you think we've made an error do please contact admin@britblog.com, and remember to tell us the email address used for your application and your blog URL.

Please DO NOT reply to this email: replies will be discarded.

Thanks,

The BritBlog Team

If you did not request this then please accept our apologies and ignore this email.

Well, anyway. I replied - not to that address, the other one - admin@britblog.com. Foolishly. Thinking I would get a response. I am British. It isn't spam. I thought they had made a mistake. The blog has content - about Spain and Gibraltar. Perhaps it isn't the sort of advertising or publicity content they want.

I contacted them the same day. At the beginning of this month.

I'm still waiting for them to tell me why I have been rejected.

Perhaps they want a photocopy of my passport signed by the British Consul in Málaga to certify that I am a British citizen - which I happen to be able to provide.

Well I wasn't annoyed when I received the email - but I certainly am now. I think around here people would say "hijos de puta". It's certainly my view.

And now I have looked at some of the blogs on there I am not too worried. I can live without BritBlog. I will find some other way to share useful information with people that are interested.

Driving in Spain - incidents on the N340

We've just come back from a trip on the N340 between Málaga and points south. The well-known coast road that for the most part runs by the sea, through the amazing, totally overbuilt Costa del Sol from Torremolinos down to Estepona, and further.

In fact with the amount of buildings that are going up at La Duquesa (south of Estepona), the non-stop urban monstrosities will soon reach San Roque.

The road is part dual carriageway, part motorway, and if you choose, part cruising through the towns, but we have stopped doing that because it really is too, too slow. Although prettier.

The Spanish drive fast. Most people on motorways drive fast. The national traffic department regularly publishes statistics about how many people die over the weekend.

For the 1 May Bank Holiday weekend 2007 (celebrated here on the first and not the first Monday as in the UK), there were only 45 deaths. And this was good news, because 13 people less died this year than last year.

In a couple of trips we have experienced:

1) A strange guy driving very slowly (30mph - or perhaps it was 30kph) on the dual carriageway, held everyone up until we could all pass him.

When we passed him he seemed more interested in his nose than driving. Not sure whether he was picking it or what. With the bit of silver foil in his hand.

Later on he woke up. And overtook everyone again. Half an hour later on the three-lane motorway coming into Málaga he was in the outside lane doing 30 something an hour again. With everyone amazingly slowing down and managing to avoid him. Again.

2) Going through Málaga in the other direction, a car stopped dead in the middle lane. Two guys getting out leisurely to retrieve their obligatory yellow jackets from the boot before they started messing around with the car. The ones they should have been wearing before they even stepped out onto the motorway.

We just couldn't work out why they had stopped. Not an ideal spot though. Downhill. Traffic speeding up or flying off on one of the city exits. Still, another accident narrowly avoided.

3) The rude, ignorant, and aggressive driver of a Q8 tanker somewhere between Málaga and Rincon de la Victoria. The stretch of road where the speed limit is 100kph and we were doing around 85 and it wasn't fast enough for him so he started tailgaiting and hooting his horn.

Yes we were in the inside lane. Yes he could have overtaken but chose to be abusive and intimidating for a while first. Then he overtook, hooted his horn, and cut in front of us. It was fairly obvious he was going to do that so we were expecting it.

We are not the only vehicle on a motorway that doesn't do the maximum speed. We were not doing 30kph and picking our noses. We do not have a new vehicle or a company vehicle that will be replaced when it has died after abuse on the motorway.

A maximum speed limit of 100 kph is exactly that. It does not mean a minimum speed limit of 100kph that we should all be doing, and that everyone else who really wants can do at least 120kph.

We are looking forward to the day when Spanish trucks have nice signs on saying "Do I drive well, if not - report me...." Ojala.

More on the N340 and Spanish driving later....

Today I got on my bike

It's a bit of a pain when it's windy.

Did you know the Costa del Sol used to be called the Costa del Viento before some marketing person got their hands on tourism?

Or so I read in a book in the days before broadband access. And for anyone who doesn't speak Spanish - that's sunny coast, and windy coast.

It's normally always sunny, even when it's windy. But when it's windy most Spaniards stay inside. So do the rest of us, especially if we wear contact lenses.

Anyway, if you find that miracle window of opportunity, you can get out on the bike when there is a nice breeze, rather than a full gale blowing dust devils in your face.

And normally the motorists are ok too. Especially as they now have to leave a two metre gap when they go past a cyclist.

Of course in my village they don't know that. That's because half of them don't read, don't have a driving licence, don't have insurance, so certainly have no idea the law has changed.

Fortunately, because of all of the above, they don't drive fast either.

I cycled down the street to the crossroads and followed a car left onto the main road through the village. As usual there was some typical Spanish delay, so there was suddenly a three-car traffic jam.

There was nothing coming the other way so I indicated to turn left and started overtaking them. One of the motorists also twigged there was nothing coming the other way, so he did the same thing (although he wasn't turning left). Without indicating. Into exactly the same path I was taking.

Had this guy not seen me? Despite the fact that he was driving down the main street and I had pulled out behind him when everything was clear? Do cyclists not exist?

For all I know his eyesight may well be poor. People round here don't buy glasses lightly. My neighbour uses her husband's glasses when she wants to sew. Obviously not for reading because she can't. This guy may not even know how bad his eyesight is. Or his driving.

Sometimes assertive cycling means getting out of the way. And taking slight consolation in shouting helpful suggestions in loud English at blind motorists.

Buses in Spain

Apart from the sun, and the music, and the coffee, and the beer, and the cava, and the scenery, and the history, and..and..lots more.. one of the best things about Spain is the buses.

I guess the services are so good because so many people used not to have cars.

In fact lots still don't, and many women still don't drive. Not where I am anyway.

So I can walk down to the main road out of the village and get on a bus to Málaga, every 40 minutes, for 1.85€. And for 40 or 50 minutes depending on traffic, I can gaze out of the window at the Mediterranean as someone else drives me down the coast. This is A Good Thing.

Alsina Graells in Spanish, English, and French.

In bus stations you buy the tickets from a little ticket office. You need to go to the one for the company you are travelling with. (In Málaga this excludes the airport bus which is a Euro fixed fare paid to the driver when you get on the bus, have the exact money ready.)

On busy buses you may find your seat number is included on the ticket. Invariably the Spanish either ignore this or can't read anyway. This then leads to lots of Spanish hollering at each other and trying to sit on each other's laps as the whole bus has to start playing musical chairs.

I watched this performance last week on the bus back from Gibraltar. On the way down from Málaga it had been pretty quiet, but coming back, on the 2.15pm bus - the Spanish had obviously got out of bed - it was pretty busy.

Anyway, when in Spain do as the Spanish do, so I ignored my allocated seat and cleared off to the back of the bus. I would not normally recommend this practice - I add quickly - but I had all my bags with me and wanted the space. Plus I've got long legs, and back ache...well those are my excuses anyway.

This was a good move although by fluke and not as calculated as it appears. Unless there are 52 people or whatever on the bus you are not going to get kicked out of the very last seat on the bus for taking someone else's seat, but I only worked that out afterwards. I was feeling smug. Those of us at the back looked on patronisingly as 20 people in the middle of the bus suddenly all started mass musical chairs just as the bus was due to leave.

A British guy hastily moved back one seat to join me at the back in case he'd committed the unpardonable of sitting in someone's else place, and then it all settled down, and off we went.

So in the back few seats we were two British, one German, one Austrian, and one undefined with curly hair and a flower pot hat. In front were three Spaniards. We happily chatted away mixing the languages, although the British guy decided to go to sleep not long after the Austrian told us he was a beggar..... He loved the Germans and the English, apparently we are generous, but the Spanish are not too keen on funding his lifestyle. He got off en route - presumably to go and find a nice supermarket to sit outside.

Coming out of Torremolinos and into Málaga we hit a delay. At this point the gypsy family in the middle of the bus decided to entertain us. The kids were obviously bored so the (say) 12-year-old girl started beating her younger brother round the head with a water bottle, on the tenuous grounds that he was behaving badly.

"SON OF A WHORE!!" they screamed at each other, while the said mother sat there watching the performance like the rest of us. Then they got bored with the water bottles as weapons and started fighting a bit more seriously with fists. Mother must have said something at this point as younger brother promptly whacked her one round the head. Father sat peaceably next to mother cradling sleeping babe in arms. And then they must have got bored and it fizzled out. Bummer. Not seen such good spontaneous spectator sport since I went to Elland Road and there were more missiles (mostly beer cans) on the pitch than players. And that was some time ago as Kevin Keegan was the main target.

I love buses. Practical details - 10.04€ between Málaga and La Linea (one way). Four buses a day. Clicky linky thingy here, (well it will be when I can work out how to do it...) Autobuses Portillo - autocares buses transporte de pasajeros Costa del Sol Málaga y Algeciras in Spanish and English.

If you want to go to Gib for a day trip and stock up at Morrisons on whatever you like - in my case Ecover toilet cleaner, cornflower, organic tinned tomatoes, vegetarian Cheshire cheese, and Nando's hot peri peri sauces - there are plenty of organised day trips from the Costa.

I used the Lux Mundi trip in Torre del Mar. Incredibly well organised. Buy ticket in advance, get seat allocated, and turn up to find name on seat too. Most impressed. Bargain price too, 12€ return day trip. Leave Torre del Mar bus station at 7am (about the only down side to the trip - especially if you live out of Torre), get down to Gib about 9.30, and then the queue to get over the frontier is all in the lap of the gods. Set off back from Morrison's car park at 4pm as I remember, and get back to Torre around 6.45pm. Recommended. So is Nando's sauce. Lux Mundi tel: (00 34) 952 54 33 34. Trips usually once a month on a Thursday.

I've posted some info about buses between Madrid - Burgos - Santander.

Buying a new computer in Spain

I think this is a long process requiring months of research and product appraisal. He doesn't.

To start with, it involves several months of deciding to part with the money. When you come from Yorkshire that's probably the most difficult part of the job.

Having (almost) decided to part with the money, the next dilemma is what to buy. Every trip to Eroski doubled in length as I peered at all the computers and tried to work out any visible difference or extract any meaning from the minimalist specification.

Then I tried to find some computer shops. It seems computer shops (English and Spanish) don't sell computers any more, rather they tailer one to your specification and chuck all the bits in a plastic coated tin box.

In reality nothing new there I suppose. It just means the choice boils down to either paying for far eastern bits that get assembled here, or you pay for far eastern bits that get assembled there.

I bought a few Spanish computer magazines so I could tell my Athlons from my Semprons and my Celerons. I even found Pentiums were still kicking on, so I began to feel more at home. Guia del Comprador de Ordenadores y Software was pretty good as was Personal Computer & Internet. Don't be fooled by the English title, it's all written in Spanish.

Asked a nice man in one of the English shops what would be an appropriate specification for someone who wanted a good (ie fast) word processor and to fiddle with a few graphics. Not bothered about games or music. He pointed me in the direction of some lower to mid-range specification saying that was usually what he recommended for people like me. AKA middle-aged women who sent a few letters now and again - possibly rising to the dizzy heights of including the odd photo. I did point out that in the past I found most computers VERY SLOW and VERY IRRITATING and that I was thinking about using it for work but he seemed to think the middle-of-the-range-box-with-nothing-in-particular-inside-it model would be just right for me. I didn't.

Then I rang Dell but never heard anything from them. They told me to look on the internet so I told them I didn't have internet access and that was why I was buying a new computer. Obviously not interested in a 40-something behind the times English woman with dodgy Spanish. I looked at HP/Compaq, Packard Bell and Supratech as they were about the only ones I could see - at Eroski of course.

After flicking through my two trusty magazines and 30 trips to Eroski I was starting to narrow down the choices. The smart looking black one with the naff silver bits, or the grey one that wasn't quite so well designed. At this point I had decided against asking the helpful young shop assistants if they knew any more than was on the price ticket.

He began to get bored.

"Just go to Málaga and get the Apple," he said.

At this point I should confess that I have lusted after an Apple for some many years. In fact I have never met a journalist who hasn't lusted after an Apple for their own private use. It's something to do with a delusional idea of belonging to an exclusive club - that those of us who work in the print and design field have a computer specially designed for our unique needs.

Or it could be mind-numbing sub-conscious programming. Too many years in a newsroom sat in front of a tiny black and white screen with a little apple logo on the top of the monitor. Surrounded by colleagues all gazing at the little apple for creative inspiration.

But that memory had faded over the years and membership of the exclusive club had been uppermost in my mind for some time - an indulgence for when I had a spare grand or so. However, the IBM wasn't going to let me join the club too quickly, and resolutely refused to have any breakdown whatsoever, so I never did buy the Apple in the UK. The only reason I ended up looking for a computer here was because the printer packed up and I couldn't find one with ports instead of USBs. Just for the record the IBM is still alive and well 12 years on, but without a printer.

Back to the Apple hunt. I got ready for the big day and made the trip to Málaga. Wow. Cool shop. Not quite awesome but certainly cool. And computers that worked fast without me typing words in and then waiting five minutes for them to show up on the screen.

I reported back. "They're good, and fast. Nice design, no awful tower, but they are cream. Everything else we've looked at is black or silver, why are they only in cream? Do you want go to Málaga and have a look?"

He didn't. He thought they looked all right on the pic and the spec was OK. As I'd been promising myself one for at least ten years he really couldn't see why I hadn't bought it there and then.

"I think they are nice, but they are dear," I said, thinking that was good enough reason. He ignored me.

I held out for a few more days, and then I caved in. We made a rare trip in the Land Rover to Málaga so I could walk out of the shop with it and take it home to play. I waited a few minutes for the guy to check it all over, grudgingly parted with my money, and staggered out with the large box.

We arrived home, plugged it in, switched it on, and it worked. Pretty simple really. Even I don't know why I spent four months prevaricating. I hit all the wrong keys to start with, having been used to Windows 98/Microsoft for so long, and was gutted to find there was no huge manual for me to devour. Even in Spanish it would have been good.

Despite not wanting music, photos, movies, dvds, games and comics (and certainly not the internet) I used every single application within the first few weeks. I made the most of one of his trips to the UK and in his absence bought my first ever CDs - nice loud Spanish music.

And he does look very pretty, handsome really I suppose. He even gets wrapped up when we all go to bed, so he doesn't get dusty. I have been known to wash his face and dust the rest of him. Everything else in the house is gradually going grey with ingrained dust, so he's definitely pampered and cosseted.

He can be a bit unpredictable, but by and large he's pretty well behaved.

Down sides? The cost of course - more than 1700E last year. And the fact that it came down in price a month or two after I had bought it, presumably when they brought out a slightly different version.

After care. A misnomer in fact. The telephone help line is awful and unhelpful. Their first response is to tell you to look at the Apple web site. When you confess to not being on the internet they immediately assign you to the backwoods moron category anyway. Then they spend a long time telling you to take out the Apple Care Programme for Idiots Who Do Not Even Have Internet Access. The only useful information I got out of them was how to eject a stuck disc, and had I not panicked I could have found it in the minimalist idiot's guide (124 pages, size of a CD).

The only way to find anything out about Apple is on the internet, where you can cheerfully spend all day reading the Apple web site, information pages, discussion groups and more.

I held out on signing up for the internet for another six months, but that's for another post.

Good advice?

So, is my smarter older cousin 's advice to start a blog sound or not?

Anyway, methinks there is little to lose as I spend an inordinate amount of time writing old-fashioned letters about my travels around Europe to entertain people who rarely write back.

If they do, their letters are invariably full of detail about what the cat had for breakfast, how busy Asda/Tesco/Morrisons was, or how fast the kids are growing. My dog eats cats for breakfast, I know what Asda/Tesco/Morrisons are like, and it's hardly surprising that children grow up.

Nor is it surprising that I had itchy feet at forty really, if these events are the highlights of my friends' existence.

Time has moved on since I left the UK. Some friends originally told me to write a book (blogs not so prevalent then) - but like how many books are there about 40-year-olds chucking it all in to start a different life somewhere idyllic in Europe? Too many. I think a blog is much easier so cousin David wins out there straightaway.

But in deference to some of my friends, I will try and include a few flashbacks from the original trip. After all, driving on the pavement and uprooting trees isn't something I'd done before. Not really something you do very often in the UK, although by the looks on the faces of the French council workers it probably doesn't happen too often there either. Brownchurch roofrack 1 - tree 0. Anyway more travel snippets later, mainly from Portugal, Gibraltar, Spain and North Africa.