Guajar Diary by Margaret Merry

THE END

2010-02-14T00:11:00.000-08:00

After four happy and stimulating years we sold our cortijo in Guajar Alto last month. We shall miss the beautiful mountain scenery, wonderful walks, the fascinating flora and fauna, our friends and the ambience of Spanish village life.

Unfortunately it has been extremely difficult to earn a living in Los Guajares. The remoteness, lack of cultural interest and a market for art were the main problems. We feel we have experienced everything the area offers and it was time to move on.

We have bought an olive farm in El Poniente Granadino near the towns of Loja and Huétor Tájar. The new property, although you have to ford a river to get to it, is within easy reach of Granada city and many historical towns - see www.countryhouseinspain.wordpress.com.

The landscape, although not so dramatic and awe inspiring as the mountains of Los Guajares, is very pretty with its rolling hills of olives, river valleys and the vega of Granada with its backdrop of the Sierra Nevada. There are going to be endless subjects to paint and we are converting outbuildings into a studio for me and a room for an office and print production.

My current blogs www.margaretmerry.wordpress.com and www.margaretmerrypaintings.wordpress.com will continue and my guajar blog will be replaced by a new blog - www.lifearoundloja.blogspot.com although I will keep it posted as it is a useful refernce for people interested in Los Guajares.

AUTUMN RAMBLE

2009-10-30T09:30:00.000-07:00

Yesterday we repeated the long walk which I recorded on this blog on the 30th April. This time, our fiends Mike and Trudy came up from Salobreña, on the coast, to join us. It was another beautiful morning and very warm for late October.

The first part of the walk is a long climb up a track through almond groves and pine woods until the top of the ridge of Entresierras, at an altitude of 1,000 metres, is reached. Here, there is a crossroads where we encountered another group of walkers, the first we have ever met on our rambles. Although the group comprised only 8 people, there were Spanish, English, French and Germans in the company. They had driven up from Almuñecar on the coast and parked in the village of Lentegi below. The steep climb to the summit was as far as they were going. Meanwhile, we took a right turn and followed the ridge. To our east we could see the mountains of the Sierra Nevada with almond groves in the foreground. Unlike the end of April, there was no snow - very unusual for this time of year - on the peaks. To the west was the jagged outline of the mountains of Malaga, while to the south a thin veil of sea mist obscured the coast.

We continued along the track behind El Fuerte, the mountain that dominates Guájar Alto, and stopped for a picnic lunch. The late autumn sunshine provided beautiful light for photography, casting long shadows that accentuated the relief of the mountains and illuminated the dried grasses in the foreground. We then began the long winding descent down to the Rio Toba. Just before we reached the country road that follows the river, we stopped to look at the old oven which was once used for extracting the essence from juniper berries.

Our mountain track joins the river track about 7km from Guájar Alto and we made our way along it back to the village and a well earned beer at Carmen’s Bar. We had set out shortly after 10am and arrived at the village at 5pm. It was a very enjoyable day but the walk is quite demanding and both humans and dogs slept well last night.

GUÁJAR LA VIEJA AND GIRALDA

2009-10-24T09:18:00.001-07:00

After our morning walk we took a short drive up the rural tracks to the highest mountain, Giralda, in the Sierra de Las Guájaras (note the feminine ending here) situated directly opposite our house, passing Guájar La Vieja (Old Guájar) on the way. This is an isolated group of houses which once was an important farm. Over generations the land has become divided and the hamlet deserted. A few of the buildings have been converted to barns as some villagers who own parts of the original estate still farm bits of the land.

The light was wonderfully clear and the panoramic views were stunning. We took many photographs. Even at that height, it was exceptionally warm for late October. The rich greens of the pines and the leaves of the almond trees, now russet, contrasted strikingly with the grey and brown rock of the mountains. From our elevated position we could see the the sierras of Motril and the Mediterranean shimmering in the distance.

We collected firewood in anticipation of the colder winter nights, and on the way back, stopped to pick some pomegranates on an abandoned piece of land. The Spanish word for pomegranate is ‘granada’ and I think it’s a great pity that the fruit which symbolises this province is nowadays not considered worth harvesting.

BACK TO NORMAL

2009-10-24T09:16:00.000-07:00

In contrast to Thursday’s rain and rainbows, yesterday was much brighter, and this morning was even more glorious. We took the dogs for a walk first thing, before it got too warm in the unusually hot sunshine, and repeated the photo I published on the last blog. Also, here is a photo of the village of Guájar Alto taken during our walk.

OCTOBER RAINS

2009-10-22T04:06:00.000-07:00

At last the October rains have arrived. There is thick snow on the Sierra Nevada and the temperature in Los Guajares has dropped to 19C. After a long dry spell the rain is welcome particulary for the vegetable garden and the olives which we will start harvesting for oil in about 2 weeks time. Here is a photo taken this morning from our land of the mountain, El Fuerte. In the clear mountain light the colours of rainbows are always intense. The unsettled weather is not set to last as we are promissed a fine weekend with temperatures bach up to 25C.
Country House For Sale - check out
www.countryhouseinspain.wordpress.com

GHOST STORY FOR HALLOWEEN

2009-10-17T04:12:00.000-07:00

I posted the article, Ghosts of Granada, on this blog in October 2008.
Please have a look at it again.

Some time later, I was asked by someone who'd read the published piece if
I'd ever seen any physical manifestations while we were living in the
villa. I replied that although I hadn't seen anything or anyone, I had
formed in my mind an impression of a man. He was bearded, wore spectacles
and was neatly dressed in - unusual for a Spaniard from the area - a light
coloured tweed jacket and a shirt and tie. I sensed that this person had a
deep loathing of dogs and that our presence in the house was resented. My
husband said, on hearing this, that he'd seen the landlady not long ago in
the company of a man -evidently her new boyfriend - who fitted this
description entirely. From this, I conclude that she's attracted to this
type of man and that the person whom I'd pictured in my imagination was
her dead husband.

The other day, I was chatting to a woman who asked me to drop in on her
should I be passing. When I asked her where she lived, and she told me
that her house is on the same urbanization as the rented villa which we
were forced to abandon, I explained that I was reluctant to return to the
area in question and gave her a brief account of what had happened to us.
She then told me that she, too, has experienced strange happenings - in
this instance, the kitchen- where objects have been moved, lights
unaccountably dimmed and a strongly felt presence of whom she believes is
the son of her friend, a young man who committed suicide from an overdose
of drugs.

I'm wondering if it's possible that some kind of unusual radiation,
emanating from the geological fault lines with which the zone in question
is riven, could be a reason for these curious events. The whole area has
an unpleasant 'feel' about it, and there is a sense of it having a dark
history. Indeed, it is known that a number of Nazis, fleeing retribution
after the German surrender in WW2, settled there.

This article is being set up for discussion on the American web site on 19th October
http://www.phibble.com/halloween
and will be talked about on the radio (link from the site) on the 26th October.

GUAJAR ALTO - LENTEGI

2009-10-12T08:07:00.000-07:00

Today is a public holiday in Spain - el Dia de la Hispanidad - so we decided to take a drive over the mountains to Lentegi. As the eagle flies (no crows up in these mountains) Lentegi is only about 6km from Guajar Alto but to drive to it up and down the winding mountain track takes about 40 minutes.

The journey is worth it for the spectacular mountain views, particularly on a day like today in the lovely light of the soft October sunshine. As you climb above Guajar Alto you can look back at the Sierra Nevada mountains but no snow has settled on them yet. In the opposite direction the jagged peaks of the mountains of Malaga, the Sierra de Almijara, soon come into view.

Lentegi is a pretty, well kept village and we sat on the terrace of the little bar next to the church and had a glass of wine and tapas before going for a stroll through the avacodo and nispero orchards that surround the village. The rock formations around Lentegi are fascinating and the soil must be fertile to support such an abundance of fruit trees. I hope you enjoy the photos.

OCTOBER MORNING

2009-10-10T02:16:00.000-07:00

We are having a spell of beautiful, warm weather so I took these photos of our house this morning with the cosmos daisies in flower at the entrance to the terrace. To read more about this property go to www.countryhouseinspain.wordpress.com.

ROMERIA DE ROSARIO SALOBREÑA

2009-10-04T08:45:00.000-07:00

This morning we drove down to Salobreña, on the coast, to see the annual procession and fiesta of The Virgen de Rosario. She is one of the patron saints of Salobreña and every October a romaría is held in her honour.

I was particularly keen to look at the parade of beautiful Andalusian horses as my most recently published book, The Adventure of Princess The Pony, is about horses and I was hoping to get some inspiration for another book, or perhaps for some paintings of horses.

I certainly wasn’t disappointed: the weather was glorious and the light, the colour, the noise and the festive atmosphere created a wonderfully vivid scene. There were numerous, brightly decorated floats and horse-drawn carriages. The men were elegant in dark trousers, waistcoats red bandannas and boater hats, and the women and girls resplendent in frilled dresses, their hair adorned with ornate combs and flowers. The immaculately groomed horses gleamed in the bright sunlight, as did the two oxen pulling the lavishly decorated carriage on which reposed the Virgen de Rosario.

Led by the band, the procession made its way through the streets lined with spectators and down to the beach, where a solemn mass was held to honour the virgin. Afterwards, the horses ‘strutted their stuff’ along the beach. We took lots of photos and I hope you enjoy these images.

PRESERVING OLIVES

2009-09-30T02:53:00.000-07:00

Olives destined for the table are picked while they are plump, firm, and just beginning to turn from green to yellow, as they are now. When the olives become soft and black, which will be in a month’s time, they will be harvested for oil.

Having selected the best of the olives, the next step is to make a slit in each one with a small, sharp knife. This is very important, as it draws out the bitterness. The olives are then covered with spring water, into which a handful of sea salt has been dissolved. After four days, the olives are drained and covered with a fresh solution of brine. This process has to be repeated at least four times, or until the bitterness has been removed. Some people preserve the olives in water, but I prefer to put them into jars, with plenty of peeled cloves of garlic, plus a bay leaf or two, and cover them with last year’s olive oil. After a few days, they are ready to eat. Prepared this way, olives keep well, retain their nutty flavour, and don’t become soggy.

WINTER VEGETABLES

2009-09-30T02:51:00.000-07:00

WINTER VEGETABLES

There has been more torrential rain to the north and east of us, and this morning we were watching on Spanish TV film footage of the floods in Almeria, Murcia and Alicante. These areas are still on orange alert for more heavy rain. Up here in Los Guajares we have escaped the worst of the weather and the rains have been welcome. Showers, punctuated by long spells of warm sunshine, have provided ideal conditions for replanting our vegetable garden with winter produce.

We have sown broad beans, carrots and spinnach. Broad beans (habas) are a very popular crop in Andalucia during the winter. They are very sweet and because they don’t have the tough skins of beans grown in colder climates, they’re often eaten raw. When the first crop is ready, you often see piles of discarded pods on the floors of the local bars, where they’re offered as tapas. Habas need to be sown early because later crops suffer from blackfly infestation, a garden pest which is on the increase, and occurring earlier with each consecutive spring, due to climate change. We have also planted seedlings of winter lettuce, cauliflower, broccoli, red cabbage and onions. Our vegetables are grown without pesticides and we compost all our kitchen waste. We also collect goat manure from the nearest corral.

Our organic vegetable garden is a wildlife haven. The compost bin is literally alive with all kinds of insects, worms and grubs. Spotted flycatchers perch on the bean canes all day long, making frequent forays to snatch flying insects. Frogs and toads have also taken up residence by the compost bin, again because of the plentiful supply of insects. I’ve seen numerous male spiders of the Argiope lobata genus, which favour rank vegetation, but only one female example. Five times larger than the male, it is a most striking creature with a pale, yellowish abdomen, lobed around the edges and shaped like a limpet’s shell. Small rodents are also attracted to the vegetable garden and are hunted at night by owls. By day, eagles circle overhead, looking for the lizards and snakes which feed on the insects.

A STROLL TO FARAGÜIT

2009-09-24T09:19:00.000-07:00

Today, on another beautiful September morning, we set off to walk along the old mountain track to Guájar Faragüit. You start this walk by taking turning left at the entrance to Guajar Alto. You can either follow the old mule track upwards, as we did earlier this week (see previous blog), or stick to the wider country lane. Either way, when you come to the first junction, turn left.

This wide track, passable in a 4x4 vehicle, hugs the contours of the mountains overlooking the valley of Los Guájares. We wandered through pine woods and olive and almond groves. When Guájar Faragüit comes into sight there are some spectacular views of the village, looking into the light through the pines and olives, with the Contraviesa mountains as a backdrop.

Although I am not a geologist, I found the rock formations and the lovely shades of the different minerals, in the form of very fine sand, along this walk fascinating. Next time, I shall take some containers so that I can collect samples.

The track ends abruptly in the middle of an olive grove, but from here we picked up a narrow path which winds in a steep descent down precipitous slopes to the Rio Toba below. We were glad we had good walking boots for negotiating this path. The going is muddy as you approach the valley, and the stones are slippery. Curtains of maidenhair fern tumble from the damp rocks, and there are frogs and darting dragonflies.

When we got to the river, the dogs had a welcome drink and a swim in the clear, turquoise green water. We then forded the river and found a path that took us up the opposite bank to the main road and through the valley outside Guájar Faragüit. We returned to Guájar Alto along the road, stopping for some refreshment at the communal picnic area along the way. The walk took us 4 hours.

RUTA DE LOS GUAJAREÑOS

2009-09-22T02:58:00.000-07:00

This morning we walked the first part of the old mule track, Ruta de los Guájareños, that the people from the village took to reach civilisation before the current road, along the Rio Toba, linking Guájar Alto with the main Granada road, was built.

At the entrance to the village turn left up the rural road and then, about 100 metres on, just before a little goat farm, take the track to the left. This winds down into a barranco (ravine) and from here you need to climb up the path on the left of the barranco, through the pine forests. Nobody seems to use this path now but you can tell from worn cobbles that it was once a well-used camino (road). There are some lovely views of Guájar Alto as you look back. The meandering path eventually comes out on to a wide dusty camino. Here, the old villagers would have turned left and continued with their mules, carrying produce to sell in the market, to Motril via Guájar Fondón. However, as we were going for a short stroll, we turned right and eventually came to a crossroads where another right turn brings you back down to the village. This walk takes about 2 hours.

It was a beautiful September morning (the autumnal equinox) with clear light and intense blue sky, but as usual we encountered nobody except, towards the end of our excursion, a farmer harvesting grapes. With the generosity typical of the villagers here, he presented us with a bunch of juicy sweet fruit. This provided welcome refreshment as it was beginning to get very warm. Here are some photos taken along the way.

SEPTEMBER WALKS

2009-09-19T08:36:00.000-07:00

Although it was a beautiful morning, a fresh breeze made it feel cooler than usual for the time of year, and so we decided to go on one of the long circular walks around our mountains. The walk was the same one I recorded on this blog on the 10th April, but if you look back in the archives at the photos I took that day you can see the change in the landscape. Dried grasses have replaced the colourful wild flowers of Spring but colour is provided by the fruits of the prickly pear cacti and pomegranate trees against the clear blue sky.

This walk takes about four hours if your starting point is the village centre. You take the camino out of the village along the Rio Toba and turn right just past the picnic and bathing area. When you reach the T junction at the top in the pine forests, turn right again and keep right, passing the ruins of Guájar La Vieja and hugging the north face of the Espejo, the escarpment that dominates Guájar Alto. After passing through the ruins of Cortijo de Girón, the camino descends to the main road, 2km before Guájar Alto. Here there is a picnic spot with a waterfall where we stopped so that our dogs could refresh themselves.

Mountain goats may be seen in the rocky slopes along this route, while eagles and kestrels patrol the sky. At the end of this month many migratory birds will be passing over our village, while already the swallows and bee eaters are lining up along the cables in preparation for their return to Africa.

SEPTEMBER RAINS

2009-09-16T03:10:00.000-07:00

After months of drought we had some heavy showers yesterday evening. The rain was very welcome as the two reservoirs which collect water from the Rio Toba to supply us and the neighbouring fincas are at a very low level. The olives which are ripening on our trees need water at this time of year to plump them up, otherwise they will shrivel to nothing. Here is a photo of this year’s crop taken this morning. Next month we will select some of the best olives for preserving and in November we will start to harvest the rest for oil.

We heard that there had been some early snow on the Sierra Nevada so this morning, which was beautifully clear, we walked up the mountain track behind our house until we reached an altitude where the Sierra Nevada comes into view. We were hoping to get some photos of the snow-clad peaks, but unfortunately the snow had already melted. Nevertheless the view was beautiful, as you can see from the photo.

At least this year we have so far escaped the terrible storms we experienced in September in 2006 and 2007. A storm reminiscent of these inspired the climax of my children’s book The Wise Old Boar (see www.margaretmerry.wordpress.com). Jaen, the next province, north of Granada, has not been so lucky. After heavy rains, there were severe floods there last night which caused two fatalities. The film of this on the news this morning was horrifying.

Regular readers may notice that I have changed the layout of this blog. It now has a follow feature in the margin. Please click on this to become one of my followers.

COUNTRY HOUSE FOR SALE

2009-09-11T07:09:00.000-07:00

Our country house in Guajar Alto is for sale. We are not moving from the area but need to move on to our next project. We have created our own blog for this property which we think is the nicest cortijo in the valley of Los Guajares. Have a look at our blog where we have posted a full description and lots of photos. This photo is of our pool terrace. www.countryhouseinspain.wordpress.com

PRINCESS PROOF

2009-09-11T03:55:00.001-07:00

I have just received the print proof copy of my third children's book, The Adventure Of Princess The Pony. I am very pleased with the quality of the production and it should be released for sale within a few weeks.

I posted a synopsis of the book and some of my illustrations on this blog in June. Here are a couple more. I will let you know when it is finally on sale.

FINCA FOR SALE

2009-09-09T03:17:00.000-07:00

I have to write about this finca for sale in Guajar Alto because it has been reduced in price to 89,000 euros from the original asking price of 129,000 euros and it is the only one for sale locally with planning permission from the Junta de Andalucia already in place for a family house

The finca has over 6,500 sq. metres of land, is just 10 minutes walk from Guajar Alto and is south facing, sheltered with superb mountain views and good access. It is mainly planted with olive trees in production but there are also numerous varieties of other fruit trees including avocado, mango, soft fruits and citrus.

Water and electricity are already connected to the land.

The Junta de Andalucia have approved plans for a vivienda unafamiliar (family house) of 227 sq. metres. This took the owners 3 years to get and is extremely complicated to obtain as planning regulations are getting stricter. This is a unique opportunity for somebody to construct their own country house without going through the planning minefield. The owners are selling because of a change in family circumstances.

Please contact info@guajar.com if you are interested.

IN SEPTEMBER THE GRAPES ARE RIPENING

2009-09-06T09:56:00.000-07:00

This weekend I thought I would be checking the proof copy of my third children’s book,The Adventure of Princess the Pony. When it did not arrive on Friday I contacted my publishers who traced it to a depot in Jaén, about 100 miles away, where it has been languishing for 10 days. The couriers claim they cannot deliver because there is no street on my address. I have told everybody that I live half-way up a mountain and there are no streets up here. I collect my mail from the little post office in the next village, Guájar Faragüit, but if a packet is sent via a courier, all they have to do is drop it off in Bar Carmen, in Guájar Alto.
Carmen signs for, and keeps safe, deliveries for many of us reclusive camposinos whom a courier van driver would never find.

Instead we have spent Sunday harvesting grapes so we can start making our annual vino de tierra. We have not enough grapes on our own land to fill a couple of barrels, so we normally supplement ours with grapes from neighbouring cortijos. This year we were asked to look after a small cortijo recently purchased by a Dutch lady who has returned to Holland for a few months. Her vines are rampant, obviously unattended for some time, and are climbing all over the rocky terrain below her house, collapsed with the weight of their own fruit. Her soil must be fertile because the crop was heavy and comprised mostly juicy sweet Muscatel grapes.

We follow the traditional process of making wine up here. First, we lay out the bunches of grapes in the sun for a few days in order to concentrate the sweetness and hence the alcohol content. Then we crush the grapes before putting them through a manual press. We simply pour the juice into oak barrels and leave it to ferment. After about 40 days the liquid in the barrel stops making a noise, indicating that it is ready to drink.

DAILY PAINTINGS

2009-08-30T03:13:00.000-07:00

I have just created a new blog www.margaretmerrypaintings.wordpress.com on which I hope to feature every day an original painting or book illustration from my archives. I have scanned all my work over the past few years so I have plenty of interesting pictures to show you although these may include paintings that have already been sold. I hope you will enjoy looking at them.

This is the first entry, called December Dawn in Guajar Alto, which is the view from my terrace.

10 MINUTES WITH...

2009-08-21T01:05:00.000-07:00

SUR in English is the major English language weekly newspaper in Spain and is distributed throughout Andalucia. They contacted me a couple of weeks ago asking me if I would submit an interview for “10 minutes with... “. This is a regular feature which takes the form of an interview with a local “celebrity”. For example, this week the interview is with Katie Price, aka the glamour model Jordan. Apparently she is making a quick visit to the Costa del Sol.

I willingly accepted to write the feature as I thought it would be good publicity for my books and rushed off my copy to meet their deadline for next week’s edition. This morning I have checked their site again to look at next week’s newspaper which has just gone on line and there I am on page 18. If you would like to read it on line go to www.surinenglish.com/print-edition/.

FIESTA 2009

2009-08-16T10:40:00.001-07:00

This weekend Guajar Alto has held its annual summer fiesta in honour of its patron saint Virgen de la Aurora. As usual the village was packed with visitors, mainly emigrants from the village returning to share the festivities with their families. Smartly dressed relatives living in Barcelona and Madrid stood out from their siblings who have spent their lives in this little village.

The economic crisis has had its effect even up here and the mayordomos (stewards) were unable to raise enough money to lay on the amount of entertainment we have had in previous years. Nevertheless, the firework display on Friday night was as spectacular as ever, the band of young musicians from Nigüelas entertained us morning and afternoon, the pop groups kept up their noise all night long and the communal paella today was enjoyed by all.

AUGUST EXODUS

2009-08-03T09:23:00.000-07:00

August has arrived, signalling the annual exodus from Granada Capital to the beaches of the Costa Tropical. Most families living in the city own an apartment in one of the coastal resorts dotted along the Costa Tropical de Granada. During the rest of the year these are mainly occupied at weekends, but when August arrives the city is deserted as its residents flee from the oppressive heat to enjoy a month by the beach and a climate tempered by the sea breezes. Photos taken yesterday of the centre of Granada published in today’s Ideal, the provincial local newspaper, show deserted strees with the headline “Dos de Agosto,la cuidad fantasma”.

There is no sea to cool off in up here in Guajar Alto, so summer visitors are few; but we do have our own little beach by the River Toba. Here, the villagers partially dam the river for the summer to create a swimming lake. This year it has been improved as the access road has now been cemented, the area cleaned up and stone tables and benches constructed. This is a favourite place with the village children and a popular picnic spot for families. See photos taken yesterday.

ANDALUCIAN HEATWAVE

2009-07-24T01:17:00.001-07:00

It’s high summer and the temperatures have soared into the 40s. At this time of year, the droning of little yellow firefighting planes, carrying water to and from the big reservoirs in the north of the province to extinguish mountain fires, is not an unfamiliar sound.

So far this summer, Andalucia has been the region most badly affected by fires, and in Almeria there have been two serious fires during the last few days, both in the same region. Hundreds of people have been evacuated from Mojacar, a popular resort, and on the TV news, there were startling pictures of the famous hill town silhouetted against a red wall of flame.

The airborne firefighting force comprises co-ordinating planes, helicopters carrying water, including some of large capacity, and a fleet of water carrying planes. On the ground are teams of specialists, fire appliances and experts from the environmnent department. Due to the professionalism of these forces, not to mention their remarkable bravery, fires are rapidly controlled and extinguished.

High up in the mountains of our area is a firewatch tower, permanently manned. From there, the beginning of any fire would be clearly visible. Obviously, the more quickly they are spotted, the easier they are to control. It ought to be mentioned that the worst fire ever in this region, in the Alpujarras, was started by a British person who made a bonfire in a densely forested mountainside. By coincidence, I was travelling from Granada to the coast when I saw the first flames devouring the mountainside.

Photos of my olive grove this morning

Our olive grove, which in spring was carpeted with wild flowers and lush grass, is now sparse stubble, parched tinder-dry by the ferocious sun. When we irrigate at night, the wild boar rootle around the bases of the trees for grubs and insects, churning up the damp soil as they do so.

Although we are experiencing a very hot and dry summer, thanks to the heavy snows which fell on the Sierra Nevada in this year’s unusually cold winter, the province of Granada has enough water to last a year, even if we don’t have another drop of rain.

THE WISE OLD BOAR

2009-06-29T23:25:00.000-07:00

The Wise Old Boar is now on sale. Copies can be bought on line at http://www.strategicbookpublishing.com/TheWiseOldBoar.html
I will be happy to sign any copies brought to me.

THE LONELY DIGGER

2009-06-25T02:37:00.000-07:00

The Lonely Digger is on sale now. Copies can be bought on line at http://www.strategicbookpublishing.com/TheLonelyDigger.html

I will be happy to sign any copies brought to me.
info@margaretmerry.com

PRINCESS THE PONY

2009-06-13T02:31:00.003-07:00

I have just finished my third children’s book inspired by Los Guajares. It is titled The Adventure Of Princess The Pony. The main character is a tiny Shetland foal who belongs to Jean Pierre, our local French baker, who has stables near Guajar Fondon. Other horses in the book which belong to Jean Pierre are Princess’ mother, Tornado his Andalucian stallion and another foal called Rosie. Among other animals featured are a mule from Faraguit, donkeys who live on an eco farm overlooking the sea in Salobreña and Luther a Spanish war horse who lives on a farm near Velez de Benaudalla. Here are some illustrations from the book and a synopsis.

I have received from the USA proof copies and draft press releases of my other 2 books, The Wise Old Boar and The Lonely Digger. Publication will be very soon. When they are released I will announce this on my blog and www.margaretmerry.com.

THE ADVENTURE OF PRINCESS THE PONY: SYNOPSIS

Princess the pony, a miniature Shetland foal, yearns for a playmate. One day, she manages to escape from the corral where she is stabled with her mother and sets off on a mission to find a friend. She has various encounters with other horses, as well as lambs, goats, donkeys and mules. Because she is so small, all the horses she attempts to befriend regard her with contempt, and the other animals want nothing to do with her.

During the course of her adventure, Princess leaves behind her a number of unclosed gates, including a paddock where Luther, who reigns over all the other horses, is grazing. He wanders out of the paddock and leads the horses to a river. A sudden downpour, followed by a flash flood, causes the river to swell and as the horses flee to safety, Luther’s leg is trapped in an abandoned fox’s lair. His companions try to release the leg by pushing their noses into an opening in the mound of soil, but they are all too big. At the last minute, Princess appears. She pushes her nose into the hole, and summoning all her strength, manages to free Luther’s leg.

The other horses applaud her courage and thus she becomes a heroine, with everyone wanting to be her friend.

THE CULTURE FESTIVAL OF LOS GUÁJARES

2009-05-17T11:38:00.001-07:00

Every year, Los Guájares holds a three day festival of culture comprising various events such as local drama group performances, exhibitions, activities for children, workshops and live music. The three villages - Guájar Alto, Guájar Faragüit and Guájar Fondón - take turns to host the festivities, and this year it was the turn of Guájar Fondón to do the honours.

Sunday, the final day, was celebrated by an open air mass, in the square by the church, to the accompaniment of a female sevillana choir, resplendent in flamenco costume. Afterwards, there was free paella for all, cooked in a giant pan in the street below. While people were queueing for their paella, they were entertained by a group of musicians dressed in mediaeval costume.

Exhibitions of paintings, crafts and photography were on display in various buildings around the square, and I was particularly impressed by the mimbre exhibition which consisted of baskets, hats, sandals, mats, etc., woven from the esparto grass which grows in the surrounding mountains. This, sadly, is a dying art and the examples on display were crafted by a local octogenarian called Antonio.

The atmosphere, typical of village events, and enhanced by perfect weather, was relaxed and pleasant.

LAS CRUCES DE MAYO

2009-05-04T13:09:00.000-07:00

Throughout Spain, at the beginning of May, the arrival of Spring is celebrated with the festival of Las Cruces de Mayo. Here, in Southern Andalucia, Spring has been with us for some while but this is no excuse for not celebrating the fiesta of Las Cruces.

In Granada and large towns like Motril, this is a major fiesta which lasts 3 days. Garages and empty shops are converted by the neighbours into temporary tapas bars, often with live music to which girls and women of all ages, resplendent in their flamenco dresses and embroidered shawls, dance the sevillana. The centrepiece of the celebration is a cross bedecked with flowers.

In the little village of Guagar Alto, our Cruz de Mayo was a humbler affair. The cross of flowers was erected in the square outside the church, and on Sunday afternoon the villagers congregated to enjoy food prepared on the spot and distributed free. Migas was cooked in a large cauldron and flavoured with sausages, fried peppers and bacalao. A barrel of beer, to which the villagers could help themselves, was also set up. The sun was warm and the village streets were saturated with the scents of jasmine, citrus blossom and roses.

SPRING WALKS 4

2009-04-30T12:12:00.000-07:00

Our fourth walk starts at the entrance to Guajar Alto where you turn left up the concrete lane off the main road. Following this track will lead you up through the avocado and olive orchards, the ruins of Cortijo de la Viña del Monte and the pine forests.

After about 2 hours and 15 minutes, you will reach a T junction at an altitude of about 1,000 metres. The left track will take you down to the village of Lentegi. We turned right along the track which follows the ridge of the Sierra de Entresierras. For a while, there are spectacular views of the coast and the resort of Almuñecar, while to the right you can see the snow clad peaks of the Sierra Nevada.

The track then moves away from the coast and continues through a forest of large flowered, white cistus bushes, and through an avenue of pines. Eventually, it passes the flat summit of Cerro del Fuerte, the craggy mountain that dominates Guajar Alto. The views from here are superb and a camera is essential. Towering, fantastic rock formations loom above the track and below are precipitous drops. Eagles circle overhead and mountain goats perch on the ridges, ready to flee.

Gradually, the path descends until it joins the road that runs alongside the Rio Toba, about 7km upstream from Guajar Alto. A right turn here takes you back to the village.

This walk, which we did this morning, is about 20km and should take between 6 and 7 hours.

SPRING WALKS 3

2009-04-23T11:07:00.000-07:00

This morning, a perfect Spring day, we set off on the third of our walks from Guájar Alto. We began by following the same route as our first walk: through the village, heady with the scent of jasmine and orange blossom, down to the river Toba, and turning right past the swimming place. This track winds through Juncales and up to the pine forests. This time, when we reached the T junction, we turned left.

This lane meanders through the pine forests for about 10km. Looking back, there are spectacular views of the mountains stretching down to the coast in a haze of blue. Ahead, the clarity of the light enhances the deep blue of the sky. As we climbed higher, we saw a lone eagle soaring above us. The pine forests echoed with the singing of innumerable small birds. Eventually the lane bears left and passes through groves of almonds before meeting the gravel road from Guájar Alto to Albuñuelas. This is a good place to stop for refreshment or a picnic.

From here we turned left to make our way back down to Guájar Alto. On the right, you can see an old, stone kiln which was once used for the extraction of juniper essence. Further down, on the other side of the river, is the Cascada de la Toba, Guájar Alto’s most dramatic geological feature. The road follows the Rio Toba through its valley below the towering mountain, El Fuerte. Gorse and broom blazed brilliant yellow and in damp, shady places we saw maidenhair fern and the fluffy white flowers of white snakeroot. We arrived at the village a little over 2 hours later. The walk took six and a half hours, including stops for refreshment and to take photos. We estimate that it must have been a little over 20km.

SPRING WALKS 2

2009-04-14T12:38:00.000-07:00

Today we did another of the circular mountain walks from Guajar Alto. This one took us up to the Sierra de Entresierras, was about 20km and took 6 hours.

For this walk, which passes through some of the most magnificent mountain scenery in the area, you start from Guajar Alto, take the turning on the left at the entrance of the village and follow this lane upwards for about 1.5 km until you reach a crossroads. Here, you take take the left lane. This path meanders up through pine forests and there are some lovely views looking back down to Guajar Alto. As you climb higher, the snow-clad peaks of the Sierra Nevada come into view and the landscape becomes more barren. When you get closer to the coast, in the direction of the town of Molvizar, you experience a sudden change in temperature. The warm, moisture-laden air provides the ideal climate for the growing of vines without the need for irrigation. You pass through vineyards before taking the right hand fork which follows the contours of the Sierra de Entresierras just below its ridge.

You follow this path for some time until it breaks through to the other side of the range and from there you can see a panorama which takes in the Mediterranean, the resort of Almuñecar and the village of Otivar below. It’s a good place to stop for refreshment during this particular walk. At this crossing of roads, if you take the left hand fork, you would descend to the village of Lentegi. The right hand lane takes you back down to Guajar Alto. It took us two and a half hours to descend the winding, gravelly track past the ruins of Cortijo Viña del Monte, and back to the village.

We began our walk to the accompaniment of nightingales, and as we climbed higher, we heard woodpeckers, the mewing of eagles and the chattering and trilling of numerous small birds. The wild flowers were profuse and varied, depending on the habitat. There were butterfly orchids with glowing, deep magenta petals; striking digitalis with rusty orange bells; great banks of lavender. The deep blue sky, the dazzling white of the snowy peaks of the Sierra Nevada and the brilliant yellow of the gorse and broom made a stunning picture.

SPRING WALKS 1

2009-04-10T04:40:00.000-07:00

Some of the best walks in the province of Granada can be enjoyed around Guájar Alto, and this time of year is perfect for rambling: the weather is not too hot and the countryside, with the glorious flowering of spring, is looking at its best.

This week we tried one of the circular routes, a leisurely 15km which took us about 4 hours. It was a lovely day and we set off in brilliant, April sunshine, from the centre of the village and up the track that runs alonside the Rio Toba. Shortly after passing the spot where the river is dammed in the summer to create a swimming lake, we turned right and followed the lane that climbs up through the fincas of Juncales. This is a lush, sheltered location planted with oranges, lemons, avocados, olives, vines and nisperos. As you climb, the views are dominated by the peak of El Fuerte across the other side of the river. The track eventually reaches the pine forests and a T junction where we turned right. This is the mountain route to Pinos del Valle.

Through gaps in the pines you have glimpses of spectacular views looking across to the mountains and down to the village. As you leave the forest, the ruins of Guájar La Vieja come into sight and it was here that we took a right turn along a track that winds behind the Loma del Espejo, the escarpment which towers above Guajar Alto. ‘Espejo’ is Spanish for ‘mirror’, and the mountain is so named because, at night, it reflects the lights from the village houses.

Here, the country is arid, stony and uncultivated, and the vegetation sparse. We were surprised when we came upon big clumps of candytuft, an annual flower more often associated with sunny, English borders, growing out of bare gravel, in shady and inhospitable hollows.

Before very long, the scenery changes dramatically and we wound our way, descending, through sheltered and fertile fincas and ruined cortijos. The largest of these, in its setting of palms, is the splendid Cortijo de Chiron (see photo), now uninhabited. The primary reds, blues and yellows of the wild flowers dazzled our eyes. It has been a good season for butterflies, and we were fascinated by the dozens of painted ladies clustered around the tall, spreading clumps of alkanet growing alongside the track.

After a steep and winding descent, this track brought us out on the main road between Guájar Faragüit and Guájar Alto. Just a few metres down the road there is a popular picnic spot where we stopped for a drink and bocadillo before walking up the road back to Guájar Alto.

Next week we are going to be more ambitous and attempt the 20km walk through the mountains on the other side of the village.

MULES

2009-03-05T10:01:00.000-08:00

I painted this illustration for the book I am currently working on, Princess The Pony. It is of a villager from Guajar Faragüit whom I encountered riding back from his finca on his mule laden with olives. Many of the old farmers in Guajar Faragüit still use mules to work in the fields and if you drive through the village early in the morning you will see them riding off to their fincas. A mule is normally stabled in the same village house in which the owner and his family live.

Here is a delightful poem about a mule, but bear in mind my translation is a very literal one. I don’t know how best to translate kiosco so that it sounds poetic.The theme of the poem is the mechanisation of farming methods versus the traditional.

My Mule by Dionisio Cañas

My mule is more
than just a mule
she is the shadow of God.
My mule and I go
everywhere together,
in the morning we stop
in the stands at daybreak
where the country workers
park their cars and tractors,
these machines that don’t have
the heart of my mule.
It doesn’t bother
my mule
that no one takes any notice
because she and I are
the song of a single shadow.
When at night
my mule and I travel
along the dusty roads of La Mancha,
and we look at the firmament above us.
The universe smiles at us
and the stars accompany us
as a crown of light.
The moon guides us
when we are lost.
Without my mule I am nobody,
without me she is a shadow without a name.
One day her skeleton and mine
will return to the earth,
and her bones and my bones
will shine between the vineyards
like the flower of the almond.
From the highest galaxies
my mule and I will look down,
abandoned along the dusty roads
of La Mancha,
the rusting tractors,
the old white vans,
the machines which never
had a heart.

Here’s the poem in Spanish:

Mi Mula

Mi mula es algo más
que una mula
es la sombra de Dios.
Mi mula y yo vamos
a todas partes juntos,
por la mañana paramos
en los kioscos del amanecer
donde los campesinos
aparcan sus coches y sus tractores,
esas máquinas que no tienen
el corazón de mi mula.
A mi mula no le importa
que nadie le haga caso
porque ella y yo somos
la canción de una sombra.
Cuando anoche
mi mula y yo nos paseamos
por los polvorientos
caminos de La Mancha,
y juntos miramos el firmamento.
El universo nos sonríe,
y las estrellas nos acompañan
como una corona de luz.
La luna nos guía
cuando estamos perdidos.
Sin mi mula yo no soy nadie,
sin mí ella es una sombra sin nombre.
Un día su esqueleto y el mío
volverán a la tierra,
y sus huesos y mis huesos
brillarán entre los viñedos
como la flor del almendro.
Desde más allá de las galaxias
mi mula y yo miraremos,
abandonados por los caminos
polvorientos de La Mancha,
los oxidados tractores,
las viejas furgonetas blancas,
las máquinas que nunca
tuvieron corazón.

The description of shining almond flowers refers to the curious luminosity of almond blossom, which radiates light, even on dull days.

The Lonely Digger

2009-02-27T07:45:00.001-08:00

When my 4 year old grandaughter Izzy was staying with us on holiday last year, we walked together to a small, disused quarry at the top of my land in the corner of which is an old, abandoned digger. Upon seeing it, Izzy commented: “Poor digger! It looks so lonely”.
This gave me the idea for my second children’s book, The Lonely Digger.

I completed it last month and have already received a contract from the publishers in America. I hope it will be published by the summer but I am still waiting for publication date for The Wise Old Boar but I think this is imminent. In the meantime I have begun my third children’s book Princess The Pony. This is based on the adventres of a shetland foal which belongs to our French baker Jean Pierre. He has stables near Guajar Fondon.

Here is a synopsis of The Lonely Digger. Illusrations from all three books can be seen on my web site. www.margaretmerry.com.

The Lonely Digger
Abandoned by her owner, after years of faithful service, in a deserted quarry, Lola the digger yearns for some companionship. One day, she is discovered by some children, but her pleasure in their company is short-lived when they flee in terror after a group of hunters warn of a dangerous wolf on the prowl.

Lola gives refuge to a succession of mountain and woodland creatures, including the wolf himself, plus a fox and her cubs; a wild boar and her piglets; a pair of robins and their nestlings; a lost faun and a lynx, but none is able to remain long enough to become her friend and so she resigns herself to loneliness.

The quarry and surrounding land are sold, and the new owner has a young son, David, who himself is friendless in his new environment. Not only is he lonely, like Lola, but also he has been passionate about mechanical diggers all his life. When he chances upon Lola, he is overjoyed. His father suggests that they clean her up and give her a coat of paint. The children from the village hear about it, and so come to lend a hand. The quarry becomes their playground, and the digger their favourite plaything. With so many new friends, David and Lola are no longer lonely.

SPRING SUNSHINE

2009-02-15T09:17:00.000-08:00

Because of the fine, warm weather, everyone was out and about this weekend in Guájar Alto, and there were parties of ramblers, cyclists and other visitors filling the bars and bringing some welcome trade.

The villagers decided to have a picnic at a recreation spot along the river Toba, where there are barbecue facilities, tables and seats. It is shaded by tall pines, and there are steep banks carpeted with wild flowers. Lots of people turned up, and there was a good atmosphere with everyone enjoying themselves.

Migas was cooked in big pots, and served with fried peppers and barbecued sardines. Migas was traditionally breadcrumbs fried in garlic, but nowadays you can buy a bread based preparation, resembling couscous, in packets. Most people have heard about the healthy Mediterranean diet (fish, olive oil, fruit and vegetables) but in former times the diet was very poor, and consisted mainly of bread, hence the migas.

This being the orange season, there were bowls of orange salad, mixed with wild thyme, onions, vinegar and seasoning. Local wine was handed around, as usual on these occasions, and the merits of each compared and discussed very seriously.

Communal picnics have been the custom in our village for generations, and in the town hall archives there are photographs from bygone times of these events. Nothing very much changes here.

ALMOND BLOSSOM IN GUAJAR ALTO

2009-01-29T07:58:00.000-08:00

After Christmas one of the things we look forward to in Los Guajares is the bursting into flower of the almond blossom. These photos were taken this week. The first photo is of the entrance to my cortijo with the mountain, El Fuerte, in the background.

JANUARY IN GUAJAR ALTO

2009-01-05T10:43:00.000-08:00

It was very late by the time we got to bed on New Year’s Eve, and what little sleep we managed to snatch was disturbed by a commotion caused by one of the cats bringing in a dead rat and depositing it in the bathroom. Our animals are in the habit of disgracing us whenever we have guests.

We had seen in the New Year in one of the village bars, where we were given the traditional twelve grapes, one to be eaten with every chime of the midnight hour, for luck. Afterwards, we danced the night away at another bar, decked in party streamers and wearing silly hats.

The next day was fine and warm, so we decided to take our guests on an excursion over the mountains, to the neighbouring village of Lentegí. They are interested in buying land here, so we stopped en route so that they could look at a large finca of olives and almonds which is for sale. It’s location is beautiful, with a superb view of the distant Sierra Nevada. In a week or two, the almonds will be in blossom, and the contrast of the pink flowers, the blue sky, and the dazzling whiteness of the snowy peaks will make a wonderful picture.

While we were walking around the finca, enjoying the warm sunshine and the sound of birdsong, we saw two mountain goats on a high ridge above us. Their ears were pricked up, and they watched us with suspicion. The mountain goat is a cross between the ibex and the domestic goat, and we have quite a number of them roaming the mountains of Guájar Alto. They are intelligent creatures, considerably more so than their domestic counterparts.

The mountains, capped with misty clouds, were looking exceptionally beautiful in the soft, early spring light as we crossed the highest point and began the descent to Lentegí. Arriving at the top entrance to the village, we parked the car and walked down to the main square by means of a most delightful, paved walkway, newly-fenced and bordered by immaculately tended trees and shrubs. At each bend, there were seats where you could admire the views and take photos. Lentegí is a village which has recently benefited from the investment of a good deal of money, and this was evident everywhere we looked. The streets and public paths are clean and litter-free, and there are even public conveniences, something you do not expect to see in a mountain village.

We had a tapas lunch in a bar by the church, accompanied by local wine. Lentegí has rich, fertile soil which produces high quality grapes, and this was evident in the taste and fruity fragrance of the wine. The tapas, too, were very good: home-made tortilla, fried whitebait with cherry tomatoes, and deliciously crispy, fried chicken wings.

We stopped to take more photographs on the return journey because the golden light of late afternoon, silhouetting the dramatic outlines of the distant mountains of Málaga, created a spectacle which was truly awe-inspiring.

AUTUMN PALETTE

2008-11-14T01:28:00.000-08:00

Every autumn, the villagers of Guájar Alto make expeditions to the pine forests to forage for the edible fungi which spring up after the first rains of the season.The most common to be found here are boletes, with brownish caps and vivid yellow flesh. People say they are pleasant to eat, but only when they’re young. The boletus family is very large, and many varieties are edible. Also fairly common in our forests are aniseed toadstools - so called because of their strong, aniseed flavour. They have a delicate green colour and although most people would probably find their taste too strong, the Spanish have a great liking for aniseed, so gather these toadstools eagerly. Much harder to find are saffron milk caps, which have vivid orange gills and ooze carrot-coloured liquid. They’re highly prized, and their size is impressive. Mushrooms are plentiful, so it doesn’t take long for people to fill their baskets. When they return home, everything they’ve collected is inspected, fried, and shared around in a ‘fungus fiesta’.

When searching for fungi, there is always the danger that inedible or poisonous specimens might be mistaken for edible varieties, but here in Guájar Alto, where the people have been fungus collecting for generations, they are surprisingly knowledgeable. Once, when I went on a village expedition with other villagers, they were most concerned when I kept pouncing upon colourful russulas, with caps as purple as aubergines and white stems flushed with rose, which were definitely not edible, I knew. I had to explain several times that my intention was to draw and paint them, not eat them. To me, fungi are just as beautiful as flowers and I love particularly their wide range of delicate colours, which lend themselves so perfectly to the medium of watercolour.

Watercolour is a difficult medium which takes years to master. The aim is to retain the transparency of the pigments and allow the luminosity of the paper to show through. To do this, the student has to learn how to manipulate the water and one of the most common mistakes made by beginners is to allow the water to become dirty. Cleanliness is essential when using this medium and the water has to be changed frequently; it is imposssible to obtain transparent colours if you are working with a grey sludge. Equally important is to work with a limited palette and avoid using black, which doesn’t occur in nature; it is better to use ultramarine blue mixed with burnt umber. I always mix my own greys, using raw sienna, alizarin crimson and ultramarine blue, and you can obtain a wide range of greens by mixing yellows with blues. Another advantage of the limited palette is the resulting colour harmony, something which beginners often find hard to achieve.

One of the many pleasures of living in this area is that there is always colour, whatever the time of year. Autumn brings the flowering of the tree heathers which cascade down the mountainsides in shades of pink, purple and white, complemented so prettily by the blue of the rosemary bushes, also in flower. At this time of year, all the colours of nature are enhanced by the brilliance of the light. The sky is intensely blue in the mornings, and the Sierra Nevada, with its new covering of snow, looks stunning when you glimpse it peeping above the mountains of Guájar Alto, dazzlingly white.

The night sky, viewed from the mountains where there is much less light pollution, is spectacular, and people who come up from the coast to visit us are always impressed by its beauty. Jupiter has dominated the heavens for several months, and if you have good binoculars or a telescope, you can see all four of its largest moons. The Milky Way is a glorious sight in the clear, autumn nights, and the sky is so black, that even with the naked eye, you can pick out the different colours of our closest stars; Vega, for instance, in the constellation of Lyra, is distinctly blue. Whenever I stand on my terrace stargazing, I nearly always see a shooting star (meteor) or two and recently I was lucky enough to see a fireball. It was very bright, and moved across the sky more slowly and gracefully than a meteor. It was one of the many remarkable things I’ve seen since coming to live in Guájar Alto.

THE OLIVE HARVEST IN GUÁJAR ALTO

2008-10-29T09:37:00.000-07:00

In Guájar Alto, all the olive growers are busy at the moment preparing for the annual harvest. This involves clearing the ground underneath every tree to make sure that it is free of weeds and stones, and raked as smooth as possible. Since most of the olives end up on the ground, this preparation is necessary for efficient collection.

We, ourselves, have a good crop this year and our trees are dripping with fruit. To begin with, we shall harvest only those olives which have turned black; the green ones will be left to ripen. This means that we shall be spending the next two months picking olives and taking them to the mill. The olives of Guájar Alto produce oil of very good flavour and quality. The extra virgin, from the first pressing, is thick and green and has a rich, nutty flavour. For cooking purposes, we use the virgin oil from the second pressing. This, too, is of extremely good quality and is far superior to virgin olive oil purchased from the supermarket. We have so much of it, that I’m afraid we tend to be very extravagant with it.

A couple of years ago, while the ground underneath one of our trees was being dug up, an old coin was unearthed. It was a large coin, and when it was cleaned, we discovered that it was Italian, dated 1866. On one side was engraved its value - 10 centesimi, and on the other was the head of King Vittorio Emanuele II. We were very puzzled as to how an Italian coin could have found its way to our finca, but when I showed it to a historian in Motril, he said its find wasn’t extraordinary at all; in the latter part of that century, many botanists, geologists and archaeologists came to the area because of its outstanding scientific interest. Most of our olives are very old, so perhaps the coin fell out of the pocket of one of the scientists while he was sitting under the shade of that particular tree.

One of the fascinating aspects of Spain is that, unlike Great Britain, where items of historical interest are kept under glass in museums, or fenced off so that they can’t be touched, here many treasures are lying about, for anyone to pick up. I, myself, have found several fragments of Moorish pottery on our land. One is part of an earthenware bowl, glazed with cream and green, eleventh century in origin. The green is typical of that period and was produced from manganese. I have another piece of pottery, 600 years old, with an attractive, blue and white glaze. This, I was told, is typical of ceramic ware from the Nazari period of Moorish occupation.

As with the olives, the grape harvest was also very good this year, and the wine we made from ours has already been sampled. It is rather good. It is very clear, with no trace of sediment or cloudiness, and it has a good colour - a delicate pink. The taste is smooth, clean and sweet, with no hint of the yeasty aftertaste you sometimes get with country wines from our area.

GHOSTS OF GRANADA

2008-10-07T03:01:00.000-07:00

Here is the complete text of an article that will be mentioned in the Sunday Times 12th October

We sailed from Plymouth, in the wake of those great adventurers Charles Darwin, Francis Drake and the Pilgrim Fathers, to begin our new life in Spain. Disembarking from the ferry in the grey gloom of a late November morning, we drove through France and spent the night near the Spanish border before continuing our journey the following day. Despite the torrential rain and sleety showers which accompanied us for most of the way, our drive from one end of the country to the other was uneventful and as we descended through the sierras of Granada, towards our destination on the Costa Tropical, we saw the sea, below a cloudless blue sky, sparkling in the distance. We had made it! Everything had gone remarkably well and we congratulated ourselves accordingly. Furthermore, the house which we had rented in the resort town of Salobreña while waiting for our own to be built seemed to fit our requirements perfectly: it was situated in a quiet corner of a much sought-after, mountainside urbanization overlooking the sea; it had a garage in which to store the bits and pieces we’d brought with us; parking for our two cars; a spacious, securely fenced garden for our two dogs. We had a celebratory meal that night in a restaurant in the town and went to bed.

Not long after we’d settled ourselves down to sleep, I became aware of a noise. It was as though the wind were rattling a door or a window which hadn’t been properly closed; strange, because there was no wind that night. The sound persisted and because I knew I’d never get to sleep while it continued, I made Digby, my husband, get out of bed and go to investigate. Complaining, he groped around for the light switch, couldn’t find it, so stumbled out of the bedroom into the darkness. The next moment, there was a loud thud followed by a bellow of pain; he had fallen down the short flight of marble stairs leading from the bedrooms into the living room. I was not sympathetic and told him it was his own fault for drinking too much; after all, he’d known that the stairs were there. He protested that it was nothing to do with how much he’d drunk: something had propelled him down those stairs.
“Yes”, I replied, acidly, “the drink.”

Digby spent a night of extreme discomfort and was in so much pain the next day that he had to consult a doctor who took an X-ray and confirmed that he’d broken two ribs. It was not a good start to our Spanish adventure and I was still convinced that the cause of his accident was due to drinking too much wine. Then, a few days later while I was walking down the same marble stairs, carrying an armful of washing, I experienced a curious sensation: it was though I were on board a ship which had made a sudden, almost imperceptible roll. Disconcerted, I clutched the wall and cautiously continued my descent; two days later, the same thing happened again. Digby had been right after all: there was something very funny about those stairs.

Despite suffering a not inconsiderable amount of pain, Digby went to work every day at the family-owned estate agency with which he’d been liaising for some while, dealing with English clients. Meanwhile, I took the opportunity to explore the area, walking for miles every day with the dogs. It was a relief to get out of that house and I was always reluctant to return to it due to a feeling of unease, which I couldn’t explain, as I climbed the steps to the front door. By now, we were well into December and the days were becoming shorter. One evening, just as it had begun to grow dark, the lights went out. Thinking it might be a power cut, I peered outside and saw that all the other houses on the mountain were lit up. I flicked the trip switch up and down but to no avail; I tried all the switches in the fuse box, but still nothing happened. Finally, I decided to drive myself down to Salobreña and ask Digby to call the electricity company. Someone called later that evening; he opened the fuse box, flicked the trip and immediately trhe lights came on. I felt very foolish. A few days later, the same thing happened again. As I groped my way into the kitchen, feeling around in the darkness for a candle, I sensed, for no accountable reason, a sudden, cold rush of fear. By now, we’d had a telephone installed so I was able to call Digby; he summoned a friend, an electrician, who came round immediately and, just as before, restored the lights by operating the trip. Again, I felt very foolish.

One day, I returned from a shopping trip to find that my little Jack Russell, Charlie, had disappeared. While searching for him in the garden, I heard him barking in the distance and discovered that, somehow, he’d found his way into the walled garden of the unoccupied house next door, further up the road. There was no way I could get him out; I had to phone Digby who, in turn, called a couple of builder friends who came round at once with a ladder, the only way by which the dog could be retrieved. How he’d got into the neighbour’s garden was a complete mystery. Again and again I walked around the boundaries of our rented house, looking for a gap in the fence through which Charlie might have wriggled through, but found nothing. Anyway, I asked myself, even if he had managed to get out, how did he find his way into the other garden? It was completely surrounded by a high wall and the only access was by means of an iron gate which even a small cat couldn’t have squeezed through. It was an upsetting incident, not least because of the unpleasant and overpowering sensation that, when I’d first discovered Charlie in that garden and had tried to find a way of getting him out, I’d had the distinct impression that there was something close by, revelling in my distress.

Curious things continued to happen in the house. Objects would disappear unaccountably then turn up somewhere else; often, there was that same vague, yet disconcerting, sensation that something was there, resenting our presence. On several occasions I found myself glancing over my shoulder, convinced that I was not alone. At first, Digby and I had said nothing to each other because we both felt rather foolish but by now we were compelled to admit that we disliked the atmosphere in the house and neither of us was happy living there. All the same, we had no choice but to stick it out: after all, we’d paid three months rent and gone to the expense of installing a telephone and a satellite dish for the television. But after a few weeks, our two dogs began to show signs of stress. The older dog, a stout-hearted bull terrier, acquired the habit of incessantly nibbling at his front paws and one day I returned from shopping to find, yet again, the Jack Russell had disappeared. I searched the garden and the road outside but there was no sign of him, nor could I hear him barking. I returned to the house, thinking that he might be asleep somewhere, and eventually discovered him crouched on the floor in one of the bedrooms, shaking with fright. A few days later the old bull terrier, who’d always been impeccably clean in the house, had an inexplicable lapse and made a mess on the floor of the same room, on exactly the same spot that I’d found Charlie in a distressed state. It was while I was bending down to clean up that I realised just how cold the room was. I would have liked to keep it permanently closed, since we never used it, but the door handle was broken and so it was difficult to keep the dogs out. Less than a week later, the same thing happened. Again, as I bent down to clean the floor, I experienced the same, overwhelming sensation of profound coldness. This made no sense considering that it was late afternoon and the last rays of the setting sun were streaming in through the window. I hurried out of the room, found a piece of string and secured the broken handle so that the door couldn’t be opened. I did not want to enter that room again.

One day, Digby came home after a meeting with a colleague in the business of property rental. She’d asked him where we were staying and when he told her, she said that her husband had done some work on the same property and hated going there because of the feeling of unease he always experienced while he was there. She knew the history of the house and told Digby that the family who owned it had realised their dream of living in that location but, shortly afterwards, the husband became depressed and committed suicide by throwing himself from an apartment block. His widow and two little girls didn’t want to remain in the house and so it was let. When I heard this, I felt a cold thrill of horror run up my spine and the hairs on the back of my neck bristled. It appeared that our imaginations hadn’t run away with us: there really was something very peculiar about that house. Nevertheless, neither of us was prepared to admit that we were victims of supernatural happenings; there had to be a scientific explanation. We knew that there were numerous geological fault lines in the area and judging from the large cracks in the concrete walls surrounding the terraced gardens of our house, it was evidently built on one. Perhaps these fault lines caused interruptions in magnetic fields which, in turn, affected our brain function - or something...

Christmas had come and gone and with the emergence of spring, the days grew warmer and the birds began to sing. It was then that I realised no birds ever came into our garden, despite the fact that it was well stocked with mature shrubs and trees. At least the lengthening days meant that we were able to spend more time outdoors. This was a great relief, since the atmosphere inside the house continued to oppress us. I had begun to have unpleasant dreams and the feeling that our presence was resented intensified. I was convinced that something was intent on doing us harm, especially after an electrician was summoned in order to investigate a problem with the cooker. He discovered a bare, loose wire in the dark recesses of a cupboard and informed me, cheerfully, that if I’d touched it with damp hands, it would have been curtains for me. From then onwards, I took extra care with all electrical appliances. When the first three months of our tenancy were nearly over, we decided that we’d cut our losses and find somewhere else. The stress of living under the perpetual cloud of anxiety induced by the atmosphere in that house was intolerable.

In the event, it all turned out very well. There was a house available to let just a stone’s throw from the boundary of the land on which our own house was being built and even though it was very small, we seized the opportunity to rent it: even a caravan or a tent would have been preferable to the other place. We moved in on the first of March, a glorious day - warm, sunny and, surely, a good omen. A few days prior to leaving the other house, the plumbing under the kitchen sink had begun to leak slightly. Before we left, we searched everywhere but could find no way of turning off the water supply and as we took our departure, the leak suddenly grew worse and my last sight of the interior, as I closed the front door, was of a spreading pool of water moving slowly towards me as though it were driving me away in a final gesture of deep resentment. We settled into the little house, aptly named El Refugio, and were very content for the next three months after which, at last, we moved into our new home.

We have been living in the province of Granada for six years now and from regular reading of the Spanish press I’ve discovered that not only are the people very superstitious but also that they take matters concerning the supernatural seriously. Our regional newpapers regularly publish reports about inexplicable happenings and strange manifestations; Granada, it seems, is full of ghosts. In fact, the provincial government, theAyuntamiento de Granada, organises guided tours of haunted buildings in the city of Granada comprising seven destinations: the Hospital Real, where the spirit of San Juan de Dios manifests itself; La Diputación, where the ghost of a woman claiming vengeange for the injustice she suffered drifts about; the Centro Materno Infantil, where, it is claimed, an apparition of the same person appears in two different places at the same time; The Hospital Clínico, where a woman dressed in black has been haunting the buiding since 1978; the Conservatorio de Música, in the rooms of which may be heard the ghostly melodies of the Russian composer Scriabin who, it is said, manifested himself after his death in the form of his own music and in the Real Chancillería, which is haunted by the ancient spirit of a warlock known as El Verdugo de la Audencia ( The Court Executioner). Finally, to restore peace of mind to those who might be disturbed by such a concentration of ghostly encounters, there is a visit to the Casa Castril del Museo Arqueológico where, in the summer of 1998, there was an apparition of a woman of such exquisite beauty that even now, it seems, contemplation of her is rewarded with tranquility of the spirit.

According to an expert in parapsychology, the ghostly manifestations in the city of Granada are due to two factors: firstly, its antiquity and the many cultures which have inhabited it and, secondly, the electromagnetic forces of the mineral-rich (including gold - an important component) waters of the River Darro which run under the city. Indeed, there have been numerous reports of inexplicable happenings occurring in buildings situated along its course. Before I came to live in Spain and despite having grown up in Cornwall, which has more than its fair share of spooks and spectres, I was always very sceptical about anything to do with the supernatural. However, since settling in Granada, with all its ghosts, and having had the experience of living in a house which, I’m covinced, was pervaded by some malign influence, I’ve become much more open-minded.

Three years ago we moved from the coast up into the mountains. Our house, above the little village of Guájar Alto, is in an idyllic setting with sublime views of the sierras, in all their lovely shades of blue and violet, fading into the distance. We are presided over by an imposing, flat-topped mountain which, although it appears serene and beautiful, was once witness to a horrible and bloody battle between Moorish and Christian armies in 1569. After a day’s combat, with no victory for either side, the Moorish soldiers retreated to the summit to join the women, children and elderly people who had taken refuge there. Deciding that it would be futile to continue the battle, the men left under cover of darkness to a village in the next valley and entrusted those who were unable to follow to the clemency of the Christians. There was to be no mercy, however: the Christian soldiers put to death all the adults and threw the children over the steepest side of the mountain into a ravine which is still called today the Ravine of the Dead. If ever a place deserved to be haunted, it would, surely, be this. Yet, I have walked all over the mountains around my home and not once have I encountered even a hint of a ‘bad vibe’. There are no ghosts here: only peace and serenity.

AUTUMN DELIGHTS

2008-09-17T04:42:00.000-07:00

In the second week of September, our long summer drought ended at last with a thunderstorm and some welcome rain. The countryside has taken on a fresh, green look and under the parched stubble of dried grasses, new growth is sprouting. There is always something in flower in the mountains of Guájar Alto; at the moment, there are tall spikes of sea squill (Urginea maritima). Although, as the name suggests, it’s a maritime plant, it’s not uncommon to find it growing inland (see photo). It’s a bulbous plant and with its clustered, starry white flowers, looks very striking. Interestingly, it’s one of the oldest medicinal plants of the Mediterranean. The Egyptians, for example, used it to treat snake bites because of its calming effect.

In the vegetable garden, it’s changeover time; we’re pulling up all the summer crops which have finished and replanting with winter vegetables. The squashes this year have been particularly nice, due no doubt to all the long hours of hot sunshine. In the province of Granada they do very well and everyone grows them so that, not surprisingly, there are lots of ways of cooking them. Mari- Carmen, who runs a bar and restaurant in the village, serves some delicious squash dishes but I think she’s a bit reluctant about giving away the secrets of her recipes. However, I managed to find out that one of her tastiest dishes is made from wedges of squash fried in butter, with onions; York ham is added and then the mixture, topped with grated cheese, is baked in the oven. Here’s another recipe called crema de calabaza:
Fry gently in butter, without browning, some sliced leeks and chopped pumkin (or any other variety of squash); add some vegetable or chicken stock and simmer until the squash is tender and most of the liquid has evaporated; add seasoning plus some freshly grated ginger root and put into the blender with some cream. Pour the mixture, which should be nice and smooth, into an ovenproof, shallow dish, top with a generous amount of grated cheese, to which some parmesan has been added, and bake until the top is browned. This dish is always well-received at dinner parties and the hint of ginger gives it an exotic flavour.

Although we haven’t had a good tomato crop this year, due to blight, the cherry tomatoes, which are more resistent, have done well. They are very versatile because they can be used not only in salads but also in hot dishes. They go particularly well with the delicious chorizo which we buy in our village shop. In an ovenproof dish, on top of a generous amount of cherry tomatoes, I lay some chorizo sausages, some capers and soft green peppercorns and a big bunch of mountain and garden herbs wrapped in bay leaves. I pour a can of cider over the sausages and bake the dish in a moderate oven for about an hour, by which time the tomatoes have softened but still retain their shape.

Spanish gardeners grow lilies for the house among the vegetables and at the moment nardos are flowering. I’m afraid I don’t know the botanical name because I’ve only ever seen them growing here. They are tall spikes of small, pinkish flowers and although they’re not as spectacular as other lilies usually are, at night they give off the most divine scent imaginable and just one lily will perfume the whole house.

Although we haven’t had a good tomato crop this year, due to blight, the cherry tomatoes, which are more resistent, have done well. They are very versatile because they can be used not only in salads but also in hot dishes. They go particularly well with the delicious chorizo which we buy in our village shop. In an ovenproof dish, on top of a generous amount of cherry tomatoes, I lay some chorizo sausages, some capers and soft green peppercorns and a big bunch of mountain and garden herbs wrapped in bay leaves. I pour a can of cider over the sausages and bake the dish in a moderate oven for about an hour, by which time the tomatoes have softened but still retain their shape.

Spanish gardeners grow lilies for the house among the vegetables and at the moment nardos are flowering. I’m afraid I don’t know the botanical name because I’ve only ever seen them growing here. They are tall spikes of small, pinkish flowers and although they’re not as spectacular as other lilies usually are, at night they give off the most divine scent imaginable and just one lily will perfume the whole house.

FIESTA IN GUAJAR ALTO

2008-08-18T02:43:00.000-07:00

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

2008-08-15T02:31:00.001-07:00

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

2008-08-07T08:16:00.000-07:00

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.

HIGH SUMMER in GUÁJAR ALTO

2008-07-25T09:15:00.000-07:00

A recently published official report comparing standards of living in the European Union concludes that although wages in Spain are low, this country does, nevertheless, out of all those others, enjoy the best quality of life and if summer living in Guájar Alto is anything to go by, anyone visiting our village at the moment would be bound to agree.
It’s the time of year for entertaining or being entertained, whether the occasion is an impromptu fiesta held in someone’s cortijo, a picnic by the river or an organized event, such as one we recently attended. It was arranged by a committee of mayordomos (stewards) who are responsible for the organisation of all the village functions and it took place in a hostelry which caters for large parties and weddings. It’s situated near the coast so a coach was laid on to take us there and as we boarded there was a general buzz of excitement and much merriment; only the Spanish have the ability to extract every last shred of enjoyment out of any occasion. The women were all decked out in their best dresses ( frills are de rigueur at any formal event ) and judging from their coiffeurs Admi, the village hairdresser, had evidently had a busy day.
Upon our arrival, we were ushered to a tree-lined terrace upon which were large, round tables adorned with candelabras; dusk had fallen so the effect was highly romantic. Beer and wine was brought to every table, followed by plates of exquisitely made canapés, fresh prawns and the very popular octopus á la Gallega. The first course, accompanied by a good white wine, was a sweet and succulent fish steak (hake), most perfectly cooked; this was followed by a very pleasant lemon sorbet. The next course was a tender pork fillet, stuffed with something delicious, served on a thin slice of bread which had been fried in butter. The dessert, a chocolate confection, was quite divine. After dinner, most of the women got up to dance to the accompaniment of music provided by a male singer ( who was surprisingly good ) and later, after much cajoling and fortified by a good many drinks from the free bar, a few of the men joined in. The night was very warm so I was glad that I’d brought a fan. Much later, and not a little weary, we climbed aboard our coach and arrived back in Gájar Alto shortly before four a.m.
By contrast, the afternoon fiesta we recently attended at a neighbouring cortijo was a simple affair. When we arrived, we were offered sangria from a big jug and slices of ham from a home-reared pig. It is customary to take the legs to be cured in Trevélez in the Sierra Nevada, Spain’s highest village, famous for the quality of the hams it produces. This particular ham was tender and sweet, one of the best I’ve ever sampled. A goat stew was served next, followed by huge slices of water melon. As the level of the jar of sangria dropped, it was replenished with more wine and chopped fruit and by the time the plates had been cleared from the table, it had taken on a completely different character from that which it had when we arrived. Sangria and the similar tinto de verano ( red wine, lemonade and a touch of vermouth ) are refreshing and pleasant to drink on a hot, summer’s afternoon. After the meal, I noticed the man of the house going into the kitchen with a big bunch of lemon grass which he’d just picked and not long afterwards we were offered a most delicious tea made from various herbs, including chamomile, flavoured with the lemon grass.
Here, at home, we also do quite a lot of entertaining, making use of the plentiful supply of summer vegetables in our vegetable garden. At the moment we have French beans, tomatoes, five different varieties of peppers, courgettes, aubergines, cucumbers and lettuce; soon, the water melons and squashes will be ready for harvesting. The guests enjoy sitting on the terrace by the pool and those who have come up from the coast marvel at the stars; there’s little light pollution here so the night skies are spectacular. At the moment, Jupiter is the brightest object and with binoculars you are able to see four of its largest moons. The warm, night air is perfumed with the scent of jasmine and the big, trumpet flowers of daturas. On nights such as these, it would be a crime to stay indoors.

THE STORY OF THE WISE OLD BOAR

2008-06-19T08:46:00.001-07:00

In Bar Carmen, one of Guájar Alto’s restaurants famous for traditional, home cooking, the wall of the dining area is decorated by an enormous wild boar’s head. I once asked José, Carmen’s grandson, where it had come from.
‘Arriba!’ he replied, pointing in the direction of our cortijo. His grandfather had shot it, he added.
It must have been a fearsome beast, the like of which you certainly wouldn’t wish to encounter on a dark night. Its curved tusks are long and pointed and it has a thick ruff of coarse hair around its powerful neck, typical of a mature male boar. Even though it is stuffed and harmless, it still might alarm some people were it not for the comical appearance bestowed on it by the adornment of a Mexican sombrero and a pair of round, black-framed spectacles with very thick lenses. Contemplating it last New Year’s Eve, while waiting for the midnight chimes, it occurred to me that Carmen’s stuffed boar’s head would make a good subject upon which to base a character for a chidren’s book. With a rough idea of how my story was going to be constructed, I began work on the first illustrations in January.
The story begins: ‘Far away, in a land of mountains and forests...’ a setting which, of course, is the beautiful, mountain scenery surrounding my home; the animal characters, too, are all inspired by the creatures which live here. I decided to make Bruno, the hero, into a conceited, self-important animal who deludes not only himself, but also the other creatures, that he is very erudite and wise, hence the title. It’s a simple tale with an element of repetition which children like. The animals seek the counsel of the Wise Old Boar and even though the advice he gives them is silly, they follow it faithfully, trusting in his wisdom. The climax of the story is a terrible storm (a sumbliminal reference to climate change, perhaps?) in which the animals are in fear of losing their lives. Unintentionally, Bruno saves the day and even though he’s revealed as a fraud, he’s hailed as a hero by the grateful animals.
My intention is that the story should be read aloud by, say, a parent at bedtime or a teacher in class. A different voice should be assumed for each of the characters, for example, a deep, pompous voice for the boar; a gruff voice for the badger; a fluttery, agitated voice for the partridge. The illustrations are detailed and as realistic as I could make them. From my experience as a teacher, I’ve found that children prefer realism to flat, cartoon-style illustrations. A child too young to read could look at the pictures and, perhaps, make up his or her own story about each one.
All the illustrations were painted in watercolour with the addition of a touch of casein bodycolour here and there. Some of the full page illustrations can be seen on my web site www.margaretmerry.com.

THE ARRIVAL OF SUMMER IN GUAJAR ALTO

2008-06-17T08:40:00.000-07:00

They say in Guájar Alto that the weather doesn’t settle until the fortieth of May. Sure enough, at the beginning of the second week of June, summer arrived, bringing with it hot days and balmy, flower-scented nights. This is the season of outdoor living, with the (quite exhausting!) succession of fiestas (parties) and barbecues which are a way of life in our village.
The family paid us a visit in May and, as usual, our two little granddaughters blossomed in the sunshine and healthy mountain air. We took them on a trip up to the big reservoir, Pantano de los Bermejales, Granada’s ‘inland beach’, which is ideal for the entertainment of young children. The shore is sandy and the water clean, with no jellyfish or dangerous currents to worry about. The drive, too, is enjoyable because of the wonderful scenery encountered on the way. The wild flowers of the higher altitudes (1000 metres and above) are gorgeous; we saw orchids, wild roses, irises, asphodels and, most spectacular of all, wild paeonies. The colours were stunning, not least the swathes of heavenly blue which turned out to be large-flowered flax, something I’ve never seen before. As we descended towards Arenas del Rey, the surrounding landscape blazed with red poppies and golden stipa grasses, a truly lovely sight. The little girls slept most of the way but they woke up in time to see the snow on the distant Sierra Nevada of which there is a lovely view glimpsed through the pine trees.
At Bermejales, we enjoyed a picnic and for a long time the children were happily absorbed playing with their buckets and spades. We returned via the Lecrin Valley, through the village of Restábal and along a winding, leafy lane which leads to Guájar Faragüit. A most pleasant trip.
As a result of the alarming rise of the cost of diesel, we’ve had a national strike of lorry drivers in Spain. Garages quickly ran out of fuel and supermarket shelves were emptied. There were no fish, meat, fruit or vegetables in the shops on the coast. We’re fortunate in Guájar Alto because, since Moorish times, this valley has been self-sufficient. Dani, who runs the village supermarket, did a valient job in keeping the shop well stocked and Jean-Pierre, the French baker, supplied us with fresh bread as normal. Our vegetable garden is very productive all year round so in our house there is always something to eat in an emergency.
As well as the lorry drivers making the headlines, much attention has been paid by the media regarding an incident in Motril last week involving a snake. In March, the Junta passed a law forbidding the keeping of dangerous pets. Typically, they failed to take into consideration what would happen as regards households which already owned these animals and as a result, many have been dumped. In Motril an apartment block was terrorised by the appearance of a 2.5 metre long snake which eventually took refuge on the roof and had to be retrieved by experts. It was then discovered that the snake, a female, had produced young which were so numerous that they couldn’t be retrieved. In the end, the tenants had to be evacuated and a team sent in to fumigate the block with powerful chemicals. Dogs and other unwanted pets are habitually abandoned in our village so, perhaps, due to this new law, we shan’t be surprised to see crocodiles swimming around the reservoirs or giant iguanas roaming the mountains. It would make a change from the nightly rampages of the wild boar!

EASTER IN GUAJAR ALTO

2008-03-23T09:09:00.000-07:00

Time has a way of passing very quickly when you live in the mountains so that the early Easter of this year was upon us before we’d hardly recovered from Christmas.
In Spain, Semana Santa (Holy Week) is the most important religious festival of all and Guájar Alto, as with all other villages, towns and cities throughout the country, celebrates it with solemn processions through the streets to the church. Thursday and Good Friday are public holidays but there is no Easter Monday. Nationwide, it’s a very busy week with a great deal of traffic movement hampered this year by awful weather in the northern part of Spain. Here in Guájar Alto, March has been a month of glorious, summery days interspersed with unpleasant, windy spells which means that temperatures have fluctuated wildly. April can also be a very changeable month but with the arrival of May, we can look forward to calm, settled weather.
This year, the stewards responsible for organizing village events suggested an excursion into the mountains on Easter Saturday which turned out to be an extremely successful, enjoyable occasion. Those of us with appropriate vehicles turned up at the appointed time, 0900, to pick up passengers but, this being Spain where, on principle, lateness is the norm, it was almost an hour later, with Mari-Carmen and Antonio from the village on board, that we eventually set off.
In a slow-moving convoy of vehicles, each displaying an orange ribbon to complement the orange scarves, worn scout-wise by the stewards, we climbed northwards out of the village, stopping at intervals to get out to admire the lovely views. It was a fresh, sunny day of clear, brilliant light and an intensely blue sky. Eventually, we reached the track which runs through extensive pine forests inhabited by herds of deer. The forestry people have recently carried out a great deal of work and the thinning out of trees has allowed light in which, in turn, has produced a profusion of wild flowers. Many parts are carpeted with leaves of what I think will be asphodels - tall plants with spikes of small, white flowers- or possibly St. Bernard’s lilies, which are very similar in appearance. Whatever they are, they will certainly be spectacular when they come into flower and so I intend to return in a week or two, depending on the weather, to identify them.
The track through the forest seems to go on forever but, at last, at a height of 1,400 metres, we reached the road called Camino de Cabra (Goat Road) which is the old road from Almuñecar on the c oast to Granada. Here, looking through the pines, there is a beautiful view of the Sierra Nevada. Turning on to the road, we found ourselves in a completely different landscape with vast, rolling hills of almonds and olives. We stopped at a roadside bar for refreshments where we were served the local wine and delicious tapas that included wild boar stew and an elaborate potato salad. We were also able to purchase jars of the local honey. Afterwards we drove a little further along the Camino de Cabra and returned through the pine forest by a different route which took us to open countryside beyond which was a vast, panoramic view of the Lecrin Valley, with all its towns and villages, dominated by the towering Sierra Nevada. We wound our way onwards until, eventually, we reached the spot where we were going to have our picnic, on the northern boundary of Guajar Alto.
The invigorating mountain air had given us appetites which was just as well considering the amount of food everyone had brought. As usual, the homemade village wine was passed around and food shared. We had a big bag of broad beans from our vegetablr garden, picked that morning, which met with much approval because the Spanish love to eat them raw. The Spanish - especially the women - adore sweet things and so the chocolate-coated almonds we’d brought especially were also appreciated. In Spain, when you are invited to someone’s house, it is the custom to take not only beer or a bottle of wine, but also some kind of sweet confection.
After the picnic we set off again through the mountains along a winding route which would eventually bring us back to Guajar Alto. As before, we made frequent stops to admire the wonderful views. I think now until mid-May is the best time of year to explore the mountains simply because the wild flowers are so lovely. There are poppies, marigolds and marguerites in their myriads as well as wild pinks, lavatera and snapdragons; bushes of cistus, with pink or white flowers, cascade down the steep sides of ravines. Overhead, the eagles glide, always a thrilling sight.
It was early evening as we returned to Guajar Alto and the village was deserted apart from one lone soul whose Easter Saturday had evidently been celebrated so well that he’d staggered out of a bar and passed out in the gutter.

THE THREE KINGS IN GUAJAR ALTO

2008-01-14T08:50:00.001-08:00

In Spain, whereas the celebrations of Christmas Day and New Year’s Eve tend to be family affairs, the parade of the Three Kings (January 5th) is a very public event which generates a good deal of excitement and in every city, town and village the people throng the streets to watch the spectacle.
In Madrid, the cabalgata de los Reyes Magos is a truly magnificent event and this year’s parade, which we watched on television, was a stunning display featuring not only the three kings sitting on their their thrones in lavishly decorated floats but also a cortège of beautiful white horses and men and women dressed in sumptuous, matching white costumes. In the city of Granada, the kings were very politically correct because they were accompanied by their wives, while in Motril, the thousands of children lining the streets were thrilled to see the wise men arrive in a most authentic manner, sitting on camels. In the Sierra Nevada, 2,700 metres above sea level, the highest cabalgata in Spain took place and much lower down, in the little village of Lentegí, which is a short eagle’s flight from Guájar Alto, the municipal dumper was the mode of transport for the kings.
Here in Guájar alto, our vehicle was one of three pick-up trucks which were requisitioned to transport the kings around the village. Each was decorated with a tall canopy of palm branches, tinsel and paper on which the name of the respective king was painted. As in Granada, the kings, plus a few, sundry elves, were attended by their respective wives and with Melchior resplendent on his throne (a white plastic chair) in the pick-up of our truck and various children who had piled into the cabin, Digby led the procession, to the accompaniment of a cacophony of car horns. Negotiating the narrow streets of Guájar Alto, even at the best of times, requires great concentration so how Digby managed under such circumstances I can’t imagine. Every few metres the procession halted so that sweets could be thrown to the following crowds and there was much excitement as children and adults scrambled to pick them up. The supply of these sweets seemed limitless but I saw from the wrappers that they had been sponsored by various banks and big businesses, hence the extravagance.
At last, the kings reached their destination, the village square, where the entrance to the church had been decorated in readiness. Sitting on a specially erected dais, with the aid of megaphones, Balthazar, Caspar and Melchior took turns to call out the name of each child in the village and hand them their present. In Spain, children receive a special present on January 5th and this year, according to shopkeepers in Granada, parents were spending an average of 150 euros per child.
Most of the village had turned out to watch the cabalgata and a fire had been lit in the square where, after the distribution of the gifts, people gathered around to enjoy hot chocolate and churros (thin rolls of dough deep fried and dusted with sugar). In the majority of Spanish households at this time of year a confection called roscón de Reyes is eaten ; it is a large cake, in the form of a ring, filled with cream and decorated with crystallized fruits. In Spain, of all the sweet confections associated with Christmas, this is the oldest and, in fact, originates from Roman times. It was made to celebrate the arrival of spring and the ring shape represented the annual cycle; much later, as with other pagan customs, it became Christianized and, often, the roscón has a cardboard crown, representing the Three Kings, in its centre. Just as in England it was traditional to put coins in the Christmas pudding, a little ‘surprise’ of glass or porcelain was sometimes hidden inside the roscón.

CHRISTMAS IN GUAJAR ALTO

2008-01-02T09:09:00.000-08:00

At midday on the 24th December, an extraordinary hush descended upon Guájar Alto as, suddenly, all the familiar noises associated with the normal, working day ceased and even the village dogs stopped barking. Not a soul was to be seen, save a solitary, grazing donkey. Everyone was indoors, getting ready to celebrate Christmas Eve.
In England, preparations for Christmas begin so early that, by the time December arrives, many people have worked themselves up into a state of acute anxiety but in Spain, as with most things, there is a much more relaxed attitude towards the festive season and, because there is much less stress, it’s a time of year which you can really enjoy. In this country, it is the custom to celebrate Christmas Eve (Nochebuena) rather than Christmas Day itself and Christmas dinner is eaten before the traditional Midnight Mass. When we came to live in this country, we adopted the Spanish custom of having Christmas Dinner on Christmas Eve and going out for lunch the following day. It is a very sensible arrangement.
At this time of year, it would be difficult to find a Spanish home without a poinsettia (flor de pascua) on display. Spaniards are very superstitious and this plant, which requires long, winter nights to enable it to produce its vivid, red bracts, is considered lucky. Afterwards, it is often planted outdoors, where the favourable climate enables it to grow into a rather attractive tree. Papá Noel (Father Christmas) is very popular and many people hang climbing Santas, with their sacks slung over their shoulders, from their balconies. Of all the Christmas decorations, however, the most significant is the belén (nativity scene) which is displayed in homes, schools and shop windows everywhere. These can sometimes be very elaborate, with months of work having been devoted to their construction. In Spanish towns and cities, a belén viviente, with people portraying the characters, is often performed. To northern Europeans, the idea of being born in a stable is shocking; however, it should be remembered that in many Mediterranean countries it was, until comparatively recently, normal for animals and humans to share accommodation and in the typical Spanish posada (inn with stabling attatched) the animals were often better fed and better housed than the people.
In Guájar Alto, as in other rural places, many people rear the odd turkey or two for Christmas, even if they don’t keep other poultry. We bought ours from the village shop and I roasted it in the traditional way with all the trimmings. As with previous years, Christmas Day itself was warm and sunny. We had arranged to join some friends for lunch at a highly recommended French restaurant in the popular coastal resort of Almuñecar. Everyone was out and about, according to custom, and the bars and restaurants were busy. Having said that, many establishments have reported a 30% drop in business this year during the run up to Christmas due to a massive clampdown on drinking and driving. Legions of police patrols have been on the roads breathalysing drivers and fear of the consequences - a likely prison sentence - has made this an un usually sober festive season.
New Year’s Eve (Noche Vieja) was, according to custom, very much a family occasion and in Guájar Alto, as with everywhere else, everyone was at home and the streets were deserted until after midnight. We spent the evening in one of the village bars and saw in the New Year there. In Spain, it is considered very unlucky not to follow the custom of eating twelve grapes ( one for every chime of the midnight hour ) on New Year’s Eve and so, just before midnight, we were all given a glass filled with grapes. Actually, it’s quite hard to swallow that many grapes in such a short time and I, personally, can never manage more than six before I begin to choke! Afterwards, we all wished each other a Happy New Year and, because we are an hour ahead of the U.K., we left early so that we would be in time to listen to Big Ben and watch the celebrations in London on satellite T.V.. The morning of January Ist, (Año Nuevo) 2008, was mild and sunny but, by the time people had emerged from their houses, nursing their hangovers, the best part of the day was over.
In Spain, the festive season does not end with New Year’s Eve because, on January 5th, the cabalgata de los Reyes Magos, which is a parade symbolizing the coming of the three wise men to Bethlehem, takes place. Even in small villages, like Guájar Alto, it is traditional for three men to dress up as the Magi and throw sweets to the children and the following day, Epiphany (Dia de Reyes), when gifts are exchanged, is a national holiday. Because the shops benefit from a post-Christmas shopping spree as a result of this custom, the January sales don’t begin in earnest until afterwards.

WINTER LIVING IN GUAJAR ALTO

2007-12-19T08:37:00.000-08:00

At this time of year it’s easy to distinguish the visitors to Granada’s Costa Tropical from the residents because the former wear summer clothing while the latter are clad in sweaters and jackets. This is, I think, due to the fact that the hot summers we expereience in this country make us less resistant to cold and, although by English standards the winters here are positively balmy, there are days, nevertheless, when we feel distinctly chilly. One of the reasons for this susceptibility to cold is that houses in this part of Spain, unlike hermetically sealed English ones, are built to be cool in summer; they don’t retain heat very well and so, on a winter’s day, it’s more likely to be warmer outside than it is indoors. We have adopted the sensible habit of wearing several layers of clothing which can be removed as the day warms up.
In the mountain villages of Granada, the pleasant, homely smell of wood smoke is characteristic of the winter months. One of the most attractive features of our cortijo is the traditional fireplace which, typical of this province, is built of Moroccan brick and can accommodate the most substantial logs with ease. In Guájar Alto we have a plentiful supply of pine logs which we augment with slow-burning olive and almond wood. We get a good blaze going as soon as the sun has gone down and, with rugs to cover the floors (which, of course, are tiled) we are able to make ourselves snug.
In Spain, many people still use ‘cosy tables’ as a means of keeping warm in winter. These are two-tiered, round tables with circular holes cut out of the bottom tiers into which braziers are fitted. Families sit around their cosy tables, which are covered with heavy, baize cloths, toasting their feet. Not surprisingly, this isn’t a very safe way of keeping warm and even though the traditional, charcoal braziers have largely been replaced by electric ones, resulting domestic fires are not infrequent. In former times, the demand for charcoal was great and in Guájar Alto the production of this commodity was one of its most important industries. Roaming the mountain paths, I’ve often come upon the remains of the stone-built ovens which were used in its manufacture. The charcoal burners themselves (they were calledtiznaos) were easily recognizable because of their permanently blackened hands and faces.

There is a plentiful supply of citrus fruit in the village now that the oranges, lemons, grapefruits and mandarines have ripened and people have been busy harvesting the olives. In our vegetable garden the broad beans are flowering nicely, the peas are doing well and very soon we shall have cabbage, broccoli, cauliflower and beetroot. Curiously, salad vegetables, such as lettuces, seem to do better in winter than in summer and I have been making delicious salads using home-grown rocket, lambs’ lettuce, baby spinach and five different varieties of lettuce. To this assortment of leaves I add avocado, toasted walnuts, fresh dates and small, crunchy pieces of bacon. I make a dressing of olive oil, balsamic vinegar, lemon juice and sugar cane syrup.
Two years ago, I was given a large bag of tamarinds (the tamarind is a tropical, evergreen tree which does well in sheltered parts of Guájar Alto) and, because the fruit has a sharp, bittersweet flavour, I thought the best thing to do with it would be to make chutney and, indeed, the experiment was successful. However, the other day, while clearing out a cupboard, I discovered in its recesses some jars of the same chutney (about which I’d quite forgotten) and was pleasantly surprised to find that time had improved and intensified the spicy aroma and the richness of the contents. I’m so pleased those tamarinds didn’t go to waste!
We are already halfway through the hunting season and, although I don’t like the idea of killing for sport, there is no doubt that a cull of wild boar was needed this year. Some hunters shot two large male boars near our land and I actually had my photograph taken with the carcasses! Seen from such close quarters, it’s not difficult to understand just how potentially dangerous these beasts can be. The hunters had quite a large team of dogs, some of which were Andalucian podencos, long-legged, slender dogs with pointed noses, in many ways not unlike a typical, English lurcher. As a sport, hunting is immensely popular in this country but, according to the Spanish press, it has been a ‘tragic year’ as far as this activity is concerned. So far in 2007, there have been 20 deaths and 860 reported injuries as a result of hunting accidents. It will be a relief, I think, when the season is over!
In a book of traditional recipes of Granada province I found one for cooking wild boar. The meat is marinated for three days in red wine and herbs then cooked slowly until it is tender, at which stage whole, peeled chestnuts are added.

GUAJAR ALTO: WINTER PARADISE

2007-11-27T08:59:00.000-08:00

If you suffer from the type of seasonal affective disorder brought about by the short, dark days of the typical English winter, then a trip to Guájar Alto is guaranteed to lift your spirits because there is no greater tonic than winter sun, of which we have plenty.
In November, the citrus fruit begins to ripen and the contrast of the bright orange and yellow and the glossy green of the leaves, set against a deep blue Mediterranean sky, is a sight to hearten even the most depressed. Also, the climate of this area favours the cultivation of roses and in November and December they have a second flowering, something you cannot fail to notice as you drive into the village because, wherever you look, there are sprawling roses of all colours and varieties. Summer annuals, such as calendulas and cosmos daisies, which flowered in May and early June, have seeded themselves and are flowering again while in the surrounding countryside and on the mountain slopes the rosemary bushes and ericas are all in bloom. In the shade of the pine forests are violets ( V. arborescens) which grow in bushy clumps and have long, narrow leaves and a profusion of pale blue, very pretty, flowers.
On the downside, this is the time of year when a most unpleasant pest starts to make an appearance in the form of the larvae of the pine processionary moth, Thaumetopoea pityocampa. Its life cycle is as follows: the moth lays its eggs on pine needles, usually not more than two metres from the ground, and when the caterpillars, which are very gregarious, have hatched, they make their way upwards and on the tips of branches they weave silken tents into which they retreat during the day and emerge at night to feed on the needles. As the caterpillars grow, so the nests expand until they become very conspicuous, hanging from the pines like white candyfloss. In the spring, when it is time to leave the nest, they form themselves into a ball which then falls to the ground. Next, they unwind themselves and, nose to tail, begin their processionary march in search of soft soil in which to burrow and pupate. Finally, they emerge as moths and the cycle begins again.
The hairs of the caterpillars contain a toxin which can be fatal to animals and very harmful to humans and it is at the processionary stage, when contact with them is most likely, that they are particularly dangerous. As an unsuspecting foreigner, not long after I came to live in Spain, I came upon hundreds of caterpillars while walking under some pines. They were strewn across the ground like party streamers, each several metres long, and I stopped to investigate. While I was thus engrossed, I wasn’t aware that my Jack Russell was also carrying out his own investigation and by the time we’d reached home, he was showing symptoms of great distress. Alarmed, I took him straight to the vet who enlightened me about the caterpillars. Fortunately, my dog recovered but I have since met a couple of dogs with half of their tongues missing, and heard of several more similarly affected. The caterpillars are not only harmful to animals but also do a great deal of damage to the trees. The authorities are aware of the problem but say that they don’t have sufficient funds to tackle it although In Navarra I understand that they put up wooden nesting boxes to attract birds, such as flycatchers, which eat the caterpillars. The Great Spotted Cuckoo is an important predator, but the use of insecticides has caused its numbers to decline. It favours olive groves and pine forests where their is a population of members of the crow family, in whose nests it lays its eggs, and since we have a great many resident jays and don’t use chemicals detrimental to the environment, I’m hoping that the cuckoos will come here to breed. Until then, we have to dispose of the caterpillars ourselves.
The wine made from this year’s grapes is ready to drink and I’m pleased to say that at a recent sampling, ours met with approval. The flavour of these country wines varies considerably, depending on the type of grape and the area in which the vines were cultivated. The climate of Guájar Alto, with its long, hot summers and cold winter nights, produces grapes which are full of flavour. The white wine produced from the muscatel grape has a taste and dryness reminiscent of fine sherry, while the wine from the red grapes is sweet and fruity. Both are lethal!

A TRIP TO GRANADA

2007-10-24T09:06:00.000-07:00

Earlier this month, we thought we’d celebrate our wedding anniversary by spending a few days in Almeria’s beautiful Cabo de Gata but the weather forecast for that region was so bad at the time that we had to abandon our plans and decided, instead, to treat ourselves to a meal at a restaurant we’d heard about in Padul, in the Lecrin valley. To make the evening more special, we left early so that we could spend a few hours strolling around Granada city, something I always enjoy doing and, for a change, we took the scenic route from Guájar Faragüit via Pinos de Valle to Restábel, from where it’s only a short run up the autovia to Granada.
Although the scenic route is slow and winding, it’s interesting because the landscape changes as you round each bend; you pass exposed stretches of olive and almond trees; damp, fertile, sheltered zones where there are citrus trees and palms; arid mountain slopes where only thorny scrub survives. As you climb higher, the vegetation changes and there are deciduous trees, such as hazel and poplar, growing on the roadside verges; in the distance you can see the town of Lanjarón and the recently installed, enormous wind turbines. At the summit of a hill, before you reach Pinos de Valle, there is a large, abandoned house, now crumbling into a state almost beyond repair and, on the opposite side of the road, a curiosity in the form of a castellated tower, painted red, Moorish style. The bleak, windswept location creates a rather spooky atmosphere so that it’s something of a relief to descend into the sheltered Lecrin Valley, verdant with its extensive groves of citrus trees.
Although I’ve visited Granada quite a few times during the daytime, it’s many years since I spent an evening there and I’d forgotten how different the relaxed, pleasant atmosphere of that time of day is from the mad, frenetic, bustle of morning. People were sitting outside bars and cafés, strolling about, meeting friends, walking their dogs or simply enjoying the evening sunshine. We made our way to one of Granada’s main streets, Recogidas, and from there turned down a quiet side street, one of those where you are likely to find the most fascinating shops. In fact, it wasn’t long before we came upon just such a one, typical of those old-fashioned establishments, reminiscent of the 1940’s and 50’s, which still exist in Spain. In the rather gloomy interior were rows of shelves on which were innumerable jars of herbs, spices and teas of every type imaginable. Behind the counter was an elderly gentleman, himself not unlike a character from a bygone age. I requested half-a-dozen or so different spices, including chili powder, something I’ve not been able to acquire since I moved to this country five years ago; each one was poured from the jar onto a square of waxed paper placed on some ancient scales. The paper was then deftly folded into a neat envelope on which the name of the spice was written, with great care. Traditional Spanish cuisine can often be rather bland (hence the difficulty in obtaining chili powder) and a Spanish friend who once visited me while I was preparing a pasta dish commented that I used a great many herbs and spices when I cooked.
In the local press, for the past couple of years, there has been quite a lot of publicity about the nuisance caused by a huge increase in the number of starlings roosting in the city at night. I had no idea just how bad the problem was until we actually passed a leafy square at dusk just as a vast flock of the birds was descending. There were hundreds of thousands of them, blackening the sky with a great whirring of wings, swooping down to find a place to perch until every, single, last twig of every tree was occupied. The noise they made as they jostled and squabbled for a place was deafening and there was no possibility of crossing the square at that moment without being badly splattered.
We wandered back to Recogidas and from there to the big department store, El Corte Inglés, the perfect establishment for a spot of retail therapy. I would have liked to spend longer there, but time was getting on and we had to make our way back to the car park. It was dark by the time we reached the autovia and the traffic was busy with people going home to the suburbs. Travelling towards Granada, Padul is one of the last towns you pass as you ascend to the point known as El Suspiro del Moro (the Moor’s sigh) which, according to the legend, was where the deposed Moorish king, Boabdil, turned round to gaze for the last time at his beloved Granada.
We soon located the restaurant, La Cantina de Manuel, which is situated on the main street where there are plenty of places to park. Opening the door, we found ourselves in a large, evidently well patronised, bar but, because we were hungry, we went straight to the dining room where we were greeted most cordially and offered a choice of tables. Everything on the menu sounded so delicious that we hardly knew what to choose. While we were poring over it, the waiter brought a tapa of partridge paté which was utterly divine. Finally, we ordered a starter of tropical salad followed by jabali (wild boar) for Digby and duck breast for me. The tropical salad was an exquisite work of art: there were slivers of endive, plus the usual mango, kiwi, pineapple and other fruits, with a centrepiece of pine nuts, dried fruits, crunchy vegetables and other delicious things, drizzled with miel de caña, the extract of the locally grown sugar cane. We’ve sampled tropical salads in a number of different restauarants, but this one was definitely the best. My duck breast, served with plain, boiled potatoes, was perfect; that, too, was garnished with miel de caña, something which I often use myself when cooking. Its rich, malty sweetness complements a number of savoury dishes, especially those comprising rabbit and pork, and it is also perfect for sweetening desserts. I tried a piece of Digby’s jabali, expecting it to have a coarse, rather gamey, texture and flavour. To my surprise, it was sweet and tender and subtly flavoured with thyme.
After the richness of the duck and jabali dishes, the sharpness of the lemon sorbets we ordered for dessert made the perfect contrast. Our meal had been superb and the restaurant certainly deserves the favourable reports it has been given. Our evening in Granada, followed by the visit to Cantina de Manuel, made our wedding anniversary an occasion to remember.

AUTUMN FRUITS OF GUAJAR ALTO

2007-10-17T02:21:00.000-07:00

The long, hot summers and the cool winter nights of Guájar Alto provide perfect conditions for olive production and for centuries, since the time of Moorish occupation, it has been a major crop in this area. Whereas olives destined for the mills are harvested in late December, those intended for the table may be picked now. However, If they are still hard and green, then they are not ready; if they have turned a pale, yellowish colour and feel slightly soft, then that’s fine. During the ripening process olives change colour from pale green through to violet and finally black and they may be collected for curing during any of these stages. I use only the most perfect fruits for preserving and carefully select the best from each tree. If you bite into a freshly-picked olive, the astringency shrivels the mouth, hence the need for curing.
Everyone here seems to have a favourite method of preparing olives for preservation but the one which I find most reliable is as follows: firstly, with a small, sharp knife make a slit in each olive; it’s important to do this in order to draw out the bitterness. Secondly, into an adequately sized container pour in enough spring water ( not tap water ) to cover the olives and throw in a good handful of coarse salt. Cover with a cloth and leave for four days, stirring occasionally. After four days, drain the olives and put them into fresh saline solution, again using only spring water. This process needs to be repeated at least four times, at the end of which the olives should be ready to be put into jars.
I sterilize the jars and their lids in a moderate oven for at least five minutes. Next, I fill them with the rinsed olives, plus a few cloves of peeled garlic. I then add to each either a sprig of rosemary, thyme, a couple of bay leaves or some wild fennel. I also use sliced oranges or lemons, chilli flakes or soft, green, pickled peppercorns which are so hard to come by in the U.K. but are often sold in supermarkets here. Finally, I pour olive oil over the olives, filling the jars to their brims, and screw the lids on. In this way they will keep for months. Last year, I preserved some olives in saline solution and the rest in oil but the former did not keep as well as the latter. I’ve sampled other people’s home-cured olives conserved in saline and thought they were rather soggy; they should be firm when you bite into them. As a preserving medium I find that olive oil, as with my sun-dried tomatoes, locks in and enhances the flavour, as well as enabling the fruit to maintain its firmness.
Pomegranates have also been grown for centuries in Guájar Alto but, nowadays, no-one bothers to pick them and it is such a pity to see them lying on the ground, rotting. Eating a pomegranate can be quite hard work so a good alternative is to juice the fruit, strain it and pour it into ice-trays. Similarly, frozen grapefruit cubes are absolutely delicious when added to a gin-and-tonic. In Spain, blackberry or mulberry cordials are very popular and, added to sparkling white wine, make a delicately coloured, exquisitely flavoured, drink.
We have a great many oaks ( of the evergreen variety ) in this area and I have noticed that it has been a very good year for acorns. In fact, they are rather a nuisance because I have to keep sweeping them from the terrace in order to avoid slipping on them. The wild boar love them, of course, and every night can be heard snuffling and snorting about wherever there are oaks. Acorns are also an important food source for jays and whereas in England you hardly ever see them because they are such shy birds, in Guájar Alto there are so many of them that we see them all the time. We have a big oak tree outside the kitchen and often, when I’m standing at the sink, I see jays stripping the acorns from the twigs. They are strikingly handsome birds with rose-tinted breasts and wing feathers striped with the loveliest shade of blue but their cries are loud, raucous and startling.
Since it’s been such a good year for acorns, I think there might also be a good crop of chestnuts this year. Last autumn, we were given so many that my fingers were sore from the painstaking task of skinning them. I’d had visions of luscious, home-made marrons glacés but these were thwarted when I consulted my Larousse Gastronomique and read that the process involved in the making of them was long and intricate and seldom undertaken in the home. We had to make do instead with endless purées and stuffings.
Amongst the myrtle, box and other shrubs typical of the Mediterranean, there are many juniper bushes growing on the mountainsides here and this year they’ve produced a great many berries. As well as being used for the distillation of gin, their astringent, aromatic flavour makes them ideal for adding to marinades or savoury dishes.
In the mountain villages of Granada it used to be the custom to preserve surplus produce using vinegar, salt or oil but, unfortunately, very few of the youg women these days seem interested in carrying on the habits of their mothers. I think it’s a great pity.

A CHANGE OF SEASON

2007-10-01T04:52:00.000-07:00

Our long summer drought ended last week in spectacular fashion with a storm so violent that it was almost as bad as the one which hit us almost exactly a year ago and which, in its two hour duration, destroyed features of the landscape which had been here for centuries. Whereas, this time, the force of the storm was not so great, the amount of rain which fell during it was unbelievable; such was its volume that anyone standing underneath it would certainly have been washed away, together with the giant boulders, trees and other debris which cascaded down the mountains and ended up in the swollen torrent of the river Toba.
It took us the entire weekend to clean up after the deluge, mud being the biggest problem. Our vegetable garden was completely destroyed but, since October is the time for digging up summer crops, such as tomatoes and peppers, and putting in winter lettuces, sowing parsnips, beetroot and so on, it wasn’t too much of a disaster. However, we lost a good deal of this year’s olive crop and many of those remaining on the trees were bruised by the huge hailstones which descended at the height of the storm. For those whose crops are their living it is much more serious, of course. Some growers were able to retrieve some of the almonds which the storm had stripped from the trees but, in most cases, they had been washed away in a tidal wave of mud.
This is the time for harvesting the grapes and making wine. Fortunately, the netting with which we had covered our vines to deter marauding foxes, wild boar and birds protected the grapes quite well from the damaging effects of the hailstones and we had a satisfactory crop. After we’d picked them, we laid the bunches on a table outside for a couple of days so that the sun could dry them and intensify the flavour by increasing the sugar and resulting alcohol content. The next step was to break them up in order to prepare them for the final pressing and for this an impressive piece of apparatus resembling a giant mincing machine is used. Once the juice has been extracted by the wine-press it is poured into wooden casks and left to ferment for forty days after which time it is ready to drink. The grapes most commonly grown in our area are the muscatel variety but to improve the colour of the wine the juice of small, sweet red grapes is often added. The making of mosto (village wine) is a serious business and there is an element of competition, everyone thinking that theirs is the best. Certainly, it is always very pleasant to drink, especially when young, and it is also very pure, being free of additives, and rich in antioxidants. However, the seemingly innocuous sweetness and fruitiness of its flavour are deceptive: mosto is very potent indeed!
We were told an amusing anecdote about a neighbour who had stored his grape harvest in a shed but had not closed the door properly afterwards. When he returned to press the grapes, he discovered that they had all been eaten and the culprit, a jabali (wild boar) was lying on the ground asleep, quite intoxicated.
The weather settled again after the storm and we enjoyed days of warm sunshine and cloudless skies with hardly a breath of wind. There was a rain-washed purity and a softness in the air after the fierce heat of summer and from our cortijo which overlooks the village and the surrounding mountain panorama there was such a tranquility about the scene below us that it was hard to imagine it had been so recently subjected to a storm of such ferocity. The light this time of year is particularly beautiful and, for me, one of the joys of living here is being able to stand on my terrace with my morning coffee watching the sun rise over the mountains, the first rays illuminating the distant sierras with the loveliest, most delicate shades of blue and violet.
This time of year is very good for birdwatching because all the migratory species are in transit. Our swallows departed a few days ago, followed soon afterwards by the bee eaters. They do an excellent job of keeping irritating insects at bay and now that they’ve gone, suddenly we find that we’re being plagued by flies when we sit on the terrace. We shall be really pleased to see them back again next spring.

NATURE NOTES from GUAJAR ALTO

2007-09-06T02:40:00.000-07:00

Now that we are into September, although it is still very hot, there are already signs that the summer is coming to an end. The bee-eaters arrived in April and are now preparing to return to Africa; in the last few days large numbers of them have been lining up on the electricity cables, preparing for their journey. They are very agile birds and it is amusing to watch their aerial acrobatics. The evergreen oaks which are a feature of this area have produced lots of acorns this year which are irresistible to the jabali (wild boar); their numbers have increased dramatically over the last couple of years and they have become something of a nuisance. The other night, the barking of our dogs took on a note of hysteria which got me out of bed in alarm. I ran outside and looked over the wall where I saw, illuminated by bright moonlight, two jabalies in the bushes at the bottom of the hill on which our house is built. I shouted at them, threw a stone, and the next moment was astonished to see many more - at least fifteen - come streaming out of the darkness and stampede up the mountain, snorting and grunting with indignation as they ran. It would not be a good idea to take a nocturnal stroll in these parts!
Recently, we made an excursion with some friends to an inland lake, 800 metres above sea level. We drove out of Guájar Alto, through extensive pine forests where we saw some magnificent deer, eagles and other birds of prey, and finally into the gently rolling hills of olive growing country. As always, we marvelled at the diverse landscape of this most beautiful province. The lake, which after months of dry weather was at its lowest, is a popular amenity with windsurfing facilities and boat hire. Because there are no currents, children can play safely on their inflatables and the water, which is warmer than the sea, is ideal for swimming. Also, of course, there are none of the plagues of jellyfish which have been such a problem at coastal resorts for the last couple of years. We parked under the pines which line the shore and enjoyed a picnic lunch; afterwards, I strolled along the shore to inspect the flora and although it wasn’t the best time of year to go botanising, I could see from the dried remains of plants that some interesting species grow there, particularly those suited to arid, sandy conditions. Apart from the pines, tamarisk is the most common plant; it is an attractive shrub with its feathery leaves and pretty, pink blossom.
We made another excursion a few days ago up to the Sierra de Las Guájaras ( note the feminine ending here!) in order to admire the lovely views which can be seen up there. The air is very pure and I can tell from the flora that it’s also very dry. The sky was an intense, transparent blue and all that could be seen in that vast, cloudless dome was a solitary eagle, drifting lazily over the mountain peaks. I picked a bunch of thyme, lavender and rosemary because, although we’ve no shortage of mountain herbs at home, for some reason plants such as these become more aromatic the higher up they grow.
Growing close to our house is a large, evergreen oak of the kind I’ve already mentioned and we’ve made underneath it a pleasant, shady sitting area. However, we haven’t been able to sit there for some weeks now due to the steady rain of a sticky secretion resulting from the milking of aphids by the ants. Like the mature English oak, this type of tree supports all kinds of life including large numbers of jays, which eat the acorns, and a host of small, insect-eating birds, some of which nest in the gaps in the stone wall surrounding the tree. The olives, pines and oaks provide good cover for small birds and although you can’t always see them, you can identify them by their song. Since we’ve lived here I’ve seen several different kinds of warbler, including blackcaps and Dartford warblers; coal tits, great tits, crested tits and long-tailed tits, tree-creepers and green woodpeckers. We don’t use chemicals on our land and I think this is the reason we have such an abundance of birdlife. Also at this time of year flocks of beautiful grayling butterflies, also attracted by the sugary secretion, swarm about the oaks.
English people who settle on the coast often say that they miss the seasons. Here, in the mountains, although winter is never severe, you do at least get a sense of the changing of the seasons. At present, we are still enjoying the balmy, flower-scented nights which are typical of Guájar Alto; in a few weeks, however, although the days may still be hot, it will begin to feel quite chilly once the sun has gone down and we’ll know that autumn has arrived.

SUMMER FIESTAS in GUAJAR ALTO

2007-09-06T02:39:00.000-07:00

In Guájar Alto, throughout the long, hot months of summer when outdoor living may be enjoyed to the full, people take turns to lay on fiestas (parties). The Spanish are extremely gregarious and hospitable so occasions such as these are an important part of village life.
The typical fiesta begins with wine, beer and tapas. Although there are numerous traditional recipes for tapas, in the province of Granada, famous for its hams which are cured in the village of Trevélez, in the high Alpujarras, many households have whole legs of cured ham from which they carve thin slices to offer as tapas. The ham goes very well with some of the many varieties of Spanish cheeses; many ex-pats crave Cheddar but I think some of the hard Spanish cheeses, particularly those made from ewes’ milk, are actually superior. Goats’ cheese from Guájar Alto is far better than any that can be bought in an English supermarket and because it complements so many other things, there is no end to the delicious tapas that can be made from it; goats’ cheese with membrillo, a kind of quince jelly, is a particularly delectable combination. Ripe, juicy water melons are plentiful at this time of year and a delicious summer salad can be made using green leaves and cubes of water melon and goats’ cheese sprinkled with olive oil and lemon juice.
The Spanish consume a great deal of fish so, not surprisingly, there are many traditional fish tapas. Barbecued sardines, for example, are very popular, as is Gallega octopus - the tentacles are cooked, sliced, then seasoned with salt, a sprinkling of olive oil and lemon juice and, most importantly, pimentón, which is a smoked paprika widely used in Spanish cuisine. Steamed mussels served in their shells and garnished with finely chopped onions and peppers look and taste delicious.
At this time of year, the abundance of garden produce can be used as ingredients for many different kinds of tapas. Aubergines, for example, are very versatile; they may be thinly sliced, fried and served with honey or combined with batter to make fritters. Little green peppers (pimientos de padrón), picked when they are young and tender, may be threaded on to skewers and barbecued. Gazpacho - cold tomato soup - is an ideal way of using up surplus tomatoes, green peppers and cucumbers and goes down very well at summer fiestas.
Spanish omelette, cut into bite-sized pieces, is a popular tapa. The classic recipe uses only potatoes, onions and eggs but since this can sometimes be rather dry, I like to add sweet red peppers and a generous amount of chopped parsley. It is an ideal tapa for vegetarians, as is a warm salad of chickpeas seasoned with freshly grated ginger, chili flakes and lemon juice.
At a typical fiesta, barbecued meat - usually pork - and fish are served, accompanied by bowls of fresh salad and bread, after the tapas. By tradition, the men have charge of the barbecue while the women attend to the rest of the food and look after the guests. There is no formality so guests help themselves to drinks.
Since the Spanish are inordinately fond of sweet things, a variety of desserts is offered at most fiestas. There are some very good cooks in our village and I recently sampled an exquisitely light confection made from basic cake ingredients mixed with yoghourt and chopped, fresh peaches; typically, many desserts are flavoured with anise. Coffee is accompanied by a variety of liqueurs, spirits, cordials and still more sweet things. I am especially fond of a cordial made from mora (mulberry) which makes a delicious drink added to chilled, sparkling white wine. In hot weather, many people drink tinto de verano which is a refreshing combination of red wine, lemonade, a dash of vermouth and plenty of ice and lemon.
When we, ourselves, give a fiesta, because we have both Spanish and English guests, I prepare a large selection of dishes from which, I hope, there will be something to please everyone. Catering for forty or fifty guests requires a good deal of planning and organisation, therefore I like to do as much as possible on the day before the event takes place. There are always children at fiestas but they are easy to please because they’re always famished after spending hours in the swimming pool and so a big slice of pizza, hot and bubbling from the oven, goes down better than anything.
Usually, private fiestas in our village take place in cortijos which have terraces large enough to accommodate all the guests but, sometimes, we make use of public amenity areas. The most popular of these is a riverside location, pleasantly shaded with poplars and limes, complete with an artificial beach. In summer, the river is dammed so that the water, which is a transparent, emerald green, is deep enough for swimming. People bring chairs, tables, food, beer and wine and, because the Spanish really know how to enjoy themselves, before very long an atmosphere of relaxion and conviviality is established.

SUMMER IN GUAJAR ALTO

2007-08-16T00:42:00.000-07:00

It’s high summer here in Guájar Alto and the heat of August is so overwhelming that any physical exertion is an impossibility. The nights - soft, balmy and scented with the voluptious fragrance of galán de noche - are deliciously cool by comparison. The unceasing trilling of innumerable insects is so loud that it drowns all other sounds, even the raucous, nocturnal croakings of the frogs and toads which inhabit the water reservoirs. At this time of year, the pines which cover the mountain slopes have lost their characteristic, sharp, resinous scent and instead give off a warm, sweet, flowery fragrance. The grapes are ripening and have to be protected from marauding bands of jabali (wild boar), fruit-eating mammals, such as foxes, and, of course, birds. The figs are now at their best and few pleasures in life can equal that of biting into a luscious, sun-warmed, ripe fig picked straight from the tree.
It is also the most important time of the year for the three villages which comprise Los Guájares because the first fifteen days of August are devoted to a succession of fiestas patronales ( fiestas in honour of San Lorenzo, patron saint of Guájar Faragüit, and La Virgen de la Aurora, patron of the other two villages) - first Guájar Fondón, next Guájar Faragüit and, finally, Guájar Alto. In Spain, which has many fiestas throughout the year, the fiestas patronales are the most important and the most lavish. To a visiting foreigner, a village fiesta, such as ours, might appear to be nothing more than an excuse to have a good time and get drunk; its true significance, however, is much more profound: the sacred rituals which pay homage to the patron, the noise of bell-ringing, loud music, rockets and fireworks, the eating and drinking together all serve to bring together the community and reinforce its sense of identity. Work comes to a standstill, there is no bus service because no-one leaves the village during the days of celebration and people stay up for most of the night.
For the devout, the most significant aspect of this type of fiesta is the religious procession in which men, women and children take part. In an atmosphere of great solemnity, the cross of the church is carried at the head of the procession with two altar boys leading a double file of children, women and men. In the centre are the religious images accompanied by the mayordomos (stewards), the priest and all the various authorities involved with the organisation of the fiesta; these are followed by another group of men and, finally, a band of musicians. The not-so-devout spend the entirety of the fiesta at the chiringuito bar which is erected for the occasion in the square by the church.
Throughout the duration of the fiesta a variety of entertainments take place such as concerts, plays, childrens’ games, competitions and dancing.There is also a paella feast, symbolising the shared meal which reinforces the sense of community, to which everyone is invited. All these festivities are announced by rockets, the noise of which is deafening, let off in the mountains. Fireworks feature strongly during fiestas and there is a good-natured rivalry between the three villages of Los Guájares as to who can put on the most splendid displays. The final night of celebration ends with a performance given by a popular singer (this year we have a flamenco singer who is well known for his T.V. appearances) followed by more live music. After the festivities, there will be many a bleary eye and hangover and, not surprisingly,it will be several days before life in the village returns to normal.

In the mountains of Los Guájares, where there is no light pollution, the magnificence of the night skies creates a sense of awe and although they are so clear and dark that an observer would be unlucky not to see at least one ‘falling star’ or two at any time of the year, towards the end of July and for the first fortnight of August we are able to observe the most reliable of the annual meteor showers, the Perseids, whose parent comet is the Swift-Tuttle. Some of the meteors are so faint and swift that, if you blink, you miss them; others are like fat, falling snowflakes while the most spectacular flash across the sky leaving a trail of silver. In Spain, where all natural phenomena are given romantic names, the Perseids are known as las lagrimas de San Lorenzo (the tears of San Lorenzo) who, as already mentioned, is the patron saint of Guájar Faragüit.

CUISINE OF GUÁJAR ALTO

2007-07-03T01:51:00.002-07:00

Although Guájar Alto is a small village it has four bars, three of which serve not only tapas but also three-course meals and the cuisine has such a good reputation that people come from far and wide to dine here.
Every province of Andalucia has its regional specialities but Granada is different because many of its traditional dishes are influenced by the nazarí, the last of the Moorish rulers who occupied Spain for so many centuries. Also, the quality of the food produced in the province is outstanding and as well as the fertile vega (plain) of Granada, the Costa Tropical, with its favourable climate, also yields a huge variety of crops and exotic fruits which can’t be grown anywhere else. In Guájar Alto, which is situated at the head of a fertile river valley, the good climate which we enjoy means that we are also able to produce a wide range of fruit and vegetables. Olives are the main crop, just as they were in the time of the Moors, the first inhabitants; almonds, too, are important and, like the olives, do better in the higher zones. Lower down, alongside the river, avocados, chirimoyas (custard apples), vines, figs, citrus trees and nisperos flourish.
When you dine out here, the first dish to be brought to the table is a mixed salad, followed soon afterwards by a big tureen of soup. In winter, because the nights can be chilly in the mountains, these are hearty and warming. Although the recipes, handed down from generation to generation, are secret the main ingredients tend to be pulses (usually haricot beans), pieces of ham, baby clams and seasonal vegetables. These soups, which are meals in themselves, are a far cry from those which are generally served in restaurants and a visit to our village is worth it just to sample them. In summer, these soups are replaced by home-made gazpacho which, made from locally-grown tomatoes, cucumbers and the village’s own vinegar, is superb and probably better than that which any professional chef can come up with.The next course is a meat dish and there is a choice of pork, chicken, rabbit, lamb or choto (young goat). The latter, I’ve found, can be rather bland when I prepare it myself and I think only a Spanish woman knows how to cook it properly, using a good deal of seasoning with a touch of picante. A leg of lamb done very slowly in the oven, according to a traditional Andalucian recipe, is deliciously tender.
Served with the meat course are patatas a la pobre (poor man’s potatoes) which consist of sliced potatoes, onions, garlic and peppers fried in olive oil in a heavy-based pan on a fairly high heat so that the vegetables don’t absorb too much oil. The success of this dish depends on the quality of the potatoes and I’ve found that those which are locally grown are infinitely superior to those bought in supermarkets.
The deserts, made on the premises, are light and creamy natillas; my favourite, which is exquisite, is the one made from avocados. Because the Spanish adore sweet things, these deserts are accompanied by home-made biscuits or doughnuts flavoured with a hint of anise and sometimes there is fig bread, which is a kind of paste made from figs and almonds and, again, flavoured with anise. Or, perhaps, you’ll be served slices of goats’ cheese spread with local honey or membrillo, a pink jelly which is made from a fruit resembling a large, furry apple.
The locally baked bread is of a particularly high standard because the baker is French and learned his trade in Paris; typically, the loaves are crisp on the outside but very light on the inside. There was a time when, contrary to what many people believe, the Mediterranean diet was very poor because it consisted mainly of bread and is is for this reason that many Spanish recipes contain bread or breadcrumbs as an ingredient.
Our neighbour keeps a herd of goats from the milk of which his wife makes the most superb cheese. I’ve sampled a good deal of goats’ cheese during the years I’ve lived in this country but I have to say hers is the best; it’s smooth, creamy and with just the right amount of added salt.
Pork is the meat most often consumed in Spain, a custom which harks back to the time of the Spanish Inquisition who encouraged the people to eat it because they reviled Jews and Muslims to whom, of course, this meat is forbidden. In Guájar Alto, pigs are reared and then slaughtered in an almost ritualistic manner at what is called a matanza; you can tell when one is about to happen because the smell of the onions being prepared by the women permeates every corner of the village. When the blood has been drained from the animal, the herbs, spices and other ingredients needed for making morcilla (black pudding) are added and the strongest man in the village plunges his arm up to the elbow into the big cauldron to give everything a good stir. The mixture is put into a sausage-making machine, forced into a casing and then boiled. The woman use the offal to make a rich cazuela (casserole) while the legs are sent to the high Alpujarras, where the finest hams are produced, to be cured.
The climate of Guájar Alto, with its hot summers and cool winter nights, is ideal for olive growing which means that the quality of the oil produced is superb; the olives have a rich, nutty flavour and when they’re preserved they remain firm and succulent. I do mine the following way: firstly, so that they won’t be bitter, I make a slit in each olive; next, I cover them with a fairly strong saline solution using water from the village fountains, which is very pure; after four days I change the water, rinse the olives, and repeat the process, four times in all. Usually, the olives are preserved in a saline solution but I’ve found they last longer if they’re preserved in olive oil. I add mountain herbs, bay leaves, green peppercorns and a few little chili peppers.
I think the avocados grown in this area are even better than those produced on the Costa Tropical. The perfect avocado is ready to eat five days after it has been picked from the tree; this means that the fruit has absorbed sufficient oil to give it a characteristic, rich, buttery flavour which is never found in exported avocados. Before I came to live in Spain, I always considered them a luxury but here they are so plentiful that I take them for granted and eat them almost every day. Something else that I’ve come to take for granted is the abundance of citrus fruit which we enjoy in Guájar Alto; it begins to ripen in December and lasts until the beginning of summer. There is nothing more pleasant first thing in the morning than a glass of freshly-squeezed orange juice from fruit that’s just been picked.
Every year, the sampling of wine from the abundance of grapes which are produced in this village is a very serious business indeed. The vines flourish here in rampant profusion, the most common being the muscatel which is particularly rich in antioxidants. I prefer to drink the wine when it is young and sweet because, as it matures, it develops a stronger, quite musty flavour. Either way, although it looks and tastes very innocuous, it has a strength which can take the unwary by surprise!
The favourable climate enables the gardener to have a supply of fresh vegetables all year round. Culinary herbs, such as basil, parsley, coriander, oregano, mint and dill are very easy to grow while thyme, rosemary and fennel are found in the mountains. I often use all these herbs together, plus a bay leaf or two, to add to spiced cider with which I marinate rabbit meat. When I cook the dish the following day I throw in a few nisperos and prunes as well. In this part of Spain rabbit, partridge and jabali (wild boar) are often on the menu in restaurants.
In the towns and cities more and more people, especially the younger ones, are being wooed by the supermarket diet and the fast food outlets which have sprung up everywhere during recent years; in villages such as Guájar Alto, where populations tend to be much older, the traditional ways of cooking are still employed and it’s well worth making an excursion to sample our delicious cuisine.

SPRINGTIME IN GUAJAR ALTO

2007-06-13T09:10:00.001-07:00

This year, spring was exceptionally lovely in Guájar Alto. The weather was unusual and a warm, mostly dry, January encouraged the almond trees to blossom earlier than usual. There were some very warm days in February, too, but March brought rain and cold winds which continued into April. It grew very warm indeed in the second week of May and the combination of spring rains and hot days brought forth an abundance of lush vegatation. Cascading down the steep sides of the ravines were cistus bushes covered with flowers of pink and white; phlomis, often seen skulking at the back of herbaceous borders in England, ran riot with masses of pale pink flowers. By both night and day, the singing of nightingales echoed through the valley and the bee-eaters, who arrived from Africa in April, trilled overhead, the blue and yellow of their exotic plumage flashing in the sunlight. At night, the elusive Scops owl could be heard uttering its strange, sonar-like call and the hundreds of frogs which had taken up residence in the water reservoirs began their noisy summer nocturnal chorus.

The superabundance of wild flowers would have delighted the botanist, especially the orchids. Bee orchids are the first to appear in Guájar Alto, normally as early as December but, because of the dry weather, there weren’t as many of these as usual. The later flowering varieties, however, benefited from the March rains and flowered in unusual profusion. The sawfly orchid, which has luscious, pink petals is one of the most beautiful and this spring I discovered a lovely butterfly orchid with large, wing-like petals of glowing magenta. Bordering the pine forests are colonies of yellow orchids as well as mirror orchids with their strange, blue, opalescent speculums which the Spanish call ‘Venus’ looking glass.’ In the mountains, growing in concealed places where only the keen-eyed botanist would spot them, are dense-flowered orchids. They are rather dull in appearance compared to the other varieties but are of great interest, nevertheless, because of their extreme rarity.

There are a few flowering species which exist only in this part of Spain, such as the lovely subspecies of common centaury which has clusters of large, bright pink flowers. These appear at the same time as the tall, blue iris which also abound in dry, rocky places. There are curiosities, such as the parasitic plant of the white-flowered cistus, which is small and low-growing, with wax-like flowers of brilliant yellow encased in scales of bright red. These were to be seen everywhere this spring as well as other parasitic plants, particularly broomrapes. These range in colour from inky-purple to pale, peachy pink and as they emerge from the ground in clusters they resemble bunches of asparagus. In the pine forests, in spring, is another strange plant, the dipcadi, which is not unlike a bluebell except that it has bells of a pale, reddish-brown which have the effect of making it merge into the background, almost like a camouflage.
Because of the spring flowers, we also see many species of butterflies, including two types of swallowtail and the colourful festoon, which is in danger of extiction. Our water reservoirs attract large numbers of dragonflies and damselflies and the surrounding woodland and grassland provides a habitat for a huge number of winged insects, many of which are very striking, such as the ant-lion and butterly-lion; most beautiful of all, though, is the fairy-like, thread lacewing which has long, distinctive tail streamers. In July and August the high-pitched, whirring and trilling sounds made by the crickets, grasshoppers and similar insects are deafening. Identification of insects can be quite difficult because there are so many in this country that one out of every three species has yet to be recorded.

The land bordering the river Toba, which runs through the valley of Los Guájares down to the river Guadalfeo, is lush with all kinds of vegetation. As well as avocados, vines and olives, there are nispero trees in abundance. The fruit is not unlike a combination of peach and apricot and is versatile because not only can it be preserved but also can be incorporated into a number of savoury dishes; there is another tree, the nispola, which bears a similar, but much larger fruit. The unusual weather pattern of this spring favoured the nispolas and nisperos and visitors coming into the village couln’t fail to be impressed by the spectacular combination of the bright yellow fruits, the big swathes of red poppies and the luxuriant, green foliage. Although growers welcomed the rain, and the wild flowers which it produced were lovely to see, it has, nevertheless, brought problems. The verdant greenery which covered the mountain slopes in spring has been parched by the hot, June sun so that it is now tinder dry and since it needs only one carelessly discarded cigarette butt to start a fire, it’s not difficult to imagine the consequences. In the mountainous province of Granada there are many pine-covered slopes which, in the dry summer months, are very vulnerable to fire and during that time it’s not unusual to see the little red and yellow fire-fighting planes buzzing to and fro with their cargo of water. It’s a dangerous operation and the pilots must be not only very skillful but also very brave.

My nearest neighbours are a pair of short-toed eagles. They have made their untidy, treetop nest near the ridge of a towering, declivitous rock and I often see them flying low above the house scanning for snakes, lizards and other reptiles. It’s a pity that so many people have an aversion to snakes because they are really quite beautiful in their way. My favourite reptiles are the big lizards which bask on rocks in the sun and dart away in a flash of olive green when they’re startled. I’m also fond of the geckos and enjoy watching them on summer nights; they position themselves close to the lights outside the house so that they can catch the moths which are attracted there.
As well as the wild flowers, the climate of Guájar Alto is ideal for the cultivation of garden plants, especially roses, which are in flower here for much of the year. Daturas grow quickly into attractive trees, hung with giant, scented trumpets and in spring and early summer there are gorgeous lilies in all the gardens. Jasmine - both summer and winter varieties - is everywhere and no garden is complete without the shrub galán de noche, the tiny, greenish-white flowers of which open after dusk, filling the summer nights with a sweet, voluptuous scent. I’ve been experimenting with summer annuals to try to find out which ones ‘do’ in this area and I’ve produced from seed some lovely cosmos daisies, annual dahlias, godetias and so on and my calendulas self-seed themselves and flower all the year round, providing winter colour. In the village, people fill their patios with green plants, the most popular being the aspidistra, to provide summer shade and pots of geraniums fill every window ledge.

The Moors who discovered the valley of Los Guájares called it ‘an oasis between the mountains’ and it was they who first cultivated the area. The fertile soil combined with the water from the river Toba, as well as the water which flows underground from the high sierras, enabled them to be self-sufficient. We still collect our drinking water, which is of outstanding quality, from the public fountains in the village which were made by the same, Moorish inhabitants all those centuries ago.

Most of the wild flowers have faded now but, thanks to the late rains, the poppies linger on in splashes of vivid red among the dried, waving stipa grasses, while wild delphiniums, of the same intense blue as their cultivated cousins, continue to flower alongside the stony mountain tracks. Although we’ve enjoyed an exceptionally lovely spring, whatever the season, whatever the weather, Guájar Alto is one of the most beautiful places in the province of Granada.