Somehow, while trying to re-design the blog appearance, I lost all I'd posted earlier and a few pictures. Since they take about six minutes apiece to load, I think I'll quit and find some red wine to salve my frustrations.

Cortijo Pepe Soria

Went for a drive in Sierra Nevada this afternoon in an effort to stave off cabin fever. I've lost count of the run on rainy days, but did get half a day's "sun" yesterday. Was enough to do a couple of loads of laundry and hang them till they were damp. Finished them off by the woodstove last night. The drive through the mountains was gut-wrenching in places, but was quite interesting. I drove through towns that aren't even on my map, and had my wonderations about finding my way back. Fortunately, I'd bought compass number 8(at least) in Guadiz a couple of weeks ago. You kids will each inherit an engineer's compass now. Plenty of others as well.

Anyway, I saw a lot of cave-dwellings-in-stopped-progress. This area boasts some ancient troglodyte habitations and a lot of modern ones, as well. Caves draw lots of inhabitants as they stay cool all summer and acceptable (about 62F) without heat in the winter. Many are dug in with southern exposures and feature concrete facades, to keep the hill in place, I suppose. I will send some pictures once I re-size them. Anyway, a lot of new digs were halted due to the economy, so there are a lot of stalled properties mining hills that look like ant hills. I don't think I would like them-it would be like living in a cave.

Responding to Dyl's request for photos of cortijo

Tried to post some but too large, will need to resize some at home and do more prep.

Made a run to the Guadix post office today to buy stamps. Finally got enough to mail Xmas cards, etc, but had to buy other than the right denominations. Was told to put two on each letter, so don't know how much is going to the economy. Oh, well, it might help avert a bailout...

Checked out some neat pottery shops. Found a cazuela which by mail order in the states, costs about $25. Here, it was Eu.2.5o. But getting it home would be horrendous. Bought a couple for Is' new digs in Algorfa.

Must vacate my spot at the Comunity Center and go home to carry firewood. It's not drizzling and I need to lug in a couple of days ahead, to give it drying time. Kind of like camping, but larger than a tent. I'd love to see what it's like in the summer. Probably will someday.

Gor is a neat little town of around 2000 people, though it doesn't appear so. It's tucked into the base of some huge hills that are in the Natural Park. We walk or drive by a spot that used to be up a cliff and comes down fairly regularly in installments.

Must run, Ciao!

Deserted Almeria, Fun spots in Nerja

Ramble seven sent 22-11-10

Ramble Seven (?)

Saturday the 20^th: an update and a few verbal snapshots. Is has flown off to England to see to some financial matters, all geared toward buying her place in Algorfa, where we may land sooner than later. We drove to Nerja yesterday. It is a pretty place on the sea just short of Malaga. To get there, we went to Granada and then to Motril, via the autovias or freeways. Some really beautiful country through which to drive and I wouldn’t hesitate to recommend it as a destination in itself. Anyway, the trip was beautiful, though uneventful till the end in Nerja where I could easily have met the Guardia Civil.

They are a national police force who are assigned to work in pairs, in districts other than those from which they come. This was intended to avoid external pressures and corruption of individuals by peer pressure. It apparently works, as the force has been around, and respected (sometimes feared) for at least a couple of hundred years. I wonder if I can score an item of clothing, or at least insignia.

Back to our exciting introduction to Nerja. We stopped for lunch at a bistro where it turns out the waitress had an English accent. It was warm in the sun, the Peroni (Italian beer) was €3 (about $4.30), and the toasted tuna sandwich was nondescript. After receiving vestigial directions from our hostess, we headed toward the Hostal Meñas which was supposed to be on Calle del Barrio behind a church. Our borrowed GPS had already gotten us lost, headed us into dead-end mining complexes and switched genders and now we had to rely on it to find a roof for the night. After half a dozen roundabouts (almost every other intersection) we headed into a narrow street, the sign for which said something like “Authorized Vehicles Only” . Well, after the long drive and the Peroni, and knowing that I was heading for an hotel, I believed I was authorized. I didn’t give much credence to Is’ comment that it was a “pedestrian zone” as I saw a car parked in an alleyway. The next thing I knew, I was navigating past racks of T-shirts, shelves full of pottery and carousels of key fobs and Nerja bottle openers. I almost scraped the drivers’ side mirror on a stone wall as we edged past a bunch of tables occupied by patrons with surprised or annoyed looks on their faces. Party-pooper Is ignored my request to grab a few chips off one guy’s plate as we snuck past. With no place to turn around, I had to keep going, making a number of turns toward what looked like a real street until we wound up at a plaza (see U-Turn Plaza) in front of the hotel where we eventually found a room. It was quite a spectacle. We emerged from the alley (on the right, behind Is’ head in photo) and maneuvered around in the midst of gelato-eaters, watercolor-painters and amused pickpockets taking a break under a palm tree. Without further incident, we backed around as unobtrusively as possible and found our way back past the guy jealously guarding his chips.

Luckily we found a rare parking spot on the street and eventually walked to the Hostal Meñas, arriving at 1332, to find it being locked up by an elderly lady who told us that, “Yes, there are vacancies,” but “No, it is closed now.” Freaking siesta time! She suggested another place and left. So, we walked around checking out a couple that were in the anticipated price range of €32, but didn’t find one that suited our needs. We finally settled on one in the hotel I almost torpedoed turning our rented Mitsubishi. It was very nice, clean and warm-a big item for we fugitives from the Sierras de Baza. €43 got us lots of hot water, a room over the plaza, a TV we never turned on and a continental breakfast.

Dinner, after walking around checking out the options from Italian and Indian to Burgers or seafood, was found at what looked like a “locals” restaurant. It turned out that it was, and we were the only foreigners at the owner’s birthday celebration. Delicious rack of lamb after copious salmon & mustard starter. The house red wasn’t sold by the half-litre, but our waiter provided a bottle with the news that if I only drank half, he’d only charge for half. Sneaky fellow knew that I couldn’t stop at half-Is was drinking pineapple juice- so the €12 bottle was a sure thing. Is had sole baked in potatoes and cheese sauce after a starter of prawns in something-or-other. €61 (tip included) bought a thoroughly delicious and enjoyable meal-yeah, expensive when you convert to $ at 1.43, but then it’s only once a month.

The few other meals we haven’t cooked, have all been very good and quite reasonably priced. Last Sunday’s lunch provided us each with five large lamb slices- some of which found their way home to go into a stew that provided three meals. Lots of bread, potatoes and vegetables accompanied the beast, as well as a couple of beers and a bottle of soda; all for under €20.

What would you expect from a bottle of wine that cost $1.42? I had my wonderations when I picked up the bottle marked €0.99. Imagine my surprise when I found that it was better than a $5 bottle from Micucci’s in Portland. I have to keep reminding myself that I spent a pretty sum to get to the store where I bought it, but what the hell…

The long drive and the delicious €1.15 bottle of Temperanillo are taking their toll and I must close for now. Tomorrow I’ll edit some photos to be posted on Monday. Cheers!

Monday, November 22, 2010

It’s not all sunshine and palm trees here. Remember, we’re in a Parque Natural in the Sierras de Baza (mountains), so the weather can be other than Mediterranean. Today is the third (here) blustery, rainy and ~45F day in a row. I had hoped to do a laundry, but without a dryer, there’s not much point to it. Drying inside is not an option, as the place is cold and damp inside. I’m using the propane heater in the living room to save on olive wood, but it is damp heat. The olive wood (at €65 per ¼ cord) is saved for night heat. No thermometer inside, but I think it is below 60F, even with the heat on. I’m sitting here wearing three layers and a hood, but recognize that I read all about it in various books about living here. It’s kind of like Fall camping, just in a house.

There is a swatch of sunshine on the hills to the west, and I hope that it’s an omen. No matter. After lunch and a shower, I’m going to put on my cleanest dirty shirt (isn’t that from a Johnny Cash song?) and drive to Gor. Yaaaay! There’s heat in the car, and I’m going to the community center which is gorgeously overheated. There, I’ll hook up to the internet on a hard-wire and spend a couple of hours communicating. Jose & Eva’s grocery store opens up at 1700 and I’ll pick up makings for Tikka Masala.

Then it’s back to the cortijo and work on drawing and painting while watching old English “copper” or CSI re-runs. TV is varied here, but not a lot is of value to me. I watch the news a lot, BBC, CCTV (China-based news), Al Jazeera, EuroNews and sometimes Bloomberg. There are lots of African, Indo/Pakistani, Arab and Eastern European stations with a smattering of Welsh, German or Nordic ones-all of which are unintelligible. Radio is non-existent other than cable, and when I get a faint station in the car it is, naturally, in Spanish which is becoming more familiar to me with use. (A big “thank you” to you, Dyl, for convincing me to load music on my ‘puter-it is invaluable!)

As Shannon said, the other day, “It’s a whole other world”. I tried to buy 18 stamps for Christmas cards, but the Gor postmaster only had about seven and couldn’t sell them all to me. Apparently the printer hadn’t delivered to the government. I suppose I could go try and buy them in a large city when I next drive to warm up, but gas is VERY expensive here. I bought ¾ tank the other day (32.95 L. for €40) It takes higher math for me to do the numbers, but $53+ for 8.69 gal. is around $6/gal. Anyway, it’s fun and a whole ‘nother world.

Miss you all and hope that Fall is being kind to you. Dyl, Thanx for the videos of the Helena Show. She’s really coming along, and I wish I could watch her antics in person. I mailed a small watercolor to Jordan from Mojacar, another coastal destination. I really wonder whether she will ever get it, but then…Hope the Job’s going well, Dre-will try to check out Brooke’s blog for news of you guys.

Hasta Luego & love to all…

Ramble-5

Saturday the 13^th-another walk to Gor, this time heading down a ravine past some cliff-dwellings. These are actually caves, with only a doorway to the outside. All except for one are run down and deserted, the exception looking well-kept but not currently occupied. A couple are quite elaborate, being three rooms deep, with aide-chambers, fireplaces and even a bath tub. We were told that these are now only used as sheep shelters or shepherds’ refuges. I took some pictures and hope to be able to show them here eventually.

We checked out the post office, which is open six days a week from 0830 to 0930. If anyone wants to experiment, you can send a card or letter (nothing we’d have to pack and carry) to us at:

Cortijo “Pepe Soria”

Arroyo Serval Num. 2

Gor 18.870

Prov. De Granada

Spain

It would be interesting to see whether we get it. Remember, we depart 22 December, and forwarding is not likely to be a reality.

Anyway, as with all other official services, things are quite different than those to which we are accustomed. In all fairness to the postman, who delivers out here on Sunday when he goes to visit his mother who lives up the mountain, he’s a one-man show. He has to open up the office for his hour, then go collect from the town’s drop boxes, drive to Baza and trade outgoing for incoming. Then he has to drive the 45 minutes back, sort the mail and deliver to the town. Somewhere during that period he has to fit in a lunch and siesta from 1400 to 1700. Who knows what time he quits? Parcels wait till Saturday.

Our favorite grocery stop is the Coviran Market, one of a chain, which is staffed by Jose and Eva, a fun, young couple who like to chat. They try their English on us and put up with our Spanish. The store is about the size of my living-room and kitchen but has everything from Absolut Vodka to Zumo de Naranja (orange juice) with escabeche (a fish in gingery sweet and sour sauce that we used to eat in Victorias), numerous chorizo types and other exotic snacks in between. After almost filling our rucks, there is the mandatory stop at the panederia where they sell the most delicious crusty bread. It comes in loaves about 24” by 6”, tapering toward the ends. This is handy, as the ends are no good at meal time and make for great snacks while climbing the ravine back toward Arroyo Serval.

Today, we also stopped at the butcher shop to buy a chunk of pork for adobo, but couldn’t resist buying a two-foot length of Chorizo which diminished by a third at lunch. Another decadent repast in the mid-afternoon sun, swilling San Miguel and aggravating my TMJ with the bread crusts.

All this

15 Nov 10

Hi, all

Finally found a free wi-fi spot at the local community center. With the help of the administrator, we've got access and connectivity, even when the center is closed. Problem is, we've got to walk to town (and back) and sit around in the weather. We are welcome, though, when the center is open.

Here's Ramble 4, which may be a repeat:

Day 14 in Spain, again a day of extremes, or at least great contrast. We awoke to blazing sun-the outside temperature slightly warmer than that inside. As the day progressed, I found that I was working outside without a shirt yet had to put on a couple of layers when I went inside for just a few minutes. Pam, our hostess, said that the thermometer in the shade read 31, which equates to almost 88F. I would have to question that, but it was quite warm. The nights are cold when cloudy and frigid when clear. Our host, Bernard, found that a couple of inches of water in his wheelbarrow had frozen solid overnight.

The house is a traditional structure, thick-walled and constructed of stone and cement, whitewashed and tile-roofed. Windows are small and constructed in the manner of gun ports in medieval forts-conical, with the narrower opening toward the exterior. The feature seems quite appropriate in light of the numerous revolutions and upheavals described in The Spanish Labyrinth which I’m presently reading. It details the social and economic factors leading up to the Spanish Civil War. Windows are glass-paned and wooden-shuttered, allowing air, light or darkness-a feature which makes sleeping late quite easy.

Anyway, it is quite sturdy with regard to the walls, but the roof doesn’t strike me as nearly as durable. There are no ceilings. The red tiles are installed upon a layer of mortar which is supported by a mat of split canes which, in turn, is supported by logs which are built into the tops of the walls. Floors are flagstones set in cement-rather cool; which must be welcome in summer, but leave a little to be desired after October.

We bought a load of olive firewood yesterday. €65 got us about a quarter of a cord, which is quite expensive compared to what I used to pay years ago, but then I have no recent basis with which to compare. It is quite dry and hard and burns slowly; providing a long, steady heat which is more constant than hot. For kindling, I wander the orchard picking up broken almond roots and prunings which are quite dry and oil-filled. We also pick dropped nuts; shucking them and roasting them on the stove. The husks we dry by the stove and burn for quick heat. Shells are also burned once we have a good bed of coals. Old nuts from last year are often found and are burned as is along with the hulls.

The wood stove is in the living room, along with a catalytic propane heater. There’s another heater in the bathroom-quite welcome at shower time. Neither bedroom has heat until December, when the solar-powered, generator-assisted radiators are turned on. Cooking or baking heat the kitchen along with whatever drifts in from the loving room.

Tomorrow, Saturday, we will walk in to Gor early, as the tienda closes either at noon or 1 or 2 PM-I can’t keep things straight yet. We need to buy beer, bread and other staffs of life. I also heard a rumor that there is internet connectivity at the community center. A must to check out. A visit to the butcher is planned, along with a visit to the Bar Mora, which is next door. Then the trek home.

Chilling at Bar Mora, Sunset and Valley View

Day one on the ground in España started with an 1100 wake-up. Was it jet-lag or the fact that I’d spent 48 hours without any meaningful sleep. Breakfast was in the blazing sun on the patio: Manzanilla olives stuffed with anchovies, pesto and cheese on mini-baguette alternating with slices of chorizo Pamplona. The latter were delicious, though I couldn’t help wonder whether they came from the losers of the corrida. Bernard, our host, graciously provided me with a Finkbräu, as Is had neglected the elixer of life in her provisioning. She had stocked some really good wine (€2.49 = $3.93) a far cry from the bottom-dwellers I find at Hannaford. Anyway, despite the fact that I’m in Spain, I decided that beer is more appropriate than wine for breakfast.

So off to Gor to find the tienda and buy some beer and other necessities. I distinctly remember Is’ words, “It’s only a twenty minute walk though a little hilly, so we shouldn’t cycle.” Well, she was 50-50 wrong/right. It was an hour and almost all downhill . The scenery was arid, but beautiful as we walked off the hardscrabble acres of the almond orchards, through part of the national park and down the black road into town, passing farms and buildings that brought strains of “The Good, The Bad and The Ugly” to mind.

The town was right out of the pages of Driving Over Oranges or any of the numerous ex-pat chronicles; white-washed walls, narrow streets, shuttered windows (it was, after all, siesta time), and red-tiled roofs. The place was neat as a pin, flowers in window boxes, a cat here, a dog there and not a human in sight other than the five pensioners (we guessed) out for a walk. They gave us the evil eye despite our respectful “Hola”. I attribute it to Is’ camera and my backpack.

We ducked into what turned out to be a well-populated bar while in search of a tienda, and once inside realized where the population had gone. Without partaking, partially due to the advancing sunset but more because of the smoky interior we asked for and received directions in staccato Andalusian Spanish. We arrived just after the 1700 re-opening and bought our provisions, finding out that they had no bread other than sliced sandwich loaf. We got directions to the other grocery in town and learned that if we wanted real bread, we’d have to go to the bakery which would be open Saturday from 0800-noon.

The trek home took about two hours but wasn’t all slogging uphill. There were numerous photo-ops, and then after I decided to lighten my load (18) by one beer, we discovered that there were loads of almonds lying alongside the road. Finding the proper rocks, I cracked a bunch and we finished the trip munching on gleaned nuts and cool beer. A fitting end was the great sunset as we made our way down the path to the cortijo.

Saturday at Cortijo Pepe Soria.

We skipped Friday night at the Bar Mora which is a local event-free tapas, and inexpensive beer. Unfortunately, the place was a smokers’ bar and we didn’t want to be asphyxiated. During the day, though, we walked in to catch the itinerant vendors’ market. Kind of like a farmers’ market, but also includes shoe and clothing merchants. I tried to find some slippers and was also attracted to some shoes, but it turned out the shoes weren’t leather and size 48 is unheard of. Guess I’ll have to wear out my water-sneakers.

Vegetables were reasonable and fresh. We were tempted to try the churros and hot chocolate, but decided to skip the calories, opting to wait for a pass at Bar Mora. On the way there we stopped at one of two tiendas where I found Jose Cuervo Gold for only about $2 more than N.H. I commited that to memory and headed for the panederia or bakery. We went overboard there, buying a couple of half=baguettes and a crusty round loaf that made great garlic bread.

Bar Mora is a fairly inauspicious fifteen-table bar with a pinball machine a six-stool bar and a really, really big stuffed bull’s head on the wall. I mean big! His eyes are the size of 8-balls, and his horns awe-inspiring. Imagine the size of the cojones on the matador who faced him in the ring. A plate of calamares, with salad of lettuce, tomatoes and olives plus two beers cost €2.80 which amazed me. That’s about $4.20. It was enough to get us halfway home, up the three mile hill to the cortijo.

Anyway, Saturday was much like any other. Sleep till about 0930, eat a lazy breakfast, go pick roots and prunings from the orchard for firewood. It’s good exercise; walking the rows, carrying a bushel-bucket, pruning shears and a hand saw, bending intermittently to pick up a stick that any serious wood-burner would laugh at. It saves burning propane, or buying firewood at €4 per bucket, and did I say it’s good exercise. I would hate to have to do it, knowing it was the only source of heat for my family. I try to imagine what a peasant’s life was like a couple of hundred years ago and remember that there but for the grace of God go I.

Back to the house for lunch around 1330. It was miserable! Sitting in the blazing sun, temperature around 70F, Serrano ham, fresh salad, black Aragon olives, local cheese, crusty bread with pesto. Had to limit myself to a “Sin” for a beverage. That is an Alhambra beer sin (without) alcohol, a discovery I made by not reading the label. Anyway, they really taste like beer, and don’t put me to sleep when drunk in the daylight. That’s a pavlovian carry-over from putting myself to bed with a beer when I worked midnights.

After doing up the dishes, I cracked almonds for a while, then read from my Drawing text and did a few drawings. It’s a dog’s life.

Tomorrow, we rise early (~0800) break fast and walk to town to try and get Is to mass at 1100. We just guessed at the time, as we forgot to check on Friday, and she didn’t want to call the Guardia Civil post to ask. If she misses it, I guess we’ll just have to grab lunch at Bar Mora and walk home keeping our eyes open for firewood I can collect later on the bike.