Travel Tip

Travel Tip                  February 27, 2014

This is a tip that I have learned the hard way:  do not bring dollars to Spain with the expectation that you can change them to euros!  

I brought $300 as my mad money - and ended up being mad!  We had tried to change dollars here in Alozaina at the small bank and were told to go to a bigger city to change the money. In Malaga, we went to no less than 4 banks, waited in long lines, only to be told, consistently, to go to this one sleazy-looking place where Bruce was sure that I would be charged an exorbitant exchange rate.  As a result, he has become my banker.  He offers a reasonable exchange rate .  

We couldn't help but wonder at a country in which it so difficult to exchange money into their own currency, which presumably one would spend there!  France was the same!  They both have an aversion to having cash in banks.  

So, when traveling in these countries, just bring a debit card - two, just to make sure -  which will work there and a credit card so that you can charge stuff, which is a good route, too.  But don't bring dollars.  

Carnaval and Art

Carnaval and Art                    February 25, 2014

Most everywhere in the Roman Catholic world, this is the season of Carnaval, that period of festivities preceding Lent.  We had hopes for a colorful, memorable spectacle here in Alozaina. Well, the 2014 Carnaval de la Harina in Alozaina didn't amount to much for these old folk outsiders.

The three day event began with Friday afternoon's tradition of kids throwing white flour (harina) at anyone within their range.  We had been warned about this and went for a walk in the countryside instead.  When we made our breathless return up the steep incline toward our house, we did see some wild-eyed boys clutching bags of white flour.  They looked right past us, either intimidated by the prospects of "flouring" strangers or preoccupied with other more interesting victims.  In any case, we were grateful to emerge unscathed, though it looked pretty innocent.  We later learned that this part of the Carnaval tradition began during the austere Franco era, when festivals were not allowed.  Instead, a boy would surreptitiously put a gentle pat of flour on a girl's face to show his fondness for her.

The next day, as we walked up the main street, we encountered a small dinosaur and princess.  They were apparently in dress rehearsal for a children's costume parade on Sunday, and their mom let me take a photo of them.

               Getting ready for the kids' costume competition

Saturday evening's event was the highlight of the weekend, billed as a "fancy dress competition" to take place in the massive tent erected in the middle of the main street.  That description was a bit vague, but we were open to dropping by, having a beer, and seeing what was going on.  The problem was that things didn't really get going until 11pm or later.  We wandered by at 9:30, already perilously close to our bedtimes, and found not much happening, except that all the bars were open along the main strip, with the Parti Communista bar especially busy - with men only!  Down the street, the chef in the tiny little pizzeria was flying, serving an overflow crowd of teenagers.

Reports the next day were that the "fashion" party, when it got going, went on until 4 am, complete with men dressed in women's clothing, women dressed in outlandish outfits, music, and dancing.  Sounds pretty fun - and perhaps similar, but on a much smaller scale, to the Carnaval parade we had seen in Nice in 2003, where floats were raunchy and outrageous - all part of the far-out partying meant to get one through the sober period of Lent.  Since we had an early date on Sunday morning, late partying just couldn't happen for us.

More on our Sunday outing soon.  But, for now, we missed anything that took place during the day in Alozaina, returning in time for the event listed as the burial of the sardine.  It was a curious title, so I had done some googling and found that Spanish Carnaval tradition calls for ending the weekend with a sardine being buried, symbolizing the end of the debauchery and wild celebrations.  In Andalucia, especially, sardines are very prominent menu items, either fried or marinated in vinegar.  The sardine in this case was a big fish, fashioned out of cardboard and covered with tin-foil.  It was set on fire in the middle of the street - and presumably buried after that.

            Burning & burial of the sardine, the end of Carnaval

We think that was the end of Carnaval.  However, the big white tent is still set up in the middle of the street, blocking all traffic in that direction.  And just today, we learned that there is another festival happening on Friday, the 28th.  It is the Andalusian Festival, honoring the date in 1980, when citizens voted to have Andalucia become an autonomous region of Spain.

Our Sunday event was spectacular!  Our friend, Rod, the stained-glass and pastels artist, was participating in a show taking place at a posh hotel in a posh village behind the posh city of Marbella.  Sounded intriguing all around.  Since hanging stained glass is time-consuming, I offered to join his small crew of helpers early on Sunday morning.  The whole day was fascinating, beginning with the ride down through the mountains to the sea on a route that was new to me.  Rod knows the various villages and their individual stories - the nearby town of Guaro's Festival of the Moorish Moon when no electric lights are used for a whole week, just candles (muy romantico!!);  Monda, an attractive bedroom town for Marbella;   Franco's woodsy hunting lodge which is now a hotel for hikers;  Marbella, sitting on the shore of the Mediterranean Sea, crowded with high-end apartments; and finally, Benahavis, our destination, tucked away in a gorge and famous for its many good restaurants.

          Pool at the Gran Hotel, looking toward Benahavis village

We pulled up to a luxury four-star hotel complex where the art show would take place and spent the morning hanging Rod's art work.

          Alvaro, Sky, and Rod - the hangers of Rod's art work

             Rod's fantastic pastels of the area around Alozaina!

 We finished hanging the work just in time for the noon opening.  Around us, other talented artists with a variety of mediums were doing the same.  It all came together beautifully.  Bruce and Rod's wife, Alice, and other folks from Alozaina arrived to see the show and offer support to Rod.  A few events were scheduled, including a drawing exercise, which I took part in.  It was a very relaxing and enjoyable day.  We ate our bag lunches that we had brought, sat around the pool, took a stroll into the village, watched the young spray painter and the sculptor on the patio, and looked over the work of Rod's fellow artists. He sold a couple of pieces and seemed pleased with that.  At the end of the day, five of us piled into a car and retraced our route through the Andalusian hills in time to get that sardine burned back in Alozaina!

           Spray paint artist, who worked on this piece all day.

              sculptor working on a statue of mother and son

BTW, if you go to Youtube and search Rod Friend,  you can see a delightful video of his work, accompanied by his piano playing.  

Field Trip to Malaga

Field Trip to Malaga            February 21, 2014

Thursday marked the third week since we arrived in our little town of Alozaina.  For most of that time we haven't been inside a motor vehicle, which is a pretty long stretch for us.   We were getting a bit itchy so took a field trip on a bus to the seaside city of Malaga yesterday, about 30 miles away.

We'd been curious about Malaga for awhile.  Just a couple of nights previously, from a friend's balcony here in Alozaina, we had caught a glimpse of Malaga's twinkling lights, nestled in a gap between mountains.   Traveling there on a bus takes about an hour in order to negotiate steep, curvy roads and a few stops along the way.  Olive trees bordered the road in the higher altitudes.  They were replaced by groves of heavily laden orange trees as we approached the coast.

Malaga has a population of over half a million people, so it's a big place.  Huge apartment blocks, 5-6 stories tall, took the place of food crops as we entered the city.  A couple of large engineering schools with windmills on their roofs, appropriately enough, had prominent positions along the highway.  Further along, big shopping centers appeared with names that we've come to recognize - Carrefour, the grocery store chain and El Corte Ingles (the English Cut), an upscale department store chain, and others.  Billboards showed up, too.  We'd forgotten about those in our secluded village.

Upon our arrival in the big central bus station, we got our bearings, thanks to Bruce's new GPS device - and my exquisite sense of direction :).  Those two go hand-in-hand, sometimes toe-to-toe! - whenever we are in a new place. On the far side of a dribbly river, with a high overpass, was the older part of the city.  We wandered a bit aimlessly, enjoying the warmth of the day, a pleasant change from often chilly Alozaina, shedding our outer layers, feeling that fun sense of discovery, rather like opening a gift.  Much of the commercial area is pedestrianized. Old churches and convents were tucked among the chic shops and pretty pastry cafes.  A couple of historic buildings were designed in a striped brick pattern that gave them a contemporary feel.  A lively male dancer energetically tapped a flamenco rhythm on the smooth stone sidewalk, hoping for donations from passers-by.   Tourists from northern climes could be easily spotted, faces tilted to the sun, one dressed in shorts!

                    Sacred Heart Church (I believe) in Malaga


After a stop for coffee, we passed a tapas bar, called Soho, with a huge tv screen showing the Olympics.  I'm not usually a sports bar kind of gal, but the chance to catch a glimpse of the Olympics was a draw.  Sweden and Switzerland's girls hockey teams were duking it out.  I would have preferred skiing or figure skating, but we sipped on a glass of wine and nibbled on tapas until we'd had enough frantic skating up and down the rink.

The boulevard that leads from the old city to the beachfront area, called La Malagueta, is a beautiful walkway, lined with palm trees, as well as plane trees, bare at this time of year.

                   The lovely Paseo del Parque in Malaga

By mid-afternoon, hardy young men on the beach, stripped down to just shorts, were playing volleyball.  They must have been vacationers, strutting their stuff just because they could.  It was lovely weather but not quite that warm - in my opinion!  This part of Malaga reminded us of Nice, both Mediterranean cities with lovely boulevards and beaches.  Malaga's beach is sandy, as opposed to Nice's pebbles, which looked quite uncomfortable, as I recall.  Here, in the reportedly posh area of Malaga, apartment buildings lining the shore rose 12-13 stories tall.  

                        THIS is what we came to Spain for!

We caught the last bus back to Alozaina, leaving at 5pm.  About 15 other passengers boarded with us, many of them older folks who knew each other and chatted all the way.  At another "pueblo blanco" not far from Alozaina, a teenage boy got on briefly just to say hi to the old guys, who brightened up and reached out to give him a friendly pat.  

As fun as it was to be in a big city for the day, it felt good to return to a familiar place where folks all greeted us with "hola" as we made our way down the sidewalk.  Workmen were erecting a huge tent in the middle of the main street, in preparation for Canaval, due to take place this weekend.  When we stopped for bread, the friendly lady in the panaderia updated us on the particulars of Carnaval.  She offered Bruce the Carnaval poster from her shop, which made his day.  We were definitely in a different part of the world from the big city, so close and yet so far. 

It's About Time

It's About Time                         February 19, 2014

One of our endearing, albeit confusing, experiences in Spain relates to the very different perceptions of time.

We first encountered this upon our landing in Madrid last month.  The plane from the USA landed at 8 AM, and we were surprised that it was still dark outside.  Sure, it was January and a dark time of year but we didn't expect it to be still dark at that point in the day.   I wondered if our westerly position in the European Time Zone accounts for this.  It does stay light until after 6 - on the other end of the day.

         cooking dinner late in the evening with Andrea and Angel

We later learned that this phenomenon is fairly recent and originated during the Franco years when the generalissimo, a right wing dictator and ally of the Nazis, changed the time zone to coincide with Germany - as a show of support.  The problem, of course, is that Spain is far to the west of Germany and naturally falls in a very different time zone - thus the mismatch between time and daylight hours.

There is a very different pace of life in Spain - especially  in our little village.   People seem to wake around 8 and head off to work or school around 8:30 or 9 after a continental breakfast of toast and coffee.   There is a snack break around 10-11, lunch around 2:30 or 3, followed by a siesta time.   Siesta doesn't mean actually sleeping but this time is reserved for the big meal of the day and a time for relaxing with family and friends.  I doubt that anyone eats standing up or at their desks.  Everyone goes back to work or school around 4 or 5 - a snack is taken at 7 and dinner is never before 9 in the evening.

                          friends enjoying a morning snack 

It's not easy for us "early to bed, early to rise"  Puritans but we are gradually getting into the swing of things - rising at 8 and staying up until 11 pm or midnight.

We are still puzzled about the opening times of various enterprises because it seems to vary according to a schedule that we don't always understand.   Most shops are open around 9 in the morning, close at 2 for lunch but then reopen from 5 to 8.   Some shops are open while others seem to be shuttered with no seeming pattern.  Some of the bars and clubs in town, so we are told, are only open after midnight.

                      Our favorite meat shop, all closed up for lunch

We wonder if the schedule here is connected to the intensity of the heat during the summer when temps are often above 100 degrees.  The bulk of the work gets done in the morning followed by a big lunch and downtime until temperatures moderate.   The cooler evenings are a time when people socialize by visiting, walking, meeting in a cafe and dinner around 9 or 10.

It's all very civilized and slow paced but it is certainly different from the schedule that we follow at home.   One needs patience here just to conduct daily business.  For example, buying chicken at the small meat market could be a half hour process that involves listening to the stories of the other customers, the responses from the clerk, the telling of jokes, updates on relatives etc..   There is an observation by the English residents here - that the first three letters of the country's name (Espana) coincide with the Spanish verb esperar - to wait and hope.

We are beginning to appreciate this slower pace of life and recognize the richness inherent in a less stressful lifestyle.   We are learning to set aside our culturally driven expectations about pace, service, and time while trying to embrace this different view of life.  There is a wonderful article in the New York Times that describes the Spanish Time system.  See the following link:  http://www.nytimes.com/2014/02/18/world/europe/spain-land-of-10-pm-dinners-ponders-a-more-standard-time.html

More about Alozaina

More About Alozaina                     February 13, 2014

Let's find out more about this sweet little town that we're living in for 6 weeks or so.  I'll share with you what I know of it, having been a resident for only 2 weeks, but a fascinated resident who loves learning about new cultures.

Located west of Malaga but away from the coast, Alozaina is definitely an Andalucian town.  Her roots go back certainly to the time of the Muslims, but probably much earlier to the Romans and then the Visigoths (who had their own brand of Christianity, btw). But most of the development came when the Muslims were in charge, which lasted for 800 years.  Finally, the Spanish reconquered the whole Iberian peninsula under the "Catholic Monarchs", Isabella and Ferdinand, in the late 1400's.  I have read that words that begin with the letters "al" come from the Arabic language, so I imagine that the very name of the town goes back to Moorish times.

The town symbol, proudly displayed in many locations around town, shows a woman throwing bees off a high wall onto invading Moorish warriors.  Interesting concept.  As the story goes, Maria Sagredo, the heroine, had been inside the town walls with other women and children, when the town was attacked in 1570 by the "infidels" during a Moorish rebellion.  Because the men were out in the fields and couldn't get back in time, she had to take matters into her own hands.  First, she asked everyone to dress in men's clothing to simulate a strong show of force.  That worked for awhile.  Later, as a last resort, she gathered the bee hives and threw them onto the enemy, finally repelling them and making herself an eternal heroine of Alozaina!

                  Nice to see a female heroine in the old days!   

Today, the town's population of about 2500-3000 live in some of the same houses clustered on the same ridge of land sticking up from a valley and surrounded by mountains.  Everywhere you go in town, you must go up - steeply! - or down, precipitously!

Alozaina is an economically poor town, we're told.  Olives, a product with its own historical roots extending back to the time of the Romans, dominates the economic and agricultural landscape.  As grape vines were in southern France, so olive trees are here: ubiquitous!  Everywhere you look, there are olive groves.  In town, there is a big olive processing plant, contributing its share to Spain's reputation as the leading olive producer in the world.  That explains why a dish of green olives is often brought with a drink order at a tapas bar.

We were surprised to see on the town map that there are 10 bars in town!  A couple of them open very late in the evening (we'll never see the inside of those!), but most are places where you can sit with a plate of tapas and a glass of wine or a cafe lecho (coffee with milk).   Since we now have our own place to cook, we haven't patronized them much.  Tuesday is the exception, as that is the day that a few of the expats drift over from the outdoor market to one particular bar, Ortuno's, socializing with the little community of English-speakers (there are approximately 150, in all).  If it's at all sunny, they crowd around the green plastic tables on the outdoor patio, bundled up against the clouds that seem to come and go frequently over the nearby mountain.

This was a cool, non-market day, so the tables weren't set up.  

Being so close to the popular coastal resort cities, where I imagine homogeneity is creeping in, we feel especially lucky to be experiencing life in this quaint town at this time, while many of the old ways are still being practiced.  I don't expect them to last a lot longer. For instance, there are still specialized food markets, including two meat markets, a panderia (bread bakery), and a tiny fish market, as well as several little all-purpose grocery stores.  Tuesday morning's outdoor market offers fantastic produce and other products that can't be sustained in full-time stores here, such as shoes, sweaters, and fabric.  We're told that all the residents own land outside the village where they can grow much of their own produce (good thing in these times of high unemployment).  Everyone has enough olive trees to supply the family with a year's worth of oil (and that is a LOT, let me assure you, as olive oil is used for cooking everything.  We haven't seen a pat of butter since we arrived in Spain!)

Each day old men gather outside the town hall to sit on benches in the sun and chat.  Old women can be seen walking to the stores, wheeling their fabric shopping carts.  We old Mainah's are right there with them, foraging and gathering just about every day!

      Town Hall - no old men there today; too cloudy and cool?

The town's ancient sounds transport us to earlier centuries.  Santa Ana's church bells ring out the hour and half hour, even down to the quarter hour.  One day we heard a new sound and looked out to see a herd of goats with jangling bells being driven up onto the mountain.  Occasionally, the clip clop of horses' hooves are heard as a farmer or recreational rider makes their way through town.  We have a cloistered cock-a-doodle-dooing rooster neighbor, whom we haven't seen yet.   Mourning doves are everywhere, cooing their familiar refrain.  Barking dogs are almost as ubiquitous as the olive trees.  On a more modern note, a few daredevil young men love to race up and down these unbelievably steep streets, the close buildings amplifying their already loud motors and startling us, even through our two-foot thick walls.

Not to be left behind in the 20th century - or the 16th! - the town has a lovely outdoor municipal swimming pool (a popular place, we hear, in the blistering hot summer), soccer field, and tennis court.  The local library has internet access, as does Ortuno's. Kids trundle off to school with "Hello, Kitty" backpacks or dribbling soccer balls.  Both the elementary school and secondary schools are right in town.  No need for school busses.  Parents gather at 2pm to escort the younger kids home for the big mid-day meal.  That's the end of the official school day.

It appears that the town has a liberal bent, with a "Communist Bar" (I've never seen it open but am eager to try it out) on the main street and a socialist organization of some sort, the name prominently posted on the wall.  I'd love to know the stories behind these institutions.  I had read that Andalucia supported Franco during the civil war but perhaps, back in these hills, there's a different story to be told.

Alozaina is a pretty enchanting place.  There is so much to learn about the town and its traditions.  Stay tuned!  

Birthday Boy

Birthday Boy                     February 8, 2014

Bruce's Spanish birthday contained many ephemeral gifts, almost as if they'd been planned and arranged just for Bruce William.  First was the sunshine.  After a run of gray, cloudy days with actual rain on the day before, February 6 broke the spell with that sunny bright blue, blue sky for which Andalucia is known - and for which we had come to southern Spain!  From the moment we awoke and looked past the foot of our bed and out of the French doors, which face a massive, moody mountain, the sun stayed with us.  It was such a gift and set the day off on a happy start.

                              view from our bedroom

Our morning rolled out with its usual activities of checking emails and news online.  Across the time zones, Bruce delightedly received his first birthday message  - from his first son.  Eventually we got out into the day for a stroll.  Bruce wanted to go to the church plaza, where there is a high mirador (look-out).  As we gazed off in the distance, soaking up the warm sun, I noticed that the big door to the church was open.  We had been there before, hoping to get a peek inside the church to see the two huge stained glass windows created by our new friend, Rod Friend.  Alas, the church had been locked and gated, even on a Sunday afternoon.  Today, however, was February 6, Bruce's birthday, and he was about to receive his second gift.  This day the door was open, beckoning us inside.  Tentatively we entered, fearing that we might disturb a mass or people praying.  But the sanctuary was empty.  We could wander around to our heart's content.  I was still nervous that a priest might appear, looking askance at two tourists invading his holy space.  It didn't happen.  Instead, we found Rod's beautiful windows, near the front of the church.

                Santa Ana church sits up high above the town

One of the windows is dedicated to Santa Ana.  I had never really heard of her before our trip to Spain but here she seemed to jump out at me everywhere, causing me to investigate.  It turns out that she was Jesus' grandmother, Mary's mother!  Wow, the concept of Jesus having a grandmother was new for me.  And here she was, the saint for this little church, keeping vigil over Alozaina.  I love Rod's depiction of Santa Ana, tenderly laying hands on the shoulders of her daughter, Mary, in a very maternal way, seeming to impart wisdom through her touch.

Rod's other window depicts Santiago (Saint James, in English) who is the patron saint of Spain and the saint for whom the Camino de Santiago de Compostela in northern Spain is named.  St. James' bones are said to be entombed in Santiago, and millions of pilgrims have walked the Camino over the centuries. However, Rod had chosen to put Santiago here in southern Spain, close to the village of Alozaina, wearing the pilgrim's scallop shell as a symbol of his pilgrimage.

We were honored to view these gorgeous pieces of work, so symbolic of the spirituality of Spain, in this hushed atmosphere.

The church is the crown of the town, sitting highest.  Down a few steps is the Plaza of Maria Sagrada, a lovely quiet spot.  From here, one may look out in a different direction, catching a glimpse of the outskirts of Malaga, over the miles of olive groves and among the mountains that surround the town.  At this time of year, it is a peaceful place, with just the sound of the breeze or the distant barking of dogs.  Bruce is very content here.  Gift number three.

We meandered a bit farther toward the center of the town where the Cafe de Papa Miguel has two tables outside.  We arrived just as one of them became available so that we could order a couple of "canas" (glasses) of beer.  Soon, a new acquaintance ambled by, and we invited him to join us for a beer.  Sitting in the sun on a Thursday afternoon in February, sipping a cool beer outside with interesting people (I'll include myself!):  gift number four.

That evening, Rod and his wife, Alice, as well as Steffi, joined us to help Bruce usher in a new year.  They brought good cheer and a bottle of bubbly, as well as some of their musical instruments.  I had put together a bunch of small tapas dishes, in addition to a Spanish potato tortilla and a tuna "salad" that had been taught to me by Andrea and Angel in Madrid.  A plate of luscious red strawberries topped off our meal.  After dinner and lots of good conversation, Bruce and Rod took turns playing Rod's violin, which has been in his family since the 1700's!  What a lovely, rich sound it made.  And then Alice absolutely wowed us with her guitar playing, her powerful, melodic voice, reminiscent of Joan Baez, and her own composition. This was big talent and a deep spirit.  Warmth and friendship enveloped us all around.  The whole evening was a gift of the most special sort.  Pretty nice way to bring on a new year!

                                Alice, Rod, and Stephi

Meeting Folks in Alozaina

Meeting Folks in Alozaina                February 5, 2014

At home, we are pretty social folks, especially me!  On the road for long periods of time, it can be a bit constraining to have only one's spouse to communicate with.  So, now that we are settling into life in Alozaina, it is lovely to be meeting new folks.  On our first day here, last Friday, we didn't meet a soul, other than the grocery store vendors.  However, on Saturday morning, as we puttered around the casita, me still in my pj's - as usual - an unexpected knock came on the door.  We looked at each other with an air of surprise and anticipation.  Who could it be?  Being not quite presentable, I stayed out of the way, while Bruce opened the door to find two well-dressed, well-scrubbed middle-aged gentlemen, holding paper tracts.  Yep, the Jehovah's Witnesses are here in Spain, too!  This is one of the rare occasions when lack of the language is a benefit.

No more quickly had we settled back into our puttering than another knock came on the door.  This time it was a tall, lanky Brit, who introduced himself as Rod, a friend of Hugo and Mary, our landlords.  Hugo had told us about Rod and his wife Alice and what great folks they are.  We were delighted to meet Rod, who had come to invite us to attend a small market, where we could meet many of the English-speaking ex-pats who live in town.  We were so impressed that he had walked across town and down our rigorously steep stairway to welcome us.  Rod is a stained glass artist, a fluent Spanish speaker, and a musician - with a fiddle to spare!  He and Alice have lived in Alozaina for about 10 years.

When we found the market later, we met Alice, who is a painter, writer, and musician, as well as a transplanted Canadian (from Vancouver).  Alice and Rob took us under their wings and introduced us to several other ex-pats, including Jon, who is a musician from one of the Devon (England) towns that we had visited in 2012.  Jon is here for awhile, doing some writing and research on the Sephardic Jewish experience in Spain.  There was also Steffi, who hails from "the other Portland" (Oregon) and who is here for a few months, having attended a nearby retreat.  Tricia is a British organic farmer who invites workers to come and help out on her farm here.  Anna is a Dutch artist who has built a straw bale house and lives off the grid with her Irish boyfriend.  Mahree is an Israeli who also lives off the grid with her husband and is an ardent gardener, too.  There was also Alvaro, a young Spanish-British engineer who will soon bring his wife and toddler from England to live here while he builds guitars.  What an incredible community of creative, artistic, alternative life-style individuals we had fallen into!  They all welcomed us warmly.  In fact, when Alice heard that I am writing a blog, she invited us to join her and Jon and Steffi the next day for a newly formed writers support group at her house.  We went, not without a tiny bit of trepidation, and it was a delightful sharing of ideas and thoughts and even some writing.

             Bruce arriving at Alice and Rod's house

But, you ask, what about the Spanish natives?  On Sunday, just as we were preparing to leave for our writers group, Bruce noticed our across-the-street neighbor, Juan, whom Hugo has also mentioned. 

Juan is the go-to guy if you have a house problem that needs fixing - and another wonderful person, it turns out.  We had been having trouble with our wood stove, despite Bruce's expertise.  The pipe was filled with creosote and was not drawing well, often filling the house with smoke and giving little heat.  Through emails, we had been advised by Mary to contact Juan.  Well, now was the time.  When we had explained the problem - in our best bumbling Spanish - Juan took over enthusiastically, running upstairs and outside to look at the pipe, opening windows to create draft and let the smoke escape, stuffing the stove with wood.  He said (we think) that he'd get a ladder the next day and fix things up.  In the meantime, he rushed back to his house and reappeared with a box full of oranges, tangerines, and avocados from his own garden.  With a few more words, he left and reappeared with a huge jug of olive oil, from which he filled our bottle.  It, too, was the product of his own olive trees.  Sweet welcome gifts!

                Juan's sweet gift of oranges and tangerines

Juan has been back a couple of more times, and the stove seems to be working much better.  Today we met Juan's wife, Laura, who told us about her three daughters, one of whom has had to leave to work in Switzerland, due to severe unemployment here.

Tomorrow, on Bruce's birthday, we'll invite three of our new acquaintances to share some tapas treats with us.  On Friday, there's flamenco on offer at a tapas bar.  Next week, our British friends whom we met in France in 2006 will come to spend a couple of days with us.  Suddenly life is pretty full.

Alozaina at Last February 2, 2014

On Thursday afternoon we finally arrived at our rental home in the Andulusian village of Alozaina (pronounced Aloe-THINE- a). Our journey started in Ronda - a lovely and very old town in the mountains where we stayed for two days.   We were a bit uncertain of the bus schedule because the information we had was outdated but, with the help of the tourist office, we got a schedule that was up to date.   After some anxiety and uncertainty about where to find the right bus company (there were about 5 different ones), the right gate, and how to pay, we finally jumped on the correct bus.

Road from Ronda

The trip was about an hour and took us over some very narrow and twisty roads through the high hills and mountains of the Sierra de las Nieves National Park.  The scenery was desolate with lots of rocks, olive trees, and even sheep in the roads.  We hoped the driver was paying attention as he honked the bus around every hairpin turn going up and down the steep hills. The bus was very silent. We wondered if the other passengers were praying, as we were, or were just watching the scenery. Right on schedule, we arrived in Alozaina and were dropped off at the small park that serves as a bus stop.   Using our GPS, we found our way to the town hall where we were met by Hugo, the Irish owner of our rental house.   

Alozaina - a white village (pueblo blanco)

Hugo turns out to be from Dublin and is a published author and playwright.   He and his wife have owned the house for 10 years and use it for vacations and long trips during the fall and spring.    The house is close to the center of a charming white village that sits on the top of a steep hill - surrounded by orange, lemon, avocado, and olive trees.    The house is about 500 years old and built in the typical Spanish style with 2 ft  thick walls, small windows, and no central heating system. Homes here are built to shelter folks from the intense heat of summer and can be cold during this time of year.  Thankfully, we have a little wood stove that provides some comfort during the cold nights.

On our first evening here, we located some of the essential services - meat store, bread store, vegetable store, and general store.   We will try to avoid the larger chain Dia supermarket in the new part of town as we would like to support the local businesses that seem to be thriving.   Today, we made another foray into town to buy a few more groceries and learn more about the town where we will spend the next month.

It was misting heavily with spots of sun peeking through the low clouds but we took a brief orienting walk up the hill opposite our home.   The area seems very old with ancient olive trees, old stone walls, and terraced fields that could have been built during Roman or Arabic times.   The hills here are seriously steep and we marvel at how people zip up and down the painfully narrow alley ways in their cars and motor scooters.    Some streets are so narrow that you can’t turn around in your car and have to drive up and then back down - carefully avoiding houses, pedestrians, and  parked cars.   

Looking toward Alozaina from a misty mountain road

Once we get ourselves oriented to the house and the town, we hope to meet some of the local English speaking residents of town.   We are told that the 20 or so Irish, Canadian, and English folks gather at a local cafe on Tuesdays, and we plan to join them.  Meanwhile, we’re meeting a few of the Spanish residents. They all seem friendly and tolerant of our feeble attempts to communicate with them.   We plunge ahead in our painfully inadequate language skills, but we’re pleased that there is some recognition of our willingness to try which is rewarded by getting what we ask for.  Pointing and grunting helps too.

ripe olives

We’re glad to get settled into one place after being on the road for 3 weeks and having to adjust to a different city and new bedroom every few days.  It was great fun because we met many interesting  people and saw so many amazing places, but we are tired and happy to be in our “own” place for a month. We’re hoping for more sun but are content with the warmer temps and the lack of snow.  Of course, we are loving the fresh food, the gorgeous scenery and learning more about the Spanish culture and history that surrounds us.