Man not in Álora for a bit

Man not in Alora for a bit.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

All this stuff 

 

A carpet, two suitcases, two folding bikes,  a soft bag, a sack of lemons, 37 bottles of wine,  a cool box full of mostly pork products, a laptop, a dog in a cage, his food and water, a rucksack, a big bag of shoes, a box full of something, another box of ? clothes, a camera tripod, a big kitbag full of clothes, cheese, a picnic rucksack and 55 litres of extra virgin olive oil and Mrs.Sanchez (standing).

 

fitted into this

 

plus driver 

 

Back in Brum.

 

The Málaga area  really does have a different climate from the rest of Spain. It shares its weather with northern Africa. We've had hot and sunny weather for weeks now. There is always an interim period where we change from opening the windows to let in the warm air to warm the house, to shutting the windows and shutters to keep the warm air out. Anyway, we set off in shorts and T shirts etc., drove for 6 hours towards Madrid and then we noticed it had gone cold. Then the driving rain started.A couple of hours later the receptionist at the Hotel Palacio Valderabanas in Ávila clocked our tropical garb and gave us a knowing look.

 (Ávila is the highest provincial  capital in Spain (1132 metres/3714 ft. above sea level/very high up.). Buxton, the highest market town in England is a mere 1000ft. above sea level.)

 

 

                                                                  Ávila.

 

'We've come from Málaga.' says I. 'Why?' says the chap behind the desk.

 

Luckily the heating was on in our room and  'Las Cancelas' round the corner had Crujiente de morcilla con compote de manzana (black pudding with pine nuts in batter with apple sauce) and Judías del Barco de Ávila con chorizo y oreja (dirty big beans in a stew with chorizo and pig's ear). Just the ticket on a cold wet night in June.

I forget what Mrs. Sánchez had.

 

 

 

                         Judías del Barco de Ávila con chorizo y oreja (Mmmm.)

 

Ávila was an arabic town from 714AD. until it was almost totally destroyed in the battles of the Christian reconquest. In about 1100 it was rebuilt and repopulated by anyone Alfonso V1  could persuade to live up there. The magnificent walls were probably built in about 1200 but no-one can remember exactly when. In 1367 it was attacked by some English footy fans  on their way to a Champions League game in Madrid. They burnt a few houses but couldn't penetrate the 1000 mighty walls (mil muros) which some say is how the team got its name.

 

Ávila went downhill after that despite it being the home of St. Teresa of Ávila (1515-1582) who was a mystic and founded the 'Barefoot Carmelites'. In 1620 she nearly became the Patron Saint of Spain, but Santiago Matamoros (St. James the Moor slayer) was felt to reflect the national zeitgeist and was chosen instead. She has  remained very popular, though, and the town is visited by thousands of her fans and the shops do a roaring trade in little statues and medallions. Here is one of her famous sayings:

 

 

"I know by frequent experience that there is nothing which puts the devils to flight like holy water".

 

 

   Saint Teresa of Ávila

 

 Next stop, Medina del Campo.  

 

We bought some black pudding with pine nuts here.

 

Isabella, Queen of Castille died here before being taken 350 miles to Granada to be interred with her husband Ferdinand who was already dead. The  'Treaty of Medina del Campo' was signed here in 1489 between England and Spain . Both countries agreed to dislike France and Catherine of Aragon was told by her mum, Queen  Isabella that she had to marry Prince Arthur, Henry VII's son and then his brother Henry VIII. She was one of the wives that died with her head intact. That's a bit of history for you.

 

Medina del Campo was famous for its fairs for over 100 years but went downhill in the 18th. century only to become popular again when the railway arrived and they started opening the shops on Sundays which is unusual for Spain.

 

 

 

Just time for a stop at Rueda to buy some Yllera wine and then off to Santander and the good ship Pont Aven.

 

 

 June 23rd. 2013

 

 



June 16th. Father's Bad Day (the apostrophe is correctly placed)

June 16th. Father's (bad) Day

It's always a busy time when we start packing for the journey back. For the last 3 days I have been trying to keep my parking space outside our front door so that I can load up all the stuff we take with us; dog, oil, wine, bikes, books, and stuff that Mrs. Sanchez puts in the big case, boxes, bags etc. which she calls 'clothes'. I have been persuaded to leave my warm and waterproof winter coat here. Apparently it is summer in Brum and I won't need it.

Today we went up to look at the olives and to spray Neem on the almonds. This involves a complex combined  operation with H. upstairs who parks his car in my garage. At a given signal H. collects his car and fills the space as I leave, vacating it as I return. This is all done using mobile phones and cars. Parking spaces on our street are few and highly prized. All went swimmingly until we were stopped by the Guardia Civil (see previous blog), also known as the Benemérita, who fined me 200€ on the spot and told me to get a Spanish driving licence (nearly spelt that wrongly again, Paddy).  He was wrong about the licence and the offence that he said I had committed would have been  trivial. Naturally I resisted the temptation to say 'Sin vergüenza ' (see previous blog 14/06/2012) , thanked him very much and drove off in a sulk which is still upon me 6 hours later.

 

 

 You may wonder if the olives really needed looking at and if the blackfly on the almonds needed a Neem breakfast and, indeed, if a parking space is that precious.

Our nephew and his beautiful and charming wife are in Alora at the moment. They are staying in my sister's flat and seem to be having a good time despite the hot sunny weather, gallons of wine and delicious food. My sister is not there either as it has only one bedroom.
 Last night we went with them to Álora's new ice cream parlour, Saborea which was very busy. (nephew J. paid for the lot (6) nice chap.) The ice creams are all home made and very tempting. Mrs. Sánchez had 'Cookie' and I had a strawberry cucarrucha (cone). The bars, on the other hand, were mostly empty (Saturday night!) or had shut early.

 

Mmmm

 

                                       
                         Here's the alcalde , Jose Sanchez, getting a free one


How many ice creams could you buy with 200€?


June 16th. 2013

A nice birthday lunch and The Massacre of Málaga

A nice birthday lunch and The Massacre of Málaga

 

The Entrance to The English Cemetery, Málaga.

 

It was my birthday last week so off we went to Málaga for a slap up celebratory lunch in a posh place by the lighthouse. Very nice too. On the way we called in at the English Cemetery down on the road to Velez Málaga (Avenida de Pries) ; an unusual birthday venue, I admit, but it was nearby , we had an hour to kill (no pun intended) and it's just the place to work up an appetite.
The English Cemetery has been there since 1831 and should really be called 'The Non-Catholic Cemetery' as there are 'heretics' buried there from all over the place, including Germany and Oldham.

There are no burials allowed in the cemetery these days because the city has grown around it and burials there would now break local laws. For a cemetery it is quite a beautiful and interesting place, not least because it contains the graves of Gerald Brenan, his wife Gamel Woolsey and Robert Boyd. I'll be bending your ear in the next blog about Mr. and Mrs. Brenan but as Robert Boyd was very the first resident he deserves a mention.

Back in 1831 any non Catholics who died in Málaga did not rate a 'decent' burial so their bodies  were buried in an upright position at the dead of night in the sand of a nearby beach. This was before the advent of mass tourism and beach volleyball.
If a corpse was not washed out to sea the local dogs would tuck in ; a balanced diet being achieved by the organic rubbish which was dumped in the same place.

 

William Mark

The British Consul,William Mark, regarded this state of affairs 'with great grief and disgust' and 'his blood curdled at the thought that Englishmen should be buried thus'.
Mark wrote to the British Government and  the governor general of Málaga and was eventually granted a piece of land on a hillside on the road to Velez for the burial of British subjects.
It is reported that he waited with eager anticipation for his first client who turned out to be George Stephens, owner of the brig 'Cicero' who fell into Malaga harbour and drowned. There is no evidence that he was pushed and William Mark knew nothing about the accident until the next day. A big crowd attended the burial.
Mark then asked the Earl of Aberdeen for 200 pounds to build a wall to enclose the cemetery which was granted. The builders dug the foundations slightly away from the planned area (typical!!) and so left poor old George Stephens outside the cemetery. The first burial to take place inside the walls was that of Robert Boyd.

                                        Lieutenant Robert Boyd  (1805-1831)



Robert Boyd was an impressionable young Irishman who had followed the exploits of  'mad , bad and dangerous to know' Lord Byron in Greece. Byron had died in 1824 while fighting for Greek Independence from the Turks and was widely aclaimed as a hero.
Boyd was  a soldier with the East India Company. He  resigned his commission and inherited 4000 pounds.  At about  the same time he fell in with a group of London intellectuals and other malcontents who were very angry about the behaviour of King Ferdinand VII of Spain. They had all fallen under the spell of General José María de Torrijos y Uriate, 'a handsome and charming man of noble birth with a lively intellect and impetuous courage' but not much cash who was exiled in London after falling out with the King.

 

 

                           General José María de Torrijos y Uriate (1791-1831)

You can see by the dates of these two chaps that things are not going to turn out well.


Torrijos had a plan to invade Spain to overthrow King Ferdinand but needed money to charter a boat. Boyd was happy to stump up a few thousand and everybody got ready for the adventure.

The British government did not want to upset Spain at this time  so the boat, 'Mary' was seized and embargoed before it left for Gibraltar. Not to be put off, the 50 or so conspirators set off individually for Gib. and met up later. They included Torrijos, Boyd, some ex ministers of Spain, an apothecary, a lawyer, two commercial travellers, two tailors, a monk, a clock-maker and a musician.

After a few months they set off from Gibralter to invade Spain but the Governor of Gibraltar captured them and gave them a severe talking to.

Eventually the rebel forcé of 80 men left Gibraltar and landed  20 miles away at Getares near Algeciras. They marched on Estepona where they were thrashed by Spanish troops and the survivers limped back to Gibraltar. All prisoners were shot in accordance with Spanish law (!?).
By this time the British Authorities were getting fed up with all this and wanted all the conspirators out of Gibraltar as they were putting off tourists and investment bankers.

Torrijos was undeterred and on November 30th. 1831 he set off again with 50 men and a cabin boy,  who knew nothing of the plot, to invade Málaga believing that 2,500 troops of the Málaga garrison were waiting to support him. After sailing for two days they landed at Fuengirola and wandered through the hills just near here until they came to Alhaurín de la Torre, which you can see from our back wall. Here they were welcomed and given food and drink before being arrested on December 3rd. by the Governer of Málaga, Vincente Gonzalez Moreno , later known as 'The Butcher of Málaga'. You can see what's coming next.

Instead of doing the right thing and shooting everybody on the spot, Moreno took the rebels and the cabin boy back to Málaga and had them shot there.

 

The executions of Torrijos, Boyd, the rebels and the little cabin boy.

 December 11th. 1831

Boyd and Torrijos were the last to be shot. When William Mark heard that there was an Englishman among the prisoners he sent off a letter straight away to London asking the British Government to intervene. (the postal service has since deteriorated). Palmerston wrote;

'As to Mr Boyd, ...his death was justifiable according to the laws of nations. Mr Boyd was found in arms acting against Spain, acting against its authorities, in union with persons who were considered traitors to its government.’

The prisoners were taken to St. Andrew's Beach and massacred ; even the little cabin boy who had been taken under the wing of a Carmelite monk and had to be dragged out of his arms by force. The monk was later found to be 'out of his mind'.

Mark went down in his carraige to collect the corpse which was buried within the walls of the English Cemetery.

                                                        Robert Boyd's Grave

The English Cemetery is now run by The English Cemetery in Malaga Foundation, a Spanish charity. The vice president is the charming Mrs. Rosella Parmiter who runs the small shop and visitors' centre there.

She'd love to see you.


June 5th. 2013