Posted by: puebloman | March 3, 2009

Sentimental Journey

Spring is coming to Andalucia. A springtime walk  through the campo fills  me with an unaccustomed and odd nostalgia for my English childhood. Flowers for example  cover the hills with splashes of red yellow and blue all through the Spanish Spring, attracting butterflies that remind me of when I was little. In fact the range of  butterflies is even wider here than it was in 1950’s England and the familiar ‘cabbage’ whites, tortoiseshells, red admirals, clouded yellows and skippers, mix with the exotic. In the olden days butterflies were so plentiful in England that we killed and pinned them out on display boards, collecting them like stamps. Nowadays a butterfly in the English countryside is an event.

There are so many swifts and finches here in Andalucia that there is a shortage of nesting sites. The whole place is a riot of sparrows, now almost extinct in England.

The Lizards of Andalucia fill me with nostalgia. Lizards are at their very best  in the spring time when the sun is hot enough to liven them up but not so oppessive that they have to hide in the dark during the heat of the day. Seeing these lizards remind me of long indolent summer days in England when as a child, I used to trail along a country ditch with a linen bag, catching half a dozen with my hands as they became a little sluggish in the cool of the evening. I’d put them in a tin bath, already set up with rocks and a pool as a lizard’s paradise. They would promptly escape, breeding in the hedge and producing armies of tiny black offspring.

Here in Andalucia exotic lizards mix with the commonplace – this area being the last stand of the European Chameleon, a protected and endangered species now. It appears, shocking and exotic among the more ordinary species, moving among the herbage with equisite slowness, or suddenly rearing onto its back feet and legging it across the road to avoid a hurtling car.

When we came here I expected to have to take special care of poisonous insects and reptiles, but when I asked my friend Manolo (who runs the co-op in Almachar) about this, he said with a smile ‘ Don’t worry. The only poisonous animals here are human’.

Posted by: puebloman | February 28, 2009

The men of the villages 1

There are plenty of cliches about Spanish men in general and Andalucian men in particular – male “machismo”, the dangers of affronting it, the sanctity of mothers, the ease with which an argument might turn physical and the mythology of the campo knife which, as Lorca has it, is ” a knife, a little knife, that slips between the ribs like a fish . . .” (Blood wedding).

What shocks me as an Englishman living in the pueblo,  is the love that men of all ages are able to express for little children. Old men are seen pushing prams, entirely at home and unselfconcious in their role as grandfathers and happy in that role with infants who like all infants, shit themselves and constantly demand love and stuff.  These grandfathers are retired farmers and so can pass the time with infants in philosophical discourse just as they would with their dogs.

What shocks me even more is how easy it is for young men from adolescence to marriagable age to show their love for infants. Gelled up, tatood, pierced, scented and mounted on on thunderous mopeds, they still melt in the presence of young children,  free of the fear of riducule that would make such a response in England impossible. The spanish baby is kissed, cuddled, passed round from young man to young man, celebrated, treated, pampered and generally drawn into the emotional lives of its older siblings. Women find all this very sexy though it seems young Englishmen have not yet realised it.

Unconditional love, openly diplayed by men in the street, is the single early life interventation that will ultimately distinguish a Spaniard from an Englishman.

Posted by: puebloman | February 10, 2009

A dog’s life

Ten things I love about living in Andalucia:

The wonderful light that makes colour vibrant

The fantastic landscape of the mountains and foothills

The long light days

The street parties – one a month at least

Fried fish

No police, no CCTV surveillance

Cante Jondo

Tapas

Menu Del Dia

The perfume of orange, lemon and grapefruit blossom

Ten things I hate about living in Andalucia

Useless stupid yappy little Spanish house dogs

The all night barking of Spanish house dogs

Dog shit everywhere

Unneutered dogs and cats and their starving offspring

Wild ‘Campo dogs’ that tear up rubbish bags and strew rubbish everywhere

Pop-pop bikes and their 12 year old riders

Loud boogy-pop ‘sports’ cars and their 12 year old drivers

Ex pats who won’t speak Spanish

Expats who talk down Spain and Spanish people

Expat rip-off traders who cheat their own kind

Posted by: puebloman | February 5, 2009

Rain, rain , rain

Rain, rain, rain,

Its raining so you can’t see your hand in front of your face. . .

Rain, rain, rain

The Pueblo’s concrete, nothing soaks away. . .

Rain, rain, rain,

The water shoots straight off the roofs into the street . . .

Rain, rain, rain

The terraces turn to waterfalls. They overflow into the one below. . .

Rain, rain, rain,

Can’t get up to the bar. The steps are torrents, the patios are rock pools. . .

Rain, rain, rain,

The storm-drain’s blocked by a tree, the streets are mud slurries. . .

Rain, rain, rain,

Someone parked his car on the river bed. Its sailing away to Torre . . .

Rain, rain, rain,

Everyone’s laughing, everyone’s waving, everyone’s wet. . .

Rain, rain, rain.

Posted by: puebloman | February 4, 2009

Spanish steps

Like many English people, I find it very hard to learn languages, and Judy and I are about to go back to school to have another go with our Spanish. It isn’t that we can’t speak any – it’s more that you need so little language to get by in an everyday way, that once you have mastered restaurant Spanish, grocer shop Spanish and then your specialisms – in my case builders, cleaners and fruit farmers Spanish, you can more or less get by with people, and your gross inadequacies don’t come to light until you meet a Spaniard you really want to converse with, or worse, one you want to do business with,where a mistake or misunderstanding could cost you.

Before we came out to Spain we did intensive courses at the Cervantes centre just off Sloane Square in London. They are superb, but completely unforgiving and conducted from the very start entirely in Spanish. We would turn up at the centre after a long day flogging a dead horse at work, and finish the evening in tears having come more or less bottom and second to bottom of the class and feeling like a couple of worn out old codgers. The classes largely consisted of thirty something middle managers  with a variety of ambitions to incorporate the Spanish language into the violently upward trajectory of their career path. Their Spanish teachers were of the same ilk.

Still we did learn a lot. In fact I have a nasty feeling that I have gone backwards during the three years that we’ve lived here. Its partly the work environment – Jude and I now live and work together entirely in English, usually with the plummy tones of BBC radio 4 in the background for 16 hours a day. We do of course have everyday contact with the village people, but our predictable exchanges about the weather, the miseries of work and the incompetence of the mayor are easily learned, and speaking as a learning activity in Andalucia is like an immigrant to Britain deciding to go to a village near Newcastle to learn English. In fact the villagers say “don’t learn Spanish from us! No-one else will understand you!

Well, we are going to study at a school called BEM in Velez-Malaga. We did  a test to see what class we should start with and the one we are joining is doing the subjunctive. It seems this tense is used where the outcome of an intention, a plan, an expectation or desire is uncertain. Apparently this uncertainty, and therefore this tense  is much more common in the Spanish than in the English language for reasons we can all understand. Judy and I are excited by the new course and keen to start, but we know that it’s a case of “use it or lose it”. If we really want to develop our Spanish we will have to start talking in a more committed and demanding way to our Spanish friends.

Posted by: puebloman | January 29, 2009

Minders

It is the custom in the villages when a newcomer arrives that one of your Spanish neighbours will appoint themselves your “minder” -making you welcome, passing the time of day and where necessary keeping you on the straight and narrow. In Almachar, our minder is Paco.He is called “Paco Manchester” because his brother lives in Manchester. A feature of the recent history of the white villages is their appalling poverty and many young men after the Civil War left to seek their fortunes in the north or abroad.Paco’s brother was one such man. Paco himself comports himself with the warmth and generosity typical of the villagers. He has a parcela (allotment) near the village and once when our son turned up with his friends on a Sunday, expecting that all the shops would be open as in London, Paco took them to his allotment and gave them food. He makes beutiful and original ashtrays which he gives to Judy, who likes handmade things. He has also given her two handmade miniature dustpan and brushes. A hint perhaps. In Cutar we have land and our minder, Antonio, helps and advises us on every single aspect of our land management. This usually involves him rushing down, ashen faced, to explain tome that I am jeapordising the entire crop by pruning/not pruning,watering/not watering, fertilizing/not fertilizing. I have come to realise that everything I do is going to be wrong. However,remarkablythere always seems to be a remedy that only Antonio can effect, and this invariably saves the day. Antonio is called “El Gordo” – “fat bastard” in colloquial English. However he is a small, wiry, spare man, very fit and able to move across the nearly verticalland like a goat.We assumed his nickname was ironic until we were told that he had been very fat and had drank a lot,but then had a heart attack and had changed his lifestyle. These days he take a glass of chamomile tea with a half shot of brandy in it at about 8am before he goes tothe campo to work on his grapes. Apart fromthat he nolonger takes alchohol.

Posted by: puebloman | January 15, 2009

Andalucian food – a quick history

The Phoenicians around 1100 B.C created the first Andalucian city of Cadiz, planted the first grapevines near Jerez and introduced the olive tree to Spain. The Carthaginians developed olive production throughout the region in the 7th century B.C., and Andalucia later became the primary source of olive oil for the Roman Empire.

The Arabs invaded via Gibraltar in the eighth century and began to restore the region from the post Roman devastation and decay it was suffering under the Christian Goths. Eight further centuries under Islam would see Andalucia rise to a pinnacle of civilization and tolerance that would shine a beacon of light into medieval Europe, benighted as it was by Christian superstition and ignorance. The Moors designed and built the irrigation systems – the ‘huertas’ of Andalucia, creating great irrigated farms and cash crop systems that are still evident today. They introduced an array of foodstuffs and spices, making a huge impact on the Spanish diet. For example they successfully introduced and cultivated rice and durum wheat – the basis of pasta – later exported to Italy. Oranges, lemons, aubergine, almonds, dates, peaches, apricots, quinces and, of huge significance, coffee, were all introduced by the Moors. Their impact on the culinary traditions of the region can also be seen in the number of Spanish dishes flavoured with exotic spices like cumin and saffron.

The Moors were expelled after the fall of Granada in 1492, the Dark Age of Christianity finally enveloped Europe, and the Spanish ‘Golden Age’ began as Columbus set sail. The Spanish Monarchs, Ferdinand and Isabella, made one great contribution to Spanish cuisine and that was the promotion of pig as the meat of first choice for the faithful. This was done to ensure that the now persecuted Moslems and Jews could never return to the region and eat meat. Although pork has been reared in Andalucia for at least 2000years, pig eating now became a sign of adherence to the true faith. Anyone who could eat pork without retching was deemed to be a real Christian. Olive cultivation suffered at this time since it was seen as Islamic, and therefore denigrated. The medicinal and health virtues of olive oil over pig fat were suppressed in Spain until well into nineteenth century for the same reason. Today the ritual matanza or slaughter of pigs still takes place on the eleventh day of the eleventh month (November), and the skill and inventiveness of the cooks and butchers is said to use every part of the pig, leaving ‘nothing but the squeak’.

It is said that Columbus’s ships, as they began the voyage that would discover America, passed the ships containing Jews and Moslems on their way to exile. Columbus’s botanic discoveries had a great impact on the Spanish diet. The expulsion of the Moors had broken long standing cultural links with the spice trade and it was part of Columbus’s task to re establish that connection in the hands of a Christian. He failed to find the route to the old spice trade but established a new one that offered substitutes. Chilli became a substitute for pepper for example. Both chilli and black pepper are called ‘pimiento’ in Spanish. The conquest of the south Americas after 1492 also brought many staple vegetables to the Spanish kitchen including hot and sweet peppers, yams, tomatoes, potatoes, sweet potatoes and avocados. The haricot bean began to replace the traditional broad bean at this time. Tobacco was also discovered. The fortunes of the cocoa bean, thought to be a useless currency token, were transformed when Cortes brought back Aztec machinery in 1528 that could turn it into chocolate.

These are the great influences on Andalucian cuisine that have created its richness and diversity. However, the Andalucian kitchen owes a lot not only to the Arabs and geography, but also to the weather and the lack of firewood. Andalucian homes did not have indoor ovens because it was too hot, and most cooking was stove-top. Kitchens usually had a poyo, a stone counter surfaced with tiles, running along one wall with inset hornillas or burners and an ash box underneath, there being no chimney to take smoke away. Very little firewood existed so fuel sources often consisted of olive pits, dried grape twigs, or picón, a pencil-sized charcoal made by smouldering bush branches which burns relatively free of smoke. Andalucian preparations simmered on these dying fires for long periods of time.

The poverty of the great majority of the people is also a significant element of Andalucian cuisine. The rich soups, stews and paellas found all over Spain today began as the staple diet of peasant communities, surviving on home grown vegetables and meat bones stewed for hours to eke out very ounce of flavour.

Today the Axarquia is the fruit basket of Andalucia, and the coast its frying pan. The distinctiveness of its cuisine is the result of a combination of the superb quality of its raw materials and great economy, resourcefulness and inventiveness in their use. Spanish cuisine owes much to the past poverty of its population, most recently the decades of extreme deprivation suffered by millions under Franco’s repressive regime.

Posted by: puebloman | January 14, 2009

Our New Life

We came to the Axarquia, a beautiful and uncommercialised part of Andalucia, three years ago. Four years previously we had bought a big house in a large agricultural village of Almachar as a holiday home. This  left the door to a new life in Spain ajar, though we didn’t quite understand that at the time. When the very ordinary pressures of work that afflict middle managers in their mid 50’s afflicted us, we realised that we didn’t only have one option open to us – to buckle down and buck up – we could just pull up our roots, sell up and go. And that’s what we did. We had a small two up and two down in Kingston, just south of London. Over the years it became a “Regency Cottage” without any effort on our part and we were able to sell it at the top of the market. Our purpose was to pay off our huge mortgage and all our debts and to buy with the residue, enough property to run a little self catering business that would feed us through the last part of our working lives and would supplement our very meagre pensions into our non-retirement years. Of course having sold at the top of the market we had to buy at the top of the market. We couldn’t afford Almachar but discovered the beautiful and quiet hamlet of Cutar, close by, but higher into the foothills of the Sierra Tejedas. We bought two adjoining cottages with four large rooms underneath plus a couple of hectares of land down to fig, plum, almonds, pomegranate, mango, grape, custard apple,orange, mandarine, lemon, grapefruit, medlar and cane. In the  last three years we have stripped out the cottages and fitted them to our taste and what we think our customers will want, we have converted the lower rooms into a managers flat, built a big shower room, an andalucian kitchen, a living room/diner, an office/bedroom and a workshop. We have nearly completed the terrace to the managers flat. We have built raised beds for vegetables between the fig trees, created a mediterranean dry garden between the plum trees and have opened a piece of land with intention of backyarding some poultry next year. We seem to be surviving. We are into our third year of trading, are living a subsistence lifestyle instead of one based on debt, and , little by little are beginning to feel we might make it!

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