Wednesday, 4 November 2020

Where did that year go? Man in Álora is.

 Where did that year go? Man in Álora is.

 

 

 



 

It's good to be back.

Mrs. Sánchez and I finally made it back to Álora four weeks ago and have loved every minute. As we came round the last bend and the magnificent Moorish castle came into sight for the first time since last November, we brushed warm, salty tears from our eyes and I looked forward to my first gambas al pil pil, calamares a la plancha and that gem of the autumnal gastronomie andaluz ... callos.

 

My last communication as ´'Man not in Álora' mentioned the possibility of a new Spanish State of Emergency  (estado de alarma) being imposed as Covid 19 cases appeared to be ´spiralling out of control´. Well, here it is, and all kinds of obstacles are appearing which are going to make our return to Boris's Bonkers Blighty a bit tricky.

The new 'State of Alarm' gives the Spanish government all kinds of special powers but can only last for 15 days unless it is renewed. These powers can include a toque de queda (curfew), restriction of movement, searches of property and the rationing of papel hygenico (toilet paper). 

There have only ever been three estados de alarma in Spain since the end of the Franco dictatorship (apart from a little hiccup in1981 when there was an attempted military coup d'etat). The first was in December 2010, over Christmas, when the air traffic controllers went on strike. The second was in March this year and lasted until June 21st.

The third state of alarm was imposed on October 7th. 2020. It wasn't as draconian as the March one and initially only applied to the province of Madrid, which upset the Madrileños no end.

'Why just us?' they all shouted.


                                      Angry Madrileños

On October 25th. a national curfew was announced. Everybody in Spain now has to be in their homes by 11.00pm. and not go out until 6.00am. the next morning. This will last until November 9th, the day we leave for the UK!!! Homeless people and key workers are exempted. Also some provinces, towns and villages were told to close their borders, so-called perimetral restrictions, in order to avoid the full lockdown imposed earlier this year, which was very strict. It doesn't seem to be working, so new measures will be considered tomorrow.

 

 

The 'new normal' in the Top Square.

After a couple of days unpacking and hacking back the jungle that used to be our back garden we put on our pretty facemasks and headed up into town.

Everybody is wearing a mascarilla - in the street, in cars, out in the campo, in bed - everywhere. The fear of being confined to barracks again and the massive fines for not wearing one seems to have done the trick, and the Perotes have been wearing them during temperatures of more than 40 degrees centigrade. Phew!


                 ¡LA MASCARILLA ES OBLIGATORIA!

The weather here has been warm and sunny most of the time and  the Top Square (la Plaza de la Fuente Arriba) at 11.00am on Friday was as lively as ever. Apart from the mascarillas it appeared to 'business as usual'.

All the shops and bars were open, with restrictions on numbers, distancing and antiseptic gels. It took a few minutes to realise that one of the most endearing of Spanish customs was absent - no physical contact. No kissing on both cheeks, no hugs and no handshakes. The preferred greeting here is either 'elbows' or 'hand on heart'

You don´t have to wear a mask when you are sitting at a table, but a lot of people are getting to like wearing them. I was expecting to see 'piebald' faces when the masks came off. All that sun for months on end and half your face covered... well, stands to reason, but it's not the case.


I think it's a good look.

Our friend Ana Molina invited us round for a meal, which is still legal in Spain. She had a lot to say about 'El lockdown' (same word in Spanish).

The Top Square was deserted for most of the lockdown...apart from a visit from a lone horse that went through town looking in shop windows and a jabalí (wild boar) that tried to get in Bar Cafe Madrugón for a coffee and anis.

                ¡Venga Javi. Póngame un cafelito, coño!

I heard from a usually unreliable scource that over in Mijas, Marbella and Benahavis these hairy porkers have become such a problem in the town and on the roads that the Junta de Andalucía is encouraging people to hunt them with 'arcos y flechas'. (bows and arrows). 'They've bagged 60 so far and the meat has been donated to soup kitchens. Only a small number of residents and holidaymakers have been shot by mistake so far.

This mascarilla malarkey is a bit pesado (annoying) if you wear glasses and don't hear too well. For a start, how can you recognise people to say hello to when half their face is covered and your glasses are steamed up all the time? When you do get it right and it really is someone you know, you can´t tell what they´re saying and they can't hear you either, you can't lipread, and they're talking in Perote Spanish which you haven´t heard or spoken for a year. I can't wait to get back to England where nobody talks to you anyway.

They don't appear to have a test and trace system here. No-one takes your contact details in bars or resaurants. The simplest way to test yourself is to drive down to the Serrana gasolinera on the road to Málaga. If you can't smell the pong coming from the nearby pig farm, you really do have a problem!
 

                               Shut that window!

Our second big job has been to pick the olives at our olivar near Casarabonela, a town with a name that even the locals can't pronounce. We have to pass the Gasolinera Serrana on the way there so we've had a Coronavirus test twice a day for about two weeks.

This year we had a reasonably good crop of olives - small, a bit shrunken after a long dry summer, but lots of them. We just couldn't get enough people to to help us to pick them this year. Our pal and harvest boss, Colin, took a chance and flew down from Liverpool to help and we ended up with 930 kg. of good olives. Thanks also to Jim, Mike, Shirley and Glenys.


                            Colin and Mrs. S. in action.

The olive oil is very good this year. We extracted 167 litres. The olive mill just down the road from Olivar Caicunes is usually buzzing with activity at this time of the year. Farmers come and go all day with their olives and most of them are up for a chat about, well, olives mainly, and they've opened a little cafetería too. This year masks had to be worn in and outside the mill, except in the cafetería if you were sitting at a table. Mrs. S. and I were politely asked to leave the mill as only two people were allowed in and only when their oil is ready to  pour. 

One thing that hadn't changed was the smell. There is nothing quite like the smell of an olive mill in full swing. It's a real spirit lifter.

                             Mrs, S. waiting for the oil.

We usually send some of our olive oil back to Birmingham where we sell it one day a month on Moseley Farmers' Market.

This year we hit a problem when I contacted our usual 'man with a van' to arrange the transport. He said he was unable to oblige this year as he is awaiting trial for, allegedly, trying to smuggle a rather large amount of cannabis into Britain. 

Álora lives for its festivals and special days.This year has seen the cancellation of nearly all of them. Even though only 5 Perotes have died from Covid 19, the residents here have had to live through the strictest lockdown rules in the world and it looks likely that they are set to return very soon.

This year all these have not happened:

Carnaval (Carnival )

Semana Santa (Holy Week)

La Feria (The Annual Fair Week)

La Romería de la Virgen de las Flores (The pilgrimage for Álora's patron.)

El Día de las Sopas Perotas (The celebration of the town's signature dish). 

Even Halloween was a tame affair this year, which was a blessing.

Nothing much happens at Christmas anyway,

El Día de los Muertos (The Day of the Dead) seems to have taken place as normal. This is the day when people go up to the cemetery and put flowers by their relatives' nichos (graves). It's a good day for the florists and taxi drivers and once again Alora's museum put on a special exhibition to celebrate the day.

María José who is the curator of the museum, stopped me in the street to remind me about her 2020 display.



I didn't know what to say.

Now here's a thing.

I have been surprised and puzzled by the number of Brits, who have lived here throughout the Pandemic's 'first wave,' that believe it has all been fake - that people are not dying in large numbers and that it is all some kind of plot or conspiracy.

'It's just like 'flu'

'It's a natural thing, we just have to accept it'

'It's been manufactured by the powers that be.'

'They just want to keep us under control.'

'The hospitals have nothing to do because there are no Covid patients and they've cancelled other operations.'

It's true to say that Álora does feel a safe place to be at the moment. We'll  see.

 Just because it's a conspiracy theory doesn't mean it's not true.

Meanwhile we shall attempt to drive back to England next Monday amid lockdowns and restrictions in Spain and in the UK.

Wish us luck. 

Watch this space.


Juanito Sánchez 4th. November 2020.