Stories of this Canadian girl's adventures exploring Europe...join me!

Monday, March 14, 2011

pig

The other day, I stood on the southern-most tip of Spain and saw Africa. Great guy, his family and I had spent the afternoon walking on the beach, stopping periodically to pick up an interesting shell, rock or piece of beach glass. The waves were crashing lightly against the shore and the fine sand was parting easily under our feet. The Father and I kept looking out across the water hoping to catch a glimpse of a leaping whale…man, would I love to see that. Instead, we saw Africa.

The last few days have been filled with sun amidst periods of rain and cloud, lots of fish and rice, sand and seashells, some ‘oh my’comments (the Father saying it would be much better in Spain if there wasn’t so much Spanish everywhere…even the kids speak it!) which I frantically tried to write down so that I wouldn’t forget them, and lots of laughter and silliness with great guy. I loved it.

Big franky told a story the other day, which with his permission (cause he has rights too!) I might try and turn into a little children’s book. He grew up on a farm in central Alberta, the oldest boy amongst many siblings (I think 8). One day his parents needed to bring their sow (large, mama pig) to the butcher, cause that’s just what happens to a sow.

All the kids jammed into the front and back seats of the family’s station wagon (back then seat belts were just a good suggestion) and the pig got heaved into the back cargo area. Pigs aren’t really the cleanest of animals and so, apparently the stench was remarkable. The kids thought it was all a little funny, having the pig sitting (well, more like standing) behind their seats, and they kept turning around, laughing and giggling at it.

The ride went fairly smoothly until…mayhem broke out. The pig decided she wanted to sit in the front and began climbing over the back seat and over the children. It was pure pig-demoniam! Somehow, his parents and the older kids managed to get the pig back into the back of the car and on they went to meet her maker. I just have one question, ‘Why would a pig suddenly decide she wants to sit in the front? Did she call shotgun?’
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