Álora's first mobile Flamenco performer and 'Cursed be the flies of your land.'

Álora's first mobile flamenco performer and 'Cursed be the flies of your land'.

First of all here is the answer to last week's competition. I received no entries at all, (except one from a Mrs. Sánchez who I suspect to be a close relation and therefore must be disqualified) which was rather surprising given the high quality of the prizes and the interesting subject. The question was:
What do these three have in common?

Of course, the answer was:

Me siento como una mosca en la leche ( I feel like a  fly in the milk') and
Me siento como un pulpo en un garaje ( I feel like an octopus in a garage)

both mean 'I feel like a fish out of water'.
The Bishop of Ghana said that he didn't fancy being pope because he'd feel........well

No competition this week, or ever.

                                                                  Andrés


This is Andrés. He can be seen most mornings in  La Plaza de la Fuente Arriba driving round the square on his shiny motorbike singing flamenco at the top of his voice. Usually he has his dog 'Pinuto' on the pillion.I don't think he is being paid to do it by the ayuntamiento. Indeed, the other day he parked right outside the door of the ayuntamiento and spent a good hour polishing his bike and singing loudly whilst two policía eyed him suspiciously but were not moved to join in with the singing.

                                                       Andrés with 'Pinuto'

I suspect that he may be asked to stop doing it soon.

Last Sunday, Mrs. Sanchez and I fancied a day out so off  we went to Alozaina for the first re-enactment of the historic but so far uncelebrated heroic defence of the town by Maria Sagredo in 1570. Alozaina also hosts the annual 'Day of the Olive' in September which attracts hundreds of visitors. I was hoping to find the same cheese stall that was in Casarabonela last year for it's 'Day of the Spanish Inquisition' (see Man In Alora September 2013). I bought a piece of cheese there which I can still taste 8 months later.

Unfortunately the only stalls there were selling dodgy pottery, drinks and tapas. I had a beer and Mrs. Sanchez had a 16th. century rustic pot cup of wine called 'mosto' which comes from Yunquera, the next village up the road and tasted like piss. It ended up in a plant pot of marigolds. Lots of people were dressed up as 'people from a long time ago'. The programme said there would be a series of enactments on a specially constructed stage.The One o'clock show, 'Allah Akbar' had not started by 2 o'clock but the patient audience stood patiently in the midday hot sun sipping their mosto and watching a nasty little boy going up to the other kids (all in fancy dress) and slapping them across the face or thumping them in the chest  This went on for 15 minutes or so  and was quite entertaining and helped to pass the time. No one  seemed to mind these brutal shenanigans but Mrs.Sánchez and I discussed the various painful punishments which might do him a bit of good.

Apparently, in 1570, 78 years after Ferdinand and Isabella expelled all the Jews and 'moors' (muslims) from Spain there were still a few disgruntled Islamic terrorists hiding up in the mountains waiting for a chance to sweep down on Alozaina and impose Sharia law and ban pork products,Cruzcampo, San Miguel and castanets. One day, when all the men of fighting age were away in Casarabonela buying cheese, the 'moriscos' took advantage of the situation and attacked the town. They killed Maria Sagredo's father, so she 'grabbed a crossbow and heroically defended the walls of Alozaina'. When the other women saw her bravery they joined in by chucking beehives down at the terrorists. The scene now forms part of the town's coat of arms.

                                   Maria Sagredo throwing beehives at the 'moriscos'

If this wasn't enough to send them on the run, the women then shouted, ' Cursed be the flies of your land!' and they all ran away.

                               a few enthusiastic 'actors' waiting for it all to start.


By 2 o'clock we were not the only people who were fed up with the wait so nos piramos and drove up the road to Jorox (pronounced 'horrocks') where a nice chap called Antonio, who has the only bar in the village, gave us some paella and salad. Very nice too.

                                
                                                                  Jorox


Yesterday one of my shoelaces was on the point of breaking so I went to a shoe shop to buy some new ones. 'Sorry we don't sell them, try the ferretería (ironmonger)'. No luck. I asked around and finally found a pair in the estanco (tobacconist) belonging to the Consigliere family in the main square. Matilde was busy serving someone with bacalau  (salt cod) when I went in.

May 20th. 2014