Aventuras in Spain

It's the summer of 1981. The school year is over. No more driving up to Salou for several weeks to my five year old son's school, El Colegio Elizabeth. Instead, my days are now busy with taking him to different activities. Down by the main coastal road there's a swing park that we frequent. It's a pleasure to watch him smile as he runs about and interacts with children from different places. Being a foreigner isn't so important here in the playground. You can hear French, Spanish, English, and Catalan ringing out in between squeals of giggles and loud laughter. But, it's the giggling that is the common language.  It binds the children together and supersedes all adult concerns about politics, prejudices and the latest shocking events in the news. For example, here in Catalunya, Catalan is being used more and more. It's become a scandal almost. People say that in order to get into the university at Tarragona you need to speak Catalan. Too bad if you'...

In 1981 my husband, small son and I were living in Urbanización El Casalot, Miami Playa, Tarragona located some 3 kilometres from the Mediterranean.  It was quite common to see stray cats and dogs meandering throughout the urbanizacion. They'd simply turn up on the road in front of the house and continue meandering deep into the woods. Most of them were like migrant workers who went about their own business, never staying too long in any one spot.     Two dogs, however, did remain and I got to know them quite well. This is their story.     Urbanizacion El Casalot was a brand new development where there was still ongoing construction.  Across the road from our house workmen yelled and babbled among themselves, in between peeing on the street, spitting and blowing their nose on the ground. Their transistor radio would be blaring forth loud advertisements for Galerías Preciados, condensed milk and Camel cigarettes - 'El sabor de la Aventura!'. Occasionally...

In 1981 my husband, small son and I were living in Urbanización El Casalot, Miami Playa, Tarragona. This was brand new development and construction was still taking place. Across the road from our house workmen yelled and babbled among themselves, in between peeing on the street, spitting and blowing their nose on the ground. Their transistor radio would be blaring forth with loud advertisements forGalerías Preciados, condensed milk and Camel cigarettes - 'El sabor de la Aventura!'. Occasionally the workmen would burst into song, imitating Julio Iglesias singing "De Niña a Mujer" and "Hey". They were actually pretty good singers, not that I'm an expert, but Julio Iglesias himself would have been happy, I'm sure, to be listening to this open-air concert. There was something else the workmen got up to besides hammer and bang and make lots of noise. They would play with a puppy. He looked like an Alsation or a German Shepherd pup, based on his colour...

It's the early eighties and we're staying in a nice, brand new house in Urbanización el Casalot, Miami Playa, Tarragona. My husband tells me he saw a fire the other side of the mountains, over by Ascó. "We should leave. The way the wind is blowing, the fire could reach us."  He announces. Apparently some little old lady near Ascó has been burning olive branches. "But, Ascó is far away from where live. So, we should be fine, shouldn't we?" says I.  Famous last words. The next morning, at around five a.m. my husband wakens me. "The fire has spread. Look!   It's already this side of the mountains." "Och, don't be daft. It's still far away.What a pest for waking me. I'm going back to sleep." Just call me a grumpy grump first thing in the morning. Later that day the fire gets closer and closer. The wind is howling spreading ash, embers,  and smoke in random patterns. The road from our house to the main co...