The Wandering Guiri

We have gone in a twinkle of the eye from summer t-shirts and open-toed sandals to umbrellas and boots here in Alcala la Real. I don't really know how it happened. I took Romy to school the other day and noticed I was the only one with visible toes. Everyone else had sensible, water-proof and flesh-covering footwear. I was showing more than toes - I was showing my 'guiri' status. 'Guiri' is what the Spanish call foreigners, specifically Anglo-Saxon foreigners. Where you are in Spain depends on the level of insult this indicates. Here, I never hear anyone say it out loud, but I can hear them thinking it and I always know when. It would usually be silently aimed at people who are not local; who wear the 'wrong' clothes; who definitely wear the wrong shoes and who walk the streets in a manner that is different from those who were born here. I can't explain it further but I too know a 'guiri' when I see one. Now I've lived here a while, I don't usually stand out too much - it's something to do with the pace of the walk, the sense of purpose and confidence and permanence, I think. Not being a wanderer in the wrong shoes.

Guiris - breaking the rules of fashion since time immemorial 

Anyhow, having been caught out, on returning home, I dug out my boots from last year. Yeah, I LOVE boots!! I was so happy to get back into them that I took Darwin for a long walk around the back streets of the town. We stuck to the streets as it had been raining for a couple of days and the ground in the olive groves or my usual walk through the pine forest, when wet, turns to a sucking, sticking, gooey, gloopy kind of mud. The kind that, if it were a little deeper, would suck those lovely boots right off your legs.

With an umbrella and boots and in a light drizzle (not looking at all like a 'guiri') we went up and down the narrow and cobbled streets. As we climbed the long steps up towards La Mota, we were rewarded by the most fantastic sight and I could have kicked myself for not bringing my camera. The sun, almost sinking behind the mountains to the west, turned parts of the town to a rich, orange, red glow - an absolutely stunning sight. And to cap it all, a rainbow stretched from east to west actually touching the road that leads out of the town towards Santa Ana on the east and arching over the houses before coming down on the area called 'El Cauchil' on the west. Even Darwin stopped and put his paws up on the wall in front of us so he could see it better. We stood just looking at this amazing sight until the sun eventually faded and left me blinking, the colours still fixed in my mind but the view returned to more sober hues. I wonder who else saw this and whether they too were utterly amazed...and did they manage to get a photograph? It was a glorious moment that I so wish I could have shared more widely.

I sort of ruined the joy of the walk by deciding to return home through the pine forest...I knew it might be a bit muddy but the top part seemed not too bad and it was the quickest route back and the sun had set and it was getting dark....OK, it was a bad idea and I should have known better but I'm not good at turning round - I prefer to follow the shortest route even if this ends up taking longer. I may never learn.

I got down three of the zigs (or zags) that the path takes but then the mud came into its own and I found my boots were getting heavier and heavier as I gathered the stuff on the soles and increasingly up the sides of them. I decided the only way down was to cut through the trees as many had laid down a safety blanket of pine needles and leaves which was preferable to the mud. It took me an age to inch my way down and, of course, Darwin had scampered ahead. And as I came out of the trees, I was only NEARLY at the bottom. About five metres stretched between me and the entrance. Darwin had gone out and was sniffing around a dog on a lead, whose owner was smiling in a bemused but sympathetic way at my plight but also expressing her concern that her dog was unwell and mustn't be agitated and Darwin wouldn't come when I called. Oh dear, was I going to slip on my backside after all? The mud was bad enough stuck to my boots, but it would be most unpleasant plastered to my bottom.

I did managed to get down, onto the road, grab Darwin and make my excuses and apologies without falling over. The woman gave me a look, not unfriendly, not unpleasant, but I heard her thinking just one word to herself, 'Guiri'. There could be no other explanation for a person walking through the pine forest after it had been raining.

I might as well have had my sandals on - and joined the ranks of the wanderers in the wrong shoes!