I'm not a doctor, but I play one in Madrid...

Back in August we noticed a lot of signs for flu vaccines in the pharmacy windows. Flu vaccines? In August? Too early! thought we. One doesn't get a flu vaccine until flu season, November, December, sometime around then. So we waited.

Pharmacies in Spain are not like those in the US. First off, all pharmacists act as gatekeepers. You want to buy tums? No they tell you, you don't. You want pepcid. It's better. But, you explain, I have heartburn right now. I want tums (rennie is what it is here). Pepcid works fine for that. No, you say, it doesn't. It will take an hour or more for the pill to work. Fine, she says rolling her eyes, have some omeprasole. No, you say, that's prilosec. It's a 24 hour acid suppressant. You take it in the mornings before you eat anything. It's not for once you have heartburn. You want something to make the pain stop now. Ok then, take the rennie she says, thrusting it at you with disgust (the Spanish have disgust down to an art, but really that's a different post). So you do.

And that's a typical stop at the farmacia.

What with being busy, heading back to get visas, having things closed every day from 2-5pm for lunch etc, we've been slow to get our vaccines, so yesterday I finally said to Ricardo it was time. We stopped at the 24 hour pharmacy to get one for him and I would take The Kid and get ours later in the day.

It went like this:

Do you have flu vaccines?

Yes. How many do you want?

One.

Sure. €7.95

A bargain! we thought as he went into the back and came out with a small box which he handed to us.

Which he handed to us.

Um, what do we do with this? Is it the nasal spray?

No, it's the shot.

OK.

You give it to yourself. In a muscle. Arm, leg, whatever.

OK.

Look, he said. A health clinic can do it if you want. You'll probably wait a long time. (can you pick up on the classic levels of disgust? because they were wreathing us like a curtain).

OK. €7.95?

€7.95.

We took it and left. I put it in the fridge. Ricardo went to the library. I went about my errands and tried to find a pharmacy where they'd give me the shot. No dice. This one didn't have it. That one didn't have it and didn't I know how late it was? No one would have them any more. I should have gotten it ages ago! (disgust, disgust, disgust!)

Back to the 24 hour pharmacy. I'll take 2 more. And a bottle of rubbing alcohol please.

So now I had 3 flu shots, a bottle of rubbing alcohol and sheer will. I knew it couldn't be that hard. I'd had dozens of flu shots and hundreds of allergy shots in my life. How hard could it be to give myself a flu shot in my leg? If I couldn't give myself a flu shot how could I give them to the rest of the family? Because no way in hell was I going to let Mr. Genetic Hand Shakes Ricardo give me one and the Kid is terrified of needles. So it was down to me. And I was first up.

I went in the bathroom and washed my hands. Then I alcoholed the crap out of my leg, took out the shot and sat there.

I could do it.

Just do it.

OK. Now!

Now!

Just do it Now!

Ok really do it now!

OK this time for real. Now!

Now!

OK. Now!

I partly stuck the needle in and realized that was not going to work and jabbed it in. Then I tried to slowly shoot it in, realized that wasn't the way and plunged. It was done. Whew!

And then I was left with a biohazard, which apparently in Spain, no one seems to care about since there are no directions at all for disposing of it. Creepy!

The Kid came home from Taekwondo, took his shower and I announced it was time for his flu shot. He got all pissy with me.

Do I have to get dressed? Why did you make me shower? Why didn't we just go after Taekwondo?

Go get your rabbit and come in my bathroom I told him. (the bathroom of doom!!)

He did and I started telling him the saga of my rosetta stone debacle (long story short, time machine does not remember your activation codes for rosetta stone, but apryl in harrisonburg is a doll and was a huge help for 2 hours!) while I did this, I cannily washed my hands, alcoholed his arm and jabbed the shot in! boom! done, baby!

By the time it was time to do Ricardo's (it burns us precious!) I was a fucking pro!

And so we've all had our flu shots. And the only one with ill effects is me. Can I recommend, not getting one in your thigh muscle since it hurts like fuck and now my leg is killing me today?

Oh, and it's really late in the season to get a flu shot. Why didn't you just get them when the signs were up? Not that we'd have given them to you when you'd asked...

Would you touch a lugie covered cash machine for 3.5€?

This morning I was faced with just such a dilemma.

You might wonder why I would stoop to such a level and even consider the question. It's kind of a long answer, but since I have you here and I have all the time in the world, why don't I explain it?

Let's start with the fact that banking in Spain is an interesting enterprise. It's not the easiest thing in the world to set up an account. In Spain everyone and their mother want something called your DNI. This is basically you national ID number, what in the US would be your Social Security Number. To open an account at most banks, the big banks, you need either a resident number or a DNI.

We have neither since we are here (at least until the week after next) on tourist visas.

However, some banks, the smaller ones, the ones who charge fees, do not have such issues. As a foreign national you may open an account here with a passport, cash and a recommendation from someone else who banks with them. In this case we have this, via our landlord (who is lovely!). And so we came to bank with Banco Sabadell Atlantico. This is a small bank whose symbol we found to be hysterically funny when we arrived at the bank as you might imagine we would:

Upon opening our account we were told that we could use any ServiRed machines, but that only the BS (LOLOLOL) machines would be free of charge and only then if we took out over 60€. No problem we thought.

No problem that is until we came to learn that there was but one machine in our area. And that one machine was right in the Puerta del Sol. In other words, it was in the heart of Touristlandia. But no matter. I could walk right past it on my way from dropping the Kid off at school. As long as we only took cash out every other week or so, we were fine.

Since moving to Spain, certain things have been a bit surprising to me. For one thing, roughly half the public bathrooms lack both toilet paper and soap. This includes the bathroom in the Kid's school. His current assignment in Art class is to create a sign to put up in school that warns students of a hidden danger. He chose to make one that warned potential potty goers that the bathroom lacked soap and paper. No one thought this was funny. They looked at him like he was nuts. Why, they wondered, would anyone care about that? Bathrooms often lack these things.

The Spanish are impeccably dressed, coiffed and cologned. Their clothing is always neat, pressed and matching. They (unlike Americans) would never be caught dead going to the grocery in sweatpants. As a whole, people here are beautiful, and I always feel that it is important to look nice whenever I leave our apartment.

However, this does not extend to hygiene necessarily. And I don't meant o make blanket statements, because it's no one's fault if they can't wash their hands in the restaurant bathroom when there is no soap provided them. But it's not a hand washing kind of place. Hand sanitizer is expensive (or impossible to find in some places). And people do not cough or sneeze into their arms, but in their hands, which they then use to press the buttons on the elevator, open the metro door with, or place on the escalator.

In addition, like Latin America, Spain seems to be a place where trash is discarded rather than kept upon the person. Cigarette butts are thrown willy nilly on the streets as are tissues, cans, and other detritus. In Mexico once, a woman throwing her trash out the window explained her disgust of Americans to Ricardo thusly: "Why would you want to carry trash with you? It's so dirty!" Which seems to be true here too. And since there is a huge army of people out cleaning the streets at all times, the city is extremely neat despite the way that littering takes place, with people sweeping, mopping, and even bleaching and hosing down the streets daily.

Which brings me to my lugie this morning. There is but one BS machine in my life. And it is in the middle of tourist land. Whether the lugie was placed by a Spaniard with a cold and bad aim, a stupid American without regard for others, an angry Ecuadorian wanting revenge on the Spanish who employ him, a German who missed the hanky, or someone else, it ended up on my BS machine. And I had to make a choice.

Would I spend 3.50€ to use the La Caixa machine next door? Or would I touch the machine with the lugie on it?

We've been in Spain nearly 90 days to be exact. And in this time, I have watched people exit bathrooms where I know they have been going number 2 and not washed their hands. I have seen people kiss hello after they have sneezed into their hands. I have been to dinner with people who have no soap in their own bathrooms (and these are professionals).

3.50 € is milk for a week or more. I used the lugie machine.

And then I came home. And I washed my hands.

I've been craving enchiladas

And making them is no easy feat here in Madrid.

For one thing, the Spanish do not eat spicy food. They think they do. They have chistorras and patatas bravas and chorizo but as yet I have not noticed these to be actually spicy (although they are tasty, especially the sausage products which I love!).

I have actually seen people give up on eating pepperoni pizzas here in Madrid. One woman waved her hand in front of her mouth and claimed it was "muy picante." Pepperoni. Is it even spicy? I've never noticed it to be. Another woman had to switch with her husband because she couldn't go through with the pizza. WTF?

I was not looking for wimpy spicy. I wanted full bodied Mexican spicy. And I knew I'd need to make it myself if I wanted anything that would make my mouth sing. So I went about trying to assemble the ingredients that would do the trick.

As usual, this was no mean feat. For one thing, it meant most of the necessary ingredients were going to need to be imported. I began with the basics: tortillas.

Tortillas are shockingly expensive here. You can get "taco kits" which are basically Old El Paso boxes that include the 1970s hard injection molded taco shells and taco powder (just add meat!) for about €7 ($10). But actual soft tortillas? Much more challenging. Finally I found some, several choices actually. And none of them good.

At home, I can buy a package of 20 four tortillas for about $2 (€1.50). Here I could get 8 tortillas for €2.65 ($4). Andt they were large tortillas (not the actual enchilada sized ones. And they fit the pan well (it's actually an awesome clay roasting pan and I absolutely love it!). But shit!

While were were there in the Mexican aisle (or section. a very, very small section) I browsed for what I could use for a sauce for my enchiladas (not being interested in making one from scratch) and was rewarded mightily with canned Herdez salsa casero which wasn't just something to settle for but which is actually a salsa I use at home! Score! But ouch! €2.75 ($4) for each 150ml can which at home would have been about $1.99 for a 500 ml jar.

Next, beans. Beans are not canned here. They are jarred. This is strange. I prefer my beans in a can. I don't know why. I guess I don't like them looking at me or something. Plus not all the beans are in the same place in the grocery store. So several trips down several aisles finally revealed red pinto beans. Two jars at €1.95 ($3) each.

Lastly, the part I had most been dreading: the cheese. Spain is famous for its cheese and well it should be. I've never had such tasty goat cheese, sheep's milk cheese or hard cured cheeses. What it does not have is cheddar. What to do? Well, you improvise. I found some packages of mixed gouda and cheddar which would melt well and I also used some semi cured cheese we had at home which was perfect since it was so much like a queso fresco. The shredded cheese and the cream cheese (which is amazing and has made me now crave bagels) was about €6 ($8.40)

Added to this were the very cheapest ingredients: 1 lime and 2 avocados purchased at the very last minute today and not quite ripe enough to make into guacamole. Astonishingly: €.90 ($1.25).

These were the most expensive enchiladas ever made. But I swear to you they were also the very most delicious! Thank God yesterday's meal (chicken in grapefruit cream sauce with saffron, mashed potatoes and salad) was a fraction of the cost!