A little corner

Many years ago - fifteen or so - not long after Cesar and I first met, we decided to go and live in Spain. We didn't know if it would be forever though we hoped it might be. I was lucky enough to be given a year's sabbatical from work on the basis that if we were not going to return, I would give 3 months notice. It was a wonderful opportunity. In the end, we came back but we'll never forget the time we spent here in this little corner.

Cesar had an old friend who played trumpet in the Malaga Symphony Orchestra so for this reason and the fact that the weather is rather nice in Malaga, we decided to head directly there. Buying a large, old and, as it turns out, rather dubious left-hand drive Nissan Patrol, we piled as many of our things as we could. The rest went on top in a rather rickety heap. The neighbours, observing our precarious load, muttered something about us not getting as far as Morrison's, never mind Malaga. They were wrong. We made it and had immense fun getting there.

We stayed a couple of days with the charming and easy-going Angel, (said trumpeter), his wife, Rosa and their lovely little boy, who must now be 17 or 18 at the least during which time, we managed to find an apartment to rent. It was one of the villages to the east of Malaga that spread along the coastline towards the border with Granada. Rincón de la Victoria. Rincón means corner in Spanish, though it was very much a straight-line sort of place, with a couple of hotels, a nice modern plaza where the local council offices were situated and an old building turned into an art gallery, with a funny statue of a roundish woman and a pig .. or probably a wild boar. 

Now, I have just been looking all over for an image to share with you of this and after much searching, I have only been able to find one, so thank you mateus64 for this! Definitely a wild boar, not a pig.










Where was I?
Ah yes - for the last two Saturdays, Cesar and the children have been on the beach at Rincon de la Victoria - right outside the apartment we used to live in. He took them there last week after dropping me off at the airport for my visit to England. I was actually rather surprised he found it, (no GPS) but he said the place hadn't changed much, so we went again this weekend and I saw it for myself. It's an easy drive and took about two hours.

Ground floor - last window on the right - that was ours

It was quite strange to stand outside the gate - memories flooding back - seeing the place again. It looked really rather nice and is in a fantastic situation, just the road and a pathway between it and the med.

It's not true that it hasn't changed - it's grown and grown - but the apartment and its immediate surroundings are just the same. 







And turning around, cross the road and over the steps to the beach. I used to go in my swimming costume, (which didn't stop the traffic because there wasn't any).

A good deal of beachcombing went on during the two visits - I remember spending hours picking up little shells of all shapes myself during our time here - and a good many more found their way back to our apartment. I still have a jar of them that I used to keep in the bathroom and the children are fascinated to think that they came from this beach!

 Just caught Ruy in mid-jump!

 
What they liked best was finding a section of beach where the sea had washed away part of a wall, leaving holes and areas for excavation. Although all three are fine and no danger was encountered, I found myself looking a little askance at Cesar for allowing such play. Sure enough, to ensure no other silly folks played in sand caves, the next time we visited, the council had flattened the 'wall' rendering the beach a safer, if slightly less interesting place.

Asking for trouble if you ask me - but I wasn't there and they didn't ask.

And they all emerged totally unscathed.

And were very proud of their labyrinth of caves and tunnels.










So, a little corner of the world - Rincon de la Victoria - where Annie and Cesar lived for just ten short dreamy months, not sure if they'd ever have a family together; never thinking that one day they'd return to the place; not knowing what the future held for them both and certainly never dreaming they'd have three children with them when they did eventually return. A very special little corner.

Sitting pretty...

A little bit of an update is required here. Some of you will know that we've been house-hunting for going on 8 months now. And that doesn't count the month Cesar spent in northern Spain just about a year ago. It's all starting to feel like rather a long time. I am, dare I say it, heartily sick of looking at and for houses. This does not bode well for finding somewhere in the near future.

I know that just over a month ago, we saw an old house in Alcala la Real that I really liked; so much so that I persuaded Cesar that we should take a leap of faith and buy it. And then the very next day, we saw a piece of land with a project for a new, modern house that had just been started. We liked that. We liked it so much that just the other week, we spent a morning talking about it with the architect who had designed it. I expressed all my concerns about a family of five living in an open space; the worries I had about a cluttery, messy family committing to modern, minimalist house; our concerns about the time it would take to complete - lots and lots of questions - all of which Rafa answered admirably and convincingly. We left feeling it was a project we could take on.

Then I went back to England for a few days and all my doubts came pouring back. And when I came back, Cesar felt the same. And we haven't tried to re-convince ourselves or each other that it's right. Which in my book means it's not.

And in the meantime, I revisited the old house with the children and I almost had to take a stick to get them up the hill to look at it - it really is a very, very steep street. And no parking anywhere near by. Other people might be able to do it, but we can only see the negatives of living on a 45 degree slope - particularly in icy weather. No, the second visit ruled that one out.

I fear there are no more houses in the vicinity - I've seen them all or ruled them out on the basis of size or price or lack of outside space or state of repair. I could take you to every village within 10kms of Alcala la Real and point out which property was for sale by a Spanish person and which by an English one. I know how long they've been on the market and if and by how much they have dropped the price. I've seen big ones, small ones, ones with patios and terraces, ones with high ceilings and one with low ones, ones with winter kitchens, ones with summer kitchens, smelly ones and sweet ones - but I haven't found the one I want.

I am now hoping that if I turn my back, the perfect house will come creeping up on me from behind, tap me on the shoulder, open its door and welcome me in. (Preferably before the end of April.)

And what can this mean? When we arrived back last night at our 5th floor apartment in the middle of a noisy, dusty, busy street, after a busy day beside the sea - it welcomed us in, patted each of us on the back and it felt strangely like home.

Birthdays and Fool's Days

Where do birthdays fall in your family? In mine, my parents and sister have their birthdays just six days apart - on 28th and 30th March (Dad and sister) and then Mum on 1st April. I'm the odd one out being a June birthday. However, in my (newer) family - three of us have our birthdays on the same day in three consecutive weeks - me on 25th June, Cesar one week later on 2nd July and Mateo another week later on 9th July. My sister's daughter and one of her brothers are born one week (and three years) apart. Even better (though not related to me) - I have a friend who has girls born on the same day but two years apart. That has to be quite unusual..?

We often forget about April Fool's Day as for us, it's Mum's birthday - no joke there - but 1st April is recognised as the Fool's Day throughout the western world. It's a day to play practical jokes or pull a hoax on others. In some countries, the jokes can last all day but where I grew up, the jokes had to be made before 12 midday or the joke was on the joker. In recent years, there have been some excellent hoaxes carried out. But the tradition goes back hundreds of years - as far as Chaucer.

And although I am not quite old enough to remember it, there was once a lovely April Fool hoax (although it was screened well after midday) delivered by the BBC in 1957. It was on a current affairs programme called Panorama - a programme that usually took itself quite seriously. It was shown quite often in following years and with each passing year, as our British palates widened and more people travelled to Europe, it seemed  increasingly unlikely that the report could ever have fooled anyone.
But at the time, it did.
The short report was about the bumper spaghetti harvest in southern Switzerland. In the late 50s, just twelve years after the end of WWII, very few people in Britain would have eaten spaghetti, and fewer still would have known where it came from or how it came about. The voiceover was provided by a well known and respected broadcaster which gave the whole thing credibility. In short, it fooled a lot of folk. I wonder whether there might still be a few people - old ones - who still think that spaghetti grows on trees.....
It's a nice little thought.

Here's a link to the original BBC report: BBC fools the nation


And more than the wool was pulled over viewers eyes in Sweden - just imagine this!

In 1962 there was only one tv channel in Sweden, and it broadcast in black and white. The station's technical expert, Kjell Stensson, appeared on the news to announce that, thanks to a new technology, viewers could convert their existing sets to display color reception. All they had to do was pull a nylon stocking over their tv screen. Stensson proceeded to demonstrate the process. Thousands of people were taken in. Regular color broadcasts only commenced in Sweden on April 1, 1970.

And I know about this one because it's one of Mateo's favourites - and it's the BBC again! (Have they nothing better to do?) It's definitely worth watching the video!

The BBC announced that camera crews filming near the Antarctic for its natural history series Miracles of Evolution had captured footage of Adélie penguins taking to the air. It even offered a video clip of these flying penguins, which became one of the most viewed videos on the internet. Presenter Terry Jones explained that, instead of huddling together to endure the Antarctic winter, these penguins took to the air and flew thousands of miles to the rainforests of South America where they "spend the winter basking in the tropical sun." A follow-up video explained how the BBC created the special effects of the flying penguins. 

Watch out for bloggers trying to catch you out too! This is a lovely one from one of my favourite bloggers in Turkey: The Tortoises of April

Enjoy whatever folly you meet on 1 April 2011.

Happy 80th Dad!

A lovely birthday meal - with my parents, my sister, my brother-in-law, niece Emily, nephews, Will and Luke and their girlfriends, Roseanne and Alex, my dad's cousins, Enid and David their respective spouses, George and Ruth.

Dad, looking good and perky here!



Dad, Enid, David, Ruth - Mum on the right here





Roseanne, Will, me, Mum, Emily - George on the left




Roseanne, Will, me and Mum



Luke and Alex

Rob's super clever camera - black and white AND colour!



Judy lighting a representative number of candles...



Big breath....



We had to open the window to get rid of all the smoke!

All agreed we had had an excellent afternoon, with some very good food, great company and happy to spend some time together as a family.
Wished the rest of mine could have been there too - I sincerely hope we'll have the opportunity to celebrate another birthday all together before too long.

It makes you think...FAST

This weekend, I'm taking a quick flight back to the UK. I'm going to celebrate my father's 80th birthday. Just a small gathering, nothing big, but too important for me to miss. It would be lovely if the whole family could come too but sadly, it's not possible.

I'm not very close to my father - we have very different views and opinions on things, life, politics and the like - but we've had a couple of significant events in our lives that go to show that blood ties are always strong. He's my dad and I'm his eldest daughter and whether we speak much or not, we are important to each other and know it.

About twenty years ago - perhaps when our relationship was not at its best (nor its worst!) - whilst on holiday in southern Italy, my dad had a massive heart attack. My sister was with my parents, thank goodness, and her outstanding good sense and medical knowledge saved his life without doubt. For a never-ending two weeks, he was kept in hospital in Italy. My mother did her best to play down the seriousness of the situation but I was in contact with the insurance company that were sorting out a return to the UK of the car and caravan. They did not spare any details of how serious things were. I was on the verge of flying out to see him whilst I still could. However, he's made of steely stuff and rallied enough to be flown back with medical attendance. He was initially brought home and I was there to meet the ambulance. That single, endless moment when we were able to hug again still brings tears to my eyes as we unspokenly forgave each other our differences and silently said how much we cared for and loved each other despite those differences.

He went on to recover well from quadruple by-pass surgery and for about fifteen years, he and my mum carried on relatively busy lives and enjoyed holidays abroad every year. And then one year, they were in Madeira and he suffered a stroke. I believe the hospital in Madeira 'under-reacted' to how serious the stroke was. He spent about five days with minimal intervention - no rehabilitation, no prompt engagement to work on affected areas - all of which I think resulted in a worse outcome than might have been otherwise. He was flown back to England again and spent many months in hospital, where it was clear that he would never be the same again.

It's six years on now and he's had a lot of ill health; the slightest infection or virus can knock back any slight improvement in his mobility and reduce him to total dependency on my mother. She has worked hard with him and they do as much as possible to keep busy, go out, maintain their independence but it's sometimes difficult for them both. I worry that the strain and stress of manhandling my father and having always to make sure he is safe and comfortable will, in the end, be too much for my mother and she will lose her health as well. It's actually hard to see one's parents age. And I worry then because my own parents were young when they had their family. I am as old now as my grandmother was when I was Romy's age! I don't feel it and I probably don't look it (in a good light, anyway..) but I am over 50. My dad was just 56 when he had his heart attack. I am so glad I will be able to give him a big hug on his 80th birthday.

Age and health. They make you think!

And so you know - you can recognise a stroke using the FAST test.

FACIAL weakness: Can the person smile? Has their mouth or eye drooped?
ARM weakness: Can the person raise both arms?
SPEECH problems: Can the person speak clearly and understand what you say?
TIME to call an ambulance.

If a person fails any one of these tests, get help immediately.

A speedy response can help reduce the damage to a person’s brain and improve their chances of a full recovery. A delay in getting help can result in death or long-term disabilities.

The Stroke Association - more information.

Exploring La Mota

No, not praying - all will be explained below.

 It is another beautiful sunny day and we had promised ourselves that the next sunny Sunday would be when we made the vertical trek to explore La Mota - the impressive fortress that is symbolic of Alcalá la Real.

This is one of the main entrances to La Mota.
It is called 'La Puerta de los Poetas' or the Poet's Door.

 

 
It's difficult to say how much of the original fortress remains. A lot of restoration work has been undertaken in the past 40 years or so and whilst as much as possible has been preserved, it's clear there has been quite a lot of rebuilding too.
Signs of civilisation in the area dating back to three centuries B.C. have been found.
The Romans were here after that, before La Mota became a Muslim stronghold.
During the 13th and 14th centuries, the Moors and the Christians battled over this strategically placed castle and it exchanged hands many times. It finally ended up in the hands of King Alfonso Xl - and there are many streets and one of the schools here named after him.

The walk around the base of the fortress was beautiful, with wonderful views and sights at every turn. We thought it was as impressive as the Alhambra, though it somehow carried its history more lightly. 

And joy of joys, as we climbed up, we got a wonderful view of the Sierra Nevada - a sight that I have already said does my heart so much good.

It's a bit difficult to see here but the expanse of white in the distance is 'it' for sure.

Have a closer look for yourselves.

Isn't that just gorgeous?

    

This is Ruy pointing out our house to Romy.

I love the way he is holding her finger to point.

Walking around the walls at the top - inside the fortress itself.

Stunning views all round.

Evidence and remains of the town that used to exist within the castle walls. 

The excavation has been fairly recent work. Inside the museum, there was a photo taken in the 1940s where the outside of the church was all covered over with earth - no real signs of what laid beneath.

Ruy peering down one of the many 'pozos' or wells. There was almost as much to discover under the ground as above it - evidenced by many glass windows in the ground that allowed a glimpse into the various wells, tombs, staircases and other bits of buildings that are hidden below.  See Ruy and Romy on the first picture - they are peering down through the glass. They had to get close to avoid all the reflection.

Oh look! The Sierra Nevada again.

The church, built by Alfonso Xl (you have to say it in Spanish 'Alfonso Once' cos it sounds funny), is now mainly ruined inside having suffered at the hands of Napoleonic forces in the early 1800s and a major earthquake at the end of that century.

 

The water was wonderful - ice cold - but I have no idea where it was coming from!

Cesar in the tavern!
Or what was once the tavern...

It's a long time since I was in Greece but this picture makes me think of it.




(Except, of course, you can just see the Sierra Nevada in the background.)



.....can't you?

Here - that's better.

This enormous square is the place where the medieval festival is held each year during August.
I'm looking forward to visiting then, though the walk up the hill is going to be very hot!

Detail of church

The bodega, where wine was kept.

Nice and cool, I can confirm.

See, irresistible!

This is inside the church and way down, there was water - either from a well or a spring. 

The remains of a once impressive church

Islamic tombs under what would have been the floor of the church

I took this photo to prove to my in-laws that 'Ruy' is a good and proper name. They weren't convinced when we first told them the name of our second-born.

Whilst it is still popular in Brazil and Portugal - in the the form, Rui, - the third name down on this sign shows that in the fourteenth century, a Ruy Fernandez was the royal Chaplain.

So a good Christian name after all.

 

Just another glimpse of my gorgeous mountains, this time with me thrown in for good measure!

Though they need no additional adornment!

This is Romy and I sniggering. Romy had been looking out of the little window behind us and said that the rock on which the castle was built looked like an elephant's bottom. And it did. 

 

Up at the top of the tower of the Alcazar - the castle's stronghold where the troops were based.

It was a steep climb up!

Romy looking rather lovely inside the museum part. Actually, it was around here that she was ready to go home and started complaining her feet hurt - so it's a brave smile for the camera!

I love these miniature recreations of how places might have looked in their heyday.
During medieval times, most villagers would have lived within the castle walls but as time went on, they moved outside and down the hill to the north of the fortress, where they could grow more crops and farm the land.

This was a lovely, detailed model.

More investigations of the underground parts!

Did I mention the view?