So the first of the month I moved to an apartment with two Frenchmen from the residence. One is Basque-French, Bixente, and the other is French from Nice, Steeve. The apartment is right next to the Official Language School, in downtown Eibar, and I have been quite content. I like having my own space and being so close to downtown, I can enjoy the Spanish paseo, or afternoon stroll and feel a little closer to Spanish life. I didn’t go out much from the residence because of such a walk to get to downtown to take a walk.
I have also started an English conversation group on Friday afternoons and have started attending a Pilates class at the gym. I love the class, and the teacher, Nerea, is fabulous. I can strengthen my core, posture, balance and Spanish all in one. I am still thoroughly enjoying my French class and go out for coffee usually every week with some of my French-class mates. Although I am living with two Frenchies, we mostly just speak in Castellaño, but I employ their aid each week for my homework.
The first day we got the keys for the apartment, we walked up to the apartment with the land-lady to look over details and how certain things worked. The first thing we tried, the hot water was not working. We played a bit and with different buttons in various places in the kitchen and under the sink, but to no avail. Bixente and Irene left to look for an “albañil” maybe? Or someone to help and came back with a gentleman. He as well did not know how to get it to work, Steeve, the other Frenchman, suggested maybe we didn’t have gas. So after playing a bit, Irene, our elderly land-lady said that hopefully tomorrow someone could come and fix the water-heater and if we needed to shower we could do so at her house. After they left, one of the roomies thought he found the solution and as we pushed buttons and played with gadgets, he turned a switch on a tube. We could start to hear a slight hiss noise of movement and then suddenly, water was spraying out under the water heater, (which is located above the counter) onto the microwave and all over the counter. I was thinking in English, but said, “La microondas” and Bixente and STeeve were talking about needing to turn the water off under the sink and the switch under the water-heater. Within a moment the water was not spraying out and we had rescued the microwave soon enough that it was fine, no water-damage. We mopped up half a bucket of water off the floor and water still seeped a bit out under the counter until the next AM. I was cracking up laughing, but I don’t think the other two thought it was as funny. After work, Marcello and Camille helped me move my things into the apartment and told the Frenchmen to look after me.
While arranging our things, the boys offered me what room I wanted first, but I thought that wasn’t very fair because I am going to be here the shortest time. We played rock, paper, scissors and I won and picked the room with the biggest closet. The boys also gave me my choice of bathroom, which I took the smaller of the two playing eeny-meeny-miny-mo. I think that is at least fair they get the bigger bathroom, sharing and all. So I am in the company of gentlemen and loving being able to cook. I have bought some basic groceries and things and some candles for decoration. I made Mexican style soup and peanut-thai soba noodles and some salads. I feel much better in Eibar in my own place. I have more time to be in-town and experience the Spanish life a bit more and to do things during the day that I couldn’t before because I was at the lunch-cafeteria.
The night after we moved in, Bixente came out of his room in his boxer briefs, but was walking like a chicken pulling them down and I had the hardest time not laughing but taking him seriously talking about some things he had bought for the kitchen. I mentioned this to a Basque friend that I saw on the street and she said it is quite normal to be in underwear when you share an apartment. I won’t be doing that but I will get over seeing the guys. Although after Steeve and I’s comments, I don’t know if Bixente will cat-walk the patterned boxer briefs down the hall again. When he came out of his room, I said, “Que pijamas” and Steeve uttered something to him in French. But I still can’t help but laugh when I think about it.
The photos are from a lovely hike near Eibar, but sadly I hadn't noticed a spot on my lens until I uploaded the pictures to my computer. Birgitte, the Austrian language assistant at the school in Eibar stayed over for a weekend, and we went out to see Eibar from above. She lives in Bilbao, but came to the theatre with us Friday evening and then out for a drink at a pub in Eibar. She and I made French toast Saturday AM, which Steeve told me really is French, but is called Pain Perdue, and usually takes advantage of old bread. He even said it tasted like Pain Perdue. Birgitte and I then hiked Monte Urko on the side of Eibar, which took us two hours to climb and just under one to descend. It was great weather and we even saw a few eagles at the top. We were incredibly wiped out and incredibly sore the next day but it was really enjoyable and hopefully will help prep me for Camino de Santiago. We could see all of the surrounding areas and distant mountains and I picked a few other places I would like to climb to.
I am loving having my own kitchen, eating as I please and feeling at home where I am. It was really nice to have Birgitte here for the weekend, as she is a pleasant person and we made some delicious hearty breakfasts.
At the new apartment there is a bar just facing us in front of my bedroom window and one Sunday afternoon there was a group of men singing. It was beautiful music but I am not sure what the occasion was. The son of the landlady who used to live here told me it is a bar, but “sociedad” which sort of means private club-cooking bar, but I asked him then if we couldn’t go, normally the gastronomic societies here are open by invitation only. He told me, “No, it is a bar” and that I should go in and find out. “Just go in” he encouraged me. I have yet to "enter" though.
