The Álora Tripe Riots and a Massive Drugs Haul. Full Story.

The Álora Tripe Riots and a Massive Drugs Haul. Full Story.


What a week! I thought all the excitement was over until next Easter but how wrong could I have been.

The fun began on Tuesday when the Álora Guardia Civil raided a finca  just outside Álora and found 2082 marijuana plants in peak condition. Three Brits and a Spaniard are helping with enquiries.

Here's a picture of the 'plantation'. The pool looks a bit murky doesn't it?. Observant  readers should be able to identify the location from the chimney in the top left hand corner. If this is your villa and you are renting it out to a respectable family from Weston Super Mare I should get back sharpish before it is embargoed and sold off. 
This proximity of this local dope factory may go some way to explain why, in times of 'la crisis' when money is scarce, the heady aroma of what I believe is called 'skunk weed' lies heavily in the air, especially when the wind is in the north west.

Speaking of ´la crisis', the word on those streets frequented by the 'Brit Community' this week was that Friday 18th. October was going to be 'Crisis Day'. According to an unnamed source in the Cudeca charity shop there was a riot planned for Friday in the centre of Álora and the advice was; ´Keep off the streets!'. (regular readers of this blog may remember the 'Chinese Whispers' story of 19th. October 2012; exactly a year ago to the day). Also, according to a usually reliable (when sober) scource the local bars were going to be giving away tripe to the rioters. You couldn't make it up could you? 
Let's unravel this by applying the rule; 'If you heard about it in Cudeca there may be an element of fact in there .........somewhere'.
Here's a photo of ´the riot'. It contains a clue to the obvious misunderstanding.

 

'Lucha' means 'struggle' but can also mean 'fight'.

A new hospital has been built near Cártama to meet the needs of the people of the Guadalhorce comarca (region). It has stood empty for at least two years and we are all getting a bit fed up because there's no money for staff, power and equipment. (sound familiar?). Our alcalde (mayor) José (Epi) Sánchez (no relation) is leading a plataforma (campaign) to demand the opening of the the new hospital and  a meeting of supporters was held in La Plaza de la Fuente Arriba (top square) on Friday evening followed by an orderly march around the town. No foreigners were to be seen on the streets, including Mrs. Sánchez and me. We got the time wrong and turned up an hour late by which time it was all over bar the shouting . Here's some more pictures of the riots.

Along with posters advertising the meeting on Friday were some others announcing 'El Día de los Callos'.

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Sometimes the posters were stuck up  close together, as clearly illustrated in this view of Manolo's Cafe Bar Madrugón. Perhaps one of the small minority of British residents with Spanish skills and who read posters  thought the two events were connected. I feel sure that this explains the misunderstanding particularly as Callos is usually translated as 'tripe' (especially on menus with an 'English version'). Most Brits hate tripe  and the prospect of all the bars in the top square dishing it out willy-nilly was probably enough to keep 'em all indoors anyway, riots or no riots.

More than a cursory glance at the two posters, however, would have revealed that the two events were to take place on different days. Perhaps I am asking too much.

As we know, Callos is not just tripe. It does contain some tripe but mucho mucho más. It is one of my favourite dishes. 
You get all this yummy stuff in one bowl:

garbanzos (chick peas)
cebollas     (onions)
ajo              (garlic)
manitas       (pigs feet) (NB. no attempt at apostrophe)
oreja           (pig's ear)
tomate         (tomato)
callos           (pig's stomach)
rabo             (pig's tail)
añejo           (don't ask)

morcilla        (black pudding)
chorizo         (chorizo)
water
lots of herbs and spices


See, not just tripe

and free to boot..
 Manolo in El Cafe Bar Madrugón likes a joke so he told me that he would charge me for being a 'guiri' (foreigner). Ho ho ho. Here he is with his son, Javier, also a bit of a joker, with our alcalde.

 You may note that Snr. Sánchez (call me Épi) is holding an empty olla (pot). Mrs. Sánchez and I had to eat the dregs which were very tasty. Astute Sánchez (me) blogfollowers (and I use the plural with more than a little hubris) will remember that Manolo was banned from serving hot food a couple of years ago. Guiri eh?
I hope I have cleared up any misunderstandings.

The really big event of the week was also on Friday despite the dire warnings of civil disobedience.
It was the opening of the Second Annual Exibition of 'The Independent Artists of Álora' in the Casa de Cultura at 9.00pm ; enough time for el Alcalde to stop the riots, go home, have a shower, put on his best togs and open the exhibition. It was a big success. 

              Where's Wally? Can you find Mrs. Sánchez?


A quintet from the Orquéstra Sinfónica de Málaga played. Food and wine were artistically scoffed and quaffed and several paintings were sold there and then; two of them by Kent Harrison. (we've got four of his on our walls). Terry Durham sold one of his excellent three. Terry has a one man exhibition here next March.

We ended up at Lodantonio's and had a late tapa of pulpo frito (fried octopus). Antonio has sharpened all our kitchen knives and they are, well, sharp.

My shoulder is a lot better, thanks.

                                    Terry Durham



20th October 2013

Super Soup Day in Álora

Super Soup Day in Álora

                           Lots of things dipped in chocolate.

On Saturday it was Álora's turn in the round of local village  money spinners. We have 'Sopas Perotas Day', one of the only celebrations here that does not require a virgin. 
Álora's signature dish is our best shot to attract lots of visitors to spend money in the bars and buy all sorts of stuff from the stalls which are set up in the Plaza Baja and right up to our front door.

                                         Sopas Perotas

The highlight of the day was a free plate of this meat free delight if you were prepared to queue up in the hot sun or have a drink in one of the 36 bars which featured it as a free tapa if you bought a drink. Normally you would not find 'sopas' available in bars so by Sopas Perotas Day most Perotes (people from Alora) are gagging for a taste.
'Bring your own spoon' said the posters and two people did. I saw them. Entertainment included some very good flamenco dancing by girls from the Mónica Morales Dancing School, a recital by the town orchestra, a few songs from our local songbird Yoli Fernandez and a Verdiales group. (see 'Man in Alora' 11/5/2013).

 

The Groupo de Baile de Mónica Morales

Mrs. Sanchez and I set off for a jolly afternoon of eating  and drinking but not before paying 20€ for a nice log basket that was outside our bedroom window. The nice man declined my offer of a discount in lieu of rent for the space.

Our first stop was at Bar Mocho which is run by Manolo and his wife. He only makes any money on Sopas Perotas Day and Easter Friday (if it's not raining) as most of the year the Plaza Baja is avoided by the good burghers of Perote town except for weddings, baptisms, first communions, masses and if they want to buy drugs. Manolo was but a blur as he served up beer and tapas from the zinc topped bar outside his premises. I hope he did well as Mrs. Manolo

 

has just had another baby (and so was excused bar duties for the day.)

Regular readers of this blog may remember the 'Spanish Inquisition Day' at Casarabonela a couple of weeks ago where I bought a piece of sheeps' cheese. I was hoping to find the same purveyor to buy some more. No luck. Loads of cheese but nothing as dramatically pungent as the last lot. Other stalls offered pork products of every description, churros, olive oil, honey, chairs, painted roof tiles, potato crisps made as you watched, sweet wine, log baskets. My favourite was the one that sold all kinds of things dipped in chocolate. I think the stallholders had been eating rather too much of their product to make any money on the day.

We made our way up Calle Atrás to the 'Fuente Arriba' where all  my favourite bars are. Passing by the door of Bar Madrugón I called out 'Hay Sopas?' (Have you got any Sopas?) to Manolo (a different one) and Javier. I don't know what they shouted back but those within earshot found it very amusing and I took it as a 'No'.

We went into Bar Alegría instead and had calamares and Cruzcampo beer. Paco Gordo, the proprietor, saluted as he passed us on his way out to do a 'ronda' of his competitors.

The hot afternoon wore on as we slogged from bar to bar to cultural centre to casa de hermandad in search of the perfect sopa.

Come to think of it we only had the one plateful at Mocho's.

 I'm not very fond of it anyway and not only because it has no pork in it. It's called 'sopa' but it's not like a soup at all. It is usually made in a big earthenware bowl called a lebrillo which means 'bowl'. and traditionally everybody tucks into the sopa with their spoon, taking care to keep to their own little sector. Here's what's in it:

Pan cateto  Stale dense bread

Papas           potatoes

espárragos    asparagus

tomates          tomatoes

cebollas         onions

pimiento rojo red pepper

 aceite             olive oil

agua               water

Mmmm.

 

 Here's the alcalde (mayor) José (Epi) Sanchez (no relation) and his retinue tucking into  the free sopas. I don't know what he's found in his sopa, but the bloke on the far left is  the leader of the .opposition party.

October10th. 2013

 

I was lying face down in two inches of muddy water....

 I was lying face down in two inches of muddy water....

I was lying face down in two inches of water wondering if I could could get up; if I'd broken anything; if anyone had seen me fall in. Yes, yes and no. I couldn't move my left arm but was able to crawl up and out of the fountain. Water continued to gush from the two iron pipes and there was no-one in sight. I carried on with the job of filling my  twelve 5 litre plastic containers with 'spring water' single handedly.

                                                             La Fuente de Canca

My mistake had been to stand on the very slipperly stone slab. Water gushes out of these pipes onto the slab day and night. I don't know where it comes from but it's free and doesn't have the taste of fomaldehyde that the tap water often carries. Sometimes a 'no potable'  (undrinkable) sign is put on the wall so we knock it on the head for a few weeks. In the few seconds that passed as I lay in the shallow, litter strewn muddy water I questioned the wisdom of this routine. Where does the tap water at home come from anyway? Is it safe to drink that stuff? It's clearly much  safer than diving onto concrete. Sometimes the drainage hole gets blocked and there's a few feet of water in there along with the abandoned plastic containers and giant, noisy frogs. I could have drowned.
I loaded the water into my car, wishing I'd bought an automatic. My left arm wouldn't work so I drove back in 1st. gear, parked on the street (no mean feat, I can tell you), went in and reviewed the situation.

As you approach Álora by plane you usually fly over 'the lakes'.

These are the Guadalteba Embalses (reservoirs). They are about 20km. from Álora and hold enough water to supply most of the Costa Del Sol hotels,(986) apartments, restaurants, bars, houses and golf courses.(60). People here call them the pantanos, (easily confused with platanos (bananas)). You can swim , fish, paddle a pedalo and  canoe in the lakes, but  you can't drink the water if you live down the road in Álora. I found out this interesting fact as I wandered from bar to bar seeking sympathy and information yesterday. Nobody seems to know where their drinking water comes from. The most popular guess was 'From the deposito  (tank) by the football ground.' 'And how does it get to the deposito?' Blank looks. The ayuntamiento  (town hall) , even the abastamiento de aguas department (their guess was 'El Chorro') sent me to the oficina de urbanismo where I was given a 'Why do you want to know?' look before the chap said  una captación' (something for collecting water) and would not be drawn further. The barman in Los Caballos Dos (recently reopened under new management and serving good calamares tapas) said he was from Pizarra so he didn't know. He didn't know where the water came from in Pizarra either. Several people suggested it came from the river (also known as the sewer) and wells were mentioned more than once. Boring or what?

Eventually I ran into Pepe Rojas in Bar Azahar (Candelaria's). What Pepe doesn't know about Álora....

                                                                       Pepe Rojas



Where does the water come from? La mesa. Where's that? El Chorro. Where abouts? By the Hermita de Villaverde and La Iglesia de la Virgen de la Medalla Miraglosa.  (The Church of the Virgin of the Miraculous Medal) An authoritative answer at last.

                                                                            La Mesa

I don't believe that either.

What did Pepe think about the two main 'water fountains' ;La Fuente de La Higuera and my recent nemesis La Fuente de Canca?
 'Too much fertiliser and urine in the water. Go the La Fuente de Pedro Sánchez (no relation) up on Monte Hacho.'
'Where do you get your water?'  ' Bottled'. I should have seen that coming.

No sign of rain yet. Feel free to ask if my injured arm is getting better.


2nd. October 2013