Locked Out and the Consequences

So I am sorry to leave you guys hanging but I was getting very frustrated. Montse tried climbing the ladder and getting in the window but she couldn’t get it to open. She tried the credit card trick on the door, except she didn’t have a credit card but a thinner piece of plastic. (I don’t think it would have worked anyway; the lock was too substantial.) Eventually they broke a pane of glass on the window and opened it, and then someone (at a guess Carlos) climbed in and opened the door. I missed some of it; there comes a time when the best thing you can do is get out of the way. Eugenia missed almost ALL of it; she was asleep in the garden. Going out to the garden was the whole reason we were outside to begin with.

So apparently in trying to get the window open, Montse damaged it so it won’t completely close. (Either that or it was her fault we got locked out in the first place; I’m not completely sure.) Anyway, she and Stef were on the terrace and Stef said, “I am very upset with you!” and slammed, and I do mean SLAMMED the door. Montse said not quite in her face but almost. So she and Norbert have left.

Yesterday Stef drove her to her house. She at first said she would be a long-distance consultant, but she has apparently changed her mind and withdrawn her support altogether. This is a minor problem with the Guardia Civil, the agency that manages the camino among other things. They had given Montse a certificate for the albergue, but it was in her name. Since she has withdrawn her support, Stef has lost the certificate. Since this is a donativo, it mostly means that each day Stef has pilgrims he has to go down to the Guardia Civil office and give them the register. I’m thinking if that gets to be enough of a pain for them they will give him a certificate in his own right. But they can’t stop him from hosting pilgrims because no one can tell you who can stay in your house. All they can do is keep him from charging a specific amount.

So that was our drama. We all went to Eugenia’s bar the day after it happened, and I told everyone this was my fault. I had Carlos translate on his phone because I hadn’t gotten on the bar’s WIFI yet. “I don’t look for drama,” I said. “It just finds me.” Eugenia laughed. “Drama buscando Juanita,” she chuckled. She laughed, but it’s true.

Today Stef and I went to Eugenia’s house to make empanadas. Eugenia is from Argentina, and I asked what was the difference between an Argentinian empanada and a Spanish one. No one could really tell me. I told Eugenia I wanted to try filling an empanada. (No one makes their own dough, Stef said.) The first one I made was decent. Here is the second one.

Eugenia said she wasn’t a good cook, but she is. Here she is making an empanada.

Here they are all done.