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An English Fandango hits the cyber-shelves

19/04/2013

I am excited, terrified, pleased but nervous to announce that An English Fandango is now on the Amazon shelves in Kindle format.

If you fancy a gander at the cover – hilariously executed by the very talented Simone Chararyn – or if you would like to review and/or even buy, then the link can be found by clicking here.

Any feedback, even here on the blog, will be most gratefully received.

I have already had requests for non-Kindle formats, but as I have initially placed the book with KDP Select (which apparently enables wider promotion) I will only be able to do that after the 90-day exclusivity period ends.

(Please could those interested in another electronic format let me know what that would be? I am utterly clueless about such matters…)

Requests for paperback copies have also been forthcoming, but I have no idea if that will be financially viable on a small-scale – I will report back as soon as I know.

Thank you, and have a wonderful weekend!

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Posted in An English Fandango, Atheism, English Teaching, Granada, Grub and Stuff, Language, Luuurve, Mallorca, Marbella, Music, Pooch, Romantz, Spain, Travel, Vilanova i la Geltru | 14 Comments »

Ding Dong the Bells are going to Chime

01/03/2013

status viatoris – being ‘on the way’/being in a state of pilgrimage

Sometime towards the end of 2012, discussions turned to the state of my ovaries.

Given the apparently serious nature of our love affair, and the possibly decrepit state of my reproductive organs, I thought it prudent to point out to Tigger that should he envisage a family with me, sooner rather than later might be the key to thwarting the wear and tear that was invariably being wrought by Old Father Time.

To be honest it was merely an observation – I had long ago made peace with the possibility of a childless future (Life seems to me to be filled with plenty of other goals to strive for and hidden corners to explore).

Anyway, it transpired that a family is exactly what Tigger had envisaged with me, which is how I now find myself engaged to be married.

The Rock

Less of a rock and more of a chiefly calcium carbonate deposit formed around a grain of sand or other foreign matter in the shells of certain molluscs… But still very pretty.

And I simply cannot wait to be the wife of such a kind, loving, funny, supportive, intelligent, and wonderful man – although preferably via a registry office wedding involving no more than two guests and which I can attend in my trainers… oh yes, I am the last of the great romantics.

On paper we  are undoubtedly a very odd match.

I am a thirty-five year old English girl (not sure what it takes to be a woman, but I don’t feel I’m quite there yet…), he is a twenty-six year old Romanian of Hungarian origin.

I am an atheist, an only child and a bookworm; he is Catholic, the fourth child of six and has never picked up a book in his life.

I am an antisocial over-thinker; he is gregarious and happy-go-lucky.

I write stuff, translate stuff, teach stuff and sell stuff; he does stuff with iron, and has been known also to do stuff with wood and bricks and cement too.

I am messy, he is neat. I am fanciful, he is practical.

I have moved to Spain then France then Italy in a self-indulgent quest for a more exciting life, he has moved to Spain then Cyprus then Italy out of necessity – a necessity for reliably paid employment.

I have been through a fairly impressive roll call of partners in my attempt to track down “The One”, he never saw the point of having a girlfriend until he met me.

In fact about the only thing we have in common is that we love each other, and very much. A warm yet exciting, comforting yet heart-pounding kind of love that makes me go “oh! so that’s what everyone meant…!” for up till now I had assumed that people in relationships just made do.

No More.

No Less.

And into this already pretty cushy bargain, I also get the benefit of a lovely family. One that already boasts an Ecuadorian brother-in-law, thus relieving me of the burden of being the only foreigner; as well an extraordinarily special little Ecuadorian/Romanian nephew who had already melted my heart long before I had even made his uncle’s acquaintance.

Thus a whole new chapter of my life opens up, and in a direction that I really had not counted on.  Will it still be possible to be a Modern-Day Nomad with her head in the clouds and her fingers on the keyboard as well as a wife, and possibly also one day a mother?

I sincerely hope so. And I think that this partnership – for it most decidedly is a partnership, as opposed to two independent humans sharing merely bed and board as in previous relationships – has the necessary ingredients to make it possible.

I was already fairly sure of that six months ago but when my lovely strong cheerful man broke down and cried like a baby at the prospect of losing my beloved dog; then I knew it for certain.

This is Status Viatoris, who has enjoyed a few days off from An English Fandango, but who will be cracking on with “Marbella” from Monday.

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Posted in Italy, Luuurve, Romantz, Travel | 30 Comments »

Popping Out From Behind the Fandango…

07/01/2013

status viatoris – being ‘on the way’/being in a state of pilgrimage

… to say HAPPY NEW YEAR!

A bit late, I know, but I wanted to see Mallorca through to its natural conclusion before breaking the spell ;-)

I imagine the sudden change in subject from Current Life in Italy to Distant Past in Spain may have come as a bit of a surprise to some, especially as I chose not to usher it in with even the smallest parp of a fanfare.

In fact posting the book chapter by chapter on Status Viatoris was an idea that came to me in the dead of night whilst I was mulling over a lack of success in locating my blogging mojo; and in typical SV fashion, no sooner had the thought popped into my head than I found myself seated expectantly before the computer in my pyjamas…

Although I had long since resigned myself to never making a peso from An English Fandango (unless the clamour for an e-book reaches intolerable decibels, natch), I find I do regret choosing the point of lowest reader traffic in my blogging journey so far to launch it into the bogglesphere.

It feels as though I’ve let it down somehow, and, despite the relief of finally having made a decision about its destiny, I can’t help but worry that I am ill-prepared for the possibility of seeing my little creation sink into oblivion without even a small flurry of bubbles to mark its passing…

Oh the ego is a terrible thing, so it is!

So, 2012 has been and gone since we last spoke, and I for one was a little sad to see it leave.

Because without causing a flap or creating a fuss, it turned out to be a pretty fabulous year for me (poorly Pooches notwithstanding): the house, all bar the leaky roof, is finished; I seem to have landed myself with a highly entertaining business venture; English-teaching is turning out to be a lot more satisfying than I found it nine years ago; I have spent the last two months being paid to translate descriptions of thrilling things to do in Kenya; An English Fandango is slowly being released from the prison of its word document; my relationship with Tigger is growing – although the last time I wrote something similar that part of my life temporarily went tits up – and my previously incorrigible itchy feet are now made conspicuous only by their absence.

Challenged and yet content, ferociously busy and yet fulfilled: it’s only taken thirty-five years for me to be able to cautiously stick my bonce over the parapet and declare that I might, just might, be settled.

And as I doubt very much that I would have been able to reach that point without the increase in confidence gained from the writing of this blog, and most especially from the encouragement and affection of so many of its readers, I want to thank you all hugely for sticking  with me over the last thirty-three months and 328 posts.

THANK YOU!

This is Status Viatoris, wishing all SV readers, their families, friends and loved ones much health and happiness in 2013 – take care of each other and make every day count, in Italy.

P.S An English Fandango – Granada will have its first airing on Monday 14th January. Don’t miss it!

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Posted in An English Fandango, English Teaching, Italy, Luuurve, Opinion, Philosophical, Right Riveting Reads, Romantz | 14 Comments »

True Amore?

22/06/2012

status viatoris – being ‘on the way’/being in a state of pilgrimage

Being someone who is fascinated by human nature in general, and cultural differences in particular, there are many aspects of the Italian psyche that have piqued my curiosity over the years.

Most especially, given the unrivalled reputation for romance the country holds, the attitude to love and relationships.

And Italy certainly seems to be a country that thrives on relationships – the necessity of being in one often seeming to override the need to actually be happy.

One only has to go out on a Saturday night to witness the profusion of girlfriends clinging like parasitic twins to miserable looking paramours or trailing pitifully around behind them as they do blokey stuff with their mates whilst attempting to pretend they’re single.

The concept of girl power appears to have been largely ignored: many youngsters will be a couple of years into a long-term relationship before they even finish their schooling and these young (and not so young) girlfriends show not even a glimmer of self-respect as they stalk their boyfriends from pillar to post; running up stratospheric phone bills in their apparent attempts to plot the loved-one’s whereabouts at every waking moment.

Of course the boys are not much better; coercion not being an obvious factor in luring them into such claustrophobic love matches. Rather than grasping opportunities for the independence to explore and grow during their relative youth, they seem to inexplicably prefer often unsatisfying partnerships with girls they can care little about; only to then expend huge amounts of energy on repeated attempts at infidelity.

It is all rather baffling.

Certainly the grand gestures are all to be found here if those are what one is interested in: metre-high declarations of love painted in public places, endless file pictures of kissing and hugging couples accompanied by cutesy messages all over social networking sites, an eager willingness to trip down the aisle and start a family… being single in Italy does seem to be something of a rarity, but are people truly happy?

Or does this almost pathological need to be part of a couple mean that many Italians settle for what they can get, as opposed to holding out for somebody who could actually make that vital difference in their lives.

For surely there is no shame in choosing solitude over the wrong partner? Being single is a wonderful opportunity to explore much of what life has to offer as well as getting to know oneself; the perfect recipe for being able to recognise and appreciate love when it does come to call.

This is Status Viatoris, who hates to generalise but honestly, italiani, what are you all so scared of?? in Italy.

Posted in Italy, Luuurve, Romantz | 7 Comments »

Emotional Incapability Need Not Be Terminal

01/05/2012

status viatoris – being ‘on the way’/being in a state of pilgrimage

I have recently been taught that good communication may well be the key to making relationships work.

It is also, apparently, the key to saving them – those which still have the whisper of a pulse, anyway.

For when the dust had settled, and I was at last capable of having a meaningful conversation without ending up snuffling pathetically into a hanky, Tigger and I sat down together and had a good long chat.

We talked, really talked, and realised that despite the relative brevity of the relationship, really talking had been allowed to slip fatally low on our list of priorities.

And although I had certainly been aware of its descent, it was Tigger who actually troubled to point it out.

It was assuming that had stepped in to take the vacancy left by really talking, and assuming makes a very poor substitute indeed – as well as of course making an ass of you and… well, I’m sure you know the rest.

The trouble with assuming – besides being very different from the actual knowing that tends to come from really talking – is that it relies quite heavily on the experiences and past observations of the assumer.

Not ideal when the assumer and the assumee have an age-difference of almost a decade, come from extremely dissimilar cultural backgrounds and communicate in a language that neither of them speaks to mother-tongue standard.

So having established that what we both wanted from each other was considerably different from what we had assumed we wanted from each other, and that what we both want is to be together but with a little more dedication and a regular helping of really talking, Tigger and I managed to retrieve what we both thought we’d lost for good.

Us.

This is Status Viatoris, working at making a relationship work, in Norfamtonshire.

Posted in Language, Luuurve, Romantz | 10 Comments »

Emotionally Incapable; Temporarily Incapacitated

28/03/2012

status viatoris – being ‘on the way’/being in a state of pilgrimage

It would appear that my assessment of the SV/Tigger Toyboy coupling going from strength to strength, was a smidgen short of the mark.

It would also appear that the pain and bewilderment that come with being rejected by somebody you were becoming very fond of does not lessen with age.

One moment you are standing side by side with a person you trust, a person you laugh with and in whose arms you feel both safe and joyously giddy; a person whose presence brings that little extra sunshine to your life.

The next moment you are faced with a chilly stranger who has pulled the shutters down before you even noticed a storm was brewing, and who then walks away without even a backwards glance; carrying your secrets, your insecurities and your most intimate moments with them.

I can only speculate as to the motives behind this decision to move on – there has been no real clarification; too young to deal with the implications of such an intense eight months? Too overwhelmed by age and cultural differences? The lure of a summer filled with frolics and flirtations too much to resist? A simple lack of the necessary feelings of attraction or affection?

As there were no obvious signs of any of the above, resignation to being left in the dark appears to be my lot.

So now for the necessary period of mourning: mourning what I thought I had, mourning what I thought the future might bring, mourning the delicious feelings of affection and admiration that I had tentatively begun to believe were mine.

And in the meantime, Status Viatoris may remain post-less for another few days until a little mental verve and bounce is regained, and until the silly tears have dried enough for the screen to be less of a blur.

Status Viatoris is single again, Hey Ho and a bottle of rum, in Italy.

Posted in Luuurve, Romantz | 22 Comments »

Freezing Precipitation Precipitates Daft Tourists

29/01/2012

status viatoris – being ‘on the way’/being in a state of pilgrimage

Today I woke up to the sound of torrential rain drumming its fingers impatiently on the skylights (slightly unnerving as the cheap plastic doesn’t look substantial enough to deal with a determined sunbeam, let alone a full-on winter storm) and the cheering sight of the surrounding hills dusted with snow.

Cheering because it meant I could turn back over, pull the covers up under my chins, and snooze on guilt-free for a couple of hours.

Oh yes, a pyjama day was definitely what the doctor ordered, and later on, having cajoled Pooch out of the door and into the neighbour’s garden for purposes of tinklement, I settled back onto the sofa with a cup of tea in one hand and the remote control in the other.

But Tigger/Toyboy apparently heard the accompanying sigh of contentment, and, deciding that not enough had been done to earn it, started lobbying for an outing to get up close and personal with the aforementioned snow.

Hurrumph. Now I am really not snow’s Number 1 fan.

Whilst I can concede that yes yes it is all very pretty when viewed at its virginal best through a window, and with a steaming mug of hot chocolate and/or vin chaud clasped to one’s breast; trudging along in it whilst trying to painfully reintroduce sensation to one’s chilled digits, doesn’t really get my juices flowing.

But five and a half months into a fling romance relationship whatever, is probably a tad too soon to let the other person in on all the home truths – that he has inadvertently tumbled into the lair of an idle couch potato without a spontaneous bone in her body especially when it involves extremes of temperature.

So off we went.

Pooch getting all up in snow's grill (whilst getting a lot of snow crammed up his own grill)

And a certain someone was thrilled beyond measure that just a few kilometres up the road, ghastly rain – so ruinous to velvety fur and cheery dispositions – was miraculously transformed into snow…

…yet another of his most favouritist things.

Playing in snow!

Running in snow!!

Wagging in snow!!!

And although my toes did complain most bitterly about the injustice of being torn from toasty slippers, and shoved without ceremony into icy wellies, I am rather glad I made the effort.

We threw a number of snowballs (Tigger and I), ate some snowballs (Pooch), laughed at other snow-tourists from our village wheel-spinning up and down the hill (all three of us), and then Pooch “helped” Tigger build a rather impressive pupazzo di neve accompanied by cries of:

“No! Pooch stop eating it. No! Go away. Stop it. I said stop it. No, that’s supposed to be its arm, not for you. No, Pooch. Stop it. I said STOP IT!”

and suchlike.

Getting up close and personal with a snow person!!!!

Thus the illusion of an uncomplicated, fun-loving, outward-bound chick is maintained for just a little while longer.

Phew!

This is Status Viatoris, who has heard all about the theory of “no such thing as bad weather, just inappropriate clothing” but still firmly subscribes to the staying indoors tactic, in Italy.

Posted in Italy, Pix, Pooch, Romantz, Village Life | 16 Comments »

Can The Emotionally Incapable Change Spots?

04/11/2011

status viatoris – being ‘on the way’/being in a state of pilgrimage

Some readers may have picked up on a brief aside made in one of my recent posts.

It was an aside that mentioned, in passing, a large species of feline (that doesn’t actually have spots, at least not after cub-hood, so the zoological analogy used to title this post should be put down to artistic license and left firmly at that). The big cat mentioned was one that goes variously by the names of puma, mountain lion and panther.

But it is also known by another moniker.

A cougar.

And why should that be of interest? Well, according to the urban dictionaries of our times, a cougar is a woman who becomes sexually involved with a younger man.

I know!

Shocking, isn’t it?!

Even more shocking, is the fact that at the grand old age of thirty four and a half, I seem to have inadvertently become one.

It all began sometime in August, at the height of the piazza parties; when all but the most sensible people were busy abandoning themselves to the excesses of liquid refreshment and a catchy disco beat.

And into this heady mixture danced a man with feet like silverfish on speed, and the excessively baggy trousers of a gangster rapper.

Those were both characteristics that should probably have set off the clanging bells of warning: This is no man, I tell you!

And those bells would have to be right. In fact, to paraphrase Dame Judi Dench in a certain Merchant Ivory production – this was a youth; nine years younger than myself…

Gasp.

It started as nothing more than an inebriated encounter of a slightly unwise kind; but by dint of kindness, laughter, affection and the boundless enthusiasm of a Tigger/Labrador puppy hybrid, I appear to have been unwittingly bounced into something closely resembling a relationship.

I haven’t yet decided whether or not I actually mind.

And as time alone will tell me what, if anything, I could possibly have in common with a 25 year old Eastern European welder with a penchant for thumpy music and tickling me till I scream, I think I’m just going to sit back and enjoy the ride.

(And boy, what a ride ;-) )

This is Status Viatoris, introducing TB (ToyBoy) to the cast of The Life and Times of SV, in Italy.

Posted in Introduction, Opinion, Philosophical, Romantz | 24 Comments »

The Emotionally Incapable Does it Again

11/06/2011

status viatoris – being ‘on the way’/being in a state of pilgrimage

It may have crossed some minds that the reason for my recent and shameful neglect of this blog could well be exciting new developments with L.I (a shady and mysterious being, previously referred to here and here).

And it pains me greatly to disappoint, but I fear that L.I must now be referred to under a fresh new moniker; N.R.I – as in Not Remotely Interested.

Because although he has shown himself to be Very Interested in the kudos of being fancied by the local kooky Brit, he has resolutely and niftily sidestepped every single opportunity to make good any of his promising utterances:

Come and drink wine in my campagna! (But it’ll have to be when hell freezes over)

I’ll take you for a ride on my motorbike! (A week come a fortnight next muck-spreading)

I’ll teach you how to dance the bachata! (That is if you don’t mind learning telepathically)

To be fair, all the signs were there; should I have cared to leap off my fluffy little cumulus to examine them more closely. The shaking heads and muttered utterances of certain locals – He’s all talk and no action, that one. Watch it, he has a habit of leading the ladies on. He’s a bit full of himself, are you sure you want to go there?

But on I ploughed in my usual kamikaze manner, determined to graciously bestow the benefit of the doubt and decide for myself; whilst at the same time eagerly lapping up the sporadic progress of our physical relationship coupled with his casual air of possessiveness and his semi-frequent displays of jealousy towards other males in the vicinity – for being metaphorically urinated on is surely the equivalent of being courted, no?

Until finally, reality dawned:

I have been pandering to a man’s ego, but making no inroad into his affections.

He is Not Remotely Interested.

It is time to move on.

For I most definitely lack the aggressive perseverance seemingly used by so many Italian women in their pursuit of the Italian man. The hunting and clinging technique employed by many of these ferocious creatures is beyond me, even though it may be precisely that which is expected by their male counterparts.

I am honest and open in my desires; game-playing has never been my thing. But if you are interested in me, you must meet me halfway; or simply carry on walking.

So perhaps an Italian romance is not to be my destiny.

Back to the drawing-board it is, then… ;-)

This is Status Viatoris, happy to carry on treading Life’s lonely path with the most important boy in her life, in Italy!

Posted in Italy, Philosophical, Romantz, Village Life | 13 Comments »

The Emotionally Incapable Blunders On

20/04/2011

status viatoris – being ‘on the way’/being in a state of pilgrimage

One of the hardest things I have found about blogging is trying to decide where to draw the line on divulgence. Rather than a question of whether or not I should actually be baring my soul to such an extent, I am usually more concerned about boring my audience with personal details that are neither informative, amusing, interesting or applicable.

The key word in that sentence being “usually”.

Which brings us to my current dilemma: The Annoyance Inconvenience Complication I Could Well Do Without Love Interest.

I confess to being slightly nervous about allowing developments of this nature to play out in front of a wider audience (wider than just my usual circle of giggly girlfriends, I mean), but when I think about all the possibilities such a tale may entail…

Cultural – step by step instructions in how not to deal with intercontinental flirtation.

Sociological – why some 30-something women should really just take up knitting and leave romance to those more equipped for it.

Comic – observe how amusingly quickly an independent woman can lose her dignity when tiptoeing into the dating pool.

… I know that I simply cannot withhold such gems from the public arena - it is both a duty and a privilege to sacrifice my reputation as a sane and rational human being at the altar of a greater public good.

So, back to the Love Interest himself (who in the interests of anonymity, we shall call L.I):

Having made a firm promise to myself not to spend so much time in the pub, I went to the pub. But less so. L.I continued to materialise unfailing at my side on each occasion, and thus our hours and hours of chatting in front of a village audience feigning disinterest continued. And the next time he offered to take me (the 100m) home on his motorbike, I said yes, and was treated to a thrilling swoop round the village, out into the countryside and back again.

- Ladies and Gents (but especially Ladies); let me tell you that there is nothing quite so swoon-inducing as a man who invites you onto his throbbing machine, and then exhorts you to wrap your arms tightly around him so he can accelerate and make you squeal.

But having deposited me safely back home, he whooshed off into the night once again, leaving me un-kissed and none the wiser as to his wishes or intentions…

…until a week or so later, when he suggested I invite him up for coffee so he could teach me some bachata steps, as promised.

- Ladies and Gents; let me tell you, there is nothing quite so charming as a man who can persuade a stone-cold-sober, utterly rhythm-less woman who loathes slow dancing, to whirl round and round and round her apartment with him for two hours until she can barely remember why she ever danced alone. A man rendered even more charming by his utterly un-selfconscious wearing of loaned fluffy white slippers bedecked with red horns.

The evening ended with us, um, “making out” as I think the youngsters would call it (a truly ghastly expression, the details of which I feel I am not being too cruel in keeping to myself… ;-) ), so at last, I was made privy to his wishes and intentions.

Or was I?

Because despite spending two further evenings glued to my side in the pub and a myriad of lingering glances in between, L.I still hasn’t called me. Admittedly he has said that work will be frenetic until the end of Easter (he provides a lot of the greenery for the services and processions), but the age-old doubts and insecurities have wasted no time in creeping in:

Have I read “the signs” all wrong?

Is he only after one thing?

Am I just setting myself up to get hurt (again)?

And most of all:

Why oh why couldn’t he have just kept on walking, and left this girl to wallow in her contented spinsterhood? I was doing just fine without you, Love Interest, how dare you waltz in and turn me back into an insecure, nervous, giggly schoolgirl?

This is Status Viatoris, a pox on all men who turn our lives upside-down without so much as a by your leave, in Italy – in fact anywhere at all for that matter!

Posted in Italy, Romantz | 12 Comments »

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