Undies require two pegs

It is always interesting to go to foreign lands and see their domestic arrangements. For instance, how can life proceed without a kettle? Hairdryers and irons are always found, but kettles rarely. Now we are in Madrid, this is big city living and we are the proud possessors of both a kettle and a bath.

Balconies are an essential in high-rise living and extending from them are washing lines. Sheets flap four floors up and therein lies the necessity of two pegs for your undies on a breezy day. My washing is now hanging on for dear life on the lines that extend out over a neighbours roof. Should their slender hold on the line fail, on whose door do I knock and how do I politely request in Spanish, the return of said underwear. Thank the gods that I am not young and pretty (never was one of those options) or it could lead to all sorts of complications.

Our three apartments have all had a different character. All on the top floor of course with access to the roof or balcony. Imagine our delight to find that there was a lift in Cordoba. No more lugging heavy suitcases up the stairs.

We were very late to arrive at our Madrid apartment due to the fact that it took us over an hour to buy our tickets to Malaga. Good job we did buy them in advance because the cheaper ones were all sold out, and there was only one train that had any of the more expensive ones. This was due to the May-Day holiday, but we didn’t know that at the time. My friend swears extremely rarely and has to be pushed to it. She was, when after waiting an hour to be seen the man at the desk told us to hurry up. He didn’t understand English but then some words are universal aren’t they 🙂

We had arranged to be at the apartment for 3.30, but by the time we finally got there, it was closer to 4.30. We staggered up the steps of the Madrid metro, having been playing pack-horses (or in Spain shouldn’t that be pack-mules) and were most relieved to find the apartment just across the road. However, the result was that Margerita who had waited for us to arrive, was understandably frazzled.

‘Señoras!’ she expostulated, followed by an explosion of Spanish that included hand gestures about mobile phones. ‘No mobile,’ we humbly explain, trying to grovel on the pavement. (See previous blog posts for explanations about our technical deficiencies.) She is marginally mollified, but obviously eager to let us in and get on with her life. She grabs the bag. Her eyebrows go up – as I mentioned mules would have been a useful adjunct to our trip. I say ‘No I’ll take it’ Trying very hard to make up for our lateness ‘No, no,’ she insists, handing me one of the handles. I grab it and off we set up the stairs. She is all fired up and about twenty-five years younger. We race up the stairs with me clinging onto the handle for dear life and wondering if a heart attack is imminent.

When we arrive in the apartment we have a whirlwind tour with me saying,’Yes I know about those, don’t worry explaining’, still trying to make up for lost time. Finally she is smiling and pointing to the gratis bottle of wine and two wine glasses on the table. If I hadn’t needed it so much myself, I might have offered it to her as a peace token.

(Sorry still no photos – much spending of money later I’m awaiting the support person from the card reader company to get back to me. Serves me right for buying a brand new MacBook Air with USB3 ports!)