Some sad news.........

A couple of weeks ago, after several months of virtually no rainfall, we had a ferocious storm, with thunder, lightning, torrential rain and giant hail stones. The mountains turned a January white in June and the caminos became rivers. The main dry river bed rambla, ran half a metre deep with muddy water, all the way to the Ria Almanzora.

The rambla running

While we were taking in this spectacle, we spotted a lone golden eagle struggling high in the sky against this deluge. 

Now I am very sorry to report that the Barranco has one fewer golden eagle; because while out walking the dogs this morning, they found its shrunken body.

I collected some of its still beautiful feathers.

Hopefully, new birds will take its place. I remember well the day we climbed up the mountain and witnessed a dozen young golden eagles departing on their annual migration. Perhaps one of those will return.

Young golden eagles starting their migration from the Sierra Estancias

Fruit harvest

It was a warm evening so I was outside reading, and enjoying the tranquillity and scenery of the valley, as the sun started to disappear and reflect golden on the mountains.

Then my husky cross Millie started a low growl; the sort of growl she gives when, while not feeling threatened, everything is not quite how it should be. The subject of Millie’s disquiet were two of my neighbours, David and Gregorio who had arrived with baskets and a ladder to pick the cherries off the large tree next to the acequia. This tree is too large to be netted, so they needed to try and beat the birds to the ripe juicy fruit.

They could have employed the tree climbing scarecrows employed by other neighbours. Father Christmas and Michael Jackson!

We too had some picking to do – apricots, which we will give away; stew and freeze; jam; dry and turn into chutney.

Two days of hot sun and the  dried apricots are ready.

Flowers from the mountain

My neighbours (vecinos) are always up to something in the campo. Country folk do different things to  ‘townies’ like me, and because it’s Spain and my vecinos are Spanish, the things they do in the ‘campo’ are even more different!

They always know the season and the place to be out collecting from the campo – wild asparagus; herbs; mushrooms; scented plants and capers, to name just a few: The other evening I saw Francesca and Anna on the mountain side collecting something into plastic bags, and I wanted to know what was going on. My vecinos are very patient with me when it comes to my curiosity and ignorance. They explained that in Oria tomorrow there would be a Mass and procession for Corpus Christi (Ascension Day). They were collecting flower petals to scatter around the village.

Anna and Franchesca

A little later Isobel came past our Casa with her grandson Jose. They had been up to the fuente (spring) to light candles. I asked her if she would be going to Oria in the morning. She replied, “Of course, the village will be very beautiful with all the flower petals in the streets”, so we decided to go as well and take some photos.

Possibly, “The best little potato patch in the whole world!”

Right at the start of this Blog, I said that it was about a place, where hardly anything ever happened, and that’s as true today, as it was when I wrote it. That’s perhaps why I haven’t been as prolific about writing about the place as I’d hoped to be.

However, something has happened this week, and I’ve got the ‘fotos’ to prove it.

It all started with the trundling of a JCB down the camino! Its’ hopper was filled with well rotted goat manure, and it was headed towards Andre’s huerta (vegetable garden); but not before Heth had bravely stood there to halt it, so that she could shovel out some, to feed our roses.

Next day I took the dogs for their afternoon walk, down the same camino. We went past the huerta, where Andre and Isobel had been joined by Antonia and Antonio for some 'team' potato planting.  Their mattocks were being skilfully wheeled to start the creation of the ridges that the emerging potato shoots needed, and the furrows, that would collect the water, from the balsa,  to swell the tubers.

We went on by the balsa (a water tank fed by natural spring) and up into the closest almond grove. The almond blossom has all but disappeared now, but the emerging spring flora in the alpine meadow more than compensates.

Once there; I just sat on a rock in the spring sunshine, to peruse the valley below and watch the activity in the potato field. Everything was coming together according to experience and craft, learned and passed down over centuries.

Meanwhile, the dogs did their usual things.

Holly raced up the mountain to chase rabbits, real and imagined, returning wild eyed and breathless.

Millie just mooched around, fascinated by the lizards starting to emerge from hibernation, that scurried between the clumps of esparto grass.

And all the while, down below, probably  the most perfect little potato patch in the world was emerging.

Evening Visitors

I love sitting out late in the warm evenings while the mountains slowly surround us with their shadow. I love to just sit taking in the sounds and the sights of the night.

Once the bee eaters have made their noisy departure, few sounds break the peace, apart from the cicadas in the pine trees that create their symphony that ebbs and flows with intensity through the night. Sometimes, I hear the  Scops owls making their ‘poo..poo..poo’ cry, so characteristic of a Mediterranean summer night. There is an occasional dog bark or the sound of the Derbyshire birds that greet each other across the valley with a friendly ‘Hey Up, Hey Up’. That’s right - peacocks.

 In Barranco de Quiles, There are no street lights to spoil the vista of the Milky Way or the constellations. A multitude of satellites track across the sky, and I enjoy the sighting of the International Space Station, that often crosses the valley in a matter of minutes, looking like a huge lantern. Nothing compares though to the thrill of seeing the shooting stars.

Every night of the summer the family of geckos comes to hunt the insects attracted by the dim wall light.

But tonight is a different night.

Around midnight, at the crown of the hill, dancing torchlights appear along the narrow road. Soon, I hear excited voices chattering and laughing in the darkness. The small group come down the dark lane, and disappears on round the bend. Then another group of people come along: then another: and another, and soon the barranco is filled with the sounds of people expecting a party! The fireworks that they light, erupt into the peace of the night - huge explosions! This is the Romería de Saliente!

These are the pilgrims heading off to the mountain top monastery and church at Saliente, which at 1501 meters is the highest mountain near us.

Each year, many 100's of people assemble in the bars of the surrounding towns and villages, discussing their strategies for the long nighttime walk, and taking the refreshment to help them achieve their goal!

Then they all converge on the beautiful 18^th century mountain top church, which has been declared a monument of artistic and historical importance to celebrate in honour of the 'Virgen of Saliente'. They are joined by many 1000's of other pilgrims who arrive by car, and then undertake a shorter pilgrimage up the steep path, to lay thick carpets of flowers all around the alter.

An incredible sight!

The season's changing

The sun hadn’t yet come over the mountain when I set off with the dogs for our morning walk. The air was a little nippy and I was glad that I have already got this winter’s supply of logs in. There were six and a half tonnes of cut olive logs delivered, that will fit straight into the central heating boiler without me having to spend hours toiling with chain saw and axe to make them fit. What a job it was to get them into the dry store. Fortunately, I was able to enlist the help of my mate Pape from the market who was glad of the work.

We went past the huerta where Esperanza grows her tomatoes, onions, beans and calabazas. I had seen her the other day in Oria and she had told me to help myself to any I wanted because she had all she needed.

Jose was out early too, directing the water flow from the acequia onto his small olive grove.

Soon we came upon Gregorio and Antonia collecting their almonds. They had spread nets under the tree and were beating the branches with long poles to bring down the nuts.

Millie will have to hurry if she wants to get her share of the almonds 

because soon the big almond grapping tractor which can strip a tree in thirty seconds will be visiting the nearby fields.

Then just before we returned to the casa we came across  Antonio collecting the ripe purple figs. I must remember to collect some of mine today, so that I can get them drying with the tomatoes in the still hot late summer sun.

Pape Sec

I had the early shift with the dogs today, and I was so glad I did.  The pink and white almond blossom both scented and tinted the land, and the sun’s red ball slowly rose from the Mediterranean, but I ended this walk feeling so really angry and guilty too!

My phone had rung as I was nearly back at the casa. It was Pape Sec, my very good Senegalese market trader friend. He was distraught. He was about to set off this morning, to go to market, when he discovered that his battered old van had been broken into, and that his entire stock of handbags had been stolen.

Let me tell you a little about Pape. He’s been in Spain for about 5 years now. He arrived from Senegal on a flight from Dacca to Madrid, and entered the country on a legal visa, which had cost him and his family, what was for them a fortune. They had saved for several years, to raise this. The investment in Pape, was an investment for all the family. Prospects for him to earn any kind of income in Senegal were so poor that the sacrifice of not seeing his family – his mother, wife and two young children for several years (5 years so far) was worth it. The legal visa provided for only one visit. A few of his friends, who arrived here several years ago, now have all the necessary paperwork, and are able to travel back to Senegal by car, and then legally return. When they do, Pape is able to send his family all kinds of small gifts – soap, hand cream, candles, paper and pencils not readily available or affordable there. He has also been able to send money, sometimes 10 Euros, sometimes 20 Euros that have really helped the quality of life of his immediate family, and repay the debt of the visa.

Pape’s dream is that one day he will be able to legally return to Senegal, to see his wife, children and ageing mother. His brother died about 6 months ago. A return to the funeral wasn’t an option! He does accept though that the best he can hope for in life is to be a migrant worker, living far from home, seeing his family just occasionally, but at least able to provide them with a life above subsistence level.

To become legal in Spain, Pape has to fulfil several criteria. He has to be able to prove he has lived here for 3 years. He has to show that he has significant funds in the bank. He also has to show that he is making contributions to the Spanish National Insurance system, either as a self employed person (305 Euros per month and not many traders of any nationality can afford to pay this) or by being an employee of a company. Unemployment in Spain since ‘El Crisis’ (the international financial meltdown), is running well above 20%, so there is virtually no chance of gaining employment other than by occasional ‘unofficial’ agricultural labour. Apparently, it is possible to purchase a ‘contracto’ – paperwork from an ‘employer’ to show that national insurance contributions are being paid by them – but many of these are simply schemes to rip off poor and desperate people.

So in reality, it seems Pape must struggle on. He lives in a flat only intended for two people, but ‘hot bedding’ with 5 others! He must hope that the world wide recession will come to an end soon so that he can get any kind of a wage paying job, or that he can maybe sell just a few more handbags each week for 12 Euros – that he paid 5 Euros for – after travelling 2hours each way to the wholesaler in Elche, at a cost of 40 Euros of diesel – to purchase them! 

And so I feel guilty that my life is relatively uncomplicated. By and large I can afford the ‘necessities’ of life and then some! If I need to return to see family in the UK, I can be there next day – if not sooner.  However, my mate Pape lives on the edge of economic and emotional survival. He strives under the most difficult circumstances to do his best for the family who he has not seen for years, and has little prospect of doing so soon, so that they can have a marginally better life.

And then some ‘low life’ steals his means of survival from him. The handbags they took represent Pape’s very struggling business. Even at the good markets Pape sells very few or even no bags these days, because local people, understandably, are hanging onto their money. The ‘low life’ is probably struggling to survive just like Pape – but that doesn’t stop getting me so angry, that they would harm someone so vulnerable.