Music deeply, movingly and tenderly heals even the most painful places ....
A TOTALLY BEAUTIFUL SONG!
Monday, December 22, 2008
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Snow Boarding holidays in Andalucia
Thanks to a local young man with a lot of nerve and a great deal of experience, Casa La Celada is now thrilled to offer
SNOW BOARDING DAYS !
In the Sierra Nevada mountains, you'll be taken through your paces by our guide and mentor Steve.
The package includes all rental equipment, transport to and from Casa La Celada's front door, ski passes and any necessary coaching on the mountainside.
Why not couple it with a pamper day the next day to ease out any aching muscles?
It's all available here - all you have to do is ask : 0034 957534939 or visit http://www.casa-la-celada.com for further information.
SNOW BOARDING DAYS !
In the Sierra Nevada mountains, you'll be taken through your paces by our guide and mentor Steve.
The package includes all rental equipment, transport to and from Casa La Celada's front door, ski passes and any necessary coaching on the mountainside.
Why not couple it with a pamper day the next day to ease out any aching muscles?
It's all available here - all you have to do is ask : 0034 957534939 or visit http://www.casa-la-celada.com for further information.
Barefooted, on knees, candles in hand ....
Barefooted, on knees, candles in hand ....
On Monday night, with a huge group of friends and acquaintances, I joined the hundreds and hundreds of thousands of devotees to watch Iznájar's annual spectacle celebrating the day of the Virgen Piedad - literally translates to "Piety", and is one of the most popular Saint Days encompassed every year by our Feria Real (Festival de la Virgen de la Piedad) from 7th - 11th September.
The streets are coated in sand.
The houses adorned with brightly coloured scarves and banners.
The people dress in their absolute finery.
The bouncy castle owners set up their stalls.
And at 9.30pm, the immense procession begins.....
Iznájar's band lead the devotees - drumming rhythmically, hypnotically, dressed in their military style uniform, looking sombre and focussed. The crowd all sway together awaiting the passing of the immense effigy of the Virgen, supported on the shoulders of more than forty men, many walking with tears pouring down their faces at the honour of being selected as one of the chosen few to steady this immense weight.
Down the steep and narrow winding streets of Iznájar the Virgen passes, some twenty feet above our heads. She is cradled in a golden cage, her face beatific, her robes exquisitely bright - red and gold, fringed with white, cascading out behind her and surrounded by an immense quantity of the sweetest smelling white flowers.
"Viva .... Viva ..... Viva" comes the chant from the people behind the Effigy. It's almost as if they are in another world of the deepest reverance. Some of the devotees can be seen barefooted now, and you will still see some of the oldest villagers following on their knees - a promise made to the Virgen in prayer to save the life of a dying friend, for crops to flourish, for a grandson to pass through school ... And if the plea is answered, the devotee follows the procession as promised to the Virgen.
To say it is moving would be a gross understatement. It makes the hairs on your body stand up all over and your mouth go dry. The pure adoration, the effort made, and the incredible quantity of people who fill the streets, spilling out of every balcony, travelling from all over Spain to spend these few days here ....
It's my second year watching, and I will definitely be back again next year. I wouldn't miss it for the world. It is humbling.
On Monday night, with a huge group of friends and acquaintances, I joined the hundreds and hundreds of thousands of devotees to watch Iznájar's annual spectacle celebrating the day of the Virgen Piedad - literally translates to "Piety", and is one of the most popular Saint Days encompassed every year by our Feria Real (Festival de la Virgen de la Piedad) from 7th - 11th September.
The streets are coated in sand.
The houses adorned with brightly coloured scarves and banners.
The people dress in their absolute finery.
The bouncy castle owners set up their stalls.
And at 9.30pm, the immense procession begins.....
Iznájar's band lead the devotees - drumming rhythmically, hypnotically, dressed in their military style uniform, looking sombre and focussed. The crowd all sway together awaiting the passing of the immense effigy of the Virgen, supported on the shoulders of more than forty men, many walking with tears pouring down their faces at the honour of being selected as one of the chosen few to steady this immense weight.
Down the steep and narrow winding streets of Iznájar the Virgen passes, some twenty feet above our heads. She is cradled in a golden cage, her face beatific, her robes exquisitely bright - red and gold, fringed with white, cascading out behind her and surrounded by an immense quantity of the sweetest smelling white flowers.
"Viva .... Viva ..... Viva" comes the chant from the people behind the Effigy. It's almost as if they are in another world of the deepest reverance. Some of the devotees can be seen barefooted now, and you will still see some of the oldest villagers following on their knees - a promise made to the Virgen in prayer to save the life of a dying friend, for crops to flourish, for a grandson to pass through school ... And if the plea is answered, the devotee follows the procession as promised to the Virgen.
To say it is moving would be a gross understatement. It makes the hairs on your body stand up all over and your mouth go dry. The pure adoration, the effort made, and the incredible quantity of people who fill the streets, spilling out of every balcony, travelling from all over Spain to spend these few days here ....
It's my second year watching, and I will definitely be back again next year. I wouldn't miss it for the world. It is humbling.
Wednesday, September 03, 2008
Driving through the olive groves we stumbled upon Zuheros ...
I had the absolute pleasure yesterday of driving my nephew and his charming new wife back to Córdoba train station for their night train to Barcelona.
I don't normally look forward to the drive so very much as it is mostly motorway, but we decided to leave in plenty of time and take in a few of the local villages "off the beaten track".
We drove through Cabra without stopping ... Cabra means Goat in Spanish, and this particular town is one where I have determined to spend more time - the architecture is lovely - there are big open parks with pergolas under which you'll often find outdoor performances going on - and the road that winds down to it competes with a ski resort's access ....
But we went to have sangria and tapas in one of my fairytale destinations here - Zuheros.
About 40 minutes' easy drive away from our Guest House, skirting around the western side of the Sierra Subbética mountains, and absolutely accessible in a small car without wheel insurance (!), this village is a treasure. It is perched in a plunging ravine which splits through the Sierra and would have originally been the basis of inhabitation - an obvious water supply.
The swallows were swooping and chittering, and the crows (my personal favourites), cruising around chattering as the sun made it's way to the horizon and the castle lights came on, throwing everything into the most romantic lighting relief imaginable.
It has views stretching up to the Sierra Norte north of Cordoba with Baena in the middle ground, and the sunset from the castle is out of a fairy story, especially when enjoyed with a jug of freshly made sangria and local cured ham.
After wowing our socks off and taking lots of photos, we left shortly after 8.30pm to take the back road into Cordoba itself and the AVE / Renfe station which took us through several gorgeous villages - but the one that really stunned us was Espejo - Spanish for Mirror - because the light had become that late evening rich royal blue with smatterings of the darkest red as we rounded a corner to find the crescent moon hovering just to the right of a beautifully lit up castle, with a carpet of white houses spreading out at the castle's feet. It was, to quote my nephew's gorgeous Australian wife, "totally awesome".
The train station in Cordoba was a dream to find and had me driving through the "new" area - something I haven't done before and something I am determined to do again - wonderful wide open spaces and some of the most striking fountains I have seen in rural Spain ....
For another time I think.....
I don't normally look forward to the drive so very much as it is mostly motorway, but we decided to leave in plenty of time and take in a few of the local villages "off the beaten track".
We drove through Cabra without stopping ... Cabra means Goat in Spanish, and this particular town is one where I have determined to spend more time - the architecture is lovely - there are big open parks with pergolas under which you'll often find outdoor performances going on - and the road that winds down to it competes with a ski resort's access ....
But we went to have sangria and tapas in one of my fairytale destinations here - Zuheros.
About 40 minutes' easy drive away from our Guest House, skirting around the western side of the Sierra Subbética mountains, and absolutely accessible in a small car without wheel insurance (!), this village is a treasure. It is perched in a plunging ravine which splits through the Sierra and would have originally been the basis of inhabitation - an obvious water supply.
The swallows were swooping and chittering, and the crows (my personal favourites), cruising around chattering as the sun made it's way to the horizon and the castle lights came on, throwing everything into the most romantic lighting relief imaginable.
It has views stretching up to the Sierra Norte north of Cordoba with Baena in the middle ground, and the sunset from the castle is out of a fairy story, especially when enjoyed with a jug of freshly made sangria and local cured ham.
After wowing our socks off and taking lots of photos, we left shortly after 8.30pm to take the back road into Cordoba itself and the AVE / Renfe station which took us through several gorgeous villages - but the one that really stunned us was Espejo - Spanish for Mirror - because the light had become that late evening rich royal blue with smatterings of the darkest red as we rounded a corner to find the crescent moon hovering just to the right of a beautifully lit up castle, with a carpet of white houses spreading out at the castle's feet. It was, to quote my nephew's gorgeous Australian wife, "totally awesome".
The train station in Cordoba was a dream to find and had me driving through the "new" area - something I haven't done before and something I am determined to do again - wonderful wide open spaces and some of the most striking fountains I have seen in rural Spain ....
For another time I think.....
Tuesday, September 02, 2008
My favourite Bodega in Malaga ...
Yesterday, having some time on our hands, we explored Malaga in ways I have never done before. We found a truly spit and sawdust sherry bodega - in fact the owner's contempt at the very suggestion that it was "Sherry" made me feel like I'd frozen over ... MALAGA WINES he bellowed at us, causing us to shrink back in fear.
Row upon row of vast wooden kegs lined the rear wall, each with a name chalked or taped onto the front of the keg.
As you bought, so your bill price was chalked onto the ancient wooden bar in front of you - scrubbed out with a gnarled hand each time the clientelle changed.
The atmosphere is magical, surreal - the Malaga wines warm, rich, evocative of Christmas while being completely in place in the warmth of a Spanish Summer.
We supplemented our large schooners, priced at a mighty 1€ per glass, with a plate of the freshest prawns - whose shells, heads, legs and tails were traditionally discarded roughly into the bins that appear along the length of the bar.
An absolutely unforgettable experience and a total must for all guests from now on - and I haven't mentioned the gorgeous tapas or our grilled sardines on the beach yet .....
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
The Best Pamper Day Of My Life
Yesterday probably ranks as one of the best "me" days in living memory - and something I will definitely be repeating again and again and again …..
I drove the 15 minutes from home to Adelantado - a beautiful drive winding down and around Iznájar and the lake, then up the other side and into the campo where I was pampered beyond belief in the most beautiful house set in a rolling valley of silvery green olive trees.
Starting at 11am, I had a full body exfoliation in a treatment room that truly felt like I had walked into a loving, healing womb - sofas covered in rich royal blue accentuated with soft blues, purples and silvers, rich deep purple towels on the treatment couch, and gentle music playing in the background complimenting the soft whirring of the ceiling fan.
Having had my entire body gently scrubbed and polished, I then nearly died and went to heaven with the deep back, neck and shoulder massage. Sarah Jackson, our local extremely highly qualified and experienced therapist, is without a doubt the best masseuse and beauty therapist I have EVER encountered - and I have travelled a fair bit and always had treatments wherever I have gone - over a period of 20 years!
After my massage, it was pure bliss to have a wonderful, deeply cleansing and stimulating facial with collagen and lavender mask which made my skin feel so alive and tingly while gaving my hands a massage and mask before starting on my feet with a luxurious pedicure. By this time I'm practically floating away ...
Once the face mask was off we adjourned out into the cool shade of the terrace overlooking the pool and on down through the olive groves, where my pedicure was completed with a final paraffin and wax foot dip which rehydrates and soothes sun-scorched feet. Delicious! While that was doing it's work, we had a lovely chilled glass of Freixinet - my favourite Spanish Cava, and a delicious lunch prepared by Jenny who owns this glorious pamper retreat.
Languishing over our lunch the company was perfect - the balance of laughter and quietness just right, and towards the end of lunch Jenny offered me the opportunity of experiencing a psychometric test. I have never had this, and have always been deeply skeptical of such things, but I have to say that it was very useful, the results absolutely reflected me in every way and helped me see some areas where I can be more focussed in managing my time - so I rated it as being an extremely useful exercise.
And then it was the pool !! Oh my !! Swimming in the late afternoon sun, lounging on the deck chairs, the only sound coming from the trees being lightly ruffled by a gentle breeze ….
I feel so relaxed I could MELT …….
It was such an amazing experience that we have decided to team up so that we can offer it as an option to our guests here at Casa La Celada too - I can imagine that for anyone spending a few days taking in the Alhambra, the Mezquita, or climbing our Sierra Subbética's mountains, such a blissful and completely recharging experience would send most people into paroxysms of bliss ...
I drove the 15 minutes from home to Adelantado - a beautiful drive winding down and around Iznájar and the lake, then up the other side and into the campo where I was pampered beyond belief in the most beautiful house set in a rolling valley of silvery green olive trees.
Starting at 11am, I had a full body exfoliation in a treatment room that truly felt like I had walked into a loving, healing womb - sofas covered in rich royal blue accentuated with soft blues, purples and silvers, rich deep purple towels on the treatment couch, and gentle music playing in the background complimenting the soft whirring of the ceiling fan.
Having had my entire body gently scrubbed and polished, I then nearly died and went to heaven with the deep back, neck and shoulder massage. Sarah Jackson, our local extremely highly qualified and experienced therapist, is without a doubt the best masseuse and beauty therapist I have EVER encountered - and I have travelled a fair bit and always had treatments wherever I have gone - over a period of 20 years!
After my massage, it was pure bliss to have a wonderful, deeply cleansing and stimulating facial with collagen and lavender mask which made my skin feel so alive and tingly while gaving my hands a massage and mask before starting on my feet with a luxurious pedicure. By this time I'm practically floating away ...
Once the face mask was off we adjourned out into the cool shade of the terrace overlooking the pool and on down through the olive groves, where my pedicure was completed with a final paraffin and wax foot dip which rehydrates and soothes sun-scorched feet. Delicious! While that was doing it's work, we had a lovely chilled glass of Freixinet - my favourite Spanish Cava, and a delicious lunch prepared by Jenny who owns this glorious pamper retreat.
Languishing over our lunch the company was perfect - the balance of laughter and quietness just right, and towards the end of lunch Jenny offered me the opportunity of experiencing a psychometric test. I have never had this, and have always been deeply skeptical of such things, but I have to say that it was very useful, the results absolutely reflected me in every way and helped me see some areas where I can be more focussed in managing my time - so I rated it as being an extremely useful exercise.
And then it was the pool !! Oh my !! Swimming in the late afternoon sun, lounging on the deck chairs, the only sound coming from the trees being lightly ruffled by a gentle breeze ….
I feel so relaxed I could MELT …….
It was such an amazing experience that we have decided to team up so that we can offer it as an option to our guests here at Casa La Celada too - I can imagine that for anyone spending a few days taking in the Alhambra, the Mezquita, or climbing our Sierra Subbética's mountains, such a blissful and completely recharging experience would send most people into paroxysms of bliss ...
Thursday, May 29, 2008
The Road To Hell .....
THE ROAD TO HELL
I swear to God, I travelled the Road To Hell last week ... in my efforts to reach the Hoopoe Yurt Hotel down near Cortes de La Frontera in Málaga ....
It ranks as one of my worst ever driving experiences - at one point I thought I was going to be found, in true Bridget Jones style, being eaten by Alsatians, MONTHS later .....
Having booked my 3 day holiday online, I was sent a map on how to get there - a simple drawing that had been scanned in for me to print out. Which I did. And it worked fine until I got to the cross roads by the petrol station - where it was also fine as the map made it quite clear I should turn left.
The tarmac / concrete on the road, within a very few metres, went to the right and there was a "left turn" which was pretty much straight ahead, however as the concrete goes to the right, so did I - after all - there was no "turn left" indicator on the map - no indicator of any roads for that matter .....
I reversed out again some 10 minutes later as said road took me 2km down a track at which point the road ran out, tipped VERY steeply away from me, and turned into the Road To HELL - I joke NOT.
So I turned around after backing out of Hell some long distance and went back to the petrol station and asked for help - to which I was told categorically that you go down the unmade-up road and when you see the white house, you turn right ....
OH MY GOD ..........
Alone, in my car, with my mobile signal faltering, I returned and teetered over the edge of this precipice - staring down at the gouges of earth, rocks the size of my head, gulleys where flash floods had carved out and deluged away what earth remained ... and my hammering heart was palpably chewable in my chattering sweaty mouth ....
I gripped the wheel tighter, raised my shoulders by a foot, said a prayer, and eased over the brink, foot jammed on the brake as I swerved and scraped, avoided and manoeuvred my way down the road to end all roads ..... And 400 yards later came to a fork in the road ....
And no White House .....
To say I said SH*T to myself would be an understatement .....
I carried on a little way straight ahead and just knew it was wrong, so backed up, VERY slowly, using my mirrors like crazy to stop myself gouging either side of the car on jagged rocks or trees ....
And took the right turn ....
BIG MISTAKE ....
That was a track with 3 foot high central growth which HID BOULDERS - boulders which hit and scraped the underbelly of my car and terrified me even more .....
And I arrived at another dead end .....
The map beside me winked at me so I grabbed my mobile and scanned it for their number ----- which wasn't THERE!! I could have SCREAMED at this point as I realised that I had absolutely no choice whatsoever - I HAD TO BACK OUT OF THERE !!!!!
I nearly pood myself and was gulping back the urge to scream, cry, run away ..... it was the worst drive of my life - even worse than my 27 km adventure on an unmade up road last year ... scraping and crunching back up this unbelieveably tiny track trying to avoid damaging my car any more - back to the fork at the bottom of the scariest road I have ever driven ..... The stench coming from the engine scared me more than anything else - and the prospect of HOW do I get out of this mess ?
So I commenced a 455 point turn - inching forwards and backwards between rocks, trees, boulders and spikes - painfully slowly edging the car from precipice to smashed light fitting, over and over, until I was pointing once again at the Road from Hades, but this time I had to go UP the B*gger .....
20 minutes later, my body absolutely ice cold with sweat - even my sweat was sweating - I found myself at the top of the road with tears of relief pouring down my face.
I went back to the petrol station, shaking like a jelly, and told them what had happened to which they said "You turned right?" .... I asked what they meant and it then all became horribly clear - the road that bent to the right with a left turn coming in was actually a straight ahead road with a right turn going off it, no matter what the cement lines may say ....
I could have sobbed ... The stress I had caused myself was off the scale - even childbirth was easier than that .....
I swear to God, I travelled the Road To Hell last week ... in my efforts to reach the Hoopoe Yurt Hotel down near Cortes de La Frontera in Málaga ....
It ranks as one of my worst ever driving experiences - at one point I thought I was going to be found, in true Bridget Jones style, being eaten by Alsatians, MONTHS later .....
Having booked my 3 day holiday online, I was sent a map on how to get there - a simple drawing that had been scanned in for me to print out. Which I did. And it worked fine until I got to the cross roads by the petrol station - where it was also fine as the map made it quite clear I should turn left.
The tarmac / concrete on the road, within a very few metres, went to the right and there was a "left turn" which was pretty much straight ahead, however as the concrete goes to the right, so did I - after all - there was no "turn left" indicator on the map - no indicator of any roads for that matter .....
I reversed out again some 10 minutes later as said road took me 2km down a track at which point the road ran out, tipped VERY steeply away from me, and turned into the Road To HELL - I joke NOT.
So I turned around after backing out of Hell some long distance and went back to the petrol station and asked for help - to which I was told categorically that you go down the unmade-up road and when you see the white house, you turn right ....
OH MY GOD ..........
Alone, in my car, with my mobile signal faltering, I returned and teetered over the edge of this precipice - staring down at the gouges of earth, rocks the size of my head, gulleys where flash floods had carved out and deluged away what earth remained ... and my hammering heart was palpably chewable in my chattering sweaty mouth ....
I gripped the wheel tighter, raised my shoulders by a foot, said a prayer, and eased over the brink, foot jammed on the brake as I swerved and scraped, avoided and manoeuvred my way down the road to end all roads ..... And 400 yards later came to a fork in the road ....
And no White House .....
To say I said SH*T to myself would be an understatement .....
I carried on a little way straight ahead and just knew it was wrong, so backed up, VERY slowly, using my mirrors like crazy to stop myself gouging either side of the car on jagged rocks or trees ....
And took the right turn ....
BIG MISTAKE ....
That was a track with 3 foot high central growth which HID BOULDERS - boulders which hit and scraped the underbelly of my car and terrified me even more .....
And I arrived at another dead end .....
The map beside me winked at me so I grabbed my mobile and scanned it for their number ----- which wasn't THERE!! I could have SCREAMED at this point as I realised that I had absolutely no choice whatsoever - I HAD TO BACK OUT OF THERE !!!!!
I nearly pood myself and was gulping back the urge to scream, cry, run away ..... it was the worst drive of my life - even worse than my 27 km adventure on an unmade up road last year ... scraping and crunching back up this unbelieveably tiny track trying to avoid damaging my car any more - back to the fork at the bottom of the scariest road I have ever driven ..... The stench coming from the engine scared me more than anything else - and the prospect of HOW do I get out of this mess ?
So I commenced a 455 point turn - inching forwards and backwards between rocks, trees, boulders and spikes - painfully slowly edging the car from precipice to smashed light fitting, over and over, until I was pointing once again at the Road from Hades, but this time I had to go UP the B*gger .....
20 minutes later, my body absolutely ice cold with sweat - even my sweat was sweating - I found myself at the top of the road with tears of relief pouring down my face.
I went back to the petrol station, shaking like a jelly, and told them what had happened to which they said "You turned right?" .... I asked what they meant and it then all became horribly clear - the road that bent to the right with a left turn coming in was actually a straight ahead road with a right turn going off it, no matter what the cement lines may say ....
I could have sobbed ... The stress I had caused myself was off the scale - even childbirth was easier than that .....
Friday, May 16, 2008
I do this sometimes you know ...
I go walkabouts ....
I wake up grumpy for no apparent reason, get through the morning rituals that that well known You Tube video of the song Mom exposed, and then as soon as the school day starts, I put on my trainers, tie my hair back in a chaotic mess, grab a small bottle of water and, with keys stuffed down my cleavage, leave the house planning to never return
It's just after 11am and I have been gone nearly 2 hours - I turned left out of the house today instead of the normal right, and speed walked down the hill towards Iznájar. I had determined a day or two ago to strengthen downhill muscles so that I could climb more of the hills and mountains you see, and while I have no problem going up, I fall to pieces coming down...
So once I was at the bottom of the La Celada hill, I was already thinking to myself "How am I ever going to persuade myself back up there?" - you see it is steep most of the way, and then it has a 200m stretch where it is about 1:3 - and I was feeling a bit daunted at the return prospect.
So putting that out of my head, I forged ahead and through the olive groves til I found myself at a tiny babbling brook - the noise was just tinkly and lovely - and I made myself stop there and enjoy it for a moment - if I was never going to return, I might as well take a break there ...
So I crossed the stream and started to walk along a scar of a road hacked out of the side of the mountain - well used and undergrown, and with Iznájar in the distance, I was starting to feel that I may return to my house after all, just making a big loop out of my determination to leave.
Then I saw horses - gambolling 50 yards beneath me at the base of this rocky crag I was discovering - and felt extremely grateful that I had chosen to cross the river rather than walk unbeknownst into this frolicking foray of long strong legs that would undoubtedly have seen me as a chance to play.
On and on - ah - there's my chance to cross the scrub and arrive outside my friend Gonzalo's house - so I stride out across a "field" which looks unthreatening and actually rather beautiful spotted with zillions of wild flowers ...
And the grasses get longer and longer and longer. Before long I am wading up to my thighs in grains, bergamot, vast variegated thistles and goose grass - leaving me covered in tiny sticky seed balls ... and I go the wrong way, turn back, wade up the hill as if through solid treacle, my thighs and bum by now screaming with the effort and then Splat - I lose my footing completely and end up in a heap of ticks, seed heads and goose grass balls ..... !
It did me the world of good ...
My grump was left on the floor, and I stood up, smiled at my trousers now totally covered in goose grass balls, and headed for Gonzalo's house and bashed on the door. No reply, but a 10 minute deballing took place before I stiffly got to my feet and started to head back here.
It's a LONG way .... and my water ran out so I refilled it at the Cuatro Vientos bar (they do brilliant tapas there) and as I rounded the corner I was thinking that I might actually hitch my way home - it was getting warmer, and that 1:3 hill was taunting me somewhat ...
And then I heard it - toot toot - my angel had arrived - Peter, who lives just down the road, scooped me up and drove me, engine howling, all the way up to the top of the hill, cutting my walkabout short by about an hour and a very sore pair of legs ....
I wake up grumpy for no apparent reason, get through the morning rituals that that well known You Tube video of the song Mom exposed, and then as soon as the school day starts, I put on my trainers, tie my hair back in a chaotic mess, grab a small bottle of water and, with keys stuffed down my cleavage, leave the house planning to never return
It's just after 11am and I have been gone nearly 2 hours - I turned left out of the house today instead of the normal right, and speed walked down the hill towards Iznájar. I had determined a day or two ago to strengthen downhill muscles so that I could climb more of the hills and mountains you see, and while I have no problem going up, I fall to pieces coming down...
So once I was at the bottom of the La Celada hill, I was already thinking to myself "How am I ever going to persuade myself back up there?" - you see it is steep most of the way, and then it has a 200m stretch where it is about 1:3 - and I was feeling a bit daunted at the return prospect.
So putting that out of my head, I forged ahead and through the olive groves til I found myself at a tiny babbling brook - the noise was just tinkly and lovely - and I made myself stop there and enjoy it for a moment - if I was never going to return, I might as well take a break there ...
So I crossed the stream and started to walk along a scar of a road hacked out of the side of the mountain - well used and undergrown, and with Iznájar in the distance, I was starting to feel that I may return to my house after all, just making a big loop out of my determination to leave.
Then I saw horses - gambolling 50 yards beneath me at the base of this rocky crag I was discovering - and felt extremely grateful that I had chosen to cross the river rather than walk unbeknownst into this frolicking foray of long strong legs that would undoubtedly have seen me as a chance to play.
On and on - ah - there's my chance to cross the scrub and arrive outside my friend Gonzalo's house - so I stride out across a "field" which looks unthreatening and actually rather beautiful spotted with zillions of wild flowers ...
And the grasses get longer and longer and longer. Before long I am wading up to my thighs in grains, bergamot, vast variegated thistles and goose grass - leaving me covered in tiny sticky seed balls ... and I go the wrong way, turn back, wade up the hill as if through solid treacle, my thighs and bum by now screaming with the effort and then Splat - I lose my footing completely and end up in a heap of ticks, seed heads and goose grass balls ..... !
It did me the world of good ...
My grump was left on the floor, and I stood up, smiled at my trousers now totally covered in goose grass balls, and headed for Gonzalo's house and bashed on the door. No reply, but a 10 minute deballing took place before I stiffly got to my feet and started to head back here.
It's a LONG way .... and my water ran out so I refilled it at the Cuatro Vientos bar (they do brilliant tapas there) and as I rounded the corner I was thinking that I might actually hitch my way home - it was getting warmer, and that 1:3 hill was taunting me somewhat ...
And then I heard it - toot toot - my angel had arrived - Peter, who lives just down the road, scooped me up and drove me, engine howling, all the way up to the top of the hill, cutting my walkabout short by about an hour and a very sore pair of legs ....
Monday, May 12, 2008
First Ecological Hospital in Spain - in Granada
I have just watched a programme on television about this hospital in Granada ....
I am absolutely in awe of the Junta de Andalucia - they have created the first hospital in Spain (possibly further afield) which offers an entirely ecological diet to its Patients.
How wonderful is that?
May they lead the way to other hospitals following suit in registering that what is fed to patients is of vital importance to their health ....
I am absolutely in awe of the Junta de Andalucia - they have created the first hospital in Spain (possibly further afield) which offers an entirely ecological diet to its Patients.
How wonderful is that?
May they lead the way to other hospitals following suit in registering that what is fed to patients is of vital importance to their health ....
Sunday, May 11, 2008
Broad Beans - the Food of the Devil .....
All my life, ever since I can remember, I have Loathed, Detested and Despised BROAD BEANS ....
I think they were invented by Satan to torment normal folk .
In fact I would go further and say that I think anyone who eats Broad Beans needs lobotomising (so that would be my entire family including my son ...........)
I cannot bear the smell of them, the feel of them, and to cook them - well I'd rather have my nostril hair plucked out a strand at a time.
I have a friend who feels the same about custard .... she has to leave the table if anyone is eating the yellow peril ..... It makes her physically gag !
Do you have a food that makes your toes curl? Which is it?
Bed and Breakfast La Celada Iznájar Córdoba Spain
Quirky Watercolour Paintings Website
Living the Dream in Spain Blog
Casa La Celada Blog
Art Blog
Ecademy España - Ecademy Spain
I think they were invented by Satan to torment normal folk .
In fact I would go further and say that I think anyone who eats Broad Beans needs lobotomising (so that would be my entire family including my son ...........)
I cannot bear the smell of them, the feel of them, and to cook them - well I'd rather have my nostril hair plucked out a strand at a time.
I have a friend who feels the same about custard .... she has to leave the table if anyone is eating the yellow peril ..... It makes her physically gag !
Do you have a food that makes your toes curl? Which is it?
Bed and Breakfast La Celada Iznájar Córdoba Spain
Quirky Watercolour Paintings Website
Living the Dream in Spain Blog
Casa La Celada Blog
Art Blog
Ecademy España - Ecademy Spain
Thursday, May 01, 2008
Acorn Antiques in Andalucia
With time on my hands yesterday and a new sculpture in the pipeline, I decided to visit the last remaining old fashioned ironmongers in Rute (ROO-tay). It is an extraordinary shop – similar to Arkwrights in that it will have Fork Handles and Four Candles as well as air conditioning machines and wheel barrows.
I feel, as I enter this homage to the olden days, that I must morph into a mole, because there is not one single light on in the whole shop, and a smell of damp pervades the air. Through the murk you can make out everything from chairs to heaters, watering cans to coffee makers – all dredged in a thick layer of dust.
I cough, call “Hola”, and wait. And, as ever, from around a mountain of tiny boxes housing every size of screw, nail, washer and bolt, comes the owner – a man in his 90s, who has not a hair on his head. And from the mountain of boxes to the counter, all of two steps, I watch him, quivering and shaking, as he takes minutes to cross the gap to greet me.
He gathers himself and looks into my eyes with his own rheumy blue pair.
I tell him that I have come to buy wire – the thinnest possible, and that I am in a bit of a hurry.
He explains to me that he can sell me however many metres I want, while trundling back to a vast pair of wire cutters. I am ordered to follow him so, remaining behind him, we walk, more slowly than the growing speed of an oak tree, to his back rooms, him shaking with a regular, almost soothing monotony, as he goes. He fumbles around for what seems like an age for a light switch, potters on – another light switch – potters on until eventually we arrive in a dusty damp infested room with cement bags and chicken wire.
I’m really beginning to realise that I should never have come here, and yet I am practically having an out of body experience with the surrealness of it all. Here I am, in some dank and dark back room with an extremely elderly man who is no gentleman, but I feel entirely safe as I could walk faster than he could run.
And he shows me his prized wire – huge rolls of oxidized and galvanised totally unsuitable stuff which I won’t be buying – so I thank him and say No, sorry to have taken your time, I need a much finer wire …..
I thought I had my opportunity at that moment to escape, as my eyes fell on the dustiest sewing machine for sale next to a chemical loo and floor rug – but he says No! Come here, I have more … and we walk back, achingly slowly, back to the very place we started where he shows me his thinnest wire – 0.6mm – too thick and galvanised …. But nevertheless presented with a pride you rarely see in shops these days.
And he starts the same conversation we had the last time I went in – you’re not Spanish are you? But not English either … Oh? You are English? Well, you don’t look English, and you don’t speak Spanish like an English person ….
Bye Bye, Mr Acorn Antiques …. Til next time ….
I feel, as I enter this homage to the olden days, that I must morph into a mole, because there is not one single light on in the whole shop, and a smell of damp pervades the air. Through the murk you can make out everything from chairs to heaters, watering cans to coffee makers – all dredged in a thick layer of dust.
I cough, call “Hola”, and wait. And, as ever, from around a mountain of tiny boxes housing every size of screw, nail, washer and bolt, comes the owner – a man in his 90s, who has not a hair on his head. And from the mountain of boxes to the counter, all of two steps, I watch him, quivering and shaking, as he takes minutes to cross the gap to greet me.
He gathers himself and looks into my eyes with his own rheumy blue pair.
I tell him that I have come to buy wire – the thinnest possible, and that I am in a bit of a hurry.
He explains to me that he can sell me however many metres I want, while trundling back to a vast pair of wire cutters. I am ordered to follow him so, remaining behind him, we walk, more slowly than the growing speed of an oak tree, to his back rooms, him shaking with a regular, almost soothing monotony, as he goes. He fumbles around for what seems like an age for a light switch, potters on – another light switch – potters on until eventually we arrive in a dusty damp infested room with cement bags and chicken wire.
I’m really beginning to realise that I should never have come here, and yet I am practically having an out of body experience with the surrealness of it all. Here I am, in some dank and dark back room with an extremely elderly man who is no gentleman, but I feel entirely safe as I could walk faster than he could run.
And he shows me his prized wire – huge rolls of oxidized and galvanised totally unsuitable stuff which I won’t be buying – so I thank him and say No, sorry to have taken your time, I need a much finer wire …..
I thought I had my opportunity at that moment to escape, as my eyes fell on the dustiest sewing machine for sale next to a chemical loo and floor rug – but he says No! Come here, I have more … and we walk back, achingly slowly, back to the very place we started where he shows me his thinnest wire – 0.6mm – too thick and galvanised …. But nevertheless presented with a pride you rarely see in shops these days.
And he starts the same conversation we had the last time I went in – you’re not Spanish are you? But not English either … Oh? You are English? Well, you don’t look English, and you don’t speak Spanish like an English person ….
Bye Bye, Mr Acorn Antiques …. Til next time ….
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Córdoba in May
For any of you thinking of visiting Córdoba, May is the time! Córdoba hurls itself into the Party Spirit from now until the last day of May with every kind of attraction for the young and old alike ...
Here is a brief glimpse :
Starting today, Córdoba celebrates the Fiesta de Los Cruxes - the Cross Festival - Crosses are erected all over the city, festooned with flowers, and around each cross you will find revellers partying in their own way - enjoying the weather, the visitors, and the river flowing along the south banks to the sea.
This year, the Fiesta de Los Patios, I am informed, begins next Thursday 7th May and runs til 18th May. It is an extravaganza of flowers - Córdoba is reknowned for the beautiful decoration of the Patios and more than 70 open their doors to visitors during these two weeks ... Some die hards recommend that you spend the evening before exploring the "Old Quarter", and visit again the following morning in order to visit the more out of reach Patios ...
And then at the end of May, 24th - 30th, we have Córdoba's annual Fair including the Fiesta de la Battalla de Flores on the first day to open proceedings, Bulls in the Streets, Circuses and Shows as well as some traditional Spanish riding skills, Flamenco Festivals and Flowers being hurled from balconies at the passing traffic below.
Here is a brief glimpse :
Starting today, Córdoba celebrates the Fiesta de Los Cruxes - the Cross Festival - Crosses are erected all over the city, festooned with flowers, and around each cross you will find revellers partying in their own way - enjoying the weather, the visitors, and the river flowing along the south banks to the sea.
This year, the Fiesta de Los Patios, I am informed, begins next Thursday 7th May and runs til 18th May. It is an extravaganza of flowers - Córdoba is reknowned for the beautiful decoration of the Patios and more than 70 open their doors to visitors during these two weeks ... Some die hards recommend that you spend the evening before exploring the "Old Quarter", and visit again the following morning in order to visit the more out of reach Patios ...
And then at the end of May, 24th - 30th, we have Córdoba's annual Fair including the Fiesta de la Battalla de Flores on the first day to open proceedings, Bulls in the Streets, Circuses and Shows as well as some traditional Spanish riding skills, Flamenco Festivals and Flowers being hurled from balconies at the passing traffic below.
Children's NON Health and Safety Playgrounds - the BEST!
Sitting here waiting for guests arriving this morning, I am remembering yesterday's excursion to "the play ground" which my son Zack wanted to take me on ... together with his lovely friend Lucas.
We packed water and several plastic bags for "treasure" and set off in the direction of our lovely 8 sided church.
Walking through the olive groves, just coming into flower now, we dipped down through the silver trees, birds and wild flowers everywhere - the wild garlic is absolutely beautiful at this time of year.
All I could see was what looked like a roped off quarry, so my hackles were up for signs of danger ... but as I relaxed, I started to notice that the ground all around us was sparkling and twinkling in the afternoon sun.
Stopping and paying more attention to what was underfoot, we all started to find crystals - quartz, mica, citrine and pyorite - turned and churned by the ploughs working the land between the trees! It was amazing - I have never found crystals "in the wild" before and was secretly hoping to come across an amethyst cathedral at any moment.
Zack then told us that he wanted to go down to the playground ... and shot off with little Lucas bobbing along behind him. He looked back at me, beaming his bright sunny smile, and said "Look Mummy, here's our slide!" ...
And there, next to an abandonned plough with jagged edges everywhere and all manner of items that in the UK would make the place deemed unfit for children, was an earth bank, with a very clear earth funnel smoothed out of it heading vertically some 25 feet down to the grove beneath .... down which shot Zack, bumping all the way to the very bottom, whooping with glee all the way !
Who needs plastic?!
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Flowers flowers everywhere .....
Patio de Las Comedias ... I have heard of this, but only yesterday visited ... which wouldn't be shameful except for the fact that it is on my doorstep in the lovely Iznájar ....
I highly recommend it - I need to go back with my camera and take some photos to post - WELL worth a visit ... a bit like Los Patios in Córdoba, but all year round ....
But then Íznájar is an absolute gem in every regard, except for those who don't like walking uphill :)
I highly recommend it - I need to go back with my camera and take some photos to post - WELL worth a visit ... a bit like Los Patios in Córdoba, but all year round ....
But then Íznájar is an absolute gem in every regard, except for those who don't like walking uphill :)
Thursday, April 10, 2008
You know you live in Spain when :
Everyone comes out and stares in total disbelief, grinning from ear to ear, because it is absolutely POURING with rain!
WE LOVE THE RAIN!!
WE LOVE THE RAIN!!
Saturday, March 22, 2008
The Bat Cave - Final Installment
Sorry for the delay in posting the second part, my internet connection has been playing the Okey Kokey with me and only tonight, with it blowing a TORNADO OUT THERE is it working !...........
So here is the rest of the story :
Arriving at the top of the world, which is what it felt like, we first went into the tourist shop.
I have lived here long enough to know that they all shut at 2pm and I didn't want to be sitting around AFTER our trip into the cave for an extra hour waiting for it to possibly not re-open that afternoon being as it was a Saturday ….So we went in and tiddled about a bit, the boys buying revolting slimey snakes and lizards; me buying some great maps of the Sierra Subbética for our Guest House (http://www.casa-la-celada.com/), and killing a bit of time on a "this is what it's like to see like a bat" simulator.
And then we walked the last stretch up the hill with views stretching far and wide, and finally went in ....
Part of a group of 40, we were guided by Carmen who told us right from the outset that the microclimate of the caves was considered to be the most important thing to preserve, and as such we would be turning lights 'off' behind us as we descended, and 'on' in front of us - so anyone who thought they may have an attack of claustrophobia etc should definitely LEAVE NOW! We all agreed we would carry on. And from here on, this blog gets a bit educational ...
The cave has been well visited by international and Spanish archaeologists. They have stated now that it was certainly inhabited as a home dating back 6,500 years to Neolithic man and the Stone Age. They have even discovered the skeleton of a woman, whom they named Marie Pili after the Spanish Saint Pilar, who was found far down in the darkest profundity of the cave, in a position that indicated that she had gone down there by choice and had died there, rather than had fallen and become stuck. It's hard to believe, as once you got past the first cave 'room', the entirety of this intricate and complicated interconnection of systems would have been absolutely pitch black, as we are talking about times long before the discovery of fire. Archaeologists did think to excavate Marie Pili from her silent and dark grave, petrified as she was after so many years, but it was soon realised that to even begin to attempt to cut her remains out of the rocks into which she had now become a part would more than certainly destroy her. So instead they took photographs of her, and have chosen, rightly in my opinion, to leave her where she chose to die. It was quite humbling to realise that all the while, this woman, in her forties they think, had been rummaging around in the depths of this cave - her feet must have known and felt every crevice and cranny to have felt able to traverse what was a very dangerous passage.
We were shown the "larder" - again an extraordinary journey to get to it - however it turned out that this particular cave "room" which is not open to the public had an access point at the top from above land. In fact, so large was the "hole", that Neolithic man covered the hole in order to create a natural trap for unsuspecting animals passing by. They are sure that this was its purpose having discovered an immense quantity of bones there that were all fractured, indicating an unexpected fall rather than a deliberate entry into the cave …. Fascinating!
We saw very feint cave paintings of what they suggest could be a type of Ibix or similar long horned goat or deer; and we had the joy of seeing the stalagtites and stalagmites of immense proportions - one of the "mites" growing up to a height exceeding 4 metres! And considering that their estimation is that a "tite" grows down by 1cm per 100 years, and a "mite" grows up by a slower but not dissimilar rate, we calculated (to the amazement of wide eyed children) that it was possibly a million years old …. Older than Granny and Great Granny for sure!
The archaeologists, having spent so much time down there, had found bones - a femur for one, and a jaw of a human child which they estimated had died around the age of 6. On examination and testing, they found the bone absolutely riddled with parasites and bacteria - sufficient to have killed a small child. They also were amazed at the number of human skulls found - more than 70% in total, that had been trepanned - a hole of at least 1-2 inches hacked out at the back of the head after feeding the "recipient" a mixture of anaesthesia-producing leaves - their crude method of "surgery" used to deal with all problems that didn't go away. What was most fascinating was that the majority of the skulls found showed that the persons who had undergone trepanning continued to live a good few years after - indicated by the bone's attempts to regrow over the hole. But of the skulls where the bone had not overgrown and was considerably larger? Well it was considered that these were the skulls of the super intelligent people in the caves - and if they died - well, Neolithic man apparently thought that to eat the brains of the intelligent would pass their cleverness on…… ! And the analogy was not lost on the group that now, "we" (not me) eat the brains of sheep and pigs instead …. Doh !!
I loved the shapes within the caves - the way the rock formations have created horse shapes, wild boar, hippopotamii, dwarves …. There was the entire nativity scene in one part of the cave complete with the wise men (los Reyes) and a few cavorting sheep. We saw Caspar the ghost, a dog, and at the very end of the journey the most fabulously ugly witch!
It was well worth the journey - even though it had taken me half an hour longer than I imagined possible - and both children were firing questions at Carmen our guide to clarify issues over Marie Pili particularly! Having returned to the car, we headed back down the craggy mountain to Zuheros town itself for lunch, where I had to send my salad back as the lettuce tasted SO bitter - turned out it was this season´s olive oil which was causing my top lip to curl - and they were kind and gave me a replacement that was "undressed".
And I found myself talking to a lovely young woman called Kelly - mother of 4 (bowing down at her feet in utter admiration) who moved out here from London 3.5 years ago and settled in Zuheros …. And I think we will stay friends actually, as she was tremendous fun, a great free spirit, and the kind of person that I would enjoy having a laugh with!
And as we felt the need to leave (it now being nearly 6pm and Adrian's Mum expecting us back here by at the latest 5pm), I decided to "try" a different route back. We were home in 50 minutes!!! It was a fantastic road - Zuheros to Cabra, Cabra to Lucena, and Lucena straight back here! Easy to give anyone directions - especially people staying here who don't speak the language and are nervous of getting to where they want to get to - so that was a super huge bonus all round.So in Summary ?
A Huge recommendation from me - and we will definitely be going back - either with friends, guests, or just us to enjoy it all over again!
So here is the rest of the story :
Arriving at the top of the world, which is what it felt like, we first went into the tourist shop.
I have lived here long enough to know that they all shut at 2pm and I didn't want to be sitting around AFTER our trip into the cave for an extra hour waiting for it to possibly not re-open that afternoon being as it was a Saturday ….So we went in and tiddled about a bit, the boys buying revolting slimey snakes and lizards; me buying some great maps of the Sierra Subbética for our Guest House (http://www.casa-la-celada.com/), and killing a bit of time on a "this is what it's like to see like a bat" simulator.
And then we walked the last stretch up the hill with views stretching far and wide, and finally went in ....
Part of a group of 40, we were guided by Carmen who told us right from the outset that the microclimate of the caves was considered to be the most important thing to preserve, and as such we would be turning lights 'off' behind us as we descended, and 'on' in front of us - so anyone who thought they may have an attack of claustrophobia etc should definitely LEAVE NOW! We all agreed we would carry on. And from here on, this blog gets a bit educational ...
The cave has been well visited by international and Spanish archaeologists. They have stated now that it was certainly inhabited as a home dating back 6,500 years to Neolithic man and the Stone Age. They have even discovered the skeleton of a woman, whom they named Marie Pili after the Spanish Saint Pilar, who was found far down in the darkest profundity of the cave, in a position that indicated that she had gone down there by choice and had died there, rather than had fallen and become stuck. It's hard to believe, as once you got past the first cave 'room', the entirety of this intricate and complicated interconnection of systems would have been absolutely pitch black, as we are talking about times long before the discovery of fire. Archaeologists did think to excavate Marie Pili from her silent and dark grave, petrified as she was after so many years, but it was soon realised that to even begin to attempt to cut her remains out of the rocks into which she had now become a part would more than certainly destroy her. So instead they took photographs of her, and have chosen, rightly in my opinion, to leave her where she chose to die. It was quite humbling to realise that all the while, this woman, in her forties they think, had been rummaging around in the depths of this cave - her feet must have known and felt every crevice and cranny to have felt able to traverse what was a very dangerous passage.
We were shown the "larder" - again an extraordinary journey to get to it - however it turned out that this particular cave "room" which is not open to the public had an access point at the top from above land. In fact, so large was the "hole", that Neolithic man covered the hole in order to create a natural trap for unsuspecting animals passing by. They are sure that this was its purpose having discovered an immense quantity of bones there that were all fractured, indicating an unexpected fall rather than a deliberate entry into the cave …. Fascinating!
We saw very feint cave paintings of what they suggest could be a type of Ibix or similar long horned goat or deer; and we had the joy of seeing the stalagtites and stalagmites of immense proportions - one of the "mites" growing up to a height exceeding 4 metres! And considering that their estimation is that a "tite" grows down by 1cm per 100 years, and a "mite" grows up by a slower but not dissimilar rate, we calculated (to the amazement of wide eyed children) that it was possibly a million years old …. Older than Granny and Great Granny for sure!
The archaeologists, having spent so much time down there, had found bones - a femur for one, and a jaw of a human child which they estimated had died around the age of 6. On examination and testing, they found the bone absolutely riddled with parasites and bacteria - sufficient to have killed a small child. They also were amazed at the number of human skulls found - more than 70% in total, that had been trepanned - a hole of at least 1-2 inches hacked out at the back of the head after feeding the "recipient" a mixture of anaesthesia-producing leaves - their crude method of "surgery" used to deal with all problems that didn't go away. What was most fascinating was that the majority of the skulls found showed that the persons who had undergone trepanning continued to live a good few years after - indicated by the bone's attempts to regrow over the hole. But of the skulls where the bone had not overgrown and was considerably larger? Well it was considered that these were the skulls of the super intelligent people in the caves - and if they died - well, Neolithic man apparently thought that to eat the brains of the intelligent would pass their cleverness on…… ! And the analogy was not lost on the group that now, "we" (not me) eat the brains of sheep and pigs instead …. Doh !!
I loved the shapes within the caves - the way the rock formations have created horse shapes, wild boar, hippopotamii, dwarves …. There was the entire nativity scene in one part of the cave complete with the wise men (los Reyes) and a few cavorting sheep. We saw Caspar the ghost, a dog, and at the very end of the journey the most fabulously ugly witch!
It was well worth the journey - even though it had taken me half an hour longer than I imagined possible - and both children were firing questions at Carmen our guide to clarify issues over Marie Pili particularly! Having returned to the car, we headed back down the craggy mountain to Zuheros town itself for lunch, where I had to send my salad back as the lettuce tasted SO bitter - turned out it was this season´s olive oil which was causing my top lip to curl - and they were kind and gave me a replacement that was "undressed".
And I found myself talking to a lovely young woman called Kelly - mother of 4 (bowing down at her feet in utter admiration) who moved out here from London 3.5 years ago and settled in Zuheros …. And I think we will stay friends actually, as she was tremendous fun, a great free spirit, and the kind of person that I would enjoy having a laugh with!
And as we felt the need to leave (it now being nearly 6pm and Adrian's Mum expecting us back here by at the latest 5pm), I decided to "try" a different route back. We were home in 50 minutes!!! It was a fantastic road - Zuheros to Cabra, Cabra to Lucena, and Lucena straight back here! Easy to give anyone directions - especially people staying here who don't speak the language and are nervous of getting to where they want to get to - so that was a super huge bonus all round.So in Summary ?
A Huge recommendation from me - and we will definitely be going back - either with friends, guests, or just us to enjoy it all over again!
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
I posted a blog on Ecademy ....
About living your Dream - you can read it by clicking on the above link ...
What do you think?
What do you think?
Monday, March 03, 2008
The Bat Cave - Las Cuevas de Los Murciélagos
Los Cuevos de Los Murciélagos - Zuheros - Córdoba
WOW!
What a day ….
Saturday saw Zack, myself, and his six year old Spanish friend Adrian packing a picnic and heading off to see the famous Caves of the Bats in Zuheros, Córdoba ....... and being a military family girl, we left the house at 12 noon allowing just under two hours to get there, because I know what these mountain roads can be like and I didn´t want vomiting children yowling in the back seat after the first five minutes …
So I checked the map and chose the most direct route (.....when will I learn…) and set off winding our way from La Celada to Priego de Córdoba, one of the most isolated yet central to the Sierra Subbética mountains villages. After trying to remember how I would direct someone through Priego de Córdoba (duly noting down "turn left at the palm tree, right at the second set of lights" at the same time as driving - for which I would probably get banned but here in Spain the worst that will happen is I get tooted at by the drivers behind me for not accelerating at break neck speed through a heavily peopled village) we found ourselves at the road turning that the map suggested ….. and headed straight over the edge of a cliff … !
By which I mean that the tarmac had been SO Badly joined to the main Priego to Alcaudete road that it had created a "ridge" that was several inches higher than the road we needed to take - I honestly thought I was going to lose the undercarriage ... !! Yipes!
Still, not deterred, we carried on - turned right - carried on through amazing scenery, winding around this way and around that way then rounding another bend the sign for Luque - the next village we had to go through - pointed up the mountain track!!! And said 10km beside it!! OH MY GOD!
Smiling to myself while thinking "I HAVE DONE WORSE" and making reassuring Hearty Mother Has Done This Before off we set winding up the dirt road. I was practically kissing the sky for the fact that we have had no rain for several days because the road was clear and dry - if rather lumpy and bumpy - so I started to feel super confident … and then
….Bleugh .
Adrian vomited in the back seat !!
Poor little mite - 6 years old, but managed to find a plastic bag (thank god empty) and yakked up into it! And when I said come on, hop out and walk about a bit, he looked at me as if I was mad !! He was clearly NOT used to anyone giving a monkeys about a bit of sick .... !
So we swapped seats around, put him in the front to take his mind of the lumps and bumps, and soldiered on, getting a bit lost in Luque before finally coming across a sign saying Cuevas de Los Murciélagos! YAY!
So wound our way up the mountain path that clings onto the side of the Zuheros precipice, with breathtaking views, and crows circling with vultures .... and there was the entrance to the Bat Cave …
And this post is TO BE CONTINUED !!!
WOW!
What a day ….
Saturday saw Zack, myself, and his six year old Spanish friend Adrian packing a picnic and heading off to see the famous Caves of the Bats in Zuheros, Córdoba ....... and being a military family girl, we left the house at 12 noon allowing just under two hours to get there, because I know what these mountain roads can be like and I didn´t want vomiting children yowling in the back seat after the first five minutes …
So I checked the map and chose the most direct route (.....when will I learn…) and set off winding our way from La Celada to Priego de Córdoba, one of the most isolated yet central to the Sierra Subbética mountains villages. After trying to remember how I would direct someone through Priego de Córdoba (duly noting down "turn left at the palm tree, right at the second set of lights" at the same time as driving - for which I would probably get banned but here in Spain the worst that will happen is I get tooted at by the drivers behind me for not accelerating at break neck speed through a heavily peopled village) we found ourselves at the road turning that the map suggested ….. and headed straight over the edge of a cliff … !
By which I mean that the tarmac had been SO Badly joined to the main Priego to Alcaudete road that it had created a "ridge" that was several inches higher than the road we needed to take - I honestly thought I was going to lose the undercarriage ... !! Yipes!
Still, not deterred, we carried on - turned right - carried on through amazing scenery, winding around this way and around that way then rounding another bend the sign for Luque - the next village we had to go through - pointed up the mountain track!!! And said 10km beside it!! OH MY GOD!
Smiling to myself while thinking "I HAVE DONE WORSE" and making reassuring Hearty Mother Has Done This Before off we set winding up the dirt road. I was practically kissing the sky for the fact that we have had no rain for several days because the road was clear and dry - if rather lumpy and bumpy - so I started to feel super confident … and then
….Bleugh .
Adrian vomited in the back seat !!
Poor little mite - 6 years old, but managed to find a plastic bag (thank god empty) and yakked up into it! And when I said come on, hop out and walk about a bit, he looked at me as if I was mad !! He was clearly NOT used to anyone giving a monkeys about a bit of sick .... !
So we swapped seats around, put him in the front to take his mind of the lumps and bumps, and soldiered on, getting a bit lost in Luque before finally coming across a sign saying Cuevas de Los Murciélagos! YAY!
So wound our way up the mountain path that clings onto the side of the Zuheros precipice, with breathtaking views, and crows circling with vultures .... and there was the entrance to the Bat Cave …
And this post is TO BE CONTINUED !!!
Monday, February 25, 2008
Cluck Cluck Cluck ... Chicken's Up !
That's it, we've finally gone mad ....
We're getting CHICKENS!
Our neighbours, the wonderful Luisa and Antonio who have housed my baby motorhome ever since we arrived, ate their scrawny featherless apologies for chickens (think boiling fowls) who only laid eggs when the sun turned blue and whose cockerel had no respect for Dawn Chorusing and instead bellyached all night long ... and a week ago filled their chicken run with young pretty fluffy white hens!
And they have agreed to house a further two - which will be Zack's chickens!!
Hey Ho Eggs Here We Go ... :)
We're getting CHICKENS!
Our neighbours, the wonderful Luisa and Antonio who have housed my baby motorhome ever since we arrived, ate their scrawny featherless apologies for chickens (think boiling fowls) who only laid eggs when the sun turned blue and whose cockerel had no respect for Dawn Chorusing and instead bellyached all night long ... and a week ago filled their chicken run with young pretty fluffy white hens!
And they have agreed to house a further two - which will be Zack's chickens!!
Hey Ho Eggs Here We Go ... :)
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Fiesta de San José, La Celada, Iznájar ...
Roll Up Roll Up!!!!
It's PARTY TIME!
From 14th to 16th March, our gorgeous little village is holding its very own annual Fiesta, normally held on March 19th but this year due to the early Easter break, we are bringing it forward by a few days ......
It will involve a mountain of games for the children starting around 4pm on the Friday - bring bicycles for the tinies on Friday, the bigger ones on Saturday as well as the boys with their motorbikes .....
The HUGE free lunch starts at 2pm on Sunday with raffles, games, bucking broncos and bouncy castles .....
Come along and see how we know how to party !!!
It's PARTY TIME!
From 14th to 16th March, our gorgeous little village is holding its very own annual Fiesta, normally held on March 19th but this year due to the early Easter break, we are bringing it forward by a few days ......
It will involve a mountain of games for the children starting around 4pm on the Friday - bring bicycles for the tinies on Friday, the bigger ones on Saturday as well as the boys with their motorbikes .....
The HUGE free lunch starts at 2pm on Sunday with raffles, games, bucking broncos and bouncy castles .....
Come along and see how we know how to party !!!
Monday, February 11, 2008
Living A Dream Means Listening To The Signs
Part of living any Dream, is to be attentive to what is needed ....
And right now, my son is SO TIRED, he needs a break.
He works several times harder than his class colleagues because he is, of course, doing it all in another language - and so every so often it catches up with him like being hit by a train ...
So we have organised ourselves a last minute break .... just a night or two .... but time out for him to recharge his wee batteries.
It must be done!
And right now, my son is SO TIRED, he needs a break.
He works several times harder than his class colleagues because he is, of course, doing it all in another language - and so every so often it catches up with him like being hit by a train ...
So we have organised ourselves a last minute break .... just a night or two .... but time out for him to recharge his wee batteries.
It must be done!
Wednesday, February 06, 2008
SUPER EXCITING NEWS!
Today I am super-excited ---
Why?
Because tomorrow I am giving an interview to the Sunday Mirror of all people about LIVING THE DREAM IN SPAIN !
How lucky am I????!
Why?
Because tomorrow I am giving an interview to the Sunday Mirror of all people about LIVING THE DREAM IN SPAIN !
How lucky am I????!
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
La Celada Dream Coming True
Well it's all happening for us here - a new ART COMMISSION, a new GUEST ARRIVAL this weekend .... Busy Busy Bees!
Meantime I hope you enjoy the painting - my last and favourite horse (aaaaahhhhhh).
Monday, January 28, 2008
Yipes - The Merry-Go-Round is going F-A-S-T!
Wow! The past 24 hours have been a tornado of activity!
Not only have I discovered Ecademy - and I am truly thankful to God and Georgina Lester for rescuing me from Facebook in that regard (save me from asinine requests of "what flavoured rotting cabbage are you) - but I have, since then, joined as a Power Networker and have since been given support and help from across the WORLD. It is an amazing resource for people wanting to UP their profile, improve their business contacts, or in my case GET CORDOBA ON THE MAP and more importantly Casa La Celada and our Bed and Breakfast here!
I have had some wonderful feedback from people giving me their valuable time, advice on how to get matters Humming - check this link out www.ecademy.com/module.php?mod=club&c=5248 - it is my very own and first Club on Ecademy called Spanish Retreats and Holidays - and it is for ANYONE with an interest in Spain, Holidays, Healing and informing others of their own gifts and products.
So I am smiling - even if my eyeballs are hanging out on threads bleeding caused by hours of computer work!
Time to wander up to my glorious roof terrace to remember the view methinks!
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Websites and getting Optimised
The more I read and study on the Internet, the more I begin to understand that there are many forms of getting "noticed". Be it submitting articles (of which I have done several on Moving to Spain and registering a UK vehicle in Spain to name just a couple), but there is also this Bogey Word called Web Site Optimisation!
YIPES! What a MINEFIELD.
I have friends who don't live here in Córdoba, and who DON'T run a Bed & Breakfast (there - a perfect example of optimising - Córdoba and Bed & Breakfast are two really important words for us, but I can't sit here repeating them over and over, and use the example to prove a point) - who do have websites offering services, and who have their website details or connected details filling up page one of Google!
IT'S VERY ANNOYING!
So, I am now spending several hours each day writing articles, and working on this issue of Optimising. I am writing about Pamper Weekends, or the fact that I personally love to be pampered. I am writing about being a single parent, and the pitfalls and joys of such a life. I am joining forums and clubs that have relevant members - others with a bed & breakfast perhaps, or are running their own successful businesses. Needless to say, none of them have ever heard of La Celada, or Iznájar for that matter . But I hope, that with time and my efforts, they SOON WILL!
YIPES! What a MINEFIELD.
I have friends who don't live here in Córdoba, and who DON'T run a Bed & Breakfast (there - a perfect example of optimising - Córdoba and Bed & Breakfast are two really important words for us, but I can't sit here repeating them over and over, and use the example to prove a point) - who do have websites offering services, and who have their website details or connected details filling up page one of Google!
IT'S VERY ANNOYING!
So, I am now spending several hours each day writing articles, and working on this issue of Optimising. I am writing about Pamper Weekends, or the fact that I personally love to be pampered. I am writing about being a single parent, and the pitfalls and joys of such a life. I am joining forums and clubs that have relevant members - others with a bed & breakfast perhaps, or are running their own successful businesses. Needless to say, none of them have ever heard of La Celada, or Iznájar for that matter . But I hope, that with time and my efforts, they SOON WILL!
Cordoba Heat, Glorious Me Time
What an experience. As I lie on my sumptuous roof terrace, in only my bikini, Life In Spain Is GOOD. It is Sunday, a lazy day. Zack is staying with his best friend for the weekend, and I am resisting the temptation to work, be it finishing staining doors, window frames, cooking or painting - nothing except this little moment to Blog It. I am instead lapping up the gorgeous heat in January, and enjoying being AMANDA - no-one's wife, no-one's mother, no-one's required other for a few hours. What a treasure of time that is.
Friday, January 25, 2008
Gathering Olives
This is a photograph of Iznájar, taken through the branches of an olive tree in La Celada, where we now live. I am posting it because it is relevant today as, in my finery, I found myself grovelling around on the floor picking up the olives that have fallen for a friend. It is a very humbling experience to spend time with people who break their backs doing a job that pays so little in reality. These people earn between 50 and 70 cents per kilo of olives, even though the machinery they have to use is expensive, the time they need to get the olives off the trees is seemingly never ending, and they do it all with a happy and humble heart.
My son was in his element - climbing trees, hurling olive bombs as us as we worked around the children, all the while occasionally coming down from his squirrel nest to "help" a little - and every little really does help in this work!
I will write a longer post about the process in due course, but now it is WEEKEND OFF, and I am going to enjoy every single moment of it!
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Frenetic Yoga ????
I'm sure it shouldn't have felt like that! But I was so hopelessly overexcited ! I have my first weekend "off" this weekend since some wonderful friends and I have decided to do "Child Swaps". NOT like wife swapping I can assure you ...
The Spanish are such a toughened people that they really don't, ever, take time off. They clean if they are not cooking; they look after their families in a way that puts the British "stuff 'em in a home and forget'em" publicity to shame ....
However some friends and I have all agreed that a weekend off every month or so DOES do the soul good. AND IT'S MY TURN STARTING TOMORROW!!!!
So why have I called this article Frenetic Yoga I hear you wonder as you scratch your head and peruse this ...
Well, because a mate of mine is organising himself as we speak to leave his work at 1am in Barcelona, take a glass or two of wine with a friend after work, then take the dawn flight from Barcelona to Málaga where I will meet him and we will have a party-filled Robbie Burns noticing weekend of adult (probably) drunkenness and debauchery ..... IT WILL MAKE A CHANGE I CAN TELL YOU!!!
I am SO looking forward to it that I decided I would clean the house from top to bottom in honour AND get my legs waxed (think Highland Cow) for the event ... so when it was time for my Thursday morning Yoga class I was so frantic and hyper with the excitement of starting to see my home looking tidy again, I got a bit "pepped out" and had to breathe - that´s
b-r-e-a-t-h-e - slow and deep, in order to bring myself back down to Planet Normal again ---
But it is very exciting to have time all to myself I have to say - and even more exciting to have made a plan so that I have a few more of them this year!
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Musician Inspires Monthly Healing Meeting
Okay so I know it's an unusual photograph for this blog, but being as I have been a bit slothful these past few weeks, I thought I would put in a good picture to make up for it ...
This photo was taken outside (and no I did NOT eat there) Burger King in Torremolinos - where I went for the weekend with my son and my mother to get a bit of mental-ness.....!
That may sound strange, but living in the beautiful, peaceful, unspoilt mountains of Spain, I have learned that every so often I like to go to the coast, the cities, or the generally looning places where there are more British people than indigenous locals, and remind myself of why I LOVE rural Spain.
And this man, whose name I am sorry I don't know, is from Peru, and has the licence to do his thing throughout the season, and we LOVED listening to him - his music was so peaceful and tranquil and beautiful, even though he was literally flying from one instrument to the other to make up the effect.
Since being there, we now have a musical healing night here in the Guest House pretty much every full moon now with several people who choose to come each time, and others who come when they feel like they need a musical pan pipe drumming rattling healing and talking session. It is absolutely wonderful! Although totally NOT obligatory!
If you are interested in coming specifically for a healing / pampering holiday, do let us know - we have access to Chiropractic, Reflexology, Healing, Shamanic Healing, Massage, Manicures, Pedicures, Waxing, Hair Styling, Full Facials and Body Treatments ... and of course we have the Hot Tub up on our roof terrace where you can be hubbled and bubbled before your treatments and after with a glass of bubbly!
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