Still in the Dark and Making Faces

UNREADABLE EXPRESSIONS?

It looks like we might possibly have "luz" Monday.  Maybe.  More or less.  Yesterday, the lawyer didn't know if it might possibly be today.  Maybe.  More or less.  The inspection was done last Friday.  That I know for certain.  I was there.  As a result, the "bulletin" was produced Tuesday of this week (Monday was a holiday).  Something supposedly happened Wednesday, but I have no idea what.  Thursday, the lawyer received the "certificate," which was produced as a result of the "bulletin," which was produced as a result of the inspection.

For some reason, the lawyer needed our passport numbers today. I happened to bump into him on the street around noon or I probably would not have known.  I also happened to bump into him on the street yesterday, which is how I found out the certificate had been received, but he didn't tell me he needed our passport numbers yesterday.  And now, apparently, the electric company can't finalize anything without our passport numbers.

To be honest, I don't know if the certificate was received Thursday or Wednesday.  It seems obvious that the lawyer could have turned in our passport numbers yesterday and had the "luz" turned on today. There only seems to be action or progress when I bump into him.  And it seems that only one progression is allowed per day.

We believe our electricity would have been turned on two weeks earlier had we taken care of this ourselves and not let the lawyer do us "a favor" and use his power and influence.  But there's nothing to be done about it now except to smile, comment politely on how much it is costing us to remain in the hotel, and then say in Spanish "thank you for all your help."  I plan to see if I can negotiate a little money back for our time lost.  But I don't expect much

MY FATHER.
MAKING A FACE, 1948.

I have a very expressive face. My father actually wasn't so kind when he described it.  He would grouse, "Why are you always making faces!?!"  My father, too, was always making faces, by the way.  Surly teenager that I was, I would every so often respond to his grouse by telling him that maybe I learned it from him.  It never went over very well.

ME. MAKING A FACE
WEDDING DAY, 2010.

It takes great effort for me to not allow one of my "faces" to appear when I bump into the lawyer and am unable to get a clear answer as to where we are in the process or why he didn't tell me yesterday what he is telling me today.

When I walk by the cathedral, I love looking at the stony expressions on the faces of the saints around the doors.  Perhaps something to strive for.  Not sainthood.  Just a stony expression.

MOVISTAR SMILES

We have no idea how long it will take to get the internet up and running once we have light.  We've been working with the company, Movistar, on that — landline, TV, and mobile phones.  It hasn't gone easily, but that has been compounded by the fact that we have no electricity so can't finalize the installations even if Telefónica (the company that owns Movistar) were doing everything efficiently.  Anyway, Esther at Movistar is a lot of fun.  She insists they can get someone to our house very quickly once we have "luz."  But I'm beginning to realize that I have no idea what "very quickly" means.  Anyway, Esther and I have been having a wonderful time together (today was my fifth visit — no wonder I feel so worn down)

I do my business in Spanish but, while we work, Esther and I give each other little lessons in our respective languages and that is extremely entertaining.  Yesterday she asked me what "night everyone" meant.  After a moment, I realized it was simply short for "good-night everyone" and then explained it was like people here saying "buenos" instead of "buenos dias" for "good morning," something we hear all the time.  When Jerry and I took the train to Yale University and would then part company to head to our offices at opposite ends of campus, we would always say, "Have a good one."  We commuted with a woman who was originally from Croatia.  She would always indignantly demand, "Have a good WHAT?"

Today, Esther's question was, what does "because of you" mean?  She picks things up from song lyrics.  I enjoy these conversations and I don't worry about what faces I make.  Besides, I usually finish with a smile.

Thirty Years of Bliss

Today is my 30th anniversary.  Fortunately, it's Jerry's 30th anniversary, as well, or I wouldn't be celebrating.  Thirty years of joy, moving, laughter, worry, moving, love, family, panic attacks, moving, tragedy, celebration, stress, anxiety, moving, luxury, money worries, gardens, moving, ailments, celebrations, pouts, moving, blizzards, depression, glee, moving, more moving, and more of everything else that comes up in just about everyone's lives.

We celebrated our first anniversary with a large catered party in the elegant back garden of our Beacon Hill row house (we had that little one-bedroom apartment on the second floor).  I think we were both so surprised at the time to have maintained a relationship for an entire year that we thought we'd better mark the occasion.  Jerry said he had no doubts from the start that it would be forever.  I was convinced for a long time that, one of these days, he would realize what a huge mistake he had made.

We celebrated our 10th anniversary with a much larger catered party at our house in Guilford, Connecticut.  Ten years seemed liked forever at the time. We had a lot to celebrate.

So, here we are in Sevilla marking the beginning of our 31st year together.  I had thought we'd be in our apartment and hosting a party for our new friends to commemorate this latest milestone.  But that won't happen without "luz" and it's too hot to do much of anything anyway.  So, we have no big plans to mark this day except to spend it together.  And, for me, that's more than enough.

Carmen, Margarita, Paco, and Jerry

JOSÉ & CARMEN.  SHE WAS AMAZING.

We broke with routine last night and decided to take in some live opera.  Margarita phoned to say she and her friend Paco were going to the Palacio de la Buhaira to see a performance of "Carmen" in an outdoor theater in the gardens there and she invited us to join them.  Now, I am definitely not a huge opera fan, but I do like "Carmen" and I figured, as did Margarita, the language would not be an issue since I knew the story and the music so well.  The first opera Jerry had ever seen was "Carmen," so he also felt very comfortable.  Besides, the story of "Carmen" takes place in Sevilla at a very large tobacco factory.  We are in Sevilla and we regularly walk by the very large tobacco factory, which is now part of the University of Sevilla.  What could be more perfect?

THE PERFORMANCE WAS IN THE INTERIOR COURTYARD UNDER THAT GLOWING MOON.

We met Margarita and Paco at a bar in the middle of the Gardens of the Buhaira (just a few minutes by taxi from our hotel; a 15-minute walk if it weren't 36 degrees — 97F — outside) at 9:45 for the 10:00 performance.  When we arrived, Margarita said she was embarrassed to tell us that she suspected this may not be an opera, but rather a modern theatrical production of "Carmen." She was concerned that we would have to sit through an entire play in Spanish.  But, we didn't care.  It was our first live theater in Sevilla.  And the setting was stunning.  Besides, it was reassuring to know that even a native Sevillana can get things confused sometimes.

JERRY, MARGARITA, AND PACO AFTER THE SHOW.  CARMEN WAS TWICE DEAD.

The Palace of La Buhaira was built outside the city of Sevilla in 1171 and the gardens were irrigated via an old Roman aqueduct.  As Sevilla grew over the centuries the area became absorbed into the city, although it is not part of the ancient city center.  I took a walk over this afternoon to explore the gardens and to get daylight pictures.

THE PALACIO/THEATER THIS AFTERNOON.

The play was, as my Aunt Rozzie would say, "interesting" (which sometimes means, "I'm not sure I understand but I'm not going to be closed-minded"). The production quality was excellent.  The cast was very good.  And we all agreed that the woman who played Carmen was phenomenal.  She was so expressive that it wouldn't matter what language she performed in.  We still would have "gotten it."  I was able to understand entire sentences, but was not able to really follow the flow of dialog, which was obvious when I didn't always laugh in sync with the rest of the audience.

A COOLING VIEW OF THE GARDENS TODAY.  ANOTHER VERY HOT DAY IN SEVILLA.

And there was one actor with an accent I could not fathom.  It sounded to me like he was from Brooklyn (sorry my Brooklyn friends)... only in Spanish.  Margarita explained to me afterward that he was from Córdoba.  I guess it's the same thing.  My college Italian teacher said people from New York, and especially Brooklyn, speak without using any of the muscles around their mouths. I think she might have said the same thing about people from Córdoba.

THE ANCIENT AQUEDUCT.

Unfortunately, the director did something I've seen before and could not appreciate (the first time was at a production of a Molière play at the Old Globe Theatre in San Diego).  The setting in history changed as the play progressed.  The story began where it was supposed to begin, in mid-19th century Sevilla.  But as each scene progressed, the era changed.  I thought it was odd at first when the costumes were inconsistent.  But, I finally caught on when one of the characters, now wearing a contemporary business suit, used a cell phone prop.

THE UNIVERSITY OF SEVILLA.  THE TOBACCO FACTORY OF CARMEN FAME.

In this production, Carmen and José begin the play with José stabbing and killing Carmen at the tobacco factory.  They end the play with José stabbing and killing Carmen in a bullring.  When José stabs and kills Carmen for the second time, there are actors in the background waving Sevilla flags while pre-recorded football game cheers play.  We think this was to hearken back to when Sevilla beat Real Madrid in the 2007 Spanish Super Cup.  Like I said, "interesting."

ATOP THE MAIN ENTRANCE OF THE TOBACCO FACTORY/UNIVERSITY OF SEVILLA.

Paco loved the performance.  Jerry and I were happy to be out on the town and in such charming company.  Margarita didn't much care for the lack of respect for the original "Carmen" (she, like I, just doesn't get that period-change concept).  But it was a wonderful night out.

Crepe Myrtle? Go Ask Alice.

Jerry's mother's name was Alice.  She's been gone since 1999 but she lives on in every single experience we have.  If I am limited to only one word to describe what Alice meant to me, that word would be "joy."

NORWAY 1998.
I ONCE SAID I LEARNED HOW TO APPRECIATE LIFE THE DAY I MET ALICE.

Ever since we began planning our move to Sevilla, we have often commented on how excited (and nervous) this entire adventure would make Alice and how supportive and happy she would be for us.  A sighting last week of a flowering tree in Sevilla gave me another reason to smile and feel Alice's presence.

Alice visited us everywhere we lived. We took vacations together a few times over the years and even took her back to Norway in 1998 to see the country her parents had emigrated from.  But this post is not about the return to Norway (which was magical), this is simply a story about flowering trees.  And the story began for us in Washington, D.C. in 1984.

It was Alice's first trip to see us in Washington, D.C., and her first visit to the capital.  We decided to take a drive (about 3 hours south) to Williamsburg, Virginia.  As we drove out of town, Alice noticed a beautiful, small tree covered in pink flowers.

"What's that tree?" she asked.

We had no idea.

We headed down to Williamsburg, checked into our hotel, and began our walking tour of the historic park.  A few minutes after we entered the park, Alice exclaimed excitedly, "There's that tree again!  I'm going to ask one of those guides if they know what it is."

She hustled over to two women in traditional (18th-century) dress and then came hustling back to us.

"It's Crepe Myrtle," she said.  "Or was it Grape Myrtle.  Oh, shoot!"  And she hustled back over to the guides and asked again.

"Crepe Myrtle," she confirmed. In typical Alice fashion, she now knew both of the guides by name.

We continued our walking tour, visiting each historic building along the way.  The trees were everywhere.  "What's the name of that tree, again?" Alice asked every time we spotted one.  I finally said, "Alice, maybe you just should use some kind of trick to remember it."

She said, "Good idea.  It's a fabric and a woman I bowl with."

IT'S EVERYWHERE.

About five minutes later, we passed another tree.  "What's that tree again?" asked Alice.

"What was your trick?"

"I don't remember," but she smiled so I knew she did.

"It's a fabric and a woman you bowl with."

"Oh, that's right," she smiled again and then announced, "Polyester Ethel!"  Cute.

Jerry said, "Mother, why don't you just write it down."  She did so.  Problem solved.

The next day, during our drive back to Washington, D.C., we could hear Alice in the backseat frantically searching her bag.  "Oh, shoot!"

"What's the matter?" Jerry asked.

"I threw out that empty box of film I wrote the name of that tree on!"

SIMPSON'S NURSERY, JAMUL, CALIFORNIA. (FROM THEIR WEBSITE)

Twelve years later, Alice was visiting us in San Diego (we had moved four times since that drive to Williamsburg).  We were living in a wonderful old (for San Diego) house and we were spending most weekends landscaping and gardening.  Our favorite nursery was Simpson's, about 20 minutes outside San Diego in the town of Jamul (pronounced Ha-MOOL).  We were there at least once every weekend.  The place was so huge that you would drive the lanes of trees and shrubs, load up your car, and then drive up front to pay.  We were looking for a smallish tree for our front yard.  We headed up one row and Alice spotted a tree she liked.  "What's that one?" she asked.  Jerry pulled up so I could read the tag, but before I did we burst out laughing and Alice said, "Oh no!" Of course it was Crepe Myrtle.

THE WORK IN PROGRESS, SAN DIEGO IN THE '90s.

Monday, while we waited outside the Office of Extranjeros, I noticed some small trees just beginning to display their puffs of pink flowers.  Crepe Myrtle.  Alice is here.

EARLY MONDAY MORNING AT THE PLAZA DE ESPAÑA.

Be Careful What You Wish For

OK.  I'm tired.  And Jerry is hot (and I don't mean that in a good way right now).  Jerry is melting from the summer heat and we are both exhausted from the seemingly endless tasks we have created for ourselves (yes, we both fully admit that this is all our doing).  I will not whine — well, maybe just a little.  We are hot, tired, and overwhelmed because we have chosen a path that was guaranteed to make us hot, tired, and overwhelmed.  When we get some rest or sip mojitos at Carmela (our new home-away-from-away-from-home) while enjoying a late-night breeze on the Plaza Maria La Blanca, we smile and marvel at how much we have accomplished and how much we continue to accomplish every day.

BEFORE SUNSET.  STOPPING, AGAIN, TO APPRECIATE ONE OF OUR VIEWS.

The man from the electric company met me at the apartment Friday (he gave me 10 minutes notice).  He inspected our circuit breakers and gave his approval for our power to be turned on.  We still don't know WHEN the power will be turned on.  Perhaps Thursday or Friday.  Sadly, we thought this step had already been accomplished a week ago.  But, we will not dwell on that.  It's progress.  By the way, electricity is not referred to as electricity here.  Everyone calls it simply "luz," which means light.

I lost my temporary mobile phone.  I bought another temporary mobile phone.  We then ordered a ton of furniture at IKEA and I provided my new temporary mobile phone number so they could call an hour before delivery.  My new mobile phone was not working, which began a minor IKEA fiasco.  After three days and more than that number of calls to IKEA and the privately contracted delivery/assembly service, the furniture was delivered.  Friday night at 10:00 (and it was a surprise).  It's amazing to live in a city where furniture deliveries are still being made at 10 pm on a Friday.  But, remember, we have no "luz."  The furniture (an apartmentful) was delivered mostly in the dark (well, by the light of the moon).  And I was on my feet the entire time.  No furniture to sit on.

A FEW BLOCKS AWAY.  ON MY WAY TO MEET THE TRUCK FRIDAY NIGHT.

Jerry waited back at the hotel and we then met for dinner and mojitos at Carmela. At midnight.  It's also amazing to live in a city where you can get tapas dinner in a plaza at midnight and, a block away, gourmet ice cream (Belgian Chocolate is Jerry's favorite) at 1:00 in the morning.

I was told the furniture would be assembled Saturday (today).  What time?  No one could tell me.  Someone would call Saturday and let me know.  At 8:45 Saturday morning, the ringing of my now-working mobile phone woke me up.  The assemblers were on their way to the apartment and would be there in less than 20 minutes.  "I need an hour to get there," I said.

FRIDAY NIGHT.  SOME ASSEMBLY REQUIRED.

The assemblers arrived at the apartment an hour and 15 minutes later.  I had opened all the windows and doors to get a good breeze going.  No "luz" means no air conditioning.  And, to the apparent surprise of one of the "assemblers," after about 2 hours of working, no luz also meant no re-charging of cordless screwdrivers.  (He tried plugging it in anyway and then complained to me about the lack of "luz.")  These guys were amazing.  Four assemblers accomplished (easily and flawlessly) in a few hours what Jerry and I would have needed an entire week to do.  Anyway, another three hours on my feet and I then walked the 20 minutes back to the hotel to meet Jerry for lunch.

Missing are the coffee table, Jerry's bed frame, and the slats for my bed.  We knew the coffee table and bed frame were on back order and would be in early next week (which might mean Friday).  The missing slats were a surprise when the guys were assembling the bed.  Another trip to IKEA will probably be required to get everything finalized.  We still don't know when our personal goods will arrive from where they're being stored in England.

I have been doing most of these local tasks because the heat really is too much for Jerry.  He does what's needed (and what can be done in English) behind the scenes.  His time will come.

WE BOUGHT A GREAT TV ON SALE AT EL CORTE INGLÉS.  ALL IT NEEDS IS "LIGHT."
BUT HAVE I MENTIONED THE VIEW?

We have selected an internet plan, a telephone landline plan, cable television, and mobile service for us both.  There was a problem with the "system" that caused a delay in finalizing the paperwork Friday.  So, we'll get that completed Tuesday (Monday is a national holiday).  But, as the sales rep explained to me, they won't install anything until we have "luz."

Had we moved from Irvine to Palm Springs, I would be doing the same whining about all the research that's required, all the decisions that need to be made, all the hoops we have to jump through, all the bureaucracies to navigate... and the intolerable heat.  I remind myself every day that we are now — almost — living in Sevilla; and this is a major dream come true.

So, we'll sit in the dark.

Someone Might Call This Cozy

We have now spent nearly one month in our little, economical hotel room.  We have not kept each other awake — very often. We have not yet begun to climb the walls.  And we have definitely not gotten on each other's nerves.  That last statement is an absolute fact.  Amazing and completely true.  After nearly 30 years together, we can spend almost every waking (and non-waking) hour in one another's company and still really like each other.  This is especially surprising given the fact that Jerry, although possessing brilliant organizational management skills, is a slob, and I am a borderline anal-retentive neat freak.

EVERYTHING IN EASY REACH... BUT USUALLY UNDER SOMETHING ELSE.

We spent five hours at IKEA today.  First, we went to their "Picking Service" with our furniture list (a spreadsheet created by Jerry, the spreadsheet king).  For a fee, they are going through the warehouse for us and loading up everything we've selected. Next, we went to the cashier and paid for everything, including the fee for the picking service.  We then headed over to "Transport and Assembly." For a fee, they will assemble everything.  And for another fee, it will all be delivered later this week (no boxes or packaging left behind).  We made the arrangements and paid the fees.

I HAD MY OWN WALK-IN CLOSET.  NOW I SHARE 4 SHELVES AND 6 HANGERS.

We then had a very good and very unsettling lunch in IKEA's cafeteria restaurant surrounded by bickering adults and screaming children.  If all that — the shopping, the waiting in lines, the shelling out of a boatload of money, the screaming kids, and the bickering adults — hadn't been enough to give us both headaches and indigestion, we then headed back into the store with two shopping carts and we selected sheets, pillows, comforters, blankets, dishes, everyday wine glasses, coffee mugs, and lamps.  Our intention was to hop in a cab with all those goods and take them back to the apartment — which still has no electricity and, therefore, no air conditioning.  We're still awaiting word on when our own stuff shipped from California will be delivered.

LUNCH.  SO MUCH LESS NOISY AND CHAOTIC IN THIS PHOTO.

The most stressful part of the day — other than eating lunch in the middle of an out-of-control daycare center — was buying the linens for the bedroom.  What weight duvet? Why are there so many different sizes of sheets and pillows? Where are the pillow cases for the size pillow we just selected?  Where are the pillows that fit the pillow cases that come with this set?  Is that a top sheet or a bottom sheet?  Does this set come with a duvet cover or a covered duvet?  Should we just buy separates?  What are the measurements of the flat sheet that goes with this fitted sheet?

JERRY'S "OFFICE" AND THE "KITCHEN" AND THE "DEN" AND THE "BEDROOM."

We were so exhausted by the time we finished shopping for linens and then lamps that we could no longer cope with the thought of hauling everything into a taxi and then into a hot apartment.  So we arranged — for another fee — to have those two cartloads delivered tomorrow morning.  We then took a taxi back to the hotel.  As we passed the other shoppers — screaming kids, bickering adults — Jerry commented that if our relationship could survive this, it could survive anything.  But, I already knew that.

MY "OFFICE" (ACTUALLY MY CHARGING STATION).  MY OFFICE IS MY LAP!

Alien Encounters and Signs of Water

Today marked our first visit to the Oficina de Extranjeros (Office of Foreigners).  We were out of bed at 5:45 a.m.  Did you know that the sun has not yet risen in Sevilla at 5:45 a.m.?

We had a healthy and substantial breakfast (buffet) at the hotel at 7 and headed off for the Plaza de España with our wheeled carry-on bag filled with well-organized (thanks, Jerry) paperwork in quadruplicate, including another set of passport-style photos (to meet residency card requirements) — photos taken Saturday at the camera department of El Corte Inglés  for the surprisingly cheap price of 9 euros for 12 photos. Another set of official photos of myself that I find hideous. So I'm glad they were really cheap.  Who is that old guy?  I'm seriously thinking it's time to shave off the very gray beard.

THE VIEW OF THE PLAZA DE ESPAÑA FROM THE NORTH COLONNADE AT 8 A.M.

We arrived at the office at 7:38 and waited in what appeared to be a randomly forming line along the colonnade — 20+ people along the wall and another 20+ opposite them (and us) along the stone balustrade.  But, when the doors opened at 8:30, everyone shuffled into their positions in the line against the wall and we were quickly processed through the doors in groups of about 10 to control the flow.

Jerry and I stepped up to the information desk and were greeted warmly.  I showed our visas and passports to the man at the desk, he issued us two numbers and told us to go across the hall and wait to be called.  We went across the hall but, as we entered the room to which we had been directed, a guard came racing toward us and told us we needed to sit in the large waiting room next to the information desk.  I told him the man at the desk said we should wait in the room across the hall, but the guard said, no, and that our numbers would be called.

We headed back to the information desk to confirm with the man there.  I told him the guard said we should wait in the large room and he said, oh.  So we sat down and waited.  The electronic tote had the number "9" displayed. Our numbers were 31 and 32.

About 20 seconds later, the guard came in and asked for anyone with a yellow ticket (that would be us) to come with him.  People with white tickets waited to be called into another large room behind the reception desk.  It was obvious the guard had things well in hand with managing the flow of people.  He brought us to the room he had only a moment before kicked us out of and then told us to go to table 3 or 4, where a female and a male, respectively, bureaucrat (Thing 3 and Thing 4) sat silently waiting.  We went to table 3.  I said "good morning" and apologized in advance for my Spanish making my over-used and always warmly welcomed comment that my Spanish was not very good and Jerry's was "even less" very good.  Thing 3 didn't smile.  Her face showed no expression.  Botox?  No, Bureaucrat.

I told Thing 3 what we where there for.  She asked where my appointment letter was.  I didn't know what she was talking about.  She showed me a sample and I said we didn't have one and asked how we would obtain one.  She said she personally couldn't help us without an appointment letter and that we instead needed to sit down in the row of chairs against the wall and wait for the blond woman (La Rubia) at the unnumbered table to help us.  We did so.  While we waited, Things 1, 3, and 4 sat quietly staring at their computer terminals, not typing, not mousing, just motionless and staring.  Thing 5 worked with a family.  Thing 2 never arrived.  A line of people sat in the chairs waiting for La Rubia.  Another line stood outside in the hall waiting for the information desk.  The main waiting room was now filled with people watching for their numbers to be posted. The guard stopped by and asked me why we were sitting against the wall and not with Thing 3 or Thing 4.  I explained that Thing 3 told us to see La Rubia.  He scratched his head, shrugged, and walked away to help someone else.  He was doing his best to keep things moving.

FILES ON THE READY.  WE ONLY PRESENTED TWO PIECES OF PAPER TODAY.

La Rubia saw about five people before us — we shifted up in the row of chairs each time someone left.  At one point, Thing 3 called out to me from her solitary position and said we should go see La Rubia now.  La Rubia still had someone at the table and snapped back at Thing 3 that, no, she wasn't ready.  After only about 5 minutes of waiting, she called us to her table.  I gave her our passports, visas, and NIE letters from the city of Sevilla.  She asked what we wanted.  I told her we were there to apply for our residency cards.  She said we needed to see Thing 3.  Thing 3 overheard this comment and called back that we didn't have appointment letters.  La Rubia said something to me about needing appointment letters to obtain our student residency cards.  I smiled and said we were not students; we were retired (I said "thank you, but we're too old to be students").  I explained that we had retirement residency visas and that we did not work.  She then called that information out to Thing 3.  Thing 3 said, good, and that she still couldn't do anything without an appointment letter.  I asked again, how do we get an appointment and letter?

Finally, La Rubia, pulled out two forms (forms we had been expecting to receive today) and told me we needed to take those to the bank, pay 15 euros and then come back on our appointed day to complete the process.  I again asked, "How do we get appointments?"  She took out her appointment book and copied our identification numbers into it.  She then wrote our appointments on the forms we would take to the bank.  We can go to any bank to make our payment.  We will then return — with our receipts — to the Oficina de Extranjeros on our appointed day and time to, supposedly, complete the process.

My brain is still rattling.  But, except for a quick trip to the bank in the coming days to make our two 15 euro payments, we can relax until 25 August.  Maybe we'll then have the dubious pleasure of visiting again with Thing 3; maybe it will be Thing 1 or Thing 2.  Or perhaps the Cat in the Hat himself will make an appearance.

WATER, WATER, EVERYWHERE

At 2:30, I was met promptly at the apartment by the man from the water company.  He hooked up the water meter for our apartment in the main closet in the lobby and I simply had to turn on the taps to make sure it was working.  So, we've got water.  Now all we need is electricity and furniture!

OUR MAIN BATHROOM.  WATER NOW RUNS OUT OF THAT SHINY CHROME TAP.

Present and Accounted For

We had great plans to have an early breakfast today and head back to the Empadronamiento to register. The intention was to enjoy the cool of the morning before the heat and humidity increased.

GLASS!  WHAT YOU SEE WHEN THE CENSUS BUREAU IS OPEN.

We woke up at about 8 (that is, by the way, extremely early for us in recent weeks). But we rolled over and went back to sleep and 9:32 arrived awfully quickly (and, for us recently, that's still admittedly not bad). We finally headed out for breakfast at 10:35. By the time we walked over to the Empadronamiento, it was 11:15, the brief overcast had cleared, and the heat was increasing. For Jerry's sake, we slowly sauntered.

We had success. Or, as is said in Spanish, we had "éxito," which means success. It is one of those words I am grateful to understand; the initial assumed translation (exit) didn't make much sense. Anyway, we are now registered with the census bureau and counted among the residents of Sevilla!

I saw a plaque on one of the nearby buildings in the warren surrounding the Empadronamiento.  Apparently, these buildings have been here since around 1585.  I am awestruck.

THE COURTYARD OF A GOVERNMENT BUILDING NEAR THE EMPADRONAMIENTO.

Now that we're registered with the Empadronamiento, we can head Monday morning to the office for foreigners (Oficina de Extranjeros) in the spectacular Plaza de España to see how far we get with the rest of our registration process (to obtain our final resident cards). We have read online (expat posts) that you can make an appointment. We have also read online (expat posts) that you can NOT make an appointment and that you simply wait in line.  The posts that said you need an appointment said you phone ahead for one.  I tried phoning a dozen times today before they closed at 2 (well, their posted summer hours say they close at 2) and I never got an answer.  So, we'll wait in line.  We'll bring water and snacks and we'll see how it goes.  We have also read on those expat posts that we need to wait in line the first time to obtain a form that we then complete and take to the bank.  At the bank, we submit the form and pay a 10-euro fee.  We then — we've read — go back another day to the Oficina de Extranjeros, wait in line again, submit the receipt, our visas, and all the other paperwork and proofs we've carried since submitting our applications at the consulate in Los Angeles, and we complete the process.  The web is so full of helpful as well as completely bogus information.  This should be interesting.

WHAT EVERY DRIVEWAY NEEDS.

The lawyer who manages our building emailed me a bit ago.  His English is slightly worse than my Spanish (well, maybe more than slightly).  And he kindly and unfortunately insists on writing his emails in English.  This is what he wrote:

"Next Monday to them 14.30h you have to be in the floor because they come to install the book-keeper of the water."  

We at least understand that one of us needs to be at the apartment 2:30 Monday afternoon.  We have a general idea of the rest (a new meter needs to be installed), although the water is supposedly already taken care of and the lawyer does consistently confuse the English word "water" with the English word "electricity," so it's possible the new electrical meter is being installed Monday (especially since someone was coming from the electric company today to give a safety clearance so that we could have the meter installed and the power turned on).  In any case, I will be there Monday at 2:30 to meet someone.  I just hope that leaves us enough time to take care of our first pass at our residency cards. I think I'd better set the alarm.

Open for Business, Unless We're Not

Now that we have our Spanish residency visas (obtained in Los Angeles in June), the first step on the path to obtaining our residency cards is to register with the Empadronamiento (the Census Bureau).  I found the office late Tuesday morning through an archway in an ancient warren of buildings — after insisting to Jerry earlier that morning that it couldn't possibly be found through that unassuming arch.  The woman who helped me was very knowledgeable.   She gave me the two documents we need to complete and she explained the process.  On the back of one document, instructions and office hours are clearly marked.  This is going to be a breeze.

NOTHING VERY OFFICIAL LOOKING.

THE ARCHWAY.  I WENT BACK LATER TUESDAY MORNING AND FOUND THE OFFICE.

THE BACK OF THE FORM WITH THE HOURS CLEARLY INDICATED.
CLOSED AT 2 FOR SIESTA; OPEN AGAIN 4–8 P.M.

RETURNING WITH OUR PAPERWORK TODAY.  BUT I WAS SURE
THERE WAS A GLASS DOOR AND WINDOWS TUESDAY INSTEAD OF ALL THIS WOOD.

RENOVATED IN 2002.  ART GALLERIES, FLORISTS, AND THE EMPADRONAMIENTO.

POSTED HOURS: 9:30 TO 1:30.  WE WERE THERE AT 4:15.  I GUESS WE'LL BE BACK TOMORROW.

I didn't see the special posted hours Tuesday because the wood doors were pulled wide to allow access.  And the woman I met was so helpful.  And the information on the form was so clear.  We have repeatedly read that we should expect to be surprised (AKA, disappointed) by "regular" business hours.  We're learning.  Afterall, tomorrow is another day!

Powerlessness... And Another Set of Knockers

Well, we still don't have electricity or water in our apartment, but progress is being made.  The building is managed by the law firm with offices on the first floor (the second floor by typical American reckoning).  We met yesterday with the principal lawyer and another lawyer on his team.  They have kindly volunteered their services (yes, that's right, lawyers have kindly volunteered) to get the water and electricity turned on for us.  These guys have been so gracious, kind, and generous with their time.  Unfortunately, even with their help, it could take until the middle of next week before we have electricity.  We also asked them to help us with the process of obtaining our residency cards.

IT'S NOT MUCH, BUT IT'S HOME... FOR NOW (AND AN INCREDIBLE DEAL).

Each time we visit the apartment, we like it and the neighborhood even more.  We're very excited to get in and hope we'll be sleeping there some time next week.  Our shipped items are now on their way.  Minor apartment repairs — and new locks — will be taken care of over the next few days.  We're going to start picking up sheets, towels, etc., and washing them in preparation for move-in day (we're heading off to shop in a few minutes).  And we'll head back over to IKEA to make our major purchases and arrange for delivery.  It's all very exciting.  I'm gratified Jerry and I can survive so well sharing one room (in the hotel) for such a long time given our preference for personal space.

ENTRANCE TO EL PALACIO ARZOBISPAL (THE PALACE OF THE ARCHBISHOP).

This is not going to become the blog to visit for pictures of knockers.  But, I spotted a prodigious set today across the plaza from the cathedral on the doors to the Palace of the Archbishop and it was obvious to me that they should have been included in the "Nice Knockers" post.

YOU'D HAVE TO BE ON HORSEBACK TO REACH THE LOWER KNOCKER (RIGHT).
I HAVE NO IDEA WHO WOULD REACH THE UPPER ONE (PERHAPS A HIGHER POWER).

Nice Knockers

On our walks around old Sevilla, Jerry and I continue to see so many beautiful, unusual, and surprising sights.  Among these sights are the old and new, large and small, door knockers, which I believe are called "aldabas" in Spanish.  During our first week, Jerry would invariably (and innocently) comment, "Nice knockers" — not a phrase usually escaping Jerry's lips (or even crossing his mind).  I've had to explain the double meaning to Jerry, but we really have seen some nice knockers (of the door kind... well, of the other kind too if I'm honest), and I've decided to share some of them here (again, of the door kind).  I especially love the very large, plain iron ring (the first image on the left below) I found in an ancient church door, because it tops a little speak-easy window. ("Pssst.  Judas sent me.")

And, since I hate to be a tease, here for your viewing pleasure is a very brief video of BOTH kinds of knockers.