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 :)
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Thursday, April 10, 2008
You know you live in Spain when :
Everyone comes out and stares in total disbelief, grinning from ear to ear, because it is absolutely POURING with rain!
WE LOVE THE RAIN!!
WE LOVE THE RAIN!!
Saturday, March 22, 2008
The Bat Cave - Final Installment
Sorry for the delay in posting the second part, my internet connection has been playing the Okey Kokey with me and only tonight, with it blowing a TORNADO OUT THERE is it working !...........
So here is the rest of the story :
Arriving at the top of the world, which is what it felt like, we first went into the tourist shop.
I have lived here long enough to know that they all shut at 2pm and I didn't want to be sitting around AFTER our trip into the cave for an extra hour waiting for it to possibly not re-open that afternoon being as it was a Saturday ….So we went in and tiddled about a bit, the boys buying revolting slimey snakes and lizards; me buying some great maps of the Sierra Subbética for our Guest House (http://www.casa-la-celada.com/), and killing a bit of time on a "this is what it's like to see like a bat" simulator.
And then we walked the last stretch up the hill with views stretching far and wide, and finally went in ....
Part of a group of 40, we were guided by Carmen who told us right from the outset that the microclimate of the caves was considered to be the most important thing to preserve, and as such we would be turning lights 'off' behind us as we descended, and 'on' in front of us - so anyone who thought they may have an attack of claustrophobia etc should definitely LEAVE NOW! We all agreed we would carry on. And from here on, this blog gets a bit educational ...
The cave has been well visited by international and Spanish archaeologists. They have stated now that it was certainly inhabited as a home dating back 6,500 years to Neolithic man and the Stone Age. They have even discovered the skeleton of a woman, whom they named Marie Pili after the Spanish Saint Pilar, who was found far down in the darkest profundity of the cave, in a position that indicated that she had gone down there by choice and had died there, rather than had fallen and become stuck. It's hard to believe, as once you got past the first cave 'room', the entirety of this intricate and complicated interconnection of systems would have been absolutely pitch black, as we are talking about times long before the discovery of fire. Archaeologists did think to excavate Marie Pili from her silent and dark grave, petrified as she was after so many years, but it was soon realised that to even begin to attempt to cut her remains out of the rocks into which she had now become a part would more than certainly destroy her. So instead they took photographs of her, and have chosen, rightly in my opinion, to leave her where she chose to die. It was quite humbling to realise that all the while, this woman, in her forties they think, had been rummaging around in the depths of this cave - her feet must have known and felt every crevice and cranny to have felt able to traverse what was a very dangerous passage.
We were shown the "larder" - again an extraordinary journey to get to it - however it turned out that this particular cave "room" which is not open to the public had an access point at the top from above land. In fact, so large was the "hole", that Neolithic man covered the hole in order to create a natural trap for unsuspecting animals passing by. They are sure that this was its purpose having discovered an immense quantity of bones there that were all fractured, indicating an unexpected fall rather than a deliberate entry into the cave …. Fascinating!
We saw very feint cave paintings of what they suggest could be a type of Ibix or similar long horned goat or deer; and we had the joy of seeing the stalagtites and stalagmites of immense proportions - one of the "mites" growing up to a height exceeding 4 metres! And considering that their estimation is that a "tite" grows down by 1cm per 100 years, and a "mite" grows up by a slower but not dissimilar rate, we calculated (to the amazement of wide eyed children) that it was possibly a million years old …. Older than Granny and Great Granny for sure!
The archaeologists, having spent so much time down there, had found bones - a femur for one, and a jaw of a human child which they estimated had died around the age of 6. On examination and testing, they found the bone absolutely riddled with parasites and bacteria - sufficient to have killed a small child. They also were amazed at the number of human skulls found - more than 70% in total, that had been trepanned - a hole of at least 1-2 inches hacked out at the back of the head after feeding the "recipient" a mixture of anaesthesia-producing leaves - their crude method of "surgery" used to deal with all problems that didn't go away. What was most fascinating was that the majority of the skulls found showed that the persons who had undergone trepanning continued to live a good few years after - indicated by the bone's attempts to regrow over the hole. But of the skulls where the bone had not overgrown and was considerably larger? Well it was considered that these were the skulls of the super intelligent people in the caves - and if they died - well, Neolithic man apparently thought that to eat the brains of the intelligent would pass their cleverness on…… ! And the analogy was not lost on the group that now, "we" (not me) eat the brains of sheep and pigs instead …. Doh !!
I loved the shapes within the caves - the way the rock formations have created horse shapes, wild boar, hippopotamii, dwarves …. There was the entire nativity scene in one part of the cave complete with the wise men (los Reyes) and a few cavorting sheep. We saw Caspar the ghost, a dog, and at the very end of the journey the most fabulously ugly witch!
It was well worth the journey - even though it had taken me half an hour longer than I imagined possible - and both children were firing questions at Carmen our guide to clarify issues over Marie Pili particularly! Having returned to the car, we headed back down the craggy mountain to Zuheros town itself for lunch, where I had to send my salad back as the lettuce tasted SO bitter - turned out it was this season´s olive oil which was causing my top lip to curl - and they were kind and gave me a replacement that was "undressed".
And I found myself talking to a lovely young woman called Kelly - mother of 4 (bowing down at her feet in utter admiration) who moved out here from London 3.5 years ago and settled in Zuheros …. And I think we will stay friends actually, as she was tremendous fun, a great free spirit, and the kind of person that I would enjoy having a laugh with!
And as we felt the need to leave (it now being nearly 6pm and Adrian's Mum expecting us back here by at the latest 5pm), I decided to "try" a different route back. We were home in 50 minutes!!! It was a fantastic road - Zuheros to Cabra, Cabra to Lucena, and Lucena straight back here! Easy to give anyone directions - especially people staying here who don't speak the language and are nervous of getting to where they want to get to - so that was a super huge bonus all round.So in Summary ?
A Huge recommendation from me - and we will definitely be going back - either with friends, guests, or just us to enjoy it all over again!
So here is the rest of the story :
Arriving at the top of the world, which is what it felt like, we first went into the tourist shop.
I have lived here long enough to know that they all shut at 2pm and I didn't want to be sitting around AFTER our trip into the cave for an extra hour waiting for it to possibly not re-open that afternoon being as it was a Saturday ….So we went in and tiddled about a bit, the boys buying revolting slimey snakes and lizards; me buying some great maps of the Sierra Subbética for our Guest House (http://www.casa-la-celada.com/), and killing a bit of time on a "this is what it's like to see like a bat" simulator.
And then we walked the last stretch up the hill with views stretching far and wide, and finally went in ....
Part of a group of 40, we were guided by Carmen who told us right from the outset that the microclimate of the caves was considered to be the most important thing to preserve, and as such we would be turning lights 'off' behind us as we descended, and 'on' in front of us - so anyone who thought they may have an attack of claustrophobia etc should definitely LEAVE NOW! We all agreed we would carry on. And from here on, this blog gets a bit educational ...
The cave has been well visited by international and Spanish archaeologists. They have stated now that it was certainly inhabited as a home dating back 6,500 years to Neolithic man and the Stone Age. They have even discovered the skeleton of a woman, whom they named Marie Pili after the Spanish Saint Pilar, who was found far down in the darkest profundity of the cave, in a position that indicated that she had gone down there by choice and had died there, rather than had fallen and become stuck. It's hard to believe, as once you got past the first cave 'room', the entirety of this intricate and complicated interconnection of systems would have been absolutely pitch black, as we are talking about times long before the discovery of fire. Archaeologists did think to excavate Marie Pili from her silent and dark grave, petrified as she was after so many years, but it was soon realised that to even begin to attempt to cut her remains out of the rocks into which she had now become a part would more than certainly destroy her. So instead they took photographs of her, and have chosen, rightly in my opinion, to leave her where she chose to die. It was quite humbling to realise that all the while, this woman, in her forties they think, had been rummaging around in the depths of this cave - her feet must have known and felt every crevice and cranny to have felt able to traverse what was a very dangerous passage.
We were shown the "larder" - again an extraordinary journey to get to it - however it turned out that this particular cave "room" which is not open to the public had an access point at the top from above land. In fact, so large was the "hole", that Neolithic man covered the hole in order to create a natural trap for unsuspecting animals passing by. They are sure that this was its purpose having discovered an immense quantity of bones there that were all fractured, indicating an unexpected fall rather than a deliberate entry into the cave …. Fascinating!
We saw very feint cave paintings of what they suggest could be a type of Ibix or similar long horned goat or deer; and we had the joy of seeing the stalagtites and stalagmites of immense proportions - one of the "mites" growing up to a height exceeding 4 metres! And considering that their estimation is that a "tite" grows down by 1cm per 100 years, and a "mite" grows up by a slower but not dissimilar rate, we calculated (to the amazement of wide eyed children) that it was possibly a million years old …. Older than Granny and Great Granny for sure!
The archaeologists, having spent so much time down there, had found bones - a femur for one, and a jaw of a human child which they estimated had died around the age of 6. On examination and testing, they found the bone absolutely riddled with parasites and bacteria - sufficient to have killed a small child. They also were amazed at the number of human skulls found - more than 70% in total, that had been trepanned - a hole of at least 1-2 inches hacked out at the back of the head after feeding the "recipient" a mixture of anaesthesia-producing leaves - their crude method of "surgery" used to deal with all problems that didn't go away. What was most fascinating was that the majority of the skulls found showed that the persons who had undergone trepanning continued to live a good few years after - indicated by the bone's attempts to regrow over the hole. But of the skulls where the bone had not overgrown and was considerably larger? Well it was considered that these were the skulls of the super intelligent people in the caves - and if they died - well, Neolithic man apparently thought that to eat the brains of the intelligent would pass their cleverness on…… ! And the analogy was not lost on the group that now, "we" (not me) eat the brains of sheep and pigs instead …. Doh !!
I loved the shapes within the caves - the way the rock formations have created horse shapes, wild boar, hippopotamii, dwarves …. There was the entire nativity scene in one part of the cave complete with the wise men (los Reyes) and a few cavorting sheep. We saw Caspar the ghost, a dog, and at the very end of the journey the most fabulously ugly witch!
It was well worth the journey - even though it had taken me half an hour longer than I imagined possible - and both children were firing questions at Carmen our guide to clarify issues over Marie Pili particularly! Having returned to the car, we headed back down the craggy mountain to Zuheros town itself for lunch, where I had to send my salad back as the lettuce tasted SO bitter - turned out it was this season´s olive oil which was causing my top lip to curl - and they were kind and gave me a replacement that was "undressed".
And I found myself talking to a lovely young woman called Kelly - mother of 4 (bowing down at her feet in utter admiration) who moved out here from London 3.5 years ago and settled in Zuheros …. And I think we will stay friends actually, as she was tremendous fun, a great free spirit, and the kind of person that I would enjoy having a laugh with!
And as we felt the need to leave (it now being nearly 6pm and Adrian's Mum expecting us back here by at the latest 5pm), I decided to "try" a different route back. We were home in 50 minutes!!! It was a fantastic road - Zuheros to Cabra, Cabra to Lucena, and Lucena straight back here! Easy to give anyone directions - especially people staying here who don't speak the language and are nervous of getting to where they want to get to - so that was a super huge bonus all round.So in Summary ?
A Huge recommendation from me - and we will definitely be going back - either with friends, guests, or just us to enjoy it all over again!
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
I posted a blog on Ecademy ....
About living your Dream - you can read it by clicking on the above link ...
What do you think?
What do you think?
Monday, March 03, 2008
The Bat Cave - Las Cuevas de Los Murciélagos
Los Cuevos de Los Murciélagos - Zuheros - Córdoba
WOW!
What a day ….
Saturday saw Zack, myself, and his six year old Spanish friend Adrian packing a picnic and heading off to see the famous Caves of the Bats in Zuheros, Córdoba ....... and being a military family girl, we left the house at 12 noon allowing just under two hours to get there, because I know what these mountain roads can be like and I didn´t want vomiting children yowling in the back seat after the first five minutes …
So I checked the map and chose the most direct route (.....when will I learn…) and set off winding our way from La Celada to Priego de Córdoba, one of the most isolated yet central to the Sierra Subbética mountains villages. After trying to remember how I would direct someone through Priego de Córdoba (duly noting down "turn left at the palm tree, right at the second set of lights" at the same time as driving - for which I would probably get banned but here in Spain the worst that will happen is I get tooted at by the drivers behind me for not accelerating at break neck speed through a heavily peopled village) we found ourselves at the road turning that the map suggested ….. and headed straight over the edge of a cliff … !
By which I mean that the tarmac had been SO Badly joined to the main Priego to Alcaudete road that it had created a "ridge" that was several inches higher than the road we needed to take - I honestly thought I was going to lose the undercarriage ... !! Yipes!
Still, not deterred, we carried on - turned right - carried on through amazing scenery, winding around this way and around that way then rounding another bend the sign for Luque - the next village we had to go through - pointed up the mountain track!!! And said 10km beside it!! OH MY GOD!
Smiling to myself while thinking "I HAVE DONE WORSE" and making reassuring Hearty Mother Has Done This Before off we set winding up the dirt road. I was practically kissing the sky for the fact that we have had no rain for several days because the road was clear and dry - if rather lumpy and bumpy - so I started to feel super confident … and then
….Bleugh .
Adrian vomited in the back seat !!
Poor little mite - 6 years old, but managed to find a plastic bag (thank god empty) and yakked up into it! And when I said come on, hop out and walk about a bit, he looked at me as if I was mad !! He was clearly NOT used to anyone giving a monkeys about a bit of sick .... !
So we swapped seats around, put him in the front to take his mind of the lumps and bumps, and soldiered on, getting a bit lost in Luque before finally coming across a sign saying Cuevas de Los Murciélagos! YAY!
So wound our way up the mountain path that clings onto the side of the Zuheros precipice, with breathtaking views, and crows circling with vultures .... and there was the entrance to the Bat Cave …
And this post is TO BE CONTINUED !!!
WOW!
What a day ….
Saturday saw Zack, myself, and his six year old Spanish friend Adrian packing a picnic and heading off to see the famous Caves of the Bats in Zuheros, Córdoba ....... and being a military family girl, we left the house at 12 noon allowing just under two hours to get there, because I know what these mountain roads can be like and I didn´t want vomiting children yowling in the back seat after the first five minutes …
So I checked the map and chose the most direct route (.....when will I learn…) and set off winding our way from La Celada to Priego de Córdoba, one of the most isolated yet central to the Sierra Subbética mountains villages. After trying to remember how I would direct someone through Priego de Córdoba (duly noting down "turn left at the palm tree, right at the second set of lights" at the same time as driving - for which I would probably get banned but here in Spain the worst that will happen is I get tooted at by the drivers behind me for not accelerating at break neck speed through a heavily peopled village) we found ourselves at the road turning that the map suggested ….. and headed straight over the edge of a cliff … !
By which I mean that the tarmac had been SO Badly joined to the main Priego to Alcaudete road that it had created a "ridge" that was several inches higher than the road we needed to take - I honestly thought I was going to lose the undercarriage ... !! Yipes!
Still, not deterred, we carried on - turned right - carried on through amazing scenery, winding around this way and around that way then rounding another bend the sign for Luque - the next village we had to go through - pointed up the mountain track!!! And said 10km beside it!! OH MY GOD!
Smiling to myself while thinking "I HAVE DONE WORSE" and making reassuring Hearty Mother Has Done This Before off we set winding up the dirt road. I was practically kissing the sky for the fact that we have had no rain for several days because the road was clear and dry - if rather lumpy and bumpy - so I started to feel super confident … and then
….Bleugh .
Adrian vomited in the back seat !!
Poor little mite - 6 years old, but managed to find a plastic bag (thank god empty) and yakked up into it! And when I said come on, hop out and walk about a bit, he looked at me as if I was mad !! He was clearly NOT used to anyone giving a monkeys about a bit of sick .... !
So we swapped seats around, put him in the front to take his mind of the lumps and bumps, and soldiered on, getting a bit lost in Luque before finally coming across a sign saying Cuevas de Los Murciélagos! YAY!
So wound our way up the mountain path that clings onto the side of the Zuheros precipice, with breathtaking views, and crows circling with vultures .... and there was the entrance to the Bat Cave …
And this post is TO BE CONTINUED !!!
Monday, February 25, 2008
Cluck Cluck Cluck ... Chicken's Up !
That's it, we've finally gone mad ....
We're getting CHICKENS!
Our neighbours, the wonderful Luisa and Antonio who have housed my baby motorhome ever since we arrived, ate their scrawny featherless apologies for chickens (think boiling fowls) who only laid eggs when the sun turned blue and whose cockerel had no respect for Dawn Chorusing and instead bellyached all night long ... and a week ago filled their chicken run with young pretty fluffy white hens!
And they have agreed to house a further two - which will be Zack's chickens!!
Hey Ho Eggs Here We Go ... :)
We're getting CHICKENS!
Our neighbours, the wonderful Luisa and Antonio who have housed my baby motorhome ever since we arrived, ate their scrawny featherless apologies for chickens (think boiling fowls) who only laid eggs when the sun turned blue and whose cockerel had no respect for Dawn Chorusing and instead bellyached all night long ... and a week ago filled their chicken run with young pretty fluffy white hens!
And they have agreed to house a further two - which will be Zack's chickens!!
Hey Ho Eggs Here We Go ... :)
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Fiesta de San José, La Celada, Iznájar ...
Roll Up Roll Up!!!!
It's PARTY TIME!
From 14th to 16th March, our gorgeous little village is holding its very own annual Fiesta, normally held on March 19th but this year due to the early Easter break, we are bringing it forward by a few days ......
It will involve a mountain of games for the children starting around 4pm on the Friday - bring bicycles for the tinies on Friday, the bigger ones on Saturday as well as the boys with their motorbikes .....
The HUGE free lunch starts at 2pm on Sunday with raffles, games, bucking broncos and bouncy castles .....
Come along and see how we know how to party !!!
It's PARTY TIME!
From 14th to 16th March, our gorgeous little village is holding its very own annual Fiesta, normally held on March 19th but this year due to the early Easter break, we are bringing it forward by a few days ......
It will involve a mountain of games for the children starting around 4pm on the Friday - bring bicycles for the tinies on Friday, the bigger ones on Saturday as well as the boys with their motorbikes .....
The HUGE free lunch starts at 2pm on Sunday with raffles, games, bucking broncos and bouncy castles .....
Come along and see how we know how to party !!!
Monday, February 11, 2008
Living A Dream Means Listening To The Signs
Part of living any Dream, is to be attentive to what is needed ....
And right now, my son is SO TIRED, he needs a break.
He works several times harder than his class colleagues because he is, of course, doing it all in another language - and so every so often it catches up with him like being hit by a train ...
So we have organised ourselves a last minute break .... just a night or two .... but time out for him to recharge his wee batteries.
It must be done!
And right now, my son is SO TIRED, he needs a break.
He works several times harder than his class colleagues because he is, of course, doing it all in another language - and so every so often it catches up with him like being hit by a train ...
So we have organised ourselves a last minute break .... just a night or two .... but time out for him to recharge his wee batteries.
It must be done!
Wednesday, February 06, 2008
SUPER EXCITING NEWS!
Today I am super-excited ---
Why?
Because tomorrow I am giving an interview to the Sunday Mirror of all people about LIVING THE DREAM IN SPAIN !
How lucky am I????!
Why?
Because tomorrow I am giving an interview to the Sunday Mirror of all people about LIVING THE DREAM IN SPAIN !
How lucky am I????!
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
La Celada Dream Coming True
Well it's all happening for us here - a new ART COMMISSION, a new GUEST ARRIVAL this weekend .... Busy Busy Bees!
Meantime I hope you enjoy the painting - my last and favourite horse (aaaaahhhhhh).
Monday, January 28, 2008
Yipes - The Merry-Go-Round is going F-A-S-T!
Wow! The past 24 hours have been a tornado of activity!
Not only have I discovered Ecademy - and I am truly thankful to God and Georgina Lester for rescuing me from Facebook in that regard (save me from asinine requests of "what flavoured rotting cabbage are you) - but I have, since then, joined as a Power Networker and have since been given support and help from across the WORLD. It is an amazing resource for people wanting to UP their profile, improve their business contacts, or in my case GET CORDOBA ON THE MAP and more importantly Casa La Celada and our Bed and Breakfast here!
I have had some wonderful feedback from people giving me their valuable time, advice on how to get matters Humming - check this link out www.ecademy.com/module.php?mod=club&c=5248 - it is my very own and first Club on Ecademy called Spanish Retreats and Holidays - and it is for ANYONE with an interest in Spain, Holidays, Healing and informing others of their own gifts and products.
So I am smiling - even if my eyeballs are hanging out on threads bleeding caused by hours of computer work!
Time to wander up to my glorious roof terrace to remember the view methinks!
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Websites and getting Optimised
The more I read and study on the Internet, the more I begin to understand that there are many forms of getting "noticed". Be it submitting articles (of which I have done several on Moving to Spain and registering a UK vehicle in Spain to name just a couple), but there is also this Bogey Word called Web Site Optimisation!
YIPES! What a MINEFIELD.
I have friends who don't live here in Córdoba, and who DON'T run a Bed & Breakfast (there - a perfect example of optimising - Córdoba and Bed & Breakfast are two really important words for us, but I can't sit here repeating them over and over, and use the example to prove a point) - who do have websites offering services, and who have their website details or connected details filling up page one of Google!
IT'S VERY ANNOYING!
So, I am now spending several hours each day writing articles, and working on this issue of Optimising. I am writing about Pamper Weekends, or the fact that I personally love to be pampered. I am writing about being a single parent, and the pitfalls and joys of such a life. I am joining forums and clubs that have relevant members - others with a bed & breakfast perhaps, or are running their own successful businesses. Needless to say, none of them have ever heard of La Celada, or Iznájar for that matter . But I hope, that with time and my efforts, they SOON WILL!
YIPES! What a MINEFIELD.
I have friends who don't live here in Córdoba, and who DON'T run a Bed & Breakfast (there - a perfect example of optimising - Córdoba and Bed & Breakfast are two really important words for us, but I can't sit here repeating them over and over, and use the example to prove a point) - who do have websites offering services, and who have their website details or connected details filling up page one of Google!
IT'S VERY ANNOYING!
So, I am now spending several hours each day writing articles, and working on this issue of Optimising. I am writing about Pamper Weekends, or the fact that I personally love to be pampered. I am writing about being a single parent, and the pitfalls and joys of such a life. I am joining forums and clubs that have relevant members - others with a bed & breakfast perhaps, or are running their own successful businesses. Needless to say, none of them have ever heard of La Celada, or Iznájar for that matter . But I hope, that with time and my efforts, they SOON WILL!
Cordoba Heat, Glorious Me Time
What an experience. As I lie on my sumptuous roof terrace, in only my bikini, Life In Spain Is GOOD. It is Sunday, a lazy day. Zack is staying with his best friend for the weekend, and I am resisting the temptation to work, be it finishing staining doors, window frames, cooking or painting - nothing except this little moment to Blog It. I am instead lapping up the gorgeous heat in January, and enjoying being AMANDA - no-one's wife, no-one's mother, no-one's required other for a few hours. What a treasure of time that is.
Friday, January 25, 2008
Gathering Olives
This is a photograph of Iznájar, taken through the branches of an olive tree in La Celada, where we now live. I am posting it because it is relevant today as, in my finery, I found myself grovelling around on the floor picking up the olives that have fallen for a friend. It is a very humbling experience to spend time with people who break their backs doing a job that pays so little in reality. These people earn between 50 and 70 cents per kilo of olives, even though the machinery they have to use is expensive, the time they need to get the olives off the trees is seemingly never ending, and they do it all with a happy and humble heart.
My son was in his element - climbing trees, hurling olive bombs as us as we worked around the children, all the while occasionally coming down from his squirrel nest to "help" a little - and every little really does help in this work!
I will write a longer post about the process in due course, but now it is WEEKEND OFF, and I am going to enjoy every single moment of it!
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Frenetic Yoga ????
I'm sure it shouldn't have felt like that! But I was so hopelessly overexcited ! I have my first weekend "off" this weekend since some wonderful friends and I have decided to do "Child Swaps". NOT like wife swapping I can assure you ...
The Spanish are such a toughened people that they really don't, ever, take time off. They clean if they are not cooking; they look after their families in a way that puts the British "stuff 'em in a home and forget'em" publicity to shame ....
However some friends and I have all agreed that a weekend off every month or so DOES do the soul good. AND IT'S MY TURN STARTING TOMORROW!!!!
So why have I called this article Frenetic Yoga I hear you wonder as you scratch your head and peruse this ...
Well, because a mate of mine is organising himself as we speak to leave his work at 1am in Barcelona, take a glass or two of wine with a friend after work, then take the dawn flight from Barcelona to Málaga where I will meet him and we will have a party-filled Robbie Burns noticing weekend of adult (probably) drunkenness and debauchery ..... IT WILL MAKE A CHANGE I CAN TELL YOU!!!
I am SO looking forward to it that I decided I would clean the house from top to bottom in honour AND get my legs waxed (think Highland Cow) for the event ... so when it was time for my Thursday morning Yoga class I was so frantic and hyper with the excitement of starting to see my home looking tidy again, I got a bit "pepped out" and had to breathe - that´s
b-r-e-a-t-h-e - slow and deep, in order to bring myself back down to Planet Normal again ---
But it is very exciting to have time all to myself I have to say - and even more exciting to have made a plan so that I have a few more of them this year!
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Musician Inspires Monthly Healing Meeting
Okay so I know it's an unusual photograph for this blog, but being as I have been a bit slothful these past few weeks, I thought I would put in a good picture to make up for it ...
This photo was taken outside (and no I did NOT eat there) Burger King in Torremolinos - where I went for the weekend with my son and my mother to get a bit of mental-ness.....!
That may sound strange, but living in the beautiful, peaceful, unspoilt mountains of Spain, I have learned that every so often I like to go to the coast, the cities, or the generally looning places where there are more British people than indigenous locals, and remind myself of why I LOVE rural Spain.
And this man, whose name I am sorry I don't know, is from Peru, and has the licence to do his thing throughout the season, and we LOVED listening to him - his music was so peaceful and tranquil and beautiful, even though he was literally flying from one instrument to the other to make up the effect.
Since being there, we now have a musical healing night here in the Guest House pretty much every full moon now with several people who choose to come each time, and others who come when they feel like they need a musical pan pipe drumming rattling healing and talking session. It is absolutely wonderful! Although totally NOT obligatory!
If you are interested in coming specifically for a healing / pampering holiday, do let us know - we have access to Chiropractic, Reflexology, Healing, Shamanic Healing, Massage, Manicures, Pedicures, Waxing, Hair Styling, Full Facials and Body Treatments ... and of course we have the Hot Tub up on our roof terrace where you can be hubbled and bubbled before your treatments and after with a glass of bubbly!
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Christmas and Matansas (gory!)
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 .....
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 .....
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Catching Up With Myself!
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?!
Wednesday, August 08, 2007
The Explosion Called TIM
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”…….. !
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
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!
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!
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