Mañana

Yesterday I brought the car (that's what it looks like, there on the left, only ours is charcoal gray and missing a rear window) back to Pedro, because he told me the new window would be in by then. When I got to the shop, he checked, assured me it was there, and sent me off to the cafe next door while they put it on.

It was one of those old-fashioned kinds of bars that used to be everywhere but are becoming harder to find as Spain turns more European: men coming in for beer at 9:30 in the morning, floor covered in napkins and empty sugar packets, a broken foozball table in the corner, hams hanging everywhere. And of course, both the tv and radio were blaring, as were two slot machines. I kind of liked it.

After spending an hour there reading Portrait of a Lady and drinking coffee, I went back to the shop. Pedro told me he had made a mistake: that the window that had come in was not mine. Would I like him to tape up the back with plastic?

On the good side, I picked some of our figs and apples yesterday. They are sidra apples, and hence, according to local wisdom, not good for eating. But I tried one, and thought it delicious. I would have made a pie, if only our oven worked.