FIESTA IN GUAJAR ALTO

Guájar Alto’s annual fiesta in honour of its patron, the Virgen de la Aurora, has just ended and after three days and nights of uninterrupted celebrations, a strange hush has fallen on the village.
It was a successful event, well-organized by a team of dedicated mayordomos . The usual religious processions and solemn masses took place every day and there were special entertainments for the children which included the popular fiesta de la espuma in which machines spray everyone with foam and, of course, a bouncy castle and face-painting workshop. Various bands, groups and solo singers provided non-stop musical accompaniment and local theatre groups gave performances; for those who didn’t go to bed during the three days of festivities there was a surprise visit from a Brasilian drum band at 5:30 on the second morning. A military band also made an appearance, marching round the village beating drums or carrying rifles. In Spain, everyone dances and so the second night of the fiesta, as always, was dedicated to dancing.
Eating and drinking are an important part of the ritual of the Spanish fiesta and on the last day everyone was offered paella, prepared and cooked in the square in enormous, steaming pans. In the heat of the afternoon it was pleasant to drink with it tinto de verano, a refreshing and popular summer drink which consists of red wine, lemonade, a hint of vermouth and plenty of ice. The village square, where all the activities took place, was packed with people enjoying themselves; August is a busy month in Guájar Alto because not only are there a number of foreign visitors who have holiday homes here, but also people who have left the village to work or get married and who have returned to spend the month of the annual vacation with their families.
During the pleasantly relaxed afternoons of the fiesta we were entertained by an outstandingly accomplished band of young musicians from Marbella. Spanish bands are different from traditional English brass bands because there are more woodwind instruments and the resulting sound has a haunting, plaintive quality which reflects the Arabic influence on the music of this country.
It’s customary to dress up for the village fiesta and so the women in their best finery, complete with silk shawls and fans, and all the little girls in their best frocks and ribbons in their hair, made a colourful picture. When the paella was served, everyone was presented with a straw hat and a brightly coloured scarf, making it an even more vivid scene.
Noise is another important component of the fiesta ritual so throughout the celebrations the deafening sound of exploding rockets, either accompanying the solemn processions or announcing the beginning of each event, reverberated through the mountains. At night, firework displays lit up the sky.

A MOUNTAIN EXCURSION

In a convoy of private vehicles we set off in high excitement for our next village excursion, an exploration of the mountains. We headed south, zig-zagging up the steep, stony tracks above the forests of pines. Our first stop was to admire the view; below us lay Guájar Alto with its clustered, white buildings with their bright, red rooftops, as tiny as a toy village, and in the distance, beyond our own, familiar Sierra de las Guájaras (note the feminine ending here, to correspond with the word Sierra) the great Sierra Nevada itself, looking curiously naked without the snow which clothes its peaks for much of the year.
We continued our ascent, by which time all sense of direction was lost, and reaching the summit of a hill, through a billowing cloud of sea mist, we found ourselves looking down upon a sprawling urbanization which, we were told, was Molvizar. On clear days it is possible to see the whole of the Costa Tropical and the coastline as far as Málaga but, on this morning, there was not a glimpse of the sea to be had. Undaunted, we had elevenses, sharing wine and sangria.
Turning northwards, we continued our journey. We passed many plantations of vines, as well as olives, almonds and chestnut trees, and were intrigued to see that there appeared to be no means of irrigation. Because of the high humidity, it wasn’t necessary, we were told. We stopped to look at a great chestnut tree, reputed to be a thousand years old; it took five big men with arms outstretched to span the width of its huge trunk.
Heading in the direction of Lentegí, we halted again to admire the view. The scent of aromatic herbs - marjoram, lavender and rosemary - filled the air. It was all very green and lush compared with the parched, summer landscape we had left behind. All the while we were pursued by the white sea mist, as dense as blown smoke. At last, turning back towards the way we had come, the sky cleared. Guájar Alto was below us again, bathed in a pool of sunshine. Only another half an hour of driving, we were told, then we’d be stopping for lunch.
From my cortijo I can see the next track along which we continued our adventure. It is carved into the sheer, precipitious side of a jagged, white mountain and should not be embarked upon by the faint-hearted. Nearing the end of this rocky and terrifying pass, we stopped to climb a ridge and admire the scenery. Sure enough, there was my cortijo in the distance and, to my surprise, I suddenly realised that we were actually only a very short scramble from the flat summit of El Fuerte, the towering mountain which is Guájar Alto’s most distinctive feature.
At last, we joined the steep road which descends to Guájar Alto, following the course of the River Toba. At the junction we passed the remains of a stone-built kiln used for the extraction of herbal essences, once a major industry in Los Guájares. The kilns were fuelled with dried scrub layered with heat-retaining stones and our passengers told us that this particular kiln was used for extracting juniper essence. Although this plant is now scarce and, as a result, protected by law, we have a number on our land and I’ve often thought it a shame that the berries should go to waste. I think I’ll have to set up a gin distillery.
Leaving the road, we turned off down a track and on to the land belonging to a member of our party. Here, in a shady oasis, we set out ou

A VILLAGE RAMBLE

There is a heatwave currently affecting most of Spain and in Guájar Alto, during the hottest hours of the day when a profound langour settles upon the village, there’s nothing much anyone can do other than laze in the shade or splash about in the swimming pool. By contrast, the nights are wonderfully cool; people sit outside their houses chatting and children play in the street until the early hours. All around, the air is saturated with the heavenly scent of flowering shrubs.

We had another organized village excursion - on foot, this time. A group of about a dozen of us, all wearing lime-green T-shirts and red caps ( to the great amusement of the other villagers ) set off in the cool of early morning to walk along the course of the river Toba in the direction of Guájar Faragüit. For much of the route, the river bed (practically dry in summer ) runs parallel with the road and often when driving in or out of the village we’d wondered about the ancient aquaducts and derelict buildings along its banks. Apparently, they are relics of a flour mill and it seems that since the times of Arab occupation crops of wheat and maize, watered by means of a system of canals, were grown in Guájar Alto.
We passed a small, concrete-lined reservoir which, we were told, once provided the village houses with water. There was also a spot where villagers used to swim and if they fancied a beer or other refreshment, they would ring a handbell to attract the attention of the proprietor of a small chiringuito ( a kiosk selling drinks ) on the other side of the road; he would then walk across with their order. The chiringuito, a small, concrete block, still stands by the side of the road, forlorn and derelict.
Along the riverbed are pools of water in which all kinds of aquatic creatures and plants must thrive. I would have liked to linger to look for the little terrapins which are found in this kind of habitat but I had to keep up with the rest of the party since the route we were following is quite tricky in places and assistance from the gallant, male members of the group was at times required.
As the sun rose higher, we were shaded from its heat by the precipitous, overhanging rocks. After a while, the riverbed broadened out and we found ourselves in a recreation area furnished with seats and tables. The Spanish always have a mid-morning snack so we stayed there for a while so that the sandwiches and other refreshments we’d brought could be consumed. Our rucksacks now considerably lightened, we scrambled up a steep path through a pine forest from the summit of which is a fine view of Guájar Alto and its dominant mountain, El Fuerte.
Continuing on our way, we wound along a narrow track, single-file, until we evntually found ourselves on a dusty track which the villagers call Camino Roto ( broken road ). We’d come full circle and were now heading back towards the village. Now and again, someone would burst into song and the rest would join in. The mayordomos of Guájar Alto are the best, sang the steward leading the party. Better than the mayordomos of Faragüit! This was a reference to the good-natured rivalry between the three villages which comprise Los Guájares and resulted in much laughter.
We passed a number of farms, obviously well-irrigated and fertile judging from the lushness of the vines, olives, avocados and fruit trees. People working on their land were quite startled to see such a large group of people on a road along which, these days, few travel and our lurid green T-shirts and red caps caused much hilarity. I told one man, who’d stopped work to stare at us in astonishment, that I felt like a mountain goat after the terrain we’d just negotiated.
By now, we were all very hot indeed and as we entered the village, we made our way straight to the first of the fountains where we were able to drink the spring water and splash our faces. After that, we had to parade ourselves through the main street and then back again to the house of one of the members of our group for a very jolly hour of tapas and drinks.
August is the month of fiestas in Los Guájares. Guájar Fondón have already had theirs and Guájar Faragüit is currently putting up the flags in preparation for their fiesta which begins this weekend. Guájar Alto is the last to celebrate its annual fiesta which will take place in a week’s time and, already, there is an atmosphere of excitement as the villagers gear themselves up for the festivities.