Day 12: Ten Crazy Things about Spaniards, Smells like Autumn, & The Creepy Creek

Monday 10 January 2022

Only two stories left to go! Are you already getting sick of it? Great, me too. 

I used to complain about my fridge, but this machine from the stone age takes the cake (spant de kroon). I slept with earplugs in, so that I wouldn’t wake up by the plane departure eight times a night. Just some wet toilet paper worked great. This time I’m not being sarcastic.

I got up in time, in order to avoid the angry cleaner knocking on my door. I wanted to watch Goedemorgen Nederland, but even with a VPN connection it got interrupted by You are not allowed to watch it from your location. Give me a break, not literally.

I went downstairs and tried to get some coffee from the machine. Only 1 euro! it said on the machine. I thought it was an advertisement until it swallowed my 2 euro for good. I smacked my hand on my forehead. Great start of the morning. Okay, now I’m being sarcastic again.

I sat down at a table in the recreation area. I couldn’t help to wonder if all the old people died of corona. I mean, where are they? I could still smell them.

The cleaner noticed I was downstairs and went up to my room quickly. At least I was just as scared of her as she was of me. She wasn't a spider, apparently. 

I decided to have an easy day. I’ve retired after all. No long walks, nothing too exciting. Tomorrow morning, I have to drive for two hours, see that damn church, and catch the plane to Amsterdam. I rather do that well-rested, than exhausted from the day before.

God agreed with me, because it was the first day that the weather was bad, all day long. Dark clouds floated through the sky and raindrops sparsely fell on the carpet of brown leaves outside. I'm home already. 

Loudly I sang along with the radio and packed my bag. Not that I wanted to go home, I just love packing. It doesn't matter if it's a box, a present, or a backpack. I want to wrap it like the spider wrapped Frodo. 

I was only in Spain for a short while, but I could already make a list of ten crazy things about Spaniards:

1.      They love dogs

2.      They love to paint their houses

3.      They don’t bury the dead

4.      They love to put oil on everything

5.      They drink early

6.      They eat late

7.      They dub everything

8.      They love social media

9.      They love babies

10.   They love fake plants

Of course, they also have more sun, better food and a nicer social life, but that’s mostly related to geographic location. Or at least, that’s what I like to think, haha. 

In the next story, I will give you a list of ten crazy things about Dutch people, which seems only fair to me. 

Let me explain some of these crazy remarks. To begin with, Spaniards love dogs. Barcelona, Tossa de Mar, Girona, Olot, and probably the rest of Spain will show how much Spaniards love dogs. Many of the people you see walking on the street have the little animal right next to them. More often than the Dutch, that’s why it deserves the first place.

Also important to mention, I didn’t see any stray cats or dogs, which shows they take better care of the animals in comparison to other Mediterranean countries. Or could it be corona related? If you know the answer to this question, feel free to leave a reaction below.  

Second, Spaniards paint their houses in different colours. How cool is that? If you do that in the Netherlands you will have angry neighbours knocking on your door.

"Did you paint it blue!?"

"No! Of course not, it's purple."

"What?!

"Green?"

"Godverdomme, wat zeg je nou?!!"

"Ehm, that I didn't paint it?"

"O then it's okay, here have some Gouda." 

That's definitely not how it will go. Just don't paint your house in the Netherlands. 

To be fair, my neighbour had some complaints about me. It was not about me singing in the shower or playing guitar at night. It was about my cats shitting in his garden. Very understandable, sorry Myron. He was taking care of my cats, so he wasn't that mad. They were underneath my bed each time he entered. Even my voice recording didn't fool them enough to show their whiskers. Everything went fine, except for one stress poop next to the cat toilet. I call them my corona cats, because they helped me through the pandemic. If you lived alone, you will understand why. 

I had 30 minutes of sunlight left and decided to go for a final walk. A natural park was 15 minutes away, I couldn’t have timed it better. It stopped raining, but the sky was still grey.

 

I walked down a road that turned into a forest. It was getting darker and the forest reminded me of a movie I saw as a kid. A mol that was lost in a dark and scary forest. I still get goose bumps when I think about it. Grown ups, stop making scary movies for children! They are children. Their fantasy world is already scary enough without your input.

It smelled like autumn outside. One of my favourite smells, wet rotten leaves. I might have a day of rest, but the fungi were having a glorious workday. They were busy returning the nutrients of the leaves back to the trees. You have to watch the movie about fungi on Netflix. You will never be the same. What? Exactly, now you have to watch it. 

I passed a restaurant of the Lonely Planet, that looked and smelled fantastic. Most restaurants close open at 8 PM, the time that Spanish people eat. I’m not walking down this forest road again when its pitch dark, dying of hunger, not able to have a beer. I will just eat the leftovers in my fridge. Very terrible. 

I arrived at the natural park and went deeper into the forest. It became a bit creepy, so close to nightfall in the forest. I followed the creek with crystal clear water. It flowed very slowly. I could hear the sounds of some rapids further away and birds were singing goodbye to the last bit of sunlight. It was silent. I was alone in the forest, with the birds, the trees, and the fungi. At least, I hoped I was alone. I could already see the headlines in the newspaper “Body of dutch woman (25) found in Spanish swamp.”

Swamp? Yes, the creek led me to a part of the forest that was submerged. It smelled like methane, the typical smell of a swamp, caused by the anaerobic digestion of organic matter in the soil. Sometimes I forget I have a master’s degree in Earth Sciences. Suddenly it hits me, god I’m a nerd! 

Something moved in the bushes next to me. I put my hand in my pocket and grabbed my keys. I held them inside my hand and made a fist. My keys were sticking out between my fingers. At least the scary movies were good for something.

The bushes moved again, something rushed towards me.

I placed my footing as a boxer.

Come and get me, motherfucker, I’ll poke your eyes out.

“Quack! Quack! Quack! Quack!”

At least six ducks jumped out of the bushes, heading for the swamp next to me. Donald, with his nephews, and apparently some brown feathered girlfriends.

My laughter echoed through the forest, almost waking up the volcano that slept underneath.