I can always find my way when you are here

Here's what I have learned about my new home country:

• No one is outside during the day except women and their babies in strollers. And you see them everywhere. But no one in Europe has more than two children. It is an anomaly to see a family with more than one child in Spain, and truly outrageous for there to be a family of three children. These are only observations, not proven by statistical data. 
• They do not refrigerate most of their milk. Most of the dairy they consume is sold 'canned'---which means in a cardboard carton. It is sitting on the shelf next to the eggs---which are also not refrigerated. It does request that once you open the milk carton, to refrigerate it. Their produce looks sketchy (could it be because it's organic? Hmmm---although their tomatoes smell as pungent as from the garden outside your door. And you must know your produce price. They have no computerized system or code for their produce. If you don't know it, you don't get to buy it. ) and I'm a little leery about eating any of their soft-skinned fruits or vegetables. I am sure that will pass as soon as I get past the rotting lettuces and their brown bananas. 

Yesterday we found the community center. It has a pool and a gymnasium for basketball and for soccer. My understanding is that it costs 12 euros/hr. That is about $15. I am sure there are days I will pay just about anything to get in there. So for it to be that close and within walking distance I am forever grateful. There is no school tracks or fields that we can use during the day. Doe tried Insanity that I had downloaded on my laptop and in the small 6x6 space of our open livingroom she got about halfway through it. I am frightened, because Doe is in pretty amazing physical shape. Saying that we learn the next with dread:

•  Girls do not play soccer in this country. For as being as matrilineal as the Basque are supposed to be, the only girls sports they encourage is rhythmic gymnastics at these community centers. Doe and Beloved, on our paseo last night, found the neighborhood 'pitch', which was an inlaid astroturf field (I could almost her groan: "Urrrgghhh...turf!") which was glutted with men and boys and their sons and siblings shooting. Doe said as she and her dad got on the field they all magically disappeared and she had most of the field to herself. Which okay, may have been an exaggeration on my part, because I was not there to witness it. I was at the playground watching my Bumpo fearlessly navigate into a sea of boys the playground equipment. Tank was a bit more hesitant, bless him, but we sort of shoved him back into the scrum of it so as not to leave his little sister in the middle of it. 
• Spanish playgrounds ROCK. They have all the crazy unsafe unregulated and under-maintained equipment that I grew up on. Think Howard Amon Park circa 1976 ;) . We're talking all sorts of ropes and raw untreated wood and crazy metal contraptions that can potentially unlimb a child. It's a miracle. We will be frequent visitors, particularly since it is within eyesight of the pitch. I must take a picture of the huge hulking pirate ship that is the main attraction. I have tagged it the SS Betadine ;) 
• Wireless Internet is still in its nubile stage here. As I write this I am on a default setting at our hotel. Not sure how long I will have this access to the might Net, but I am going to pounce on it while i can. The kids are able to access their laptops just fine, but we think the bandwidth is not strong enough to maintain four of them at once. (Bump is doing workbook work).

Spaniards come out at night. At about 9:30 families pour out of their apartments and stroll the streets  (on their paseos). And all of the toddlers who have been ensconced in their strollers all day are let loose. There's lots of open pavement for them to ride their scooters on and to trip and tumble over. But it's nice to see so many youngsters out at night. There's no real concerns for personal safety.
I have ventured out on my own quite a  bit during the day, to go attempt our first big shopping trip at the local Carrefours store. And I have been careful not look men in the eye, as they seemingly see this as a 'come-on'---so foreign for me to not look at people as I pass by. But that is the nature of living in a different country. And if it means I avoid a wolf-whistle than I am all for it ;).

Everything seems to take twice as longer, but the nice thing is that while you wait Spaniards have no problem standing very close to you and placing their items on top of yours. There's no judgment or frustration, just an assumption that it will get done, and when it is, they will be ready. The other benefit is that when you cross the street-- even if it's against the light---, the cars will stop.

We are attempting to go to San Sebastian this weekend, about 90 minutes away, but I am getting more and more worried about the kids' school schedules. They are already behind, and for whatever reason I fully expected everything to be delivered and waiting for them to hit the ground running. Not even. It is time to take action. And by action, I mean something outside of pacing the floors at night, endlessly checking my email for responses from their school and snapping at my children when it really truly is none of their doing, but the fault of their school who had to resend a few boxes of texts back to Spain after they were sent to the wrong address. This is not our fault. We checked the address we gave them and they chose to put some words on different lines---and that is all it took for an international package to get lost.

It is not as if their assimilating into another country with a completely foreign language (Spanish is the second language here---it is understood, obviously, but to one another many speak an unidentifiable lingo that is a combination of Erska and Spanish), traveling extensively, packing and unpacking into new environments, making friends, feeling at peace outside- knowing you are different - and missing all they know is not enough. I hope that in the end whatever he might miss in his bookwork, he builds up in his confidence and in the knowledge that unlike many of his friends, he has traveled and lived internationally, and as such can survive anywhere. That is my prayer....