LOLA'S BACK!! ~ YOUR LOLA LIFELINE!

You know, these should really be called The Lola Diaries ’cos what I’ve got to say is sooo much more intelligent and interéssant than the drivel and waffle that woman with the wild, fair hair writes. The reason, mes chers lecteurs, is très simple! Here in the southern Mediterranean, ALL canines are permitted INSIDE restaurants where we don’t just collapse on the floor, endlessly lick our privés parts and drool listlessly but, au contraire, we pick up all kinds of information you humans shamelessly hurl about en particulier when you’ve had a bouteille too many of Puligny Montrachet or (my favourite!) Château Pétrus.



For instance, one of my chums (pic above) close to the PM, Señor Zapatero, in Madrid regularly picks up in restaurants and in Señor Zapatero’s own Palacio de la Moncloa not just snippets of the latest gossip about other leaders (Ooh, M Sarkozy!! Ooh, S. Belusconi!! If you only knew!!) but top, top secrets as well. (But as a lady, I couldn’t possibly comment… In fact, I’m blushing now but you would never know - all that fabulous fur you understand.) Moreover, this Saturday, Norawoman is taking me to Jean-Christophe Novelli’s new restaurant in Marbella (Señora Noriega is going out with Juan Antonio) so, ’cos it’s a top French restaurant, one should expect a better breed of canine there and, who knows, I just might pick up yet another e-x-c-l-u-s-i-v-e for you!


But enough of that and back to The Lola Diaries which I know you’re just itching to hear more about! Now, since my fanmail is getting so huge, I’ve been doing a bit of thinking and have come to the conclusion I should put myself about a bit (you know, like all those wanabee singers and actors and failing prime ministers). And go on YouTube! But then I overheard Norawoman (as you know, I made her my PA though she’s pretty hopeless), muttering (she thinks when I’m lying in my basket with my eyes closed, everything else is closed down too) how naff that would be ’cos only needy people like Susan Boyle and Gordon Brown go after PR on YouTube.

So, until my fame goes truly GLOBAL and the Delectably Divine Duo (Oprah and Obama) come knocking on my basket (meanwhile I’ll steer clear of Jonathan Ross - I don’t want any embarrassing messages about MY love life left on the answer machine - and the British Government Minister who recently took a peek at my website!), I’ve decided to do what I do best. Namely to give advice. To you, chers lecteurs. Totally free. Ever since I was a puppy in New Labour puppybaccalauréatacadémie, you understand, my advice was always being sought and so I feel it incumbent on myself - no, my duty! - to pass on these snippets of my wisdom.


One day last week, for instance, I had a long, serious chat with my puppy-nephew (above) about his future. “I’ve been giving the matter a lot of thought recently, and I’ve finally come to a landing. I want to do absolutely nothing useful with my life,” he admitted at last, removing his iPod with a yawn and rolling over on his side to face the sun. “But why don’t you take a more positive attitude?” I replied. “Why not become a small-time crook? A cowboy roof builder, a layabout on benefit scams, a bag snatcher, a mugger of old people, drive a black Seat at 140kph on Spanish roads at the same time tailgating and overtaking on the inside lane, become a call centre robot, work for one of the Chinese Triads, maybe become a real hoodlum and apply for an intern post in one of the banks still left standing.” He chewed loudly on yet another Bonio as he thoughtfully considered my advice. “The bank idea sounds OK,” he answered, stifling another yawn, “although I’d rather steal from them. If I must work, I’d prefer to have a more lasting effect on the country, something that will go down in history. If I’m going to grow up to become a crook, I want to be a REAL crook!” “Well, in that case,” I replied after the briefest of pauses, “why don’t you become a Member of Parliament, the British Parliament?” And if he takes my sound advice, there’ll be no end of opportunities for all his accomplishments…


Pro tem, I’ve decided to call my advice column YOUR LOLA LIFELINE!. Pro tem, you understand, ‘cos, when my fame truly does go international, I may have to change it. After all, all my fans in the Middle East may think I’m offering help with my lifeline to those ghastly pirates off their coasts! So, if you have any problems or queries you’d like me to respond to (dealt with anonymously if preferred), don’t hesitate to let me know (or my PA, Nora) in the COMMENTS BOX BELOW!

However bizarre, outlandish or insoluble it may seem, I’ll have an answer to that dilemma of yours! So why hesitate any longer? Go on and write to me, Agony Aunt to the Blogosphere, in the comments box NOW!

And remember, YOUR LOLA LIFELINE! - your lifeline to a saner, more harmonious, beauteous world. Just like mine in fact!

LOL LOLA!

P.S. As you know, I'm a French breed and adore all things French! The lovely Karyn at French Charminghas a French giveaway (which would look sooo charmant on my coiffure commode!). Go visit her gorgeous site now!

JESUS & GORDON BROWN: YES, WE CAN!

Surprisingly, Jesús didn’t comment in the Spanish class this week about Lewis Hamilton’s recent win. In fact, he seemed a bit preoccupied.

At first, to get us to practise the conditional tense, he asked us what we would do with the "‘Gordo’ " as he put it. As this was the same day as the crucial (for Gordon Brown) Glenrothes by-election, I exchanged glances with the other Brits who fell about helplessly laughing. For a second, Jesús’s face registered, firstly, surprise then total bafflement at our unforgivable pig ignorance of such an essential part of Spanish life.

As we did our best to stifle the laughs, he gamely tried to educate us in Spanish culture as he went on to describe in detail precisely which ‘Gordo’ he had in mind. Namely, an event so important that many Spanish regard the day it takes place, December 22nd, as the real start of the Christmas festive season. El Gordo - ‘the fat one’ - the Spanish National Lottery jackpot.

The draw, he patiently explained, is shown on television in the morning while newspapers publish special editions solely with the list of winning numbers and photos of the winners spraying champagne on one another and around the ‘lucky’ place they purchased the ticket.

Finally, by way of bringing the class to an end, he said that if we wanted to get rich fast, we needed to start buying straightaway our participaciones, either from lottery vendors in street kiosks and shopping centres or from organisations ranging from bars to charities which buy numbers and redistribute them in smaller sums to clients and friends.

He’d already bought a large number, he added with a pained look on his face, since he was desperate to recoup some of the money he’d now unavoidably, categorically lost to a developer on his recent apartment purchase.

He looked so crestfallen we almost forgave him his earlier tirades against Lewis Hamilton. For we’d only just read in the local press reports that Spanish developers are so indebted they can’t drop prices any further without making a loss. "You can forget about prices falling 30%to 40% – I’ll give it to the bank before that," said Guillermo Chicote, president of the Association of Constructors and Developers of Spain, at a recent conference.

However, despite Chicote’s fighting talk, that’s probably what will happen. Dozens of developers, including Martinsa-Fadesa, one of Spain’s biggest, have already been forced into administration, causing mayhem for many British investors who have no property to show for their early-stage payments. And only goes to highlight the risk of buying off-plan in the current market: better to snap up something newly built, but already finished. Indeed, unless the government steps in and bails out the sector, large-scale repossessions of even new developments by the banks look likely too.

Well, let’s hope Jesús is equally lucky with El Gordo next month as Gordon was this.

Who needs Obama when there's El Gordo? Yes, we can!

FUTURE POLITICS

Eventually the motion was passed by Nerja (street scene above) to separate from the central organisation and be more inclusive. There had been, apparently, a discriminatory practice in place for 34 years, namely that Spanish law required a 55 per cent American membership. A practice that Nerja claims is illegal for, in the United States, you can’t have a club which throws people out or bars them from elected office based on nationality. Nerja’s view was that national origin is immaterial; if someone has the knowledge, skills and ability for a job, that person should be elected.

Furthermore, Nerja believes that if a club doesn’t change that which doesn’t work, it becomes stagnant. It won’t attract, retain or stimulate members. In this respect, the website, too, is important for, if people look at its pages and it’s boring, never changes, they simply won’t join. Indeed, whilst Nerja has 100 per cent of its members connected to the web, there are those running other Chapters who allegedly don’t have e-mail, don’t even know how to use a computer!

And as for the American International Club of Nerja’s future plans, it’s sending an email to all members saying, ‘Same fun, new name’ and making itself better known in the local community. There’s already been an increase in membership and Nerja’s new logo incorporates several different countries’ flags with those formerly termed ‘international associates’ now more involved and engaged.

Finally, Nerja is continuing with its motto: ‘If it’s not fun, we don’t do it!’ And urging everyone to keep logging onto its website for all the innovative events planned.

Well, what has all this to do with the presidential election, you may ask. Not much it would seem. The only politics on offer among the Americans I met seemed more of the local office variety than national. Scarcely a mention was made of either candidate. Washington isn't so very far from Southern Spain geographically, but in many respects it's a world away.

In the end, elections - presidential and local board - are won on a combination of message and candidate. Obama’s message is a clear one of change and his appeal is deliberately crafted to cross racial, gender and geographic lines. The American International Club of Nerja’s message is also one of change - after 34 years of stagnation - and its appeal crafted to cross national lines to the farthest reaches of the community.

And what a change! Obama himself would be proud!

MORE POLITICS: OBAMA, AMERICAN EX-PATS & ME...

As mentioned in an earlier post, I’ve been interested in U.S. politics ever since I lived in LA some years ago. During those 7 years, I avidly followed local as well as national election campaigns. And the current U.S. presidential election is no different.

Whilst I lived in the U.S., I took no particular side, leaning neither to the Democrats nor the Republicans. My interest, you understand, was purely impartial, non-partisan. I simply enjoyed and admired the exuberant tour de force that is American campaign politics. None of the polite, muted canvassing usual in British general elections. Instead you get there the full treatment of in-your-face, barnstorming razzmatazz. ‘Cheerleader’ delegates bullishly brandishing billboards marketing their candidate. Raucous muzak deafening all attempts at speech. Thousands of red, white and blue balloons and streamers cascading from on high.

However, since the arrival of Obama, I have found myself increasingly drawn to his presidential campaign of Change - as indeed appear so many others in the light of the incumbent’s record. So, it was with considerable expectation that I made my way to the American expat community of Andalucia to check out their political allegiances. However, it was politics of a very different kind that’s been preoccupying these ex-pats for the past year of the campaign…

Indeed, less than a month ago, the Nerja Chapter of the American Club held an emergency meeting and voted to break away unanimously from the mother ship - the rest of the organisation - and form a new group, the American International Club of Nerja. I must have looked more mystified than I realised since an official immediately launched into the ‘backstory’.

Apparently, thirty-four years ago a group of Americans used to meet partly for social reasons but mainly to be able to speak in English. Because they didn’t speak any Spanish, he added without the least hint of irony. The American Club (Costa del Sol), he continued, currently has several hundred members divided into five Chapters covering the area from Sotogrande to Salobreña with still some of its original members, now in their nineties, dating from the Franco era.

But why, I was curious to learn, did the Nerja Chapter decide to dissolve all ties with head office now?

Over the last couple of years, it seems, one of the American Club’s goals had been to attract more people and to modernise some procedures which had become outdated. The Nerja Chapter made proposals how the website and newsletter could be improved, how the site could include blogs and a RSS feed and all for less money by outsourcing maintenance.

Nerja was also interested in the philanthropic side of the organisation, keen to integrate and look for Spanish charities to support. This, too, went down like a lead balloon with head office...

So, what of the future?