Finally warmth. You would not think it would be such a problem in a place where people are sitting outdoors at cafes all over the place, all day. I am finishing off a glass of wine and defrosting.

After hanging out on the rooftop at the Triana Backpacker's hostel (which is too nice for the word "backpacker" and even has older Spanish men staying there) I came to Sachiko's place. I went out to enjoy the last bit of sun, and then called Mara to see if I could borrow some blankets, because Sachiko has no extra ones. Mara was in Matalascañas (a beach in Huelva) and coming back later. All of this is hard for me - asking to borrow stuff. Luckily this time, Sachiko and Mara both asked me if I needed a place to stay, seeming actually enthusiastic to let me do so. I got some groceries from the Chinese corner store (Sunday night, it's the only possibility), and looked desperately at various possible blanket sources on my walk through the city, as well as trying to find a 24 hour farmacia that might sell hot water bottles.

I wish I could tell you the number of odd things I've cooked up in my wandering, for lack of alternatives; for scarcity of space to carry anything more than absolutely necessary in my suitcases, and for lack of stores open on Sunday and so on. I made up a little snack of oats with hot water and honey while I waited for my rice cooked in pureed tomato, with some fava beans and a bit of green pepper. (I made bay leaf tea in Jerez in the beginning of December, and in Granada stuck some mint into my rice with tomato, onion and salt, because it was on the hostel shelf).

Sachiko has a beautiful apartment, but it is miserably cold. It has this cutout in the white walls, stylishly showing off the bricks below and unfortunately giving away to a critical Canadian, that there is no insulation - I think they are part of the main structure of the outside walls. What a wonderful invention wooden houses with fiberglass insulation are. Don't take them for granted.

I nearly fell asleep on the couch, after shivering for hours by the tiny space heater. Thank goodness I have friends that force me to do sensible things like call other friends at midnight to see if they forgot to get me blankets. If not for that I would suffer, shivering, I suppose. So I called Mara, and then went across to Triana to collect some blankets from her, managed to fit them into a bike basket and ride back. I had planned to take a taxi but it seemed easy enough to bike with them. Good Lord, what you don't do at 20 you end up having to do at some point. This stuff should have been done back then, and not at 40. I think I will eventually get over the feeling of shame at wheeling suitcases instead of taking a taxi or carrying blankets around in a bike basket. Spain is a better place to do that than elsewhere; the land of "I don't give a shit what you think". Something in the back of my head feels like people are going to think I am too poor (which I am) or a homeless street person (close but no).

I realised today that I want to stop all this nonsense. I either have to live somewhere, or travel; not a stupid combination of both. If I am going to go live in another country then I need to get stable there and have a life. If I am going to travel, then I should have some kind of a money-raking 9-5 job that lets me go stay in a nice hotel for a few weeks, take taxis everywhere and eat out (or rent some kind of luxury holiday apartment with kitchen). I seem to have some kind of ridiculous desire to see how I can get along on practically nothing - an instinct for survival - a sort of game with myself to see how frugal I can be (because I believe I will have a hard time making money). This is not a healthy way to approach life. Why don't I try to financially succeed? I think it is all a reaction against "normal" North American values and an attempt at solidarity with the rest of the world which is so far below our standard.