So much to tell, so little time to do it in. So strange to be writing this again, in particular after such a long time. I have to say that I missed it. And I will continue to keep missing it since there is no way in hell that I’ll be able to do this blog thing with any frequency in the near future. Life is just too chaotic, I fear. Samaya Young’s World, just isn’t what it used to be. In fact, there are times when it feels as if I am in some sort of alternate universe. But enough about that. By no means do I want to turn this blog into some whiny trip into how very traumatizing the past few month have been. They have, of course, but I’ll get over it. *snort* I’m determined. Life’s about change, and I’m going dive into this change head first, even if it kills me. Hah.
But okay. Where did I leave off, the last time?
Sally, right? The way she went back to her home country, and how it all was like some wonky Mission Impossible kind of thing. But we managed. Yay. You’ll be glad to know that cousin Ed managed to contact Sally’s family, which she hadn’t seen in years and years, and that they have stepped in and are helping her through these final months as best they can. Less pleasant is that while Sally is staying at a nursing home specifically for terminal patients, she is not doing well, and rapidly heading toward that final adventure into the unknown. She is in a lot pain these days, she’s almost blind, and her mind is degrading fast…the latter is a mixed blessing, really, since it allows her to be less aware of all that has happened and is still happening. Not long to go. Not long.
Things have been incredibly strange. I don’t remember if I already mentioned this the last time, but seriously, we had press vans at the gate, for crying out loud. Men and women with microphones and cameras telling the most outrageous lies about us on national TV. I kid you not. So strange, so surreal. Since we got the advice from the lawyer to just not “be home” for them, there were frantic games of cat and mouse to avoid them, until one morning big brother and I were on our way out, only to be waylaid halfway up the drive sweep by a news van and a very persistent camera crew. *sigh* Nothing to it. We had to try. So we spoke with them, told them that they were misinformed, and luckily one of their tech guys had lived in England for years and could translate for us. As it turns out rumor was that we were abusing these poor old folks who had been lured to our illegal senior home. When I heard it, I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry (decided on the first, it was so insane) but here they were, wrecking the lives of two elderly women because of some sort of delusion of a paranoid social worker. Seriously, we heard that the woman cried on national TV while she explained of the horrible conditions in which tenant and Sally were forced to live. There were pictures in the newspaper showing the place where we made dog food, which was where we reportedly made dinner for the ladies. Aaaargh. The stuff that has been said, it was painful, humiliating and such…well, lies! that I was an emotional wreck for quite some time. I have to admit that the whole experience has made me look very differently at the news. Now every time they publish some sort of scandal, I wonder whether they are fabricating everything there, too. Probably. The truth is rarely sensational.
Be that as it may, not only have they wrecked our reputations locally, and forced our dear friends to leave the place they had wanted to spend the remainder of their lives, they also sicked city hall on us. Yep. We had everything from building permission, to sanitary and environmental services banging on our doors, and we were slapped with the proverbial rod with the order to take everything, the cabins, grandpa’s bungalow, the old autobus, the old RV and the derelict apartment by the old pool, away within one month, or else… Added to that was a bill of 60.000 bucks to the city workers that we could hire to clean it all up. *gulp* It was insane. Mom filed a complaint, but we all know how that works, right?
One month to break down 17 years of our lives. Everything except the main house. Big brother and grandpa were assigned to start on that ASAP while I had to divert my attention elsewhere.
Tenant. Lots of change there too. I asked her to decide what she wanted. Staying at the home in Puerto Banus (she hated it there, but she did recover wonderfully), where I would be able to visit her once or twice a week only, or going back to her home country where she could at least be in the vicinity of her daughter. She looked at me teary-eyed and then made a very decisive statement. Back to her home country. So then the planning started. For her and for me because there was just no way for her to travel on her own.
Over there everything would be arranged by cousin Ed who had found a temporary apartment where the two of them would be able to stay for the first three months. She took care of all the official stuff, the doctor’s appointments that would have to be done, a nurse to come check on Tenant the day after arrival, and all those little details that needed to be done to be able to take care of her.
As for my side, there was the packing. A carryon for myself, one for her, along with four big suitcases containing tenant’s clothes and some of cousin Ed’s. That was a lot of planning, in particular since Ryan air has so many restrictions. But let’s face it, I could hardly afford more than that particular company.
But anyway, lots to arrange, lots to plan. The trip was set on the fourteenth of September, and after work and a quick meal made by grandpa, we went to the home to pick Tenant up at four in the afternoon. Our flight was at seven, and she was lying in her bed, swearing at the staff for having put her there even though she hadn’t wanted it. So big brother and I got her ready. Well, I dressed her, and big Brother gathered the last of her wardrobe. We were out of there, like thieves, almost, despite the fact that I said my goodbyes to the kind women in charge who’d helped out so much.
So, the back of the car filled with luggage, big brother drove us to the airport, saw us off six times because we kept forgetting stuff in the car, hah. There was this very nice assistant who work at the airport to help invalids get to where they have to be, and we chatted with him until we were checked in and delivered at our gate. He wished us a good journey, kissed tenant’s hand (that sure made her day) and then left us to wait for our plane for two hours, because we had actually arrived at the right time. Hah.
It wasn’t too bad, we talked some, ate some of the lunch I’d taken along, and then the other passengers started arriving, filing in endlessly leaving us, and another lady in a wheelchair as last. So nice to have the poor old lady being dragged through the plane with everyone watching impatiently. No matter, got busy fast since the guys with the special stretcher had no idea how to get tenant from the stretcher to the chair. I had to do it instead. I grabbed the back of her pants with one hand, her shoulders with the other, and carefully pulled her onto the slippery seat. Since invalids are supposed to be seated by the window, we had to slide two more seats until she was finally settled and I could slide in beside her. What followed were a handful of SMS to everyone to let them know we were on board and about ready to depart, and then the phone had to be switched off and we actually got ready for liftoff.
First time in almost 25 years that I was in a plane again. Very strange experience. I wasn’t afraid, hardly even nervous, I just sat there and waited until we were in the air, trying to catch some glimpses of the outside through the tiny window beside tenant.
The flight was pretty uneventful. I did some reading, some writing, and then we arrived in Germany and were last to depart because they had to call for a special chair to get tenant out. Planes work with stairs, so that is pretty invalid unfriendly. Tenant was afraid first, when they started to wheel her out with the special seat designed to go of stairs, but then we were in a private bus and were transported to the arrivals hall. Everyone else was gone already and our four suitcases were the last one’s circulating. I was in a pickle there. Try navigating a wheelchair and a cart with a grand total of six suitcases. Practically impossible, but we managed. We came through the blinded doors and were watched by a silent group of fifteen or twenty people all watching me struggled with the wheelchair and the cart. Finally an nice old fella took pity on me and offered to help.
Again the waiting, and at a certain point, when I didn’t see her, I called to ask Cousin Ed where she was at. She was at the arrivals hall, alright, except she was, you won’t believe it, at the wrong airport. *sigh* Some odd 65 miles away from us. For her to get there would take more than an hour apparently, and from the sound of it, it was a common problem since both airports basically have the same name. So we waiting longer, wondered if we should take one of the ridiculously expensive coffees, and decided against it while we haunted the arrivals hall.
Finally cousin Ed did arrive and the whole waiting game to an exhausted end. There was the whole, “so sorry, good to see you, how was your trip” thing and then we were finally in the car and on our way to the apartment. It was dark, it was raining, and of course we got lost. Hah.
Though we arrived around ten thirty in the evening, we didn’t actually get to the apartment until after two. *sigh* I was seriously pooped. Did a bit of unpacking for tenant while cousin Ed helped her prepare for bed, and then, around three we were all finally in bed. It was very strange to lie there beside a wonderfully warm radiator. Slept like the dead, thankfully, waking to a cloudy day looking out over a dense forest at the top of the apartment building.
Here, have a look.
Now that’s a forest!
But anyway, managed to wake up enough to get showered, dressed and make breakfast, and then had a small mental melt down. Guess all the tension and stress of the weeks before got to me, and I really had to rush out onto the icy balcony to get myself under control, rather than worry Tenant who was a tad emotional herself already. Got myself under control within minutes, thankfully, and set to getting ourselves and tenant ready to go out. Made it as far as the car when the mental wonkiness started again, and it was all I could do to help put tenant in the car and leave them to it while I headed out down the road. This is what I walked through:
Gorgeous, right?
There is just something incredibly calming about all that green and moisture. Was nice and calm after a few minutes and got in the car so cousin Ed could drive us to town hall where she had to register tenant. I just stood out there, tenant still in the car beside me, taking in all the green and neat houses and friendly folk. Very strange to be there again after all these years. Very much a culture shock, I must say. After that we went to the car rental place where my drivers license had to be added to the contract. I had to be able to get around after all.
What followed was a day filled with bureaucracy, getting lost in the cities of which I remembered very little. The last time I was there, I was sixteen and took stuff for granted. Still there were some familiar spots while we went to town and had French fries for lunch.
Next it was on to the care home where Sally is staying. A desolate looking place, really, and old monastery, I believe with lots of nasty history over the centuries.
Here, have a look:
I love places like that. It breathes history, even if it is creepy.
The people were nice, though, and Sally in good spirits after those first few seconds where she didn’t recognize me. She was more bloated than before, but still Sally. Couldn’t stay too long, the day was rapidly passing, but I promised to come see her again soon, and then went out to do some sightseeing with tenant who had come with me, before we had to go grocery shopping.
Went to some places all three of us remembered from almost two decades ago, saw an old friend and even went to see my childhood house. It didn’t look at all like I remembered, in fact, in my memory it was huge, and now it looked downright tiny. It didn’t help that the new occupants changed a lot of it, leaving only the most basic shapes as familiar. Strangely enough it was the road there that I remembered best, that one curve around the beech tree, the cluster of birches and all that. Very strange all.
It was too late to see much, but I did get a few shots.
Not at all like the picture in my head, I fear. Upper left window used to be my room when I was little. The next two were of our two nephews. Big brother was on the other side. Hah.
Came home to the apartment late, with all three of us pretty exhausted as we rushed through unpacking the groceries and preparing some food. Didn’t get to bed until very late, partly because I had to send out a load of mails home, tenant’s daughter to set up an appointment for the next day, and because I couldn’t get my brain to shut down. Too much input, I think.
The next day the local nurse came to check up on tenant, followed by a visit of the local senior advisor who seemed like an extremely hard woman at first, who was looking at us with grave suspicion when tenant tried to explain what had happened. From what I heard, she hadn’t gotten most of it herself, and thus was telling the woman all sorts of things that only made her more suspicious, then, when it just became too confusing, I couldn’t help it, I started laughing and shaking my head and set the woman right. Once I explained the situation, and that these crazy social workers had put it in everyone’s head that we were some sort of illegal senior home, she relaxed a bit, and even turned out to be very kind, and helpful with all sorts of suggestions for tenant. I guess the fact that we all looked at the verge of tears from time to time helped with that too.l *snort*
I hate being a girl in that regard. Nothing is more wasteful than crying at the drop of a hat. I’m going to plead temporary insanity on that. Grrr.
Managed to do some work on my computer while waiting for tenant’s daughter and son-in-law, and went through a nice visit with pie which tenant’s daughter had been nice enough to bring along…along with some basic kitchen necessities for which we were incredibly grateful. The next step would be to go to 2nd hand stores to get the bare necessities for living, and some nice things to brighten the place up.
Were late getting to bed again, which had us rush through the next morning where tenant had an appointment with her new doctor.
They were late getting back, so I was late departing for the north of the country where I was going to visit an old family friend who would be able to help out with getting us some of those living necessities such as sheets, blankets and towels. Was a nice visit, really. Got to see all her cats, dug through the attic in search of everything we could use and then had to rush back because we hoped that I would be home in time for us to go view a possible permanent living place for tenant…was too late. I was actually making good time on the way back, and then got stuck in traffic before getting lost in the city. Grrr. Cost me a good half hour to get out of that. Hah.
Too late after that, so we gave up on the viewing, unloaded the car of all the handy stuff, and settled tenant in front of the TV. We left her to it and went for a bike ride, something I hadn’t done in more than seventeen years. I could still do it, but I did lose some of my confidence. Hah. It was nice though, despite the cold and the clouds. Nothing like biking through the woods…and a short walk afterward to cool down my thigh muscles. Boy, that was different.
The next day we went to visit Sally again, and this time I sat with her a bit longer, talking about home and anything that struck her fancy. Then it was time to say goodbye. I have to say that I am glad that her mind is rapidly deteriorating because she had very little understanding of my goodbye most likely being permanent. Difficult to say goodbye, isn’t it. In particular if you see a person you’ve known your whole life “disappearing” like that. Can’t be helped, though. Such is life and you can only do what you can. Spent some time in the city, getting some more necessities for tenant and Cousin Ed, and then met them at the appointed spot.
Next we went to visit tenant’s family where we had lunch and then left tenant with them so we could go to the local charity shop to look for furniture, kitchen appliances, lamps and china. A nice trip that, going through the old messes and finding little treasures for bargains. Nothing like haggling a bit either. The bigger stuff would be delivered by van the Monday after my departure, so in that regard both ladies were all set afterward.
Took all the small stuff with us to the apartment, showing it all off to tenant, who enjoyed the show at least.
Which was my last evening there. Went to bed late, which meant that getting up at five was a hardship. But my plane would leave at around eight, and it was at least a two hour drive crossing to Germany and then getting into a panic because we couldn’t find a gas station anywhere. Jeez. We had to get off the highway and find one, just barely in time too, which made us late already before we got stuck in rush hour near two big cities. Were barely on time at the airport, where customs left a row of more than four hundred people waiting before me. Since Cousin Ed had parked the car in front, she couldn’t afford waiting with me. So we said our goodbyes while she went back to pay the meter and hope that she could still catch me. She couldn’t, because by then more desks of customs had opened and the lines went faster. Arrived at my gate ten minutes before the plane arrived.
The trip was uneventful, except that it was stacked to full capacity with beside me a young German man who had forgotten to shower that morning. *sigh* I napped during the flight, and then watched the mountains of Spain slide under me once we got closer to home. Landing went smoothly and then I was out, looking for the airport exit dragging my suitcase. Did way too much walking that day, and my foot was about ready to fall off, but then I saw the Land Rover, and big Brother standing there in the sunshine with Knight II trembling at his side. At first the big lug was just scanning his surroundings and then, his head in my direction he suddenly stopped moving. I could see him think: “hey, that’s familiar” as he slowly lumbered around fully, his entire posture on full attention. I grinned, spread my arms, startling the taxi driver standing between us as I said, “Knightie boy” and saw him put at his leash in response. Fifteen yards to go and Big brother let go of his leash (scaring the taxi driver even more now that he realized why I was making kissy noises), leaving Knight to rush forward in a semi crouch before he launched himself at me. Silly boy. Did the whole hugging and petting thing, then reached the car and tossed my single carryon in the back beside Knight saying, “Let’s get the heck outta here!” Big brother complied and drove home.
Coming home was hard, though. Though big brother and grandpa had already started on my cabin, they had left it there so my dogs would sleep in familiar surroundings at least during my absence. For me that was difficult. Nothing like watching your home being taken apart bit by bit while you have to go through your things and throw away more than three quarters of it. I did a lot of crying in those days. Like I said, I HATE that, and felt pretty much horrible while still going to work every day, and then coming home to take apart more of our lives until there was nothing left. Luckily a glass or two (make that 3-4) at night helps. *snort*
But life has changed drastically, as I said. Most of it is unpleasant, seeing as in the months that passed we did little more than destroy everything that we’ve worked so hard for in the past five years.
Again our mechanics came to the rescue, supplying us with folks who could take out the old buses, but in order to do that, we first had to cut down a handful of trees and hire a bulldozer to create a road so the old 57 passenger bus could be removed. First estimate we got from a local company was 450 per day, 2 to 3 days of work, which was horrifying. Again the mechanics knew someone who’d do it for a hundred less and faster.
In order for the bulldozer to get there in time, we first had to take away the carport (aka our hobby room, fitness room, and living area), which we had to get done within 12 hours if we wanted to have the road done before the weekend. We worked into the late hours of night, but managed. Almost dislocated my shoulder there, since I had to hold onto one of the support beams while big brother cut through it with the chainsaw. It tipped and my shoulder went right with it. Hah. No harm done, though.
So the bulldozer came, dragged out the old RV first, and within six hours he had a path made, grandpa and big brother working right ahead of him to get the trees out of the way in time. He also took down the outside kitchen I never even had the pleasure of using. *sigh*
But, it was quite satisfying to be able to call the metal guys to let them know they could start on getting the buses that Monday.
Here are some shots of the whole thing.
With that done there was a week of keeping track of the dogs and seeing the vehicles with which we arrived in Spain disappear bit by bit.
Here:
And the truck that came to pick it all up:
Also, at the same time, we were taking apart the greenhouse. Such a pity.
Very depressing, and for grandpa it was even worse, because everything reminded him so much of the war when he and his family were cast out of their farm and sent up north with the rest of the refugees.
But anyway, that was done, and we were waiting for the ax to drop in regard to the old apartment by the pool. Three days before city hall’s deadline it became clear that it had to anyway, so we called the guy of the bulldozer only to hear that his machine was in the shop for repairs and that he wouldn’t be able to come until the next week. So frantically we started looking for another one. Finally got someone to come and look, but this guy said he’d need 5-7 days to take the apartment down, and that he’d charge us 450 per day. *gasp* Not doable, and a total hoax. We were in fact so out of sorts the next day Big brother took a sledgehammer just to see what kind of damage he could do with it on the apartment. Within three hours he had the darn apartment to smithereens, (I helped by standing safely on the side saying, “yeah, hit it there…and maybe there. It’s moving, a few more whacks and you’ve got it done! which had us both smirking at the end. 450 a day?! *snort*
Here’re the picks:
But anyway, the old stables are gone now too, along with our thousands of Euros worth of wood supplies which we either had to throw or cut up as firewood. There really is nothing left of…well anything. The house is there, where I now occupy a corner of the porch walled in by my closet with just enough space for my bed and a bit to walk around two parts of it. Very distressing, that. It’s like moving back home, robbing you of independence, privacy and pretty much anything that you value. For me, the Spanish adventure is pretty much over, really. Time here now I see as time to take care of final loose ends, giving my dogs some extra time at the only place they know as home, and cleaning up the mess. Then I am going to see what I am going to do with the rest of my life. It won’t be here in Spain, though.
I need change, and I need time away from here to get over what I can only describe as a tremendous trauma to my soul. It is not easy to lose everything, I assure you. But, whatever healing I need, I can’t do that here. Everything around me reminds me of what is gone, and I have come to hate most of what is left. Maybe at some point in the future I can look back at this with some fond memories, but for now, I want this era over and done with so that I may look to the future, start on it, rather than wait, linger and wait some more. I don’t feel I have the luxury to wait much longer regardless. Time is passing way too fast. *sigh*
I don’t know how I’m going to do this, you know, but I will. I have to, because I fear that if I stay I won’t be able to continue letting go of the hurt, which means that it would at some point break me.
Dramatic, isn’t it? Well, that’s me, right? Miss Drama. Can’t help that anymore than I can stop breathing. Ah well, I’ll let you know how that works out. Hah.
For now, it is continuing cleaning up the messes all the destruction left. Hell, we even had to break down grandpa and tenant’s old place, which didn’t do him well. The past two months aged him incredibly, and like me, I think he needs change too, a chance to breathe, to look to the future rather than the past. Same goes for big brother for that matter. You shrug it off out of necessity, put your foot in front of the other time and again and go on, but it eats at you, doesn’t it. In that regard I am a bit jealous of tenant who is over there starting her new life. Nothing is quite as depressing as cleaning up the old messes.
The fact that the Land Rover is getting more trouble too, and needs repairs doesn't help either, since that really would be the last straw...losing that last stable thing...yuck. It doesn't bear thinking about.
And you think, that everything that has been going on, with tenant and Sally being back where they came from, all the trouble would be over, but no. Just a couple of weeks ago social services were back at the door with a court order to come pick up the two old ladies we’ve been “holding against their will”, or some such nonsense. Where, for crying out loud? In the bathroom? There’s not enough room in the friggin’ main house to turn without bumping into someone, let alone two more people. Jeez. Not only are they cruel, hardheaded and stupid, they are also inept. What, they can’t check the airlines, but they can sic the cops and city hall on us? People like that should be locked up for the damage they do. Right now Sally is dying on her own 3000 km away from here, tenant and cousin Ed are on their own, needing to start from scratch, and there is no way that we can even go and visit them because we’re not done cleaning up yet. The deadline is approaching way too fast.
What else? Well, we lost two more dogs. Old age, mostly, but we did have to decide helping them along when the actual dying took too long. That would be too cruel. Carla and Chiuma. For them...and partly also for us...I'm glad it's over. Their world changed a lot, too.
But such is Samaya Young’s world at the moment. I am still trying to get that book revision done, but time is sparse because every day still involves cleaning up and hauling away the debris of our lives. By the time I sit down for edits after being on my feet for some odd 16 hours, I’m so darn tired I’m cross-eyed from it. Can’t be helped, though. The beginnings of a cold winter don’t help much either. Nor does working every day to pay the bills, too little sleep, and not taking the time for proper food. Hah. There is only so much a body can do, right, and I think that I have reached my limit for the time being. Running on empty and all that. The thing is, you can’t get further without letting go first, is my way of thinking.
Ah well, how wonderfully fatalistic all that sounds, eh? No worries. I’ll get through this. Like that song “When the going gets tough”, and “Bruises” that make life interesting, I too shall persevere…somehow. *wink*
And with that cheery note I’m going to leave it at this…8!!! friggin’ pages again! Oh gawd. I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to hold you up with my maudlin. Gotta go. Lots to do still. Hopefully until soon.
