Fiesta and fun

This week began with a trip to Burriana Beach with my friend and her daughter, luxuriating on the sunbeds with the thick mattresses under coconut parasols. This was perfect preparation for a diversion into Nerja town for my shopaholic companions to get another fix. As a shopaphobic, I stationed myself outside a central café/bar overlooking the church square, indulged in some delicious hummous and pitta bread and browsed through a magazine between eating and people watching. There was a feeling of something imminent by an increased police presence, some of the square cordoned off and some young band members tuning (well tooting) their instruments! Anyway, the church clock chimed 8 p.m. and out of the church came a Madonna in muted gold, on a plinth festooned with fresh white lilies, holding toddler Jesus’s hand. Unlike the Puente Madonna who was carried along supported on people’s shoulders, the Nerja Madonna was being held up high with outstretched arms, by some very muscular, tanned Spanish men, wearing medals around their neck (not sure if they were in recognition of their strength, but they deserved them to be!). Outside the church, the men continued to hold the plinth at arms length and sway in rhythm to the now familiar female Spanish wailing music. The article I was reading was about mindfulness, but I couldn’t even concentrate my mind on it enough to finish it – everything was far too exciting. Exploding rockets were being set off at irregular intervals from a roof somewhere, and a troop of dancers, ladies dressed in electric blue dresses with full skirts and white petticoats and men with trousers like matadors were swinging themselves and eachother around using castinets trailing multicoloured ribbons. The crowd were clapping and cheering, a cameraman was filming for the local cable t.v. and all the time the strong muscular men were swaying Madonna from side to side.

Eventually, the singing stopped and the band formed on the street playing the same strange tune as the Peunte parade. The Madonna men finally rested her plinth poles on their shoulders and set off on their march around the tiny, crowded streets of Nerja, followed by a crowd and saluted by frequent rocket explosions.

My friend, having missed the performance, returned laden with many bags accompanied by her terrified daughter, who has an intense fear of fireworks!!!!! That had to be about the worst place for her so we quickly sought refuge in a delightful Mexican bar where the live music drowned out the noise, and there was much to offer for the vegetarian palate.

Having a speedy change over day with my friends departure followed by the arrival of a group of 8 young Australians saw Alex and I going off to our first house party over here, totally exhausted. At the friend’s 60th there was lots of delicious food and drink, a backdrop of lake vinuela and mount maroma from their veranda and comparing of notes with lots of other ex-pats. Pictures were passed round of a fire which had taken hold on the other side of the hill across our valley where one couple lived. They showed how the Spanish fire fighting helicopter had hovered over their next door neighbours pool, scooped water into its dangling bucket then precariously tipped the chopper to cascade the water directly over the flames. The fire was contained within two hours – about how long it took them to empty the pool which had probably taken the owners 24 hours and many euros to fill!

Meanwhile, back at Casa Alejandro it was very satisfying to find our guests having a wonderful time playing water volley ball in the pool – and actually keeping score (girls were winning of course). In the water they had the most ingenious contrivance which they have promised to leave for me. It is an almost conical shaped inflatable with a fat, ring shaped base with several cup holders around it. The top of the cone shape lifts off and inside you can keep your cans of beer on ice!! Well if that’s not a floating bar, then nothing is!

The return of the young ones

This week has seen the arrival of my son Rob and his girlfriend Sophie.Its like meeting folk from Rivendel going to meet them, as they are both so pale, tall and willowy, him with his long dreadlocks and her with her long silky dark hair – taking all the hassles of air travel in their strides, shrugging off any inconveniences, young ones’ style.

Whilst on our travels, to my delight, Rob found a tapas bar at Burriana beach which had a whole page of vegetarian tapas on the menu (eating in Spain is difficult for him, being a vegetarian who doesn’t like eggs!!).We decided to order all six options and share them, expecting that this was likely to be too much, but hey, it is their holiday.The bowls of olives were delicious, particularly the ones filled with jalapeño peppers and the raw strips of veges to dip in the spicy whiskey dip were delicious.However, these portions were rather small and the three little lettuce leaves filled with yoghurt and three manderine oranges were not really very tasty and the tiny dish of roasted potato cubes didn’t go very far, so we were really looking forward to our roasted vegetable skewers! Little did I think that such a dish could be prepared and delivered nouveau cuisine style! The first skewer came with four lonely pieces of vegetables at intervals on the stick – a bit of aubergine, a mushroom, some pepper and a third of a slice of one sleeve of an onion – the brown design on the plate by some drizzled sauce did look pretty, but pretty isn’t filling!!The vegetables on the cheesy skewer were just as lonely but at least had toasted cheese on them!Still being very hungry I ordered the champagne and lemon sorbet from the desert menu only to be presented with a lemon drink with a white blob floating in it.I have to say it tasted delicious but did nothing to reduce my remaining hunger.Straight from there to the icecream parlour was the only solution.Rob said he had enjoyed it all so that was good!

 Friday night we walked to the local Italian where I knew Rob would be certain of getting something vege and we all had a lovely meal.At the other end of the block to the restaurant is a bar where a live band were expected so we all went there after our meal.Sure enough live music began so Al and I left the young ones there at about 2.30 after I had found myself doing a bit of head banging, urged on by a Scottish woman, and began walking home with our torch, both very merry and probably not shining it too evenly.As we were meandering along the track near the main road, admiring the perfect half moon which had just risen I suddenly became aware of a big spotlight heading towards us and a Guardia Civil (police) car stopped on the other side of the road.A deep Spanish voice shouted some enquiry we couldn’t understand and continued approaching us with his big flashlight so Alex, in his pigeon, drunken Spanish explained that we were English and we were going to our house whilst I shielded my eyes from the beam! It certainly made our torch with dimming batteries seem very dim and flickery. Anyway, this seemed to be what he needed to know as he uttered something which had reassuring tones, then returned to his car!Subsequent images in my mind of what we had looked like from his perspective kept me amused for the rest of our journey home.

Rob and Sophie had a good night mixing with local Spaniards communicating by gesture, odd Spanish words, a bit of French and drawings, returning home at 0700 to the delight of all the neighbourhood dogs who had been having such a boring night until then!

Fourth Bulletin

The morning after the night before.

Our return to the evening Feria proved very entertaining with the band singing and dancing, villagers dancing in couples, food being served both BBQs and restaurant a la carte (we had eaten of course so apart from some cardboard cheesy puffs didn’t have any food) and a general hub bub of happy activity.

Still no farmers bringing their goats so maybe that was in by-gone days or someone was winding us up.

We decided to stay until the main act whcih was due to start at 1.30. However, as the crowning of the Queens was supposed to happen at 12 and didn’t start until nearly one, we guessed it would be delayed.

Sure enough at 2.15ish a rather dashing flamenco guitarist and glittery singer arrived, complete with their own pine dining chairs. They sat themselves down on stage and after a lengthy and skilled guitar intro the glittery woman started to sing! Now, I have worked on a labour ward so I thought I knew what howling sounded like, but no, that was like heavenly music compared to the agonising protracted wails this glittery woman emitted. I tried very hard to understand what it was all about and to share the enthusiasm of my Spanish neighbours but completely failed! As the notes escalated and our nerves quivered, we drifted off home and judging by the disapproving frown I received from one of her fans, it wasn’t a moment to soon. We were able to hear her all the way home!

I don’t think we will stay for the top act tonight! I think this experience has demonstrated how we are socialised into music appreciation in our own cultures rather than it being innate.

Hope the photos give a clear picture of how it is. Sadly, we never saw anyone ride the cylinder bulls, or the dodgems the poor fair people looked really depressed. Maybe tonight will be their night.