Olive woes, Flamenco Fun and Álora Digs in for a Wintery Winter,
 |
| The Olive Fly |
Otoño (autumn) has been cancelled here in Álora. We've gone straight from summer to winter this year. All the perotes are now going round with scarves over their faces to stop the cold aire de arriba (north wind) from entering any orifice. They say you can catch all sorts of nasty things from a cold racha up the raja.
Temperatures in single figures (°C) were recorded last Wednesday in La Plaza de la Fuente Arriba (Top Square) but that didn't stop the hardy Brits and Norwegians from sitting out in the sickly sunshine sipping sub-zero cervezas and cafés con leche while the bemused local populace gazed on in disbelief.
Mrs. Sánchez, and I have been picking olives for the last two weeks. We keep telling ourselves that it's just a hobby and that when it stops being fun we'll pack it in. We came very close to that point after battling against freezing gale force winds up in the foothills of the Sierra de Las Nieves.
To' pa' na' (Todo para nada)(all that work for nothing) as the locals would say.
We struggled to pick a measly 543kg.
It's been a bad year for olives. No rain over the winter and high summer temperatures attracted every olive fly in Andalucía to our little field where they flitted about merrily laying their eggs in our juicy ripening olives. ¡Cabrones!
Olive flies don't have much of a life compared to ours but their chances of survival improved no end when some do- gooder, nanny-state kiljoy stopped the farmers spraying lethal poison onto the olive groves from a small aircraft.
We used to love watching that little plane come flying low over the valley opposite our back wall. We'd all wave madly to the pilot who would wave back and dip his wings in response before opening the vents and spraying a brightly coloured cloud of insecticide over us. Oh! Those were the days!
The Peña Flamenca cerca 2005
It's been a bad year for olives. No rain over the winter and high summer temperatures attracted every olive fly in Andalucía to our little field where they flitted about merrily laying their eggs in our juicy ripening olives. ¡Cabrones!
Olive flies don't have much of a life compared to ours but their chances of survival improved no end when some do- gooder, nanny-state kiljoy stopped the farmers spraying lethal poison onto the olive groves from a small aircraft.
We used to love watching that little plane come flying low over the valley opposite our back wall. We'd all wave madly to the pilot who would wave back and dip his wings in response before opening the vents and spraying a brightly coloured cloud of insecticide over us. Oh! Those were the days!
Álora is famous in Andalucía for inventing a form of Flamenco called La Malagueña. There is a flourishing flamenco club in the town called La Peña Flamenca and it used to be down at the end of Paseo Martos next door to the underwear and lingerie shop. It was very exclusive. We tried for two years to get in there but kept getting cold-shouldered by the aficionados. We finally got in by shelling out 40€ for membership.
Everyone has heard of Flamenco and, along with los toros (bullfighting), tapas, sol and sangría it's what's Spain´s all about, isn't it?
Well, if you think it's about castanets, and beautiful dusky maidens whirling about to hand clapping and strumming guitars you´ll have a shock if you manage; first, to find the Peña Flamenca, which is difficult enough, and then to get in to watch a concert.
The Flamenco they do round here is called Cante Grande or Cante Jondo and usually involves an elderly man sitting on a chair with his eyes closed and one hand stretched out, palm upwards, singing a wailing song about difficult times on the farm, the death of his brother or the loss of his wife to a travelling salesman. The guitarist fills in between verses, giving the cantante time for a swig of water or manzanilla wine and to get his breath back.
It´s very serious stuff, believe me, and it can send chills down your spine even though the rhythms are almost impossible to make out and you've probably got no idea what he's singing about.
Here's one of the most famous flamenco singers of all time
Cameron de la Isla and a few others.
There are a considerable number of women singers too and one of the most famous, Antoñita Contreras comes from and lives in Álora although I haven't seen her for some time doing her shopping in our local Mercadona.
Antoñita Contreras
The Peña Flamenca of Álora moved to a new place a few years ago and we stopped going. It always seemed to be shut. A couple of weeks ago we went for the first time to the new venue, which is just as hard to find, but it's up Folklórico Pepe Rosas, off Camino Nuevo and just past the office of Diego García Rebollo the brilliant asesor. (WE SPEAK ENGLISH).
The advertised artists did not turn up that night so they rang round to find some local singers and guitarists to step in. Mrs. S. and I felt that we'd 'come home' after such a long break.
One of the two guitarists that night was Emilio Cortes who played well and came over after to say hello. He died the next day.
We went to the Peña again last night with young Patricio, our lad, to see a marvellous performance by Rosi Campos (al cante) and José Juan Pantoja (a la guitarra).Rosi can really bash it out.
There was a notice on the door saying 'SOLO SOCIOS' (members only) but that's just there to keep out the stag party crowds and the riff-raff. I knew we'd get in with no hassle because my 'tocayo' and top flamenco aficionado, Juan, had slipped me the nod by giving me a poster. A 'tocayo' is someone with the same name as you. It's great having tocayos. A few weeks ago the same Juan came up to me in my office in the top square and gave me a bottle of very tasty vino tinto! Result!
There are a lot of stray dogs around here at the moment, especially out in the campo (outside town). Most of them are big dogs which are used as guard dogs to protect the fincas that surround Álora. I suspect that they get kicked out in winter because they're expensive to keep.
The other day my amigo and Honorary Olive Grove Manager Colin, and I came across an emaciated greyhound walking in the middle of the road as we were driving Monty out for his morning run. I stopped the car and we threw out a cereal bar to it. The dog ignored the food but crawled under our car, where it was warm and shelter from the cold wind. We couldn't get it to budge. I tried luring it with bits of the cereal bar and poking it with a stick. No luck. A local chap pulled up and helpfully suggested bouncing the car up and down.
Eventually they kept an eye on the dog as I slowly reversed the car back over it. The dog survived the experience but I don't have much hope that he'll make it through the winter.
Ultramarinos
This is a little shop in Calle Granada in the old part of Málaga, which has become very popular for tourists and where there are hundreds of bar and restaurants. I have passed this shop many times without even noticing it or wondering what it sold. The other day I noticed another 'Ultramarino' in Plaza Santa Ana in Álora.
It's a 'mini-supermarket' or grocery shop. You see them in towns and villages everywhere, along with 'erías' like fruterías, carnicerías, pescaderías, cafeterías, peluquerías etc. So why do these little grocery shops have such an unusual name?
I'll tell you.
They got their name ('things from over the seas') from the products brought back from the old Spanish colonies like coffee, spices, beans and cod. They never specialised in one product so they didn't qualify for 'ería' status.
Una heladería
They usually had white marble counters and were 'open all hours'. The mixture of aromas gave the ultamarinos a distinctive exoctic ambience.
They say that the very Spanish custom of 'pedir la vez' started in the ultramarinos. Everyone who comes to live or stay for more than a few days in Spain will have experienced 'pedir la vez'. You`ll be waiting in the bank (no queue here) or frutería or the carnicería and the next customer to come in will say, '¿Quién es el último?' or 'la ultima'. ('Who is the last?) Everybody then points at you and you say 'Yo!'( I am).
What fun!
This system does not work in bars. It's every man and woman for themselves there.
Bar News
Waiting time at Bar Romero is now down to 40 minutes.
Antonio has, at last, reopened his bar, La Jamonería, after three weeks holiday.
Juanito Sánchez November 24th. 2019
