Author: dbstageman

You can drive from Bilbao to Bayonne in less than two hours, but we took a scenic route, along the coast. Unfortunately, it was a rainy day and we saw mostly fog, and mostly heard the thwap-thwap-thwap of windshield wipers.

Continue reading “Biding Time in Bayonne”

Today’s alliterative pun is brought to you by Basque Country.

The Basque Country extends from Northern Spain and into Southern France. The Basque people have Celtic roots. Scientists proved this through DNA testing, and by observing the Basques play bagpipes, an ancient Celtic tradition predating the inventions of rhythm and melody.

Continue reading “Basquing in Bilbao and Bayonne”

Why, given our mutual disinterest in spectator sports, were we going to watch college football in Dublin? We weren’t sure. When asked I invariably offered ambiguous rationales involving vague words like “spectacle” and “absurdity” and “cheerleaders.” But Terry had bought our tickets, making us like a little boy dancing outside a locked restroom: We had to go.

Continue reading “Thanks to Saint James, We Discover Miranda”

Denise and I just returned from an excursion that included northern Spain, France and Ireland. The adventure involved dizzying heights, wonderful music, contact sports . . . and unexpected nudity.

Continue reading “The Naked Truth”

Tomorrow would be the summer solstice and midnight, the hour when tomorrow becomes today, was a scant 30 minutes away. That was when all hell would break loose in Alicante. Denise did not want to see hell breaking loose, at least not all of it, and certainly not that late; but she is a trooper and so agreed to drive Clarity and me to the tram. We would take that conveyance to the heart of Alicante and glory in the spectacle of hell’s release.

Continue reading “Getting Hosed at Hogueras”

Back in 1981 I had just graduated from law school. I planned to load my (at least) 15-year-old Pontiac Star Chief and drive to Southern California. I didn’t know a soul there and had no prospects. I was moving to Southern California for one reason only: Its Mediterranean climate.

Continue reading “Why Alicante?”

Old people say youth is wasted on the young. On the other hand, you may recall that time when you were in your teens or twenties, you looked out the windshield of your POS Ford and saw some ancient fart driving a brand new Corvette convertible. You thought, money is wasted on the old. Perhaps you had a point. But am I giving any of mine to some Gen X’er or Millennial or Gen Z’er? Hell no. I’ll bet you are no different.

Continue reading “Frugality® in Spain”

Readers have been clamoring for more information about health care in Spain. A traditional journalist would respond to such requests by doing “research,” and then weaving “facts” and “figures” into an informative narrative. Ha! Stupid traditional journalists!

I want to write about Spanish health care using Hunter S. Thompson’s technique of “Gonzo Journalism.” If you are unfamiliar with Hunter S. Thompson and Gonzo Journalism it probably is because your youth was not misspent.

Continue reading “A Gonzo Journalist Investigates Spanish Health Care — OR –A Fat Old Man Rollerblades”

Possibly you thought this might be an exciting tale involving illicit drug purchases, like in the 1978 movie Midnight Express. It is indeed a narrative involving illicit drug purchases, sort of. Or at least, almost. But you won’t make sense of the story unless I tell you a little something about health care in Spain.

Continue reading “BUYING DRUGS IN SPAIN”

Our house in Colorado had huge picture windows overlooking a wooded landscape. One of the big windows had a broken seal. As a result, moisture condensed between the panes. This partially obscured the bucolic view and made the window look dirty, no matter how thoroughly we cleaned. Replacing the glass would be a lot of trouble and it would be expensive, so we tolerated the imperfection.

Continue reading “Remodeling a House in Spain”