FIESTA IN GUAJAR ALTO

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

A MOUNTAIN EXCURSION

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

A VILLAGE RAMBLE

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

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

HIGH SUMMER in GUÁJAR ALTO

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

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

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

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.