Domingo

Another thing I miss about my old life in the UK is my Sunday morning saunter to buy a newspaper. Invariably, I wouldn’t just go to the shop around the corner, but would set off over Somersall Fields, taking in the football matches underway; and then along the banks of the River Hipper to Walton Dam, and over to Morrison’s to get my Observer. On the way back, I would contemplate what part of the paper I would get into first while I sipped my coffee. That largely depended, on whether City, Lancashire or England had had a successful Saturday, in which case, it would definitely be the sports section!

Living up a mountain in Spain, such an excursion just isn’t an option, but the dogs needed exercising, so I set off on the walk part anyway! I went past the fuente (natural spring) where we get our drinking water from, and then, going around the first corner, I saw that Antonio was busy on his patch of land. I’m not sure what he’d planted, potatoes perhaps, but now he was busy making sure that the land was well watered. He has a balsa (concrete water storage tank) which is fed by a fuenta, , and he had released water to run along the acequia (water channel) , and was directing it around his crop through the skilful use of a mattock. There are a dozen or so, fuentes and balsas around Barranco de Quiles, and a network of acequias, that run all around the Barranco for kilometres. For some of the balsas, there is an organised rota with time slots for releasing water to an individuals land, but this is no concern to me and to most of the other non Spanish as well. For the most part we have only been sold land that stands above the acequias, so we don’t need to know! The locals often value growing land as much as houses!

Around the next bend, I was welcomed by the spectacular sight of the snow covered mountains of the Marias, glowing in the sunlight, against an azure sky. Here the air was definitely chillier, as the breeze blew from the high sierra. The shelter of the Sierra Estancia (together with ample water) another reason, vegetables grow so well in the Barranco.

The walk took us along the Rambla de Oria – a wide and for now dry river bed, used as a track and a road, but for twenty minutes I didn’t see anyone. Just the song of birds and the pine covered mountain rising above me. Eventually, we came upon Mel, collecting the last of his olives – just 12 more trees to pick!

A little further on we came to another fuenta. Many locals think this one has the best water, and will pass other fuentas to fill containers from here. Other locals disagree, and will collect drinking water from another. Whatever, this fuenta has the additional facility of a washing shelter, complete with clothes rubbing boards. I’m sure the water must have been freezing, but Juanna and Josephina were busy washing sheets. They told me that because of the works (that eventually will bring a better mains water supply to the Barranco), the water was too brown for laundry. They were enjoying a good gossip, while alternatively rubbing some sheets and keeping others ‘floating’, so that they didn’t disturb the bottom sediment, and didn’t have to immerse their arms too deep in the cold water!

…….and so back to our casa for a well deserved coffee! No newspaper, but nowadays I wouldn’t really have time to read one. I still needed to chop some wood for the week’s fires. Nevertheless, what I’d seen on my walk more than covered a good gardening article; the travel section is taken as read; the landscapes would grace any colour magazine and just before lunch I caught the BBC Politics Show. Even better City are on live this afternoon in the FA Cup!

ORANGES

Nearer the coast, they grow oranges. Lots of them! The neat rows of trees extend over vast fields, and the oranges hang ready to pick.

My mate Pape Sec didn’t come to market this week. He’d managed to get some work harvesting the crop, which made good sense for him. At 5 euros an hour for picking, he was sure to earn more than he could trying to sell handbags and second hand women’s clothes, in the post-Christmas period …. and he needed the money!

Pape came to Spain from Senegal nearly 4 years ago now. He flew from Dacca to Madrid, and entered Spain on a visa which had cost him, nearly the equivalent of a years wage in Senegal. Here he shares a flat, with five other men, designed for just a couple,. That goes some of the way to explaining why he is always at market very early, sleeping in his car! The other reason he tells me, is that the Guardia look out for ‘black’ men, pull them over and hand out large fines for any minor traffic infringement, so travelling to market very early, before the Guardia have risen, is best!

Back home in Senegal, Pape has a family – his wife, a young son and daughter, and he tells me his mother lives with them too. His elder brother lived with them also, but he died last year!  He hasn’t returned to see them since arriving in Spain, and doesn’t expect to be reunited with them for another year or more! Next year, he can apply for ‘residencia’, and be able to leave Spain, to visit his family, knowing that he will be able to return, without the impossible expense of a visa! But only if he can find some employment, that pays his social security contribution. Finding such work in Spain, at this time, is going to be really difficult. Even so, he assures me that this is better for his family, than trying to live in Senegal, where for him; there are absolutely no work opportunities. For now though, he can earn a little to send back to his family, and at least he is able to speak to them by telephone each week.

Right now the supermarkets are filled with those oranges! Fruit and vegetables are sold in their season here. Fresh and  cheap – but even cheaper if you buy bags from the many roadside stalls. I like to have some with me, to share with my market colleagues or to entice the dogs back at the end of a walk.

Near the end of one early morning walk with the dogs -  I went up to the high almond fields where they love to forage for the remains of last years crop, and the crunch of shells echoes their success. Soon the almond blossom will drape its pink and white over 1000’s of acres of countryside – a most beautiful sight!  I share a mandarin with the dogs. Then I hear laughter from the road below. Catarina too, is walking her dogs. At 70+ years she has walked 3 kilometers including a very steep slope, and has a couple more kilometers to complete, but she has the energy to berate me for 'spoiling' my dogs - "they don't need a breakfast and certainly not oranges!!

In one hand, she clutches an old olive bow for the fire, in the other a large sprig of thyme. She explains that thyme is a really good to aid digestion. We chat some more! I tell her I've been up to the high slopes and it's very beautiful. She knows! When she was young, she spent many days in the mountains - gathering rosemary, lavender and thyme to sell in the market; and collecting almond branches for firewood. There was no electricity then! And no butane gas either! All we had was candles and sticks - and most times only sticks!

Although they don’t know each other Pape and Caterina have much in common – they have both known real poverty!

A rambling on Twelfth Night

One of the things I miss most about Britain are Ordnance Survey Maps, with their clearly marked footpaths and bridle paths, to help you ramble your way from village to village – and especially, from tea room to pub!

Walking in Spain has many, other compensations though.

Yesterday, I decided to roam with my dogs in the Sierra Cabrera – the mountains situated between the Mediterranean and the desert............(well not yesterday actually because I was going to post this blog nearly a week ago now – but someone nicked the solar panel that powers the internet signal to our house! Bring back nuclear power – that’s what I say.)

It was pleasantly warm and sunny as we set off towards the mountain trails. A little way along the road we came across a man with a bundle of ‘green’ in his hand. I asked what he had found, to which he proudly showed me a beautiful bunch of wild asparagus, that was to go with the families Twelfth Night celebration meal.  I think he then immediately regretted telling me of his secret supply, because then he went on to explain that hardly any grew there because the soil conditions weren’t right!......... Oh Yeh!

We continued climbing, the dogs getting increasingly excited about the prospect of chasing rabbits and disturbing the flocks of red legged partridge hiding in the low bushes.  When we reached the summit of the trail we could see for miles – below the fairway and green tapestry of Cortijo Grande (if golf’s your game, can there be a more beautiful place to play?) and across The Sierra Filabres; the Almanzora Valley; the Estancias and beyond them maybe 40 miles away, the huge table of rock called Gigante, at 1547metres the first of the higher mountains of the Sierra Maria. In the opposite direction, the ancient white pueblo of Mojacar clung to the hillside, framed by the shimmering Mediterranean.

A large flock of sheep munched their way across a neighbouring summit, unattended by man or dog, the collective flock memory dictating their route, and I could hear the echo of their bells.  All of a sudden, a Bonelli’s eagle, circled and swooped across the flock, but then teasing, continued over the ridge.

In the warm sunshine, with views to far mountains and sea, it was hard to believe that this was Christmas tide!

The Christmas lights had been strung up across the road of Oria village on the 21^st December! No need to rush things here! They were accompanied by loud speakers that loudly played tapes of children's choirs singing jolly festive songs.

Talking of choirs; on the 23^rd December, every one eagerly listened in to the Cathedral Choir Boys singing the winning numbers of the, the big Christmas lottery, 'el Gordo' - 'the fat one'!

We went to see the nativity scene in the nearby town that was so big that it occupies the whole of a huge marquee erected outside the Church. Besides the traditional nativity scenes of 'Wise Men', shepherds, angels and stables there was a whole scene of biblical life - farmers; bakers; potters; joiners; children playing, women cleaning, and all performing elaborate mechanized actions. There was even - how can I say this delicately - a man squatting behind a bush, going to the toilet!! Why I'm not sure, but you will be ‘relieved’ to learn that he wasn't 'mechanized'!!

Christmas Eve - 'Nochebuena' was a time for family gatherings and special meals, and for some children Papa Noel paid a visit!

'La Noche Viaja' - News Year Eve, was a bigger celebration – though in this time of economic recession not so big as in previous years. In the bars and in the village square, people gathered to celebrate the New Year. At midnight as each bell chimed people took another grape in a desperate attempt to swallow them all before the last chime, and then toasted each other with cava. An enterprising supermarket was selling plastic cava glasses filled with twelve grapes!

And then, on the 6^th January – Twelfth Night - everything stopped again for Christmas! Los Tres Reyes - the 'Three Wise Men' had arrived bearing gifts. There was a horseback procession of the three kings through town, and bags of 'carbon del Reyes' - a sweet like black cinder toffee - was thrown to the children who scattered to claim their share. Then, it was back home for more family celebrations and present giving!

….and now as we continue into January the olive harvest carries on - black berries for the olive mill, leafy branches for the goats, and olive logs for next year’s fire!