living the vida local

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A couple of weeks ago I got into trouble on Instagram when I posted that toilet brush photo with the hashtag #livinglikealocal, which resulted in me losing a whack of followers. This was to do with the ongoing ISSUE of over-tourism and how so many travel agents and websites are promoting the concept of LIVING LIKE A LOCAL.

This is both a misleading and, well, impossible concept to achieve. And it’s not even a desirable one. Because the truth is that locals are not actually out all day drinking on sunny terraces and eating tapas. Because we have jobs. We have our daily chores. And we actually cannot afford to go out every day, so many evenings and weekends are spent at home Netflixing with homemade snacks and a nice bottle of wine. Sorry guys.

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blood!

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WARNING: although this looks like a Jackson Pollock (it’s actually BLOOD!) the rest of this post might be a bit TMI for some of you. Nothing gross or anything, just, you know, perhaps somewhat more info than you may want to know about. So you have been warned. And it’s totally fine if you don’t want to carry on reading…

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post-traumatic heebie-jeebies

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I speak for all three of us – myself, Luna and Morcilla – when I say that this morning’s exploits were nothing short of heroic. Leaving Loki out of this because, well, he’s a big lazy galoot and chose not to get involved. It all started when I sat up in bed and saw both girls staring intently at the little bookcases that are under the bedroom window. And I just knew it had to be my worst nightmare, something I always dread in summer.

Of course I am speaking of Periplaneta Americana, AKA the massive cockroaches that arrived in Spain on the ships travelling back here from the Americas. The largest of the cockroach family, these muthafuckas also FLY. Yes they do. Arrrrgh.

In all of my years here in Sevilla, in the various casa azahars, sightings have been limited to maybe once or twice a year and always in summer (they “come out” more when it’s hot… shudder). Until now I thought my latest casa az was somehow magically protected from these creepy crawly horrors. Alas, it is not. But I suppose I’ve been lucky as it’s been over two years without having seen one.

Anyhow, back to this morning. The girls were not budging. They sat with their bodies rigid, eyes fixed on the bookcase, ready to pounce, and all I could think was… PLEASE DON’T LET IT RUN UNDER THE BED (this actually happened once at the previous casa az, resulting in the disassembly of the bed in the wee hours). I was too stricken with terror to move the bookcases, mere inches from the end of the bed. It was a stalemate situation.

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sunday song – tiny ass desk concert

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Not just one song today – you get three! By the magnificent Lizzo. I had never heard of these Tiny Desk Concerts (mostly hipster indie rock stuff) until this one popped up on my Twitter feed the other day. And to be honest, I don’t know much about Lizzo other than her BIG VOICE and her wonderful message for young people to love themselves. Anyhow, have a listen. Even if it’s not your style of music this woman’s voice and her infectious joy will blow you away. Happy Sunday!