A Walk in the Campo March 13, 2014
One of the things that Bruce and I love to do is get outside and walk. Destination is less important than just exploring, seeing what there is to see. Walking allows us to make little discoveries, easily overlooked in a motor vehicle (if we had one!). Getting some exercise is another goal, a necessity with all of the good eating that we're doing! We're also hoping to walk 60 miles of the Camino de Santiago in a couple of weeks, so getting in shape is one more impetus to get out the door. Plus, it's a great way to warm up! It's often warmer outdoors in the sun than in our 16th century stone house.
I love the orderly rows of gray-green olive trees, so well cared for. Zzzeeuumm. A whirring chain saw tells us that an olive farmer is pruning his trees somewhere. He puts the branches either into a whining chipper or onto a pile for burning, the gray smoke of hard-working farmers smudging the landscape. The pile of discarded branch wood will fuel his stove at home.
From high look-out points around town, we can see white cement roads angling off in different directions, until they climb a hill and are lost to view on the other side. In Alozaina, the demarcation between village and countryside is so clear and so close. Down over the hill, clogged with white houses sitting cheek by jowl, and then suddenly you are out in the open, surrounded by olive groves stretching on for miles.
Looking out on the road to Coin, lined with olive groves.
Over the past few weeks, we've sampled a number of different routes. In one direction, we go up onto Mount Prieta, which our bedroom looks out onto, choosing from among three different roads. They all veer sharply upward, quickly producing pounding hearts and a rigorous work-out. Friends have suggested various strategies to lessen the discomfort, including walking backward up the road, as well as keeping our eyes focused down on the pavement! Images of the town evolve as we move away from it. Each time that we look back is a new scene. The good news is that we are finding the climb less difficult. The reward for our efforts are amazing views of the surrounding valley and its white villages, stretching all the way to the Mediterranean coast in the hazy distance.
That tiny white bit at the foot of the mountain is Alozaina.
In another direction, we go down past a goat farm to the Coin Road and follow a much less demanding route on a quiet road with little, if any, traffic. Although the scenery is not as dramatic, the small surprises are no less delightful. We feel very lucky if we arrive at the moment when one of the several goat herds around town is being led out to pasture, filling the road with the hollow clanking sound of their bells. "Yip, yip", from the goatherder signals his flock to follow obediently behind him. The herds are beautiful, an array of soft shades of brown with the occasional black or white, their udders bobbing side to side, a baby or two nestling against a mother. The herder, carrying a stick and sometimes accompanied by a dog, is always with them, guiding and watching over them paternally. In a demonstration of old-time, sensible sustainability and cooperation, the goats often feed on the grass under the olive trees, fertilizing them in the natural way.
Sometimes we encounter the benevolent old fellow who likes to slowly lead his horse along the road, letting him stop to nibble grass along the way. Not all of the sights are so ancient. One day a mom had chosen this lightly traveled road to teach her daughter how to roller blade! And not all of the encounters are so benign. Every home in the campo, it seems, has a watch dog. These friends of man strike fear into our hearts with their fierce barking and lunging, stopping us abruptly until we're sure that they are restrained somehow. Memories of our 2010 census work come flooding back! Roads with unrestrained dogs have been crossed off our list.
Historical remnants of Roman civilization pop up everywhere. We often look up to see the ragged snippets of terracing in a field, 2000 years old, or fat, gnarled olive trees, said to be a thousand years old. It's pretty mind-boggling to see and touch the everyday work of people so long ago.
Bruce looks up at the remnants of Roman terracing.
ancient olive tree, still doing its work
When we first arrived in Alozaina, the world was pretty gray and chilly. During the past six weeks, we've seen the steady arrival of spring, first with almond blossoms dotting the hills in clouds of frothy pale pink, so delicate and lovely. Then tiny yellow marguerite-like flowers sprouted under the olive trees, like bright gold dust. Now the roadsides are sporting all kinds of pretty little wild flowers. The almond blossoms have progressed to small fuzzy nuts, and the fig trees are slowly coming back to life with hints of green leaves on their thick gray branches. Pretty blue blossoms have unfolded on the wild rosemary.
almond blossoms against the blue Andalusian sky
and the burgeoning almond nuts
wild rosemary in bloom
We'll be leaving Alozaina this weekend, going down to the coast for a few days before Matt & Izik arrive in Malaga next week. I may get one or two more posts written about this very special place that we have enjoyed so much - unless we're out walking instead!
One of the things that Bruce and I love to do is get outside and walk. Destination is less important than just exploring, seeing what there is to see. Walking allows us to make little discoveries, easily overlooked in a motor vehicle (if we had one!). Getting some exercise is another goal, a necessity with all of the good eating that we're doing! We're also hoping to walk 60 miles of the Camino de Santiago in a couple of weeks, so getting in shape is one more impetus to get out the door. Plus, it's a great way to warm up! It's often warmer outdoors in the sun than in our 16th century stone house.
I love the orderly rows of gray-green olive trees, so well cared for. Zzzeeuumm. A whirring chain saw tells us that an olive farmer is pruning his trees somewhere. He puts the branches either into a whining chipper or onto a pile for burning, the gray smoke of hard-working farmers smudging the landscape. The pile of discarded branch wood will fuel his stove at home.
From high look-out points around town, we can see white cement roads angling off in different directions, until they climb a hill and are lost to view on the other side. In Alozaina, the demarcation between village and countryside is so clear and so close. Down over the hill, clogged with white houses sitting cheek by jowl, and then suddenly you are out in the open, surrounded by olive groves stretching on for miles.
Over the past few weeks, we've sampled a number of different routes. In one direction, we go up onto Mount Prieta, which our bedroom looks out onto, choosing from among three different roads. They all veer sharply upward, quickly producing pounding hearts and a rigorous work-out. Friends have suggested various strategies to lessen the discomfort, including walking backward up the road, as well as keeping our eyes focused down on the pavement! Images of the town evolve as we move away from it. Each time that we look back is a new scene. The good news is that we are finding the climb less difficult. The reward for our efforts are amazing views of the surrounding valley and its white villages, stretching all the way to the Mediterranean coast in the hazy distance.
In another direction, we go down past a goat farm to the Coin Road and follow a much less demanding route on a quiet road with little, if any, traffic. Although the scenery is not as dramatic, the small surprises are no less delightful. We feel very lucky if we arrive at the moment when one of the several goat herds around town is being led out to pasture, filling the road with the hollow clanking sound of their bells. "Yip, yip", from the goatherder signals his flock to follow obediently behind him. The herds are beautiful, an array of soft shades of brown with the occasional black or white, their udders bobbing side to side, a baby or two nestling against a mother. The herder, carrying a stick and sometimes accompanied by a dog, is always with them, guiding and watching over them paternally. In a demonstration of old-time, sensible sustainability and cooperation, the goats often feed on the grass under the olive trees, fertilizing them in the natural way.
Sometimes we encounter the benevolent old fellow who likes to slowly lead his horse along the road, letting him stop to nibble grass along the way. Not all of the sights are so ancient. One day a mom had chosen this lightly traveled road to teach her daughter how to roller blade! And not all of the encounters are so benign. Every home in the campo, it seems, has a watch dog. These friends of man strike fear into our hearts with their fierce barking and lunging, stopping us abruptly until we're sure that they are restrained somehow. Memories of our 2010 census work come flooding back! Roads with unrestrained dogs have been crossed off our list.
Historical remnants of Roman civilization pop up everywhere. We often look up to see the ragged snippets of terracing in a field, 2000 years old, or fat, gnarled olive trees, said to be a thousand years old. It's pretty mind-boggling to see and touch the everyday work of people so long ago.
When we first arrived in Alozaina, the world was pretty gray and chilly. During the past six weeks, we've seen the steady arrival of spring, first with almond blossoms dotting the hills in clouds of frothy pale pink, so delicate and lovely. Then tiny yellow marguerite-like flowers sprouted under the olive trees, like bright gold dust. Now the roadsides are sporting all kinds of pretty little wild flowers. The almond blossoms have progressed to small fuzzy nuts, and the fig trees are slowly coming back to life with hints of green leaves on their thick gray branches. Pretty blue blossoms have unfolded on the wild rosemary.
We'll be leaving Alozaina this weekend, going down to the coast for a few days before Matt & Izik arrive in Malaga next week. I may get one or two more posts written about this very special place that we have enjoyed so much - unless we're out walking instead!
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