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!
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.
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!
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!
Are you still in alozania
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