Life in Spain with the Coronavirus

Between March 12-17 Spain saw coronavirus cases rocket from 3,146 to 11,178. In those five days my husband, Chris, lost his job and our plans to move were put on indefinite hold. Normal life distorted, then vanished, as the government banned travel, locked down the country, and put the police under military control.

Wednesday, March 11

The first broad hint that things were accelerating towards the unknown was when my friend Maria offered an elbow-bump instead of the usual Spanish greeting of a hug and two kisses: for coronvirus, she caroled.

Other countries judge crises by politicians’ statements or the somberness of news anchors. In Spain, EXTRAORDINARY CIRCUMSTANCES are when people don’t hug and kiss at least twice in a two-minute conversation.

I teach English at an academy and private school in A Coruna, Galicia. Tucked in the northwest corner of Spain, daily life in Galicia feels remote from the bustle of Madrid and Barcelona, or the sun-bleached, tourist-swarmed costas. Suddenly, it wasn’t remote enough.

Coruna’s first coronavirus case, confirmed on March 6, was a man from Madrid who came to the city for a job interview. In the subsequent days the word had become a taunt among my younger students – he has coronavirus! No, she has coronavirus!

The Spanish pronunciation, coh-roh-nuh-vee-rus, is gently musical. It chimed in snippets of conversation on the street, in bus-stop chatter, in the rapid dialogue between our secretary and parents killing time while they waited.

On the bus ride home, I mentally reviewed our weekend agenda: clean, pack, pick up rental car and welcome a house-sitter on Thursday; set off early Friday to make the 1,000km trip to Valencia; spend Saturday unpacking in our new home; fly back to Galicia Sunday so I could be at work the next day.

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Photo by Vonecia Carswell on Unsplash

Thursday, March 12

Chris woke me early: “You shouldn’t go to work and I don’t think we should fly.”

He’d been up all night reading about coronavirus, watching the case-count tick higher.

By the time coffee had brewed, I’d called in sick, messaged the house-sitter to cancel: It would be awful if something happened while you were here and they closed the border.

At the time, this seemed about as likely as another moon landing.

I went to the grocery store and piled a cart with hand soap, gloves, toilet bleach, rice, dried beans, peanut butter, potatoes, zucchini, peppers, cheese, wine, water. The only notable out-of-stock item was rubbing alcohol.

Chris and I sketched a new plan: pick up a van Sunday, load what we could, leave first thing Monday for Valencia. Two of our three cats would travel with Chris, I’d follow him in our car with the other. “It feels like fleeing a burning building,” I sad. But we agreed that if we had to get stuck somewhere, which seemed increasingly likely, better Mediterranean sun than Galician rain.

We’ll be back as soon it’s over,” he assured me.

Friday, March 13

Galicia announced it would close schools from Monday. My boss sent a text saying the academy was still open and he wanted to offer childcare service in the coming week. “Very few kids came yesterday,” he noted. “We can probably combine classes.”

We went for a walk, following our usual route along one-lane country roads, past small farms and the curious stares of knock-kneed lambs and cud-chewing cows. The neighbor’s dogs, a little black mutt and a Tibetan spaniel, ran to greet us.

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Photo by Jayden Brand on Unsplash

Saturday, March 14

Shops close on Sundays, so we went into the village to pick up a few things. Chris took one look at the supermarket parking lot and over-spill of vehicles lining the streets and shook his head.

Instead, we went to Razo. A noted surf spot, the beach is usually busy even in winter, but it was deserted apart from gulls. We walked onto the clean white sand, putting up our hoods against the keen Atlantic wind, and watched turquoise water curl into foaming breakers. Driving back past stubbled cornfields, patches of bushy-headed kale, neat houses hedged with purple blue and white hydrangeas, I wondered if we’d see this again.

We stopped at our friend Ramon’s wine shop – texting first to say we would were observing social distance. We often spend Friday evenings there, clustered around a barrel that serves as a table, drinking red wine, carving up cheese and empanadas, yakking about politics or music. This time, Ramon eschewed the usual kisses for a half-bow. We had a drink, bought two five-liter boxes of wine for our new house, waved goodbye and promised to be back when we could.

Mid-afternoon, while Chris was napping, I took a break from writing and looked at my phone: Spain’s state of alarm had become a state of emergency.

From the outside, Spain looks homogeneous. In reality, it is a complex and not always congenial patchwork of 50 provinces, 17 autonomous communities, and several co-official languages. The public health system is administered independently in each community so there was no coordinated response as coronavirus blossomed across the country. The state of emergency gave the federal government control of the public health service and the right to take over private healthcare as well. It also put police and security forces under military control. Suddenly, the lock-down that seemed fanciful 48 hours earlier was real. Nobody could leave home except to go to work, buy groceries, visit the doctor or pharmacy, or care for children or the elderly.

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Photo by Wes Hicks on Unsplash

Sunday, March 15

With no need pack, nothing to plan, and nowhere to go, we spend the day in a limbo that resembles tranquility. He calls the rental car place and arranges a refund. I rebook flights, trying not to think too far ahead. Chris is an audio technician. All his work has canceled. My teaching is gone for the foreseeable future; I try not to think about how quickly freelance writing will dry up.

Monday, March 16

I awoke to a voice message from a friend in Ibiza: police there are cautioning people traveling by bicycle, or more than one per vehicle. The only thing people are legally allowed to do outside is walk a dog. Within hours, ads appeared on Wallapop (a LetGo-style second-hand shopping app) offering to rent dogs out for strolls.

My LinkedIn feed was full of photos of deserted offices in Madrid and Barcelona tagged #yomequedoencasa (#istayhome). National radio played The Police ‘Don’t Stand so Close to Me’ and the DJs repeated “stay home”. Friends sent snapshots of deserted streets, parks, playgrounds. The cats follow us everywhere, as if they knew something was wrong.

Tuesday, March 17

More out of curiosity than need, I went to the grocery story at 9AM. A car pulled in behind me and a couple in matching lavender latex gloves got out. Signs were taped to the floor and at eye-level: ‘1 meter between people’. Strips of tape marked the distance in the checkout lanes. Some of the staff were wearing gloves, some filtered face masks, some both, some neither. The store filled as I restocked vegetables and wine, grabbed the lone bottle of rubbing alcohol on the shelf. Most people were elderly and seemed unconcerned; a younger woman in multi-colored platform sneakers wore a surgical mask and gloves; another hiked her scarf over her face on entering the store, as if coronavirus were a sandstorm.

Back home, Chris and I pulled on boots and tramped through the long grass behind the house. Our cats scampered along, breaking off to chase butterflies and bees. Pink camellia blossoms littered the ground, the olive tree shimmered silver, creamy flowers clustered on the pear tree’s gnarled limbs. We stood facing the sun, absorbing energy for whatever the next days bring.

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Photo by Paul Trienekens on Unsplash

 

Sleep hygiene for superheroes

Superheroes are vigilant and alert, always ready to leap into action. If, like me, you are blessed with the gift of hypervigilance – but not the cape and outside-in underwear habit – you probably struggle to sleep. Most nights, maybe every night, your mind will churn with plans, tasks, appointments, retreads of your day, ambitions, regrets. As the world lies quiet around you the pressure builds: to be better, do more, to make tomorrow a better day.

Needless to say, this anxiety fouls the spark-plugs of your brain. In the morning, it sputters and farts, never quite catching even as your pulse races in high gear.

Those of us who are, to quote Didion’s immaculate phrase: “lonely and resistant rearrangers of things, anxious malcontents, children afflicted apparently at birth with some presentiment of loss” often fight a losing battle to get the rest we need to stay sane and keep our feet on the ever-precarious ground.

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Photo by Nadine Shaabana on Unsplash

Sleep hygiene, defined by the National Sleep Foundation as “practices and habits that are necessary to have good nighttime sleep quality and full daytime alertness”, is as essential to us as tight-fitting spandex and avoiding Kryptonite.

The following seven strategies are essential to my sleep hygiene; your precise recipe may vary. What matters is that you identify things that help you rest at night, and ruthlessly protect the sanctity of sleep. Trust me, it makes saving the world the next day much easier.

Exercise in the morning

Studies show that exercise improves sleep. However, I know from personal experience it can also throw a spanner in the (clock) works. Running is one of my favorite activities: it clears my head, tones my body, and tunes my emotions. But the last time I ran in the evening, I tossed and turned for hours. The endorphin kick that lifts my spirits in the morning totally sabotaged my sleep. Lesson: beware of when and how you exercise.

Eat more carbs

A survey of scientific literature on the relationship between diet and sleep quality found that lower carbohydrate consumption negatively effected sleep, as did higher fat intake. The same study found that kiwi fruit, cherries, fatty fish and milk all had sleep-enhancing effects. Personally, I find that an evening meal of rice, beans, vegetables and greens is satisfying and sets me up for a good night’s rest.

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Photo by Jo Sonn on Unsplash

Don’t watch things in bed

There are some people who can unwind by watching TV or films in bed. I am not one of them. The speed of moving images, plus drama or pathos, plus my overactive imagination, means that if I watch something in bed it replays in my head long after the lights are out. Moving viewing to the living room creates a clearer divide between alertness and rest.

Read poetry

You know what does help me unwind? Poetry. My dear friend and mentor Paul Hendrickson once advised me to keep a book on the nightstand and read a poem or two every night. The density of language, the clarity of the images, the imagination and empathy imbued in each line, promote tranquility – an almost meditative state. If you’re not sure where to start, try Jack Gilbert or Mary Oliver.

Yoga nidra or meditation

Sometimes, the chatter in my head simply won’t let up. In these instances, replacing my own mental monologue with someone else’s words can be hugely helpful. Yoga teacher Paul Dobson recommends yoga nidra, a specific meditative practice designed to foster restful sleep.

I also love Positive Magazine Guided Meditations – the presenter has the loveliest, most soothing voice imaginable and the 10-15 minute guided meditations are the perfect length for dropping off to sleep.

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Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

Cotton bedding

What you sleep on matters. After living in Spain, where polyester is considered a legitimate fabric for bedding, I refuse to purchase anything other than 100% cotton – the finer the weave the better. Nice linen can be ridiculously expensive, which is its own sort of worry-making, so I gravitate towards shops like TK Maxx, Ross or Nordstrom Rack. At a push, Target does decent all-cotton sheets and covers. If there is absolutely nothing else available, Amazon Basics are an option.

Lavender essential oil

Essential oils are touted as the cure for everything from unhappiness to indigestion. In the case of lavender and insomnia, though, there is actually evidence it works. A study reported on in the American Journal of Critical Care found inhaling pure lavender essential oil decreased blood pressure and improved sleep quality in hospital patients. It noted: “Sleep deprivation in hospitalized patients is common and can have serious detrimental effects on recovery from illness. Lavender aromatherapy has improved sleep in a variety of clinical settings.”

In a randomized control trial of healthy subjects, including lavender essential oil as part of a sleep hygiene routine got better results than the sleep hygiene practices alone, according to the Journal of Alternative and Complementary Medicine.

Dabbing lavender essential oil on my wrists just before I switch out the light is a welcome signal that it is time to relax.

Orgasms

Getting off is an almost guaranteed way to drift off. Remember, our bodies need sex like they need food and sleep. Neglecting our sexual self is easy when we are worried or stressed (not to mention that anxiety is a stone mood killer) so then, more than ever, is the time to love yourself.

Sex is wonderful, but it it isn’t always available. Or it can come with expectations, hang-ups and emotional entanglement (happily married or not). Masturbation gives you total control which is, in itself, relaxing and empowering. I keep a bottle of lube in the nightstand by the lavender oil and a folder of photos on my phone for inspiration.

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Photo by Taras Chernus on Unsplash

Superheroes need shut-eye. Though it may be fashionable to brag about how little sleep you get, stinting on rest is a shortcut to long-term physical and mental fatigue – and worse.

Prioritizing routines and habits that promote sleep increases our personal well-being, and gives us the mental, physical and emotional energy to be better friends, lovers, creators, citizens and human beings

Do Less, Accomplish More

Sleeping in

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Photo by Zohre Nemati on Unsplash

Over the holiday period I’ve fallen into the habit of sleeping till 9 or 9:30 – some 90 minutes longer than my usual routine. For the pats few days, I set my alarm for the normal hour, but hit the off-button and go back to sleep. This feels indulgent, borderline sinful, most certainly lazy.

On the night of 1 January, my husband and I settled in to watch The Big Lebowski.

It was an individual favorite when we met; since then, it has become a totem for our relationship – a source of private idiom and in-jokes on loop.

The opening voice-over informs us that the Dude was a lazy man. What a contrast, I thought, to the expectations a new year brings.

Resolutions

New Year arrives with a cultural imperative to improve. What are your new year’s resolutions?

The noun resolution, in this sense, alludes to a determined wish, or decision.

It is worth remembering that another definition of resolution is ending, or conclusion.

Linguistically, all unwitting, we start the new year by demanding conclusions.

Is it any wonder they fail to materialize?

If there is one thing writing teaches it is that you cannot force a conclusion. They are reached by patience, effort and serendipity.

Let it be

The Big Lebowski is a tale of serendipity.

Sheer coincidence brings together two characters who clumsily try to exploit their chance encounter. The lostness of this cause is what makes the film funny; the universality of the impulse to connive and manipulate makes it poignant.

That The Dude comes off better in the end has nothing to do with effort and everything to do with his ability to, in moments of crisis, tune out and go bowling.

The other foot

As a stone type A, with a self-perpetuating to-do list I love Jeff Bridge’s character because The Dude is my antithesis.

Worry… it’s how I stay in shape, poet Maggie Smith writes in ‘Let’s not begin’.

Me too.

I crave resolutions – the conclusion kind – and if one isn’t plain I’ll fret all day and toss and turn all night, trying to wrestle one into being. If I can’t see how a thing will turn out, I’ll manufacture an ending, toss a match to see what sparks.

Wearing out

This leads to plenty of fractured nights, followed by days where tiredness clouds my senses like swamp gas. The demons of weariness are legion: irritability, forgetfulness, poor hand-eye coordination, binge eating, anxiety, tearfulness. If I get less than eight or, preferably, nine hours, they swarm – shattering my mood, judgment and productivity.

Given my love of ticking items off a list, you’d think that alone would be enough to ensure I got enough rest, but something in my wiring (Puritan genes + protestant upbringing perhaps) gibes me to try harder.

One of the first rational things lost when I’m tired is the ability to admit I need a break.

Instead, I try to fix myself by doing more.

I’m almost done…”

My husband has heard these words too many times to count. They are always a lie. He’s learned to spot them for what they are: a self-sabotaging effort to put my life and spirit in order by crossing off one more line on my to-do list.

Being the partner of a perpetual fixer must be a massive drag. The nearest I got was a long-running infatuation with a man who refused to date me because he had to much to do. At the time, I thought it was a terrible, bogus excuse. We stayed friends, though, and now I’m grateful to have someone who understands the ridiculous compulsion to seek solace in busy-ness.

Even The Dude falls into this trap, lamenting that his thinking had gotten very uptight.

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Photo by Tiago B on Unsplash

Corridors without doors

When I get tired, my brain ceases to create and wallows in endless grooves. Instead of romping through fields of possibility, it marches along grim, fluorescent-lit corridors without doors. Inspiration and joy are things that happen to other people, in other places; for me, the grindstone, the factory clock; the slow treadmill.

This is lethal for my writing, and sense of self.

As someone who struggles to stay ahead of clinical depression, self-care is essential. Skimping on sleep is the first domino; next come exercise, eating, socializing, work, creating. Then the need to do more panic kicks in and flattens what is left of a painstakingly built structure.

Do less, accomplish more

My guilt at “over”-sleeping is rooted in a real fear that it’ll turn me lazy, like my good friend The Dude. Life is no movie, my brain chides. In the real world, the other Lebowski was right – you gotta get a job.

Yet this fixation with being busy is, as many wise souls have remarked, antithetical to actual accomplishment. Presenteeism is malingering for suck-ups. Most of the things I busy myself with, from house cleaning to answering email, have little bearing on the things that bring me satisfaction and joy. These things – reading, writing, time with my husband – get shoved into corners and fed scraps of my energy and attention.

Fail again

Instead of resolutions, I made a list of new year’s goals. It felt good to write them down, better to fantasize about completing them.

The next day, I woke under a cloud: sad, drained, mind blank. After drinking coffee, I got back into bed and cried for no explicable reason.

It felt like I’d put too much of myself on that page. Once again, I was looking for validation in tasks, instead of being open to what a new year might bring.

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Photo by Stijn te Strake on Unsplash

Start simple

Later, my husband and I went for a walk. The sky was bright and the air smelled of wood smoke and bales of sweet straw. We said hello to cows and picked windfall apples. The world began to resume its correct proportions. Cresting another hill, I realized it was time to edit the new year’s goals: sleep, move, eat, love. Everything else will come.

How will you honor yourself this year? 

Elements: Attention

Storytelling is the essence of communication. The elements of storytelling are like letters of the alphabet. When you know how to use them, you can tell your best story.

Element 15: Attention

Great stories come from creators who are passionately attentive to everything.

Case study: Jack Gilbert jack-gilbert

What it is:

Jack Gilbert was an American poet who turned life’s most banal, excruciating moments into heart-shattering art.

After twenty hours in bed with no food, I decided
I should have at least tea. Got up to light the lamp,
but the sweating and shivering started again
and I staggered backwards across the room. Slammed
against the stone wall. Came to with blood on my head
and couldn’t figure out which way the bed was.

from ‘What I’ve Got’

Why it matters:

Storytellers often aim too high. They want to convey love, terror, excitement, or despair. So they write about love, terror, etc. The thing is, when you write about love, you get a Hallmark card. The bigger the theme, the harder it is to write straight; it’s like looking at the sun.

That’s where attention comes in. Great storytellers know the little stuff reveals the big. In the excerpt above, Gilbert doesn’t tell the reader that it is scary to be sick and alone. He pays attention. In the throes of it, he is alert to every small, true detail: the slow passage of time, the dark room, the fever (only he uses clearer, closer words: sweating, shivering), the disorientation, the abject sense of failure as the body falls.

If you want magic, prop your eyelids open with toothpicks. Pay attention. Especially to boring, mundane, every day things.

In his own words:

“He explained that somebody wanted to give me the Yale prize. I didn’t know what to do, how to express it. I took him out with my two friends and we had milkshakes.

The next day I roamed about trying to find a way to feel about what had happened. I finally lay down under the Brooklyn Bridge to try to feel something. I lay there all afternoon, and then I called the people at Yale.” Read more

Practice: “Be awake to the details around you, but don’t be self-conscious. ‘Okay. I’m at a wedding. The bride has on blue. The groom is wearing a red carnation. They are serving chopped liver on doilies.’ Relax, enjoy the wedding, be present with an open heart. You will naturally take in your environment, and later, sitting at your desk, you will be able to recall just how it was dancing with the bride’s redheaded mother, seeing the bit of red lipstick smeared on her front tooth when she smiled.” Natalie Goldberg in Writing Down the Bones

Remember: “As a writing man, or secretary, I have always felt charged with the safekeeping of all unexpected items of worldly and unworldly enchantment, as though I might be held personally responsible if even a small one were to be lost.” ~E. B. White

Elements of Storytelling 3: Inspiration

Storytelling is the essence of communication. Whether you are a writer, entrepreneur or politician your story is how you connect with people.

The elements of storytelling are like the letters of the alphabet. Once you know them, you can put them together to tell your story in the best way possible.

Element 3: Inspiration

Great stories are not plucked from the air; they grow from the fertile soil of stories that were told before.

Case study: Eivissa: The Ibiza Cookbook by Anne Sijmonsbergen

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What it is:

A cookbook based on, and inspired by Ibiza food. What it isn’t is an attempt to slavishly recreate traditional Ibicenco recipes, or a generic Mediterranean cookbook. The author lived on an organic farm in Ibiza for a dozen years, growing local produce, working with other farmers, and hanging out with rare-breed animal experts, fishermen, and artisan cheesemakers, before she put proverbial pen to paper.

 

Why it matters:

This long period of absorbing and exploring the food culture freed Anne to create recipes that are unique to her but capture the essence of Ibiza. She transforms stolid island fare like flaó — a dense, old-fashioned cake — into something fresh and suited for a modern palate. Each recipe becomes a story in its own right, revealing the history and origin of its components and the author’s inspiration.

The Evissa story:

Ibiza is on the cusp of a food revolution. The island’s traditional farming and fishing culture has been supplemented with a wave of chefs and producers making artisan products and vibrant food.

Now Eivissa, the first recipe book to showcase the incredible Ibicenco dishes Ibiza cuisine has to offer, reveals how to recreate the tastes of the white island in your own home.

Divided into seasonal chapters to reflect the ingredients in Ibiza, these are gorgeous recipes reflecting the heritage of the cuisine, yet with contemporary twists. Sample a really simply Grilled Courgette Ribbons, Asparagus & Mint Tostada from Spring, for example, or a Grapefruit & Juniper-Encrusted Pork Salad. Try Steamed Mussels with Samphire or Chicken with Roasted Figs from Autumn. Or treat yourself with a Ricotta Pine Nut Cake or Spiced Chocolate Truffles.

Full of stunning photography shot on location in Ibiza, both of the recipes and the island’s beautiful backdrop, these are recipes that are full of energy, warmth and enjoyment.

Read more here

Practice: Plenty of writing ideas are culled from great tales that have been told throughout history. Some of these have been converted into formulas that writers can use as storytelling guidelines.

From the three-act structure to the hero’s journey, formulas have been criticized as making stories dull and predictable yet they have also been credited with providing writers a framework in which to create.” via WritingForward.com

Remember: You can’t wait for inspiration. You have to go after it with a club.” – Jack London

Poem of the Month: Bliss

A beautiful poem to complete the year, from Nobel prize-winning Indian poet Rabindranath Tagore. The briefest of the poems I memorised in 2015, it is a profound reminder that how one lives is always a choice.

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Bliss

Remain in bliss in this world,
Fearless, pure in heart.
Wake up in bliss every morning,
Carry out your duties in bliss.
Remain in bliss in weal and woe.
In criticism and insult,
Remain in bliss unaffected.
Remain in bliss, pardoning everybody.

Oregon Wine Pioneers Stockists

Vine Lives: Oregon Wine Pioneers is crossing continents and oceans!
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In addition to being available online at AMAZON.COM, AMAZON.CO.UK, and VineLiv.es it is in stock at the following independent bookstores:

Portland, OR:
Powell’s City of Books
1005 W Burnside St., Portland, OR 97209 Phone: 503-228-4651

Broadway Books
1714 NE Broadway, Portland, OR 97232 Phone: 503-284-1726

Annie Bloom’s Books
7834 SW Capitol Hwy, Portland, OR 97219 Phone: 503-246-0053

Wallace Books
7241 SE Milwaukie Ave, Portland, OR 97202 Phone: 503-235-7350

Salem, OR:
Escape Fiction
3240 Triangle Dr. SE, Salem Oregon, USA, Phone: (503) 588-5865

Reader’s Guide
735 Edgewater NW, Salem, OR, USA, Phone: (503) 588-3166

Newberg, OR:
The Coffee Cottage
808 E Hancock Street, Newberg, OR. 97132 Phone: 503-538-5126

Chapter’s Books & Coffee
701 E 1st Street, Newberg, OR 97132 Phone: 503-554-0206

McMinnville, OR:
Third Street Books
334 NE 3rd St, McMinnville, OR, USA, Phone: (503) 472-7786

Aloha, OR:
Jan’s Paperbacks
18095 SW Tualatin Valley Hwy, Aloha, OR 97006

Lincoln City, OR:
Bob’s Beach Books
1747 NW Hwy 101, Lincoln City, Oregon, USA, Phone: 541-994-4467

Philadelphia, PA
University of Pennsylvania Official Bookstore
3601 Walnut St, Philadelphia, PA, USA, Phone:(215) 898-7595

London, UK
Books for Cooks

4 Blenheim Crescent, Notting Hill, London, UK, Phone: 020-7221-1992
We’re constantly adding new stockists so please check back for stores in your area. Or contact us to to suggest a local store.

FOR STOCK REQUESTS, PRESS OR AUTHOR INTERVIEWS CONTACT: cila@vineliv.es