Haemorrhoids cream, anyone?

We were in the El Corte Inglés store in Elche today (yes, again) and I came across a jar of paté in the health-food section.

As faithful readers of this blog will know (if there are any) from my earlier posting, "How an mp3 player helps to relieve me of my haemorrhoids while allowing me to play with my little organ…," I am one of the world's foremost haemorrhoids sufferers (or so it seems at times). I was, therefore, immediately drawn to the name of the product, "Shiitake."

Could this be the latest in haemorrhoids treatment? A cream-like paté to be spread on one's slice of home-made bread?

I hate to imagine where else one might spread the paté and instructions on the label were less than abundant and far from detailed.

I left the pot in the shelf…

The Painting

As indicated in the previous post, the fireplace and chimney-breast were removed, giving more space in the living-room. The wall, of course, retained a huge scar, with a smaller one in the ceiling, so it was now time for the painters to come in and do their bit.

The two painters arrived on Monday morning and prepped the whole thing, covering all necessary areas with masking tape and brown paper; the air-conditioning unit was wrapped up like a Christmas present and the windows were also largely covered with brown paper (we had decided to have the walls around the windows painted, too, as the original paint was flaking there).

Painting walls is rather more complex than it sounds here in Spain. Walls are often not smoothly painted here, but instead are finished with a rough texture. This is achieved by first spraying a thick paste onto the wall in the form of tiny droplets. Once dried, the now rough surface is painted in the desired colour. The paste that is used to form the droplets is held in a large, bomb-like contraption, which is connected to a compressor. Once sufficient pressure has built up in the "bomb", an adjustable nozzle is used to direct the droplets to the wall. I must admit, this all seems like a lot of extra work to me, but the resulting effect seems to be appreciated here, though it makes reverting back to a smooth surface a real bind.

By mid-day on Monday, the prepping and droplet-spraying had been completed, so the painters left in order to allow the droplets to dry sufficiently for the actual painting, which would take place the next day. That went very smoothly, with two coats of quick-drying paint put on with brush and roller. Once the painting had been completed, the two painters removed all the masking tape and brown paper, and even mopped the floor carefully and thoroughly.

They had worked well and done a good job.

There is but a fine trace of where the chimney used to be, which is cunningly hidden by a large framed silk painting.

Numerous photos, following the progress of the demolition and repainting, can be seen at this Picasa album.

No Smoking

Our house in Spain came with a fireplace and chimney. We never used the fireplace and She Who Must Be Obeyed considered the whole contraption an eyesore. Certainly it was large and took up a lot of space in what is a relatively small living-room. A couple of weeks ago, we started talking to Antonio, a friend of ours, who also happens to be a builder with his own building firm: would it be possible to remove the fireplace? Yes. Would the resulting scar be obvious? No. Would it cost a lot? No.

And so the decision was rapidly made to get rid of the monstrosity.

Antonio started the job himself yesterday morning. By the evening, all that was left was the outline of the fireplace on the wall and a couple of days waiting for the painter to come to finish the job on Monday. He can't come earlier, as the plaster that Antonio used to fill the holes on the wall an ceiling has to have sufficient time to dry.

It all went very easily, with hardly any dust or fuss. The only problem involved the ceiling coving, which did not match up correctly, so Antonio had to fiddle a bit to get a half-decent result. When it's painted, it should be fine.

The living-room now not only looks much larger, but feels it, too.

A job well done.

Cruelty to Cacti

Some time ago (perhaps more than a year), a well-meaning friend bought me a sort of presentation box containing four small cacti. He had bought them at a local market because he had "never seen anything like them before." Well, no, he wouldn't have, as these poor little plants had been spray-painted, presumably to sell them better to unwary customers: purple, blue red and yellow were the chosen colours, if I recall correctly. I just allowed the paint to wear off over time and have gradually moved the cacti to larger pots. They now look like they are meant to look and can get on with their lives again. Here are photos of them as they are now, for you to see how they have recovered.

If you can identify any of these cacti, please do so. It would be a great help.

Sign of the Times

We have walked all the way down the Paseo Ingeniero Mira and have now arrived at the junction with the Avenida Europa, just before the beach. Across the junction, there is a small bar with a narrow, very short street that leads to the beach itself. Four years ago, at the end of August, 2006, I took the above photo of this location.

Little has changed since then, except for the sign that can be seen in the centre of the photograph.


A few weeks ago, I noticed that the sign had been removed: the donkey had disappeared; the mule was missing; in a word, dear reader, the 'orse 'ad 'opped it!

Whether this was an official action, or the work of vandals, or even that of an over-zealous traffic-sign-collector, I am unable to say, but gone it was.

To be honest, I suspect that the disappearance is the work of officialdom: someone decided that there really was no more need for a sign prohibiting the entry of horse-drawn (or donkey-drawn, or mule-drawn) carts of the tumbril variety.

Anyway, the sign has gone, as, indeed, have such vehicles. We have been living here for four-and-a-half years now and have never seen a horse-drawn (or other quadruped-led) vehicle in anything but a festive environment, or as a means of enjoyment (a jingly-jangly horse-and-trap-like-affair occasionally passes the house of a Sunday), so perhaps there really is no need for such a sign any more.

Still, the loss of the sign is indicative of another part of old Spain that is disappearing, for better or for worse.

Paseo Ingeniero Mira: panel 10

The tenth and final panel of tiles on the Paseo Ingeniero Mira is very special, as it shows an ancient activity that, although still carried out today, is likely to disappear in a few years.

Desde la Edad Media la comercialización de los productos pesqueros de Guardamar se canalizaba hacia los pueblos del interior. Sin embargo, es costumbre privativa de este pueblo marinero, la venta directa por las calles, con el pescado vivo saltando en las "zarandas," así como la subasta del preciado y afamado langostino en una pequeña lonja local.

Translation:

Since the Middle Ages, the commercialization of fishing products from Guardamar has been carried out in villages further inland, However, the sale of fresh, often still live fish, in the streets of the village has remained an activity exclusive to Guardamar, where "zarandas" are used to transport the fish through the streets on handcarts. (A zaranda or saranda is a circular net structure, peculiar to this activity.) Guardamar also boasts an auction of its much-appreciated and renowned locally-caught large prawns in a small local fish-market.

One of the three remaining street-sellers is depicted in the illustration. She is using Roman scales to weigh her wares, which is exactly the way the fish is still sold in the streets of Guardamar. And it's not just tiddlers that are sold, as you might suppose from the illustration; the saranda's are often filled with dorada (a type of bream), barracuda, mackerel, octopus, squid, hake… though just what the duvet-like thing over the barrow is, I don't know, as normally one sees the saranda filled with wet fish, lying on the barrow. Read more about the fish-sellers of Guardamar in this earlier blog entry.

Paseo Ingeniero Mira: panel 9

Panel number nine is, to my eyes, the least successful of the ten, with a strange perspective and a poorer relationship between text and illustration. Fishing is again the subject of this panel.

Desde tiempo inmemorial la pesca ha sido un recurso alimentario de suma importancia para las gentes de Guardamar. El entorno ecológico determinó los procedimientos de pesca: la pesqueras del rio, la pesquera de anguiles [SIC] en las antiguas albuferas y las pesqueras de la mar. La diversidad de especies permitió el desarrollo de muy diferentes útiles, artes y aparejos.

Translation:

From time immemorial, fish has been a source of nourishment of prime importance for the peoples of Guardamar. The ecological surroundings determined the origins of the fish: catching fish in the rivers; fishing for eels in the lagoons; fishing in the open sea. The different kinds of fish have led to the development of very different methods of fishing, and types of tools for the job.

Unfortunately, only one type of fishing seems to be represented in the illustration: coastal fishing with nets. The frontmost person is shown carrying a basket of fish, presumably just bought from the fishermen further back, who are holding a net that appears to be still full of fish. Other empty nets are seen lying on the beach and draped over a small fishing-boat.