Somebody Bring Me Some Water

We don’t have a dryer. In fact, no one in Spain has a dryer it seems. We hang our wet clothes out on a drying line just off of the bathroom. There’s a rusty pulley system we can use to pull a metal drying rack up and out of the way when not in use. Eight drying lines and maybe 25 clothespins (yes real clothespins) fit on the rack. From these we hang our clothes in the sun and the wind to dry them out.

The Boy and I take turns hanging the wet laundry and then folding the crispy towels and underwear at the end of the day. It's cool. But I sure do miss my dryer. I guess it is personal penance for all of the

plastic water bottles we consume. We recycle plastic here in Spain. The Boy carries them down to big colorful bins streetside. But there are so many.

The Spaniards do love a plastic bottle. Bottles of water are everywhere. The tap water in Spain is not great. I know this because I researched it. I know this because I drank it. It's something like this: tap water in Spain is “drinkable” but that it contains a “strain of E-coli” that will be “upsetting” to the "stomachs of many” travellers. Travellers are advised not to drink the water initially. We drink bottled water. I spend a frustrated hour searching online for a “refillable water” option. Nothing.

Speaking of water, the other night I woke up to torrential rain. Actually, I woke up because of the banging on the other side of the wall above my bed. We live on the top floor. And the banging was coming from outside. So...a little worrisome.

It turns out, when you go to sleep with clothes hanging on the drying rack three things happen when it's stormy: (1) the clothes don't dry; (2) the clothes rack bangs against the wall above your bed and wakes you up in the middle of the night; and (3) you lose your underwear. Note to self: "Make Boy bring in clothes every night."

The rain and the wind also did a number on the beach. Where there was once a beach now there is a small lake. The sea rose up. The sand is gone.

All along the Mediterranean coast, chiringuitos sell drinks and tapas in locations along the water's edge. But the Iguana Chiringuito is underwater across the street. There will be no mojitos and sunsets tonight. I haven't slept. My underwear is gone. There's no beach anymore. I guess they don't call it "global" warming for nothing.

Editor's Note: The beach dried out. But not before the kite surfers whooped it up on the new lake. And I'm looking into a water filter for the house.