May 2006
The first trip: Sylvania
23/May/2006 12:53 .Local life.Permalink
Otura, Dilar, Gojar, Monachil, Huetar-Vega and la Zubia comprised the first day of travelling, ending up in the camp site of La Zubia. A bustly town, noisy and grubby but memorable for its excellent 100pts shop. So many towns, so many possibilities. Parallel worlds open up before us at every moment like the exits on Granada´s ring road. Too many choices complicate things. We have to learn to reduce choice in order to find clarity...and there is nothing better for finding simplicity than spending a night in the confines of our Transporter commercial van.
The following day we arrived in Peligros after a depressing visit to Lorca´s grave in Viznar - a drab an eerie setting that awoke in us images of a dark and brutal time. We shivered and poodled on to Peligros.
The town was pleasant if a tad small. Could we live here? It was always the unspoken question upon arrival. Even at the petrol station stops I found myself fantasizing about a room above the pumps.
Could Peligros be our home? How would we cope with the inevitable question?
´¿Donde vivis?´
´Éstamos en Peligros´.
Nah. It just wouldn´t work. We travelled on - and backwards in time - to Pinos Puente - and Fuente Vaqueros, just to keep on the Lorca trail for another day. But nothing caught out attention other than shanty outskirts and barren hills and people wearing clothes that brought back a nostalgia for the 70´s. Onwards we drove to Montefrio (too postcardy), and umpteen more unmemorable mountain villages.
In the evening we pulled into a lorry stop on the A92 above the town of Loja and decided to sleep the night there, squeezed between giant transport vehicles.
Having fed Yogi and tied him to the bumper, we strolled into the barrio alto, and walked into the first bar we found.
La Cueva is a bar that serves an ambiguous tapa, superficially plain, but with a discreet underside. The bar is situated in part of the old town, and thus frequented by local farmers and underage drinkers. Yet there is an undercurrent. Something happened that night in that bar. Perhaps it was the discussions we had with the exotic assortment gathered that humid evening - How is the fog now in London? Shouldn´t the Queen step down now? Or perhaps it was the enquiry by Pepe as he served us our first drink: ´Did you come by horse?´
The following morning we explored the rest of the town. Our first bar proved hopeful, the manchada was served hot and in a glass. And the price was under a euro. The all important question remained about tourism: Was the town gearing up for a future in tourism - Discover Inland Spain - The Washington Irving Route - etc etc. It appeared not. The town boasted few attractions, except in the tourist brochure I discovered that the Marx Bros had used Loja for the fictitious town of Sylvania in the film Duck Soup.
It was translated as Sopa de Ganso. Intriguing.
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Reflections above the clouds 2
01/May/2006 12:53 .Planting
ideas.Permalink
Today I discovered the secret to eternal life. That is if you are an Olive tree. For the last few years I have pondered the art of pruning as randomly demonstrated by my elusive neighbours. Today, after another month of tentative and unsatisfying snipping I saw the answer.
Initially, I tried to keep the old stuff whilst encouraging the new shoots to grow into interesting and characterful shapes. But soft words and good intentions were not enough. Crowded stems, hemmed in by old and brittle fingers meant that the tree had but a stunted pattern of growth. I couldn't keep it all, I had to learn to let go of the old and to place my faith in the promise of the new.
I still find it difficult though. Understanding the theory is ok until you are standing there with a pair of loppers in your hand and trying to decide if that beautifully shaped wizened arm should be amputated so that the pathetic spindly 3-leafed stem may grow into its place.
And so we return to our trip inland, knowing now what to let go of here in order for the new to live.