Hitting the Road

To say that the past 24 hours have been overfull would be a gross understatement.  I had gotten a call from the police in southern Catalunya about a week ago that they had found some items from my purse.  They sent them to the police in Barcelona, and yesterday I got a call that they had arrived.  So, after dinner last night, I drove over to our local precinct where I was presented with my wallet, my appointment book, and my notebook—the only truly irreplaceable thing in my bag.  All of the credit cards were missing from my wallet, but my driver’s license and Spanish identity cards were there.  It was kind of strange to hold the small pile of personal items in my hands, not knowing where they had been or where they had been left.  I’m glad I got them back.

This morning I started out at Iñaki’s, where I had one last workup on my back.  It’s gotten better every day.  Iñaki and his team have massaged me, stretched me, given me craniosacral therapy (pretty cool), heated me with a freaky microwave machine and probably some other things I can’t remember.  I went every day this week.  I’m not 100% yet, but I don’t feel doomed anymore.  I can actually put my pants on without pain ricocheting through my back. So that’s progress.

Iñaki had brought his chistu, a beautiful ebony, 3-holed flute that is native to the area around Pamplona where he is from.  He sat on a chair while I got my electrical stimulation treatment and played a series of beautiful traditional songs for me as a going away present.  He was very good, and it was awfully sweet to be serenaded like that.  Alec and I actually took him to dinner on Tuesday night—he is a truly special person and he has been incredibly good to us.  I think he’s only about 26, but has studied art history, gone to a musical conservatory, been a world class skier, and now a gifted osteopath.  I also got a book of back exercises as an additional parting gift.

From there I went home, where Alec and I made a push on packing the things that would go with us in the car, and the things we would leave with our friends until we return in August.  It turns out that the movers were pretty sloppy—we found clothes behind the bathroom door, books on high shelves and, unfortunately, three large plastic storage boxes under the bed that they had failed to pack.  Fortunately we had saved out one duffel bag for extra stuff, which is now full of my sweaters and winter boots and shoes.  How lucky that I will have all of my wool and cashmere in New York City in mid-August!

We packed up most of the car, and then Alec went to Iñaki’s while I ran down to the Corte Ingles to buy C.C. some underwear. She really needed new underwear.  In fact, I had thrown it all out, so I didn’t even have the option of stretching it out with the old stuff.  And then I went to a shop to get a photo of Manuel and me in Mora de Rubielos printed and framed so that I could leave it as a thank you present.

Then we met up at home again to fill a few boxes with spices and olive oil and other things we couldn’t bring with us and couldn’t bear to throw away.  We packed all of that in the car (mostly Alec, really, because of my back) and Alec drove it all down to our friends’ apartment.  Unfortunately, he got stuck in traffic from a demonstration and then had to park a kilometer away from their apartment.  Which meant that what should have taken one hour took three.  That set us back quite a bit.

Meanwhile, I took a cab up to my office to leave the gift for Manuel and scan my entire insurance claim from the robbery so that I could send it in from the road.  Then I picked up the kids from their camp buses, stopped to pick up the contact lenses I had ordered, and found out they had ordered the wrong prescription.  Maybe I can get some along the way.

Back home I made us all sandwiches, which we intended to eat on the road but ate at home instead since we were getting such a late start.  The kids took a bath—it’s been days since they bathed, because our hot water heater broke on Monday night and didn’t get fixed for three days.  I had asked Alec to run me a bath after his boss left on Monday—Iñaki had told me to soak in water as hot as I could stand, which is one of my favorite things to do.  Only cold came out of the spigot, so Alec went to check the hot water heater, which began to spray water all over the kitchen.  He ran downstairs to get the super, who came up so quickly that his pants were on backwards.  There was nothing he could do, and nothing we could do except wait for the hot water heater guy to come.  Anyway, aside from the kids’ daily swims at camp, they had not bathed in days.

Alec stopped at the market on his way home to say goodbye to all of our friends there—Henrik and Mari, Antonio and the fish ladies.  He gave them all bottles of wine I had not drunk, and Henrik actually cried.  We loved the market. Alec says Henrik’s stand is the thing he will miss most about Barcelona.

Finally, hours behind schedule, we packed up the rest of the car and hit the road.  The kids are not too sentimental about leaving, so far.  But I felt sad as Alec and I stood at our living room window one last time and looked out at the park.  We made a good life for ourselves in Barcelona, and I will miss it.