Living the Dream in Spain

Crying at school - oh dear!

2009-02-02T11:18:00.002+01:00

It was me who cried!

I had an appointment with the "orientador" - that's a person who assesses your child, a psychologist by training who is there to help - and I had my meeting with her today after her assessment of Zack and I cried!

Not because of anything she said about my son - far from it - he is absolutely normal, doing great and not failing on any levels ... But when I spoke about some challenges I have had, I suddenly burst into tears! Not what I expected, but probably not helped by some sleep deprivation recently ...!

I'm pleased with how the meeting went though - she was very compassionate, gave me all the time I needed, and was extremely supportive with my own thinking about how to help Zack get the most out of his education here in Spain.

I felt for the poor woman - I don't think she expected that though! Hey Ho !!

Holy Crap this is a brain drain ...

2009-02-01T11:22:00.002+01:00

Thanks to a fabulous friend sending me a three mile long email on how to make blogging work for me and encourage people to want to come and stay in our gorgeous B&B in Spain or to buy my paintings, I am now up to the nostrils with being freaked out ....

RSS feeds, Twitterdecks, Twitpants, oh GOD this is enough to make this technophobe have a hissy fit ....

Will do best to stay calm but

AAARRRRGGGGHHHHH!!

If you'd like to know how I'm feeling today, this perfectly expresses it ...

2008-12-22T13:32:00.000+01:00

Music deeply, movingly and tenderly heals even the most painful places ....

A TOTALLY BEAUTIFUL SONG!

Snow Boarding holidays in Andalucia

2008-09-11T19:24:00.000+02:00

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.

Barefooted, on knees, candles in hand ....

2008-09-11T16:20:00.000+02:00

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.

Driving through the olive groves we stumbled upon Zuheros ...

2008-09-03T09:03:00.002+02:00

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.....

My favourite Bodega in Malaga ...

2008-09-02T09:01:00.000+02:00

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 .....

The Best Pamper Day Of My Life

2008-08-27T10:48:00.000+02:00

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 ...

The Road To Hell .....

2008-05-29T16:49:00.002+02:00

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 do this sometimes you know ...

2008-05-16T12:26:00.000+02:00

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 ....

First Ecological Hospital in Spain - in Granada

2008-05-12T13:52:00.000+02:00

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 ....

Broad Beans - the Food of the Devil .....

2008-05-11T16:12:00.001+02:00

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?

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Acorn Antiques in Andalucia

2008-05-01T17:52:00.001+02:00

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 ….

Córdoba in May

2008-04-30T12:02:00.001+02:00

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.

Children's NON Health and Safety Playgrounds - the BEST!

2008-04-30T11:02:00.000+02:00

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?!

Flowers flowers everywhere .....

2008-04-16T21:43:00.001+02:00

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 :)

You know you live in Spain when :

2008-04-10T16:39:00.002+02:00

Everyone comes out and stares in total disbelief, grinning from ear to ear, because it is absolutely POURING with rain!

WE LOVE THE RAIN!!

The Bat Cave - Final Installment

2008-03-22T07:30:00.003+01:00

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!

I posted a blog on Ecademy ....

2008-03-19T08:48:00.001+01:00

About living your Dream - you can read it by clicking on the above link ...

What do you think?

The Bat Cave - Las Cuevas de Los Murciélagos

2008-03-03T09:47:00.000+01:00

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 !!!

Cluck Cluck Cluck ... Chicken's Up !

2008-02-25T10:13:00.002+01:00

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 ... :)

Fiesta de San José, La Celada, Iznájar ...

2008-02-24T22:38:00.002+01:00

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 !!!

Living A Dream Means Listening To The Signs

2008-02-11T09:13:00.000+01:00

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!

SUPER EXCITING NEWS!

2008-02-06T00:03:00.000+01:00

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????!

La Celada Dream Coming True

2008-01-29T20:07:00.000+01:00

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).

Yipes - The Merry-Go-Round is going F-A-S-T!

2008-01-28T16:16:00.000+01:00

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!

Websites and getting Optimised

2008-01-27T17:50:00.000+01:00

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!

Cordoba Heat, Glorious Me Time

2008-01-27T14:09:00.000+01:00

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.

Gathering Olives

2008-01-25T18:54:00.001+01:00

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!

Frenetic Yoga ????

2008-01-24T18:34:00.000+01:00

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!

Musician Inspires Monthly Healing Meeting

2008-01-23T22:26:00.000+01:00

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!

Christmas and Matansas (gory!)

2007-12-12T12:14:00.000+01:00

Well, the last couple of days have been one HECK of an experience for us because we were invited to our first ever Matansa …… YIPES!

We got up very early on Friday morning – mostly because my seven year old son came rushing into my bedroom at 6.30am saying “Come on Mummy we´ve got to go to the Matansa!!!” He was so excited and had struggled to sleep the night before AND had got up an hour early ….. but I got up all the same and didn´t bother showering as I figured I was likely to get a bit dirty during the course of the day…. Ho ho ho, little did she know … !

We arrived at the house of Solidad and her husband Antonio just before 8am. For them, the Matansa is an ancient tradition, a necessary and utterly unemotional process – having needed to do it over and over during their lifetimes in order to eat meat. For me, having never in my life done more than wring a pheasant´s neck, I really didn´t know if I would be able to handle it or not, but knew that I felt it my duty to go, to be there for a small boy who wanted hugely to be there, and to help where I could.

We followed seven seriously big men and another five women out the back of the barn and down into the olive groves where, under a big tree, was a pen about 5m x 3m, within which were 2 huge pigs and four smaller ones. We stayed well out of the way armed with the camera as I was official photographer for the day. I then watched as these seven men worked VERY hard to get one pig sectioned off from the others in order to bring it out of the pen. They do it by looping a rope around the upper jaw – which the pig doesn´t like, and so starts to squeal very loudly. I then saw a glint out of the corner of my eye, and realised that one of the women was holding a very substantial double bladed diamond shaped knife at the ready. My heart was quite literally leaping inside my chest but I knew I couldn´t run at this stage – we had committed and so I switched my focus from how nervous I felt to the pig and what was about to happen – and so I prayed for her and profoundly thanked her ……..

It took seven men and two women a difficult struggling minute to get the immense, squealing pig from all fours onto its side on the pig bench, at which point and not a second wasted very swiftly the knife did it´s job at the base of the front of the neck. A woman was at the feet of the pig with a large plastic bucket to catch the blood that surprisingly rapidly spent itself, beating it vigorously with her hands to prevent it from coagulating --- this blood is essential to the Andalucians who turn it into the most delicious Morcilla – black pudding effectively but mixed with onion, special pork fat from around the intestinal tract, a dozen or more different spices, red, black and sweet pepper and a LOT of garlic. So the kill, the way the animal is sacrificed, is of immense importance, even if it is, for the newcomer, a pretty vivid and “in your face” experience.

Within an hour the men had brought this pig into the shed, scraped the 4 inch long fur off by pouring boiling water over every millimetre of the beast prior to scraping and scraping with knives bringing them out in a muck sweat it was such vigorous work; removed the head cleanly and strung the beast up on a large double sided ladder ready for butchering. At which point, we all went back out to the pig pen for sacrifice number two – which went smoothly other than the fact that this pig clearly realised what was coming having listened to its sister live, and die, that morning and so made even more noise.

Once the kill was over, it was absolutely non stop for the rest of the day. The next most important job is to remove the intestines, completely intact, in order that the women can set about emptying them (including the stomach) and rigorously cleaning them in order that they become the “skin” of the morcilla, salchichón and chorizo. The morcilla (made with blood) is the most crucial of all the jobs as they have to be made the same day as the kill, otherwise the blood turns and is completely wasted. And when I found out that we were making 67 kilos of morcilla (enough for a year for this small family), I realised they had their work cut out for them. It took about 4 hours to simply clean the guts to the satisfaction of the women working – turned inside out, they are washed three times in home made soap and then five times in a mixture of salt, vinegar, lemon slices and flour (for whitening) with a small amount of hot water for making it easier to move them around. Over and over rinsing and scrubbing until they are white, clear and clean. Then they are turned the other way around and the same process is applied but four times on the basis that no poo has touched this side.

Once clean, the process of tying the ends of probably two hundred lengths of intestines is begun, while on another table the fat that has been saved from the process of unravelling the intestines is then minced ready for the morcilla mixture. By the time we were finally ready to start filling the immaculately clean intestines, it was about 4pm and we had breakfasted and lunched in that time (a STAGGERING quantity of food I would never normally eat due to the sheer quantity of FAT involved!) We had used several hundred gallons of water to clean, clean and re-clean the shed where it was all taking place – water that was being boiled in two vast metal vats over fires in the corner of the room.

The process of filling the tubes was no less simple – a woman stood on a breeze block and, with a vast wooden plunger inside a metal tube with a narrowed end, spent the next three hours forcing the thick bloody goo into the tied tubes – over and over and over again, only stopping for a glass of water. Once started, they simply do not stop until the job is done. It was absolutely exhausting to watch, let alone get in there, up to the elbows, in bloody entrails.

Even as the official photographer, I put myself to either sweeping up or carrying hot or cold water as required in order to earn at least half of my lunch – and the whole time, watching these women work for no pay, but for the knowledge that when it comes to their Matansa, these same women will come and support them in their immense load of work – I cannot tell you how much respect and humility I felt. It is no wonder to me that these women laugh raucously about love, sex, bodies, medical conditions – there are no subjects about which they behave shyly – because when you have, every year for 20, 30 or 40 years, gone through this process which starts at the end of November and goes on until early January by the time that each family has made sure that their children, cousins, aunts and uncles have all successfully prepared their year´s supply of meat, you really have shared MAJOR exhaustion, every aspect of your life over the past year, and the sheer extraordinarily hard work that is involved in preparing for, cooking for, and seeing through the annual Matansa …..

I have also learned that this tradition is becoming less and less frequent now. The young here have no interest in seeing through this tradition because although they all realise that the meat is without doubt better, purer, cleaner etc, it is an absolutely MONSTER job for which you need to have a large space, facilities, to say nothing for about 30 different and very large metal and plastic buckets for working with the dozens of different parts of the pigs, of which quite literally the bits thrown are the hair, eyes, poo and bones after being boiled. NO waste at all.

Having spent Friday and Saturday (afternoon only) with Soledad´s Matansa, we spent today up the mountain at friends helping with day 2 of their Matansa. And today I was far less precious. I got in there turning the mincers and pressers that force the goo down a tube onto which the other women had rolled the tubes of cleaned intestines, and I even handled the intestines which felt positively vile! But I know that I really did pull my weight for which they were immensely grateful – Paqui’s work won’t be done for several days yet, but another pair of hands is ALWAYS so very welcome.

So there it is – and now what is left for me to do is take my disk filled with photos to the printers where I am going to print loads off and put together a collage for Soledad and her family – Matansa 2007! I will save you all the shock of seeing them - they are not Sunday family viewing .....

Catching Up With Myself!

2007-11-13T13:16:00.000+01:00

WELCOME TO CASA LA CELADA!

Bed and Breakfast

Art Gallery

Villa For Rent

For more information please do visit our website http://www.casa-la-celada.com/ - we are smack in the heart of Andalucia - brilliantly placed for moving around the sumptious and unexplored inland treasures of Spain. The house is bedecked in my own paintings of which a tiny few are available to see on the art site http://www.amanda-hamilton.com/ - making it a truly beautiful home. We have a hot tub on our huge roof terrace where a glass of wine can be enjoyed at the same time as gazing out over the rolling olive groves - or do you fancy sunbathing in November?!

The Explosion Called TIM

2007-08-08T16:51:00.000+02:00

Location - Granada

I had followed my fab friend Giles who has his own ski school and accomodation company here (www.sierraessence.com) from the pretty valley village of Pinos Genil just off the Sierra Nevada road down into Granada with the rough plan of going to an Arabian spa after briefly meeting an ex ski instructor employee of his called Tim first. Tim had travelled down from Nice via Barcelona by train and bus with his pot-head brother and sister in law, and by all accounts has a bit of a scatty reputation. As we started along the road that joins El Corte Inglés with the Plaza Reál, Tim rang as agreed to say he was “organised” and was told by Giles where we were and “to head along the pedestrian road and we´ll bump into each other”.

Well, Giles and I were deep in conversation about I have no idea what when I suddenly registered a man belting towards us at such a pace that you would imagine him being chased by the Terminator. He shot past us arms and legs flailing in all directions like a spastic octopus before Giles abruptly stopped dead in his tracks and turning around shouted “TIM!”. The whirling dervish cannoned against the wall, bouncing off it, spinning round in a circle, taking a martial arts stance wildly glared at us with the most shockingly blue bolting eyes set in the reddest eyelids making me immediately think he was absolutely out of his head on drugs …… But instead he dragged his totally shattered reputation for being “cool” back into harness, raked his fingers through his wiry unkempt hair and stammered out “It´s okay Man, it´s just I´ve been sitting down a lot these past couple of days and wanted to loosen myself up a bit ….” I burst out laughing and barely stopped for the rest of “the Tim Encounter”…….. !

Las Alpujarras

2007-08-08T16:44:00.001+02:00

5th August 2007 still staying at Pinos Genil in Granada .....

Well, today being Sunday, and my muscles protesting if anything rather more than they did yesterday, I decided to go easy on my body and instead be demanding of my car. I packed my sponge bag, bathers and a clean pair of knickers and headed off on what turned out to be an absolute marathon of everything!

For map enthusiasts, I took the A44 Granada-MotrSil road as far as Lanjarón which took me over a fantastic bridge with a ravine gaping beneath it and then through the Lecrin valley which I had heard of but didn´t think much of until I saw it – it gets a WOW! And then I was off the motorway and heading up into La Alpujarra – the range of Sierra Nevada mountain that cuts right across the southern side and where the famous Pueblos Blancos reside.

I think I started saying WOW after about the first half second, and carried on saying WOW for a very very very long time. I went through Lanjarón, Órgiva, Carataunas, Pampaneira. Then I diverted and visited Bubión and Capileira – these three last mentioned villages are the “famous” ones – and I think I understand why now ….. Rather than turning round, I carried on after a bit of a walk in Capileira searching for the Barranco (Ravine) where they do organised descents like I did the other day, but apparently every year, on the 5th August, all tourism offices close in the Sierra Nevada as they open the passes at the top – and trust me to pick that very day to go and find out information!!!

Not to be deterred, I continued – all the while I should add snaking around every single crevice of mountainside, because these villages are quite literally clinging for their very LIVES onto the sides of these mountains – and you drive for what seems like forever and then round a bend and WHAM there´s another one even more remote than the last, but still totally painted white with pots and pots of geraniums, ivies etc adorning the place (that`´s if you get out and have a look around). Well, I detoured for a little while at Mecina and walked down to Fondales and back up where I stumbled across what must have been a God-Arranged Appointment for me – because there, on the side of the road, were a bunch of bestomached Spaniards cooking a paella – but not just any ordinary paella – because this one was being cooked in a paella pan three metres wide!!! And being the quiet, retiring type, I asked if I could have a go cooking it – and they LET ME!! So I spent about half an hour or so shovelling red and green peppers and squid around with a very long handled giant paella spade as the several gallons of olive oil gently did their bit! It was AMAZING! Apparently, they were cooking enough paella to serve eight HUNDRED PEOPLE!!

The chief cook did invite me, on behalf of the village, to stay and eat with them, but I graciously declined mostly because I felt conspicuously alone and didn´t want to have the hassle of trying to “make friends” in order to change that …. I had already long since decided that these mountains, having always been my idea of heaven knowing nothing about them, were simply WAY TOO REMOTE for me to even think of living – and that actually I wanted to get on and get OUT OF THEM!!!

So I went through : Pitres – another blindingly white mountain hugging valley, then
Portugos ditto
Busquistar ditto
Trevélez ditto
Bérchules ditto

And by now, I was humming to myself the music from The Eagles song “Hotel California”, and, wondering why, I imagined myself singing the words – and I kept on humming the bit where he sings “You can check out any time you like but, you can NEVER LEAVE!!!”!!!!

I started to get claustrophobia !! GET ME OUT OF HERE!

So I changed cars – in my imagination, and swapped my Citröen C2 for a convertible Lambourghini, slammed it into second gear and drove like Schumacher on his last lap –through Narila, Mecina Bombarón, Yegen, alor, then Mecina, Marirena, and FINALLY to Laroles, where I started to feel less like a starved dog chained three inches away from a decent meal. The hysteria subsided KNOWING that I was now only (ha ha) 26 km from Puerto de la Ragua, where I had decided to make my escape from the interminable beauty of the Alpujarras. On and on … and then WOW! Going DOWNHILL!! It HAD to be a good sign!! I was, thankfully, still gloating with the achievement of cooking (some of the) paella for 800 people and so my hysteria melted quickly as La Calahorra came into view, with its beautiful renaissance castle high up on the hill – although my hysteria soon welled again as I saw the rain in the distance sheeting down beneath black clouds – and knowing how it rains here when it rains, I decided to get on to Guadix so that I could stop and either sleep through it or at least let it pass.

5 km the wrong side of Guadix, the rain and I met each other! It was fast, furious, torrential and utterly blinding. The droplets were bouncing 6 inches off the motorway and through the haze of it all I realised I was driving through scenery that I wanted to SEE! So I pulled off at Guadix, and instead of going into the city, followed my hunch and went to Benalúa – where I met the cave people! Benalúa is, visually speaking, hard to even believe. It is a lunar landscape of mountain and hill with nothing growing on or around, but with the hills having been made into houses – but CAVE HOUSES! It was like being on Wimbledon Common with the Wombles all coming out to play. The facades were beautiful – white, tiled, utterly “normal”, but then there was no “house” behind, just a monster great big hill with the house being inside it! I stopped for a coffee at the Cuevas La Granja – a sort of Cave Hotel – just to take a moment to take it all in.

I carried on off the beaten track and went down a road I will never forget to a village called Belerda de Guadix and that has to be a MUST DO drive for anyone anywhere near Granada – it is literally like driving along the moon with these amazing mountains with the strangest stringy structure – I tried to think of an analogy to help people visualise it and the best thing I can think of is from Pirates of the Carribean - Davy Jones´ beard!!

Well, after all that, I decided to get back here – I had been driving since 8.40am and it was by now about 6pm. So I headed down the A92 – another TOTAL WOW of a motorway right through the Sierra Nevada on the left and the Sierra Huétor on my right – on and on the last 50kms back to Granada, driving through the centre down “No Entry” roads trying to find something I recognised before finally making it back here at about 7pm!

The Upshot? Well, all I can say is I am glad that I didn´t move to the Alpujarras 10 years ago – the number of houses for sale there is just amazing – the word remote just simply doesn´t begin to conjure up the absolute isolation of the deepest villages – and to live there you would really have to think twice about whether you EVER wanted to come out and have contact with the real world because it was such a JOB to get either in or out!

Next stop : Córdoba!

Blues Cazorla !

2007-07-29T18:40:00.000+02:00

WOW! What an AMAZING music festival that was! 40 degree temperatures and the likes of Muddy Waters & Eric Clapton devotees playing the most brilliant blues music all day deep into the night and out the other side! During the day there was an endless haze of cigarette smoke (and heaven knows what other kinds of smoke too for that matter) together with Heineken cans and bodies being thrown into the fountains to cool off from the blistering mountain mid-day heat while the bands took their turns and their lives in their hands playing on the rather eccentrically wired up stage in the Plaza de Santa Maria.

The musicians were brilliant, although I have to say that I think that Jerry Portnoy´s facial expressions were rather lost on the Spanish devotees from what was being muttered around us. He was talking to Bob Margolin (they did a duo set in the crippling heat) effectively saying it was the longest day of his life - but he looked immaculate even if he was sweating buckets on the inside. To be fair to him, the electrics did explode during his and Bob Margolin´s act on Friday after having been giving them low grade electric shocks throughout their number, so perhaps by then he was a bit cheesed off with it all, but it cracked me up when he was speaking through the mike to the sound techs about needing less reverb and simply said in his strong american drawl "pocito reverb" !! I guess reverb must be a universal word! When the system finally blew, he muttered something under his breath and started packing away his harmonica while Bob, ever the utter professional, came to the front of the stage and finished the number miming all of Jerry´s harmonica bits which everyone found hilarious.

The show stoppers for me though, had to be the Barcelona band Txus Blues & J Bluesfingers - their song called Tango which turned into an Ode to the Tanga (yes ladies, Thongs), had the crowd eating out of their hands, but the finale to end all, was their song called "Soy harMonica Lewinsky" - I have never in my life seen anyone play a harmonica as pornographically as that and it was sidesplittingly funny!

So put it in your diary - Blues Cazorla - you can find their website always at www.bluescazorla.com and book your accommodation VERY early - it is a Cult Show and apparently one of the largest blues festivals in the whole of Spain!

When Cricket simply isn´t Cricket

2007-07-25T23:27:00.000+02:00

I screamed today - a proper, genuine, head turning, embarrassing scream at the top of my voice. Where? Cazorla - the MOST beautiful whitewashed pueblo to the south west of the Sierra de Seguro, Cazorla y Las Villas mountains in Jaén, one of the unknown provinces of the huge and beautiful Andalusían area of Spain. And Why? Well, I was deep in conversation with a NOT especially nice or forthcoming Spaniard while my son was crawling around on the floor doing what he does when he spies a cricket - and that is being intent on catching the critter and bringing it to me for due inspection in great and fascinating detail before the thing leaps off to live another day.

However my son is now seven and understands that interrupting is NOT cool, especially when Mum is trying to get to grips with pretty complicated Spanish facts, which I was. Replaying the tape now, I remember him tapping me gently on the arm saying Mama, but I rather ignored him as I am working at gently but constantly suggesting that he DOESN'T BLITHERING WELL INTERRUPT UNLESS THE HOUSE IS ON FIRE ....

Mistake ....

Because he finally said "Mum I have to interrupt because I think there´s a huge cricket going up your trouser leg ............."

That did it. I threw my papers onto the floor (not surfaced, an ocean of dust in fact), and started to undo the zip to my white trousers oblivious to the fact that the man I had been talking to started to snort back the giggles. THAT made the cricket move, and THAT drew my attention to where it was - WELL ABOVE MY KNEE - at which point I SCREAMED! Trousers were down in a second (man decent enough to pull a door past me so that I could strip off in some semblance of dignity) and find this 3-4inch monster of a cricket inside my left trouser leg!

HELL there are times when you realise the advantage of living in Tiny Critter Country!!

Shooting Stars

2007-07-24T23:34:00.000+02:00

The adventure continues! My son and I have escaped the humdrum of our school term life for a few weeks with our wonderful although less than reliable campervan! Bless her she is 12 years old after all so I can´t complain, but it is a little tiring when we have no means whatsoever of cooling our fridge! So we have stayed put in one place for 3 weeks, and I have to say I am loving it. Loving it for a zillion reasons, but most of all because it is the first time since I met my ex husband thirteen years ago that I have been truly having a holiday doing what I want to do, rather than going along with someone else´s idea.....

So here we are, on the most beautiful campsite in Jaén, Andalucia, on the outskirts of a very typically southern spanish village called Cazorla (Cathorla). Cazorla is a gateway to the immense, breathtaking and HUMUMGOUS national park that spreads up and all around Cazorla. It offers something for everyone, from hang gliding, to 4x4 mountain trails, to horse riding, to river swimming, to rock climbing, to natural health holiday retreats (visit my lovely friends Diana & Roger Birch´s website http://www.losabedules-cazorla.com/ for the MOST magical location for a holiday out here with everything available that you could possibly want including the most gorgeous salt water swimming pool ....).

We have been enchanted by this village / town with its lanes that are only JUST wide enough to get a car through with an inch or two to spare on either side (used only for donkeys laden with their baskets on either side), with the balconies overhead heaving with geraniums and asparagus plants to name a few of the leaves I recognise!

It is a painter and artist paradise here with the nearby beautiful cities of Úbeda and Baeza, and we haven´t as yet got much further! But what I have done, after lights out, is quietly creep out of our lovely wagon up the terraces of the campsite to where the sky opens above your head - and on my first night here, the sky honoured me with FOUR shooting stars ..... Beautiful.

More to come .....

MY CASTLE IN SPAIN, AKA THE RUIN!

2007-06-20T23:16:00.000+02:00

This is a photo of my kitchen stove ............ The house was owned by a very elderly man who, on his death, requested that the house be given to a Sisterhood of Nuns in Teruel. Clearly on his death his body was simply dealt with, and nothing else has happened since that day ... as you will see as the blogs progress!

The kitchen still has his flagon by the fire, and his old coat over a chair. the blackened back of the fire place shows where he would have cooked. There is an old cupboard with greasy stained old cooking implements ... and how he washed things up I will never know as the house has never had a water supply .....

Things I have Learned Since Becoming A Single Mum ...

2007-06-20T22:41:00.001+02:00

Children don´t care if the beds aren´t made : Beds are for practicing handstands, roly polys and making dens ............

Children don´t care if the floors are dirty : Floors are for humungous train track layouts, skateboards and rollerblades ........

Time spent ironing is always wasted

Food is for eating, but best if used for sculptures or artwork first .....

My First Painting Commission in Spain!

2007-06-19T22:09:00.000+02:00

MY NEW PAINTING!!!

This one is called "Neighbours" and it is inspired by the villages all around where we live. I have tried to upload it into my Art Blog, but for reasons I simply cannot understand, the technology available to me won´t have it.

However, I am just THRILLED to see this picture online - and there is a wonderful story behind it ...........

I discovered not so long ago that I had to have FOUR, yes FOUR fillings. I had not been to a dentist in the UK in more than four years, and that was the result. Totally depressing, especially as I am absolutely HOPELESS about dentistry.

After visiting a recommended dentist with my son, and being utterly traumatised by the experience, I checked myself into another, across the road. Truly the cleanest, smiliest place imaginable and I thoroughly recommend it.

Well, after the first filling (requiring 40 mins for TWO injections to take effect before I was calm enough for him to start drilling) , I left in a tizz totally forgetting to pay! On my second visit, I was flapping about this, but the dentist said to me that he had visited my website, and liked my pictures so much that he wanted me to pay him with a painting, rather than with money! HOW COOL IS THAT!

So this picture is now awaiting to be positioned on the wall of Dental Siete, Clínica Lopez Olivas in Teruel! And what makes me rather smile, is that it could be two rows of clenched teeth - and that was NOT deliberate!!.............

My Castle-In-The-Making-In-Spain aka THE RUIN!

2007-06-17T21:49:00.001+02:00

Having made reference to the fact that I have written a blog about owning a ruin, I thought I should therefore actually write the blog about it ......

Last year (2006), when we first arrived out here, already knowing how exquisitely beautiful this area was I started the hunt for my very own piece of Spanish Paradise. I already knew that property was well within my reach as I had done some researches during our 2005 visits and was thrilled that we could own our own home with enough space for all we needed for an affordable price. I could hardly wait as people told me of their various places that were on offer.

And boy, did I see some country piles. Literally. Shockingly wrecked piles of broken stones, non-existent roofs and views into the house opposite, and all at the most imaginative and totally unjustifiable prices. My heart utterly sank. I had put so much effort into the process of moving, fought for a long and precious year through the courts to get leave to bring my son here for the education of a lifetime, and that year of delay had allowed house prices to double, and in some parts of Rubielos, triple.

It looked as though my hope, and a HUGE part of the Dream I wanted to live, could simply never happen.

And then one day, a friend of a friend came to see a "possible" purchase with me to give his view. He made all the right mutterings to the greedy beyond belief owners, and then as we left, said to me "it is far too much money and will cost you twice what they are asking to renovate it." So I simply said "then please, Javier, find me something cheaper, because I have looked and looked and looked and I CAN'T find it!".

I truly never expected to hear another word, but bless his heart, he came back to me about a week later and said "I want to show you a house - it needs work".

And we went off to Fuentes de Rubielos - the most beautiful, tiny little village where the school had 9 children, the bar above cooked bacon and eggs for breakfast, and the houses create a crescent moon at the head of a several hundred mile valley that stretches out into the distance. We parked behind several buildings as Javier said that it was easier to walk the last bit - it was a steep descent down a road wide enough for a car, where at the bottom the road ended, and the view stretched out ahead for miles and miles and miles. I simply stood, holding the railings, breathing in this amazing sight.

Javier coughed behind me and said "this is the house" - pointing to the house immediately behind me - the house that no-one could EVER build in front of, that would ALWAYS be blessed with this view of unspoilt paradise. To this day I can remember that first moment, those first impressions, and my first feeling of "oh my Goodness I am going to DIE" as we looked around it! Now you will understand the photo I have put at the top of the page!! That´s it!

The ceilings were propped up with wooden posts as the beams were cracked and splitting. It was pitch dark, the wiring was twisted fibre threads and the floor covered in about three inches of dust. But Javier took me in and we went up and up, visiting each of the three floors in turn, each one about 35 square meters so not big, but each with the largest side facing that view. We even had to kick a door down to see into one of the rooms where I later retrieved the most exquisite pale lime green antique pottery bread making bowl!

To say this house is a project is the understatement of the century, but it was a total bargain. I had been looking at wrecks with a price tag of 75,000€ upwards, and Javier told me that the Nuns who owned this dear little house wanted 15,000€ for a quick sale. So I am the proud owner of a piece of paradise at the end of Calle Los Hornos (Baker Street!!) - and will find a better name for her once I have managed to fund her renovation - and no suggestions such as Sherlock's Finding thank you!

I LONG to renovate her in order to be able to rent her out when I am not there - but I also long to preserve a part of her "just for me" - so I have, for a year, been thinking and mulling over the possible way of creating something that can be a good rent producer for holiday lets, while also maintaining my own magical space...... and finally I got there the other day and can now see exactly how I want her to be - a ground floor with two double bedrooms with a wetroom type bathroom, an open plan first floor for cooking, eating, living and loving the view with a balcony, and then a lockable door to my Crow's Nest retreat on the top floor where I will have my white muslin and wrought iron bed with fairy lights, a loo and basin, the world's tiniest art studio and the final quarter - a tiny, perfectly formed roof terrace!

Watch this space (I always say that I know) - but as time goes by I will, I am sure, get the permissions I need, the plans drawn up, and the project begun ...........................

Memories of our first visit

2007-06-17T11:07:00.000+02:00

In the process of packing, tidying and turfing, I came across the most wonderful piece of history the other day - it was Zack's 2005 scrapbook.

I decided when we very first came to Spain in our gorgeous Fiat Ducato Concorde motorhome that we should chart our journey, so armed with a Collage kit, cheap felts and a lot of glue, we set about sticking and scribbling and drawing a page a day to remind us of our wonderful adventure.

Looking through it again, I was reminded of the middle part of the "christening" we had here - Spain's way of whetting our appetite as to what was to follow. It went like this :

We had spent a few days with a travel bug in Ampolla - the rice growing peninsula that pokes out above Benicassim and below Tarragona - neither of us being very well it was a great place to park up and recuperate. When we were better, we set sail, so to speak, for this very village - Rubielos de Mora - for the simple reason that it was en route to Teruel and I had seen something about Teruel on the television!

We looked at our map, and decided to take the more direct route through the mountains - Morella and then down down down through Nogeruelas to our final destination. It all looked SOOOOO easy!

We set off, great roads (of course - we were still in the Community of Valencia!) - and then found the road we needed to wind down to Rubielos - it went vertically up a mountain beside us with hairpin bends all the way! Not to be daunted, the tarmac being smooth, clear and fresh, I set off with my son at my side.

Ten minutes of uphill but decent driving and the signs changed - Welcome to Aragon in effect - and OH MY - at that immediate point, so did the ROAD. The tarmac stopped, the road narrowed, and the cliff edge suddenly had no barrier.

I have never gulped so hard in all my life. There I was, "totally in control" with my just five year old little boy trusting in my every decision, teetering on the edge of the worst road I had ever seen, thousands of feet up, with absolutely NO means of turning my 6m wagon around! There was nothing for it - onwards and upwards and forwards it was, clenching the steering wheel until my knuckles ached, singing songs my father used to sing as we bumped and lurched our way through the potholes.

But the moment that utterly split my knife edge stomach knots was when we rounded a corner - and I MEAN a corner, and there in front of us were hundreds and hundreds of sheep and goats all coming straight at us!! There was no road to be seen for the bobbing woolly mass of movement! So we simply switched the engine off, and enjoyed the show.

That night, once settled on our new campsite, my son got out his collage set and started creating an ocean of woolly sheep with cotton wool blobs and stick legs - and then started dotting the page with tiny black dots absolutely everywhere. And when I asked why? "That's the sheep poo Mummy". !!!

A Bit of History to this Single Mum in Spain Story

2007-06-16T12:16:00.000+02:00

I have just sat back and re-read the posts I have put here since I haphazardly started this Blogging adventure whenever ago it was, and I have understood why a friend of mine sent me an email saying "Positive Thinking needs to be upped" ........ It would appear that the blog gets my attention when someone or something gets RIGHT UP MY NOSE!!

Saying that, I am only now seeing that using the Blog as well as my long Catch-up list of emails is another way of keeping in touch - and it may even give the incentive or lunatic encouragement to other single Mums, or anyone for that matter, to have the courage to listen to their hearts and dreams and GO FOR IT.

So I am going to share a little of me here, in the hope of inspiring you - because I honestly believe with my whole heart, that if I could do what I have done, from the non-person I was for the decade from 1993 - 2003, then ANYONE CAN..........

My dream to live in Spain started about fifteen years ago. It was a whisper, an itch ..... It was always the same : thoughts of Spain, coming to Spain - I would meet myself in the thought, or at the airport - but a happier, younger, freer self - and when I had to leave, I always had to say goodbye to that precious, free-spirited self. It was always there. But circumstances, truly awful ones that threatened my own survival, caused me to give up my dream, give up everything I ever believed in, instead compromising myself and my integrity in order to live a complete lie, pretending it wasn't as awful as it was .....

Until November 2003, when a woman who to this day I trust with my whole being knocked on the inpenetrable shell of protection I had built around myself in order to survive, with a love and belief in who I had been and who I was underneath all the ghastliness - and with her unfailing support and belief, I began the process of setting myself free - free from myself, free from an unspeakable relationship that had brought me to the edge of reason, free in a way I had never dared to allow myself to imagine ........

And little by little, piece by piece, I started to pick away the broken pieces, dust them down, polish them up, and put myself back together again. Through this process, which was in turns both joyful and agonising, I found that dreams I had long since buried started to pop up - and little by little I found ways of making those dreams come true - dancing til dawn, food fights with my son, climbing little Welsh hills, pancakes for breakfast at the weekend, and even owning my own campervan. Then, one day, THE BIG ONE returned ...

THE Dream I had always had for as long as I could remember as a grown up -

The Dream to Live in Spain ........

And when I whispered it, I felt a flutter inside me that I had forgotten existed. And when I spoke it out-loud, EVERYONE who truly loved me and cared for me simply shrieked with joy, pouring their positive energy into what I thought was an impossible and stupid idea.

With more help than I can possibly either describe or thank enough, the absurd idea began to take shape. Together with my family, friends and support network, we drew the lines around the abstract idea - which bits felt right, which bits felt wrong, which details needed more attention ......

And with every step I took, I grew. With every obstacle I overcame, I bowed down to myself with pride at my new found ability to HANDLE IT. It was, and continues to be, the Adventure of a Lifetime - and I truly believe that there is no such thing as fate now - I found the courage to make my own luck, I have created the Dream day by day, sometimes scary moment by scary moment, but I have learned, and continue to learn that with each new experience, no matter how seemingly hopeless or unresolvable, I CAN HANDLE IT! I BELIEVE in our wild and crazy adventure, in swimming naked in unknown rivers at dawn, in lying on the cold earth watching the majesty of the vultures playing in the eddies overhead with their magnificent grace - and the greatest gift in all of it is that I get to share this with the most beautiful child - my son - who is learning more than I can ever imagine from this experience, good and bad, rich and scary, and teaching me a lot about remembering how to play and trust this amazing world in which we all live .............

So thank you to all of you - friends I know and friends I have yet to meet - and may you all find your own star to follow - I simply cannot recommend it highly enough.

With LOVE xx

Where Living the Dream can be a NIGHTMARE!!!!

2007-06-15T17:00:00.000+02:00

I am dead on my feet this afternoon - and I think I could write a book on the hideous, complicated process of changing the identity of a vehicle from English to Spanish ..... I would have preferred to stab myself repeatedly in the eyeballs with chillis in hindsight ............!!

It is, without doubt, far easier for a European to change their residency, or to have dual residency, than it is to change the "residency" of a motorhome - and that is what I have been doing my uttermost to achieve.

It all looked so simple to begin with - I went to Trafico in Teruel where I had to pay 60+€ tax and a fee of 17€ to start the process of re-registering (it's called rematriculacion here for anyone thinking of doing it). That gave me green temporary Spanish plates which I was told gave me permission to circulate for two months, and that I needed to take with me to the Ayuntamiento (Town Hall) so I could pay another tax - annual road tax this time of another 60+€. Trafico also told me that I needed to have an up to date ITV - think MOT in the UK and you are about there - only it is the most facile and pointless series of tests that actually make a mockery of the safety of vehicles on the road in Spain if you want my opinion.

So off I went with all taxes paid to the ITV centre in Sarrion - the closest to where I live, with a spring in my step thinking that I was moments away from having my Spanish plates and all done.

IDIOT!!!

After ages, the man who worked there told me that I had to have a particular number - on the V5c In the UK it is K, Type Approval Number - which I do not have on her V5C. On writing to DVLA, I learned that all motorhomes are exempt from Type Approval Numbers, however they helpfully gave me the address of somewhere were I could get a certificate to this effect. The address was for people bringing a motorhome INTO the UK, not for exporting it!

Fingernails getting more and more bitten, I spoke to the wonderful people who sold me the motorcaravan in the first place - South Hereford Motorcaravan Centre - and the lovely Des gave me the number of a local Fiat garage, as my motorhome is a Fiat Ducato - in the hope that they could help me with this number - and ........... no.

(Not so silent scream) ...........

So I rang Fiat in Teruel, my closest city, and was told that well, yes, they sort of could help, but I would need to take all the papers to them, they would look at them and then send them off to Fiat in Madrid and in 2 weeks or so, I would have the papers ........... But I NEED TO LEAVE NOW!

Rafa, in Sarrion ITV, had told me that I needed a Homologacion Individual - and I found out today that to have that done would cost me 1,600€ and that I would have to drive to Zaragoza IN the motorhome - 3 hours each way - with my son in school from 9.30 - 1.30pm and then no-one to collect him .....

So instead I drove the motorhome to the coast - to Sagunto ITV - and presented my papers in the vague and distant hope that they would say that everything is in order - BUT - no!

I am still missing one vital and essential and crucial piece of paper - I COULD SCREAM AGAIN! I drove from the ITV centre in Sagunto into the heart of Valencia - NO MEAN FEAT in a 6m motorhome - and tried to find somewhere to park her while waiting for an Inginiero - someone who could measure the distance between the wheels, the height, depth, breadth, attachments, type of wheel, engine capacity, weight, you name it. I found a spot and put my hazard warning lights on, waiting for the police to tell me why I couldn't park there, and sure enough, just as I was falling asleep, up drove two police motorbikes! So I jumped out and said I was waiting for them as I had been driving around for half an hour looking for somewhere to park - so they let me park in a no parking place! Within 20 minutes (and after a coffee and a pee in the pub opposite), I went back to find ANOTHER police bike circling her with a tow truck alongside!! OH YIPES! He was really nice though - he was actually there to tow away the car behind me and just wanted me to move the wagon in order that he could pull out the car behind! I only found that out after apologising and explaining for about 5 minutes!

Finally, the Inginiero arrived, established within minutes that I was single (!) and did what I mentioned above. He told me about the normal cost for the Homologacion being 1,600€ - and then charged me 120€ for what he had done......... He now has to send that off to some office in Valencia who stamp and officialise it, and he then sends it back to me and with that, I am led to believe that I can pass the ITV without further ado. Saying that though, he also said that my reversing light is on the left, and it should be on the right - so at least I can put that right before I go back and HOPEFULLY get this blithering test passed!

Say a prayer for me = it is enough to make me grey overnight, especially as we want to leave for our summer holiday within two weeks!!!!

Don't forget to visit the website by the way - or my other blog which is accessed via the website under the link News - www.amanda-hamilton.com

Holidays, holidays, holidays

2007-06-13T21:03:00.000+02:00

Hello!!!

I have a lot of excuses for going so quiet ....... !

We have been doing the most delicious quantity of travelling these past months - taking ourselves off to Benidorm (hmm ....... !), on to Alicante (smiles), on to Cartagena (remembering hail stones beating down on the ocean), and on to the delicious Mazarron and Puerto Del Mazarron, which were utterly breathtaking in their beauty. I can recommend the Hotel Bahia not for its food, but for the unspeakably beautiful views if you can get a room on the sea side of the hotel ..... LOVELY to wake up to and to walk along.

I feel as though I owe about a thousand blogs for those experiences, but the reality is that they will come in bits and bobs as time allows - so keep coming back for now!

Also, do visit the website ongoingingly - my wonderful website designer, Georgina, is soon to be putting on a modest expansion of the paintings I have done inspired by Rubielos de Mora.

Other than that, we are soon to be embarking on our wonderful summer holiday - a campervan trip down to and around Andalucia - so any recommendations or contacts would be well received.

Love to all,

Amanda

Changing Clocks, Cats Eyes and Winter Weather

2006-11-05T12:38:00.000+01:00

Am I the only person I know who LOATHES with a deep and vengeful passion the fact that, like lemmings to the cliff, the whole world changes their clocks with religious monotony twice a year without ever fighting against the reality that this ritual freaks out thousands of families every year, twice a year, for life?

I HATE it. More children get killed immediately after the Winter clock change than at any other time because people don't see them, and what would be wrong with enjoying the last of the afternoon sun after school .... WHY DO WE DO IT????? And don't tell me it's about the farmers, every farmer I have ever met gets up when he or she NEEDS to get up, not because GMT or British Summer Time said so.

As we drove yesterday afternoon in the dark rainy gloam to Teruel, I really FELT Winter here for the first time. It is a proper drive - 45 minutes of which 30 are along VERY Spanish mountain roads - beautiful in the Summer, when you can see, and rather HAIRY in the dark, when you can't see three metres infront of your nose because there are no Cats Eyes on hairpin bends! What a wonderful invention Cats Eyes are, but I guess in a country as enormous as Spain, the idea of putting them on really dangerous roads would mean millions of the things and there isn't the wealth to do it (arguably because, some people say, that the Government, Officials and the Estate Agents pocket it all - but I wouldn't DARE be so contentious)!.

And we went all that way so I could buy knitting wool - rather cotton - to knit my son some sweaters to keep him from freezing solid in the imminent sub zero temperatures - BUT....... ALL THE SHOPS WERE SHUT! WHY?? A perfectly normal Saturday evening in Spain, and every single bleedin' shop was shut! I was SO frustrated - all the diesel, sweaty hairpin bend palms and promises, and we couldn't even buy a hot chocolate! HOW FRUSTRATING!

We then had to drive the 45 minutes back in pitch darkness and I actually found myself feeling really grateful - because I am being gently eased into the reality that in about 2 months I will be facing some of my worst fears - driving in snow and ice consistently for 6-7 weeks! So the moral for me?

Get USED TO IT GIRL!!!

Have you visited my website yet? www.amanda-hamilton.com

Education, Blisters and Dust

2006-11-03T17:58:00.000+01:00

Okay I need to have a grump here. Why? Spain's rural education system - that's why ............ The education system here in the mountains absolutely stinks. If you want to give your child a chance here to succeed and have any sense of their own brilliance, my honest view is that you need to be prepared to put a LOT of behind the scenes effort in. Sometimes I feel like opening a separate blog on the subject to offend the Powers that Be sufficiently that SOMETHING GETS DONE to support these bored out of their wits children. My own son is learning everything in a foreign language, and so for now he is hugely stretched, but it is a living tragedy that while in the UK and other parts of Europe we have the likes of Montessori and Steiner inspiration, here, we have a system staffed by gum chewing unshaven litter bugs setting the example for the next generation. Boo Hiss - watch this space as I do not intend to take it lying down!

They don't even have a system for teaching children to read like the Oxford Learning Tree - my son's first book, which his teacher suggested he chose himself, had words such as Haciendonos in it- for a 6 year old who had never read a Spanish book!! Very not funny!

However, moving onto more practical things, I have British friends here who are in the process of moving from their Masia in the Mountains - QUITE the most beautiful position - too isolated for a single Mum but an absolute Dream for an adventurous, land loving family. We spent the entire morning on All Saints Day heaving tons of gravel to finish off an outside walled garden - hence lots of blisters all round!. On a clear day, you can see the Mediterranean from their house ........... It makes me yearn for my very own home with VIEWS and a parcel of land around it. I am almost certain that I won't be buying it here as prices are British in their expensiveness - but then in fairness, Rubielos is a BREATHTAKINGLY beautiful village. Fortunately there is still a more reasonable market in the villages around Rubielos de Mora, but greed is becoming a known entity now ...

Read my Blog about my ruin in Fuentes to get an idea of the prices - oh, and the greed!

Don't forget to check out my website - www.amanda-hamilton.com

World's Longest Derek & Clive

2006-10-29T18:31:00.000+01:00

A day on the beach today - it has been GLORIOUS weather again after a few days of utter drear. We scooted off this morning utterly oblivious of clocks changing or anything remotely practical like that, armed with a picnic and gardening tools. By the time my 6 year old wanted lunch, his nose was SO blocked I started looking for tissues - NONE anywhere. So, ever resourceful, I had an idea. Dig a hole and blow your nose into the hole. TEN MINUTES LATER this child was waving his head around with the scariest entrails hanging out of his head - about a foot long on each side. I couldn't bring myself to help, I thought I was going to gag, so left him to it! He finally sorted it out by burying it an inch at a time until it finally decided to reluctantly detach.

Utterly disgusting!

Do visit my more humane blog at my website : www.amanda-hamilton.com - that's the artist site!

Saxophones, Heart Attacks and Happy Ever After

2006-10-19T16:23:00.000+02:00

I am learning the saxophone! Actually, I have had a tenor sax for over 6 years, but a very sensitive pregnancy meant I couldn't bear playing it, and then a baby - well, as my sister beautifully put it "you're either busy, very busy or asleep". Hence I am learning it now, 6 years later, nearly 2,000 metres up in the mountains. Oh, and also, at 6€ per month for four loosely half hour lessons (for loosely read roughly an hour), I feel I am onto a winner, even if my mouth and tongue do feel like Jah Jah Binks' tongue zapping in Star Wars I.

The heart attack - not literally thanks be to my Guardian Angel, came when I exited the School of Music to see my son hare-ing round the corner on his bike. That is nothing new - all the children here hare everywhere on their bikes, however this particular corner leads to the "main road" - down which juggernauts cannon, followed by a convoy of cars.

I asked my son if he had been on the "Main Road", to which he sheepishly told me he had, and how sorry he was.

I asked if he had done it before with his friends, to which he answered yes he had.

My blood ran ice cold. The child I thought I knew had deliberately lied to me, and not only lied to me consistently, but over something ENORMOUSLY dangerous. A death inducing danger, seriously.

How to handle? A first for me - all our problems thus far had been relatively easy to resolve with a Star Awards Chart for good behaviour etc - and now this - a REAL biggie.

Obviously the bike had to go in the garage. Trust had been breached, so the bike was banned. A lunch party today was cancelled, as was football practice. But none of this seemed to hit the spot for me, and I couldn't put my finger on why.

I like meditating - so I created a space to get quiet, and during a bit of quiet time felt the need to put a giant sheet of blank paper on our kitchen table in our tiny kitchen with pens, crayons, glue and paints. My hope being to "see" something through creative drawing with my son.

Well, he drew. He drew the Music School, the Plaza, the Tree, and me playing my saxophone. He drew a loop of him bicycling. But no Main Road. I asked "where is the main road? We need to draw that in" and I put it in the other side of the Music School. He then over and over drew his path on the bike ..... NOT ONCE did it go onto the Main Road .....

Turns out, he thought that the Plaza was a Main Road because a lot of cars park there - when I said "what about the "vueltas" (circuits) round here?" pointing to the Main Road, he looked at me wide eyed and said "But Mummy I would never ever go THERE without you"!!!!!!!!!!!!!

PHEW!! Heaves a HUGE sigh of relief that my son isn't a liar, he does value his life, and he does respect his Mum's house rules!

Who Needs Nutcrackers?

2006-10-15T17:24:00.000+02:00

We went almond picking last week - it was the Day of Pilar - I don't understand the Saints here yet but there are lots and that means days off which we love. Armed with 3 plastic bags we headed off up the hill.

The trees are teeming with almonds at the moment - hard to understand how the Spanish charge 4€ per 200g when they are dropping off in their thousands - except of course when you come to opening them - or figuring out how to open them.

But that's what I love about a simpler life - who needs nutcrackers that pinch the flap of skin between thumb and fingers when you can sit with a socking great big stone in your lap and crack them with a hammer?!

Living the Dream in Spain

2006-10-10T20:02:00.000+02:00

This is my first post even though I have been living my dream here in Spain since May. I want to share my experiences, the ups and the downs, in the hope of giving courage and inspiration to people who want to pursue their dreams but feel they can't, for whatever reasons.

A brief history : I have wanted to move to Spain for a decade, but my life circumstances at the time made it impossible. However post a divorce, impossibly expensive cost of living in the UK and encouragement from some very loyal friends, I bought a campervan and began my explorations.

A year later (oh, and a few court cases), I and my then just 6 year old son arrived in the Sierra de Gudar mountains, about an hour inland from Valencia. In a campervan! Every nook and cranny was jam packed with food, paint (I am an artist by profession), natural remedies, clothes to last through +40 degress and -15 degrees, and all the other bits and pieces that the removers said could not be stored in Madrid.

We had been here before, but we had no friends as such - acquaintances, yes. Knowledge of SOME spanish traditions, yes, but essentially (and looking back with six months under my belt), we, more importantly I, knew nothing!

Keep reading to hear more of our adventures here - I have a boy to get out of a lovely bath!