Being back in
Cortijo La Joya after the visit to Morocco feels a little like coming home after a rowdy party! We travelled up to Bobadilla on the Algerciras/Granada train past storks' nests, ordered villages and well-watered fields. These things stand out precisely because of the contrast that Morocco affords. A school group got on the train part way home. They were infant school children with their teachers; they'd been on a school visit and were tired but happy. We were surrounded by excited and tired people. At Ronda they got out.Their parents were waiting for them on the platform; a familiar sight from another life! Since being back at La Joya (the spelling varies - sometimes La Joya, sometimes la Hoya), we've explored an enormous local limestone gorge and visited Seville. Seville - Don Juan's home, as well as Carmen's. We got there during the Spring Feria. In Easter Week the men get to carry Holy Images around the streets; during feria, the women get their revenge! They dress in Flamenco costume and parade themselves all over the city! Not only this; they dress up their children in Flamenco costume, too. Buses, trains, cars, horse-drawn carriages were all loaded with putative Carmens and their worried partners. To be fair, the enormous park where the Feria actually happens is nothing nor less than an excuse to see and be seen. There are carriages, temporary ventas (inns), some of which are private and some public. Added to this, there are squadrons of people riding horses. Not ordinary horses; not ordinary people.
These are Hidalgos and their escorts. Men in tight trousers and leather chaps, with high boots and spurs and incredibly cool hats. They ride, holding the reins in one hand, with one hand on their hip and their signorita behind them. Faith was transported (not literally, unfortunately, she says)! We visited the Reale Alcazar, too. (What, more Moors?). It was spectacular, but we're all Alcazared out! Yesterday, Antequerra (the local town - you remember, a lovely place) was due to hold a grand display of Flamenco and Horsemanship in the bullring. We went down, but all was locked up. There was a handwritten notice that said, in effect, "Due to circumstances beyond our control ..." We found out what the cirumstances were.
Cruces de Mayo. This is the Junior League Semana Santa (see earlier posts), when the children get to carry miniature versions of the Holy Images through the streets. Someone had made a major cock-up! The two dates coincided, and, quite reasonably, Cruces de Mayo won. The bullring organisers are probably galley slaves to a Barbary Corsair as we write. Today is May the First, people here seem to have a day off work. The Romanians are having a big friendly barbecue. I've taught them how to use the swimming pool here, in spite of its being only 68 degrees F in the water, but I've stayed clear of playing football with them so far - they are very fit (they pick broad beans in the fields all day). We tried to buy broad beans today, "Tiene usted habas?" Faith asked. "No. Hay muchos en los campos, pero nada aqui," was the reply. I bet Asda are bying them all up!
The dry gorge today was spectatcular and quite scary (lots of plants and sheep bones and so on), but we did well! This evening we've eaten most of a bean stew (alubias rather than habas), but it defeated us in the end, and we'll have to tackle the rest tomorrow!
Being back in Cortijo La Joya after the visit to Morocco feels a little like coming home after a rowdy party! We travelled up to Bobadilla on the Algerciras/Granada train past storks' nests, ordered villages and well-watered fields. These things stand out precisely because of the contrast that Morocco affords. A school group got on the train part way home. They were infant school children with their teachers; they'd been on a school visit and were tired but happy. We were surrounded by excited and tired people. At Ronda they got out.Their parents were waiting for them on the platform; a familiar sight from another life! Since being back at La Joya (the spelling varies - sometimes La Joya, sometimes la Hoya), we've explored an enormous local limestone gorge and visited Seville. Seville - Don Juan's home, as well as Carmen's. We got there during the Spring Feria. In Easter Week the men get to carry Holy Images around the streets; during feria, the women get their revenge! They dress in Flamenco costume and parade themselves all over the city! Not only this; they dress up their children in Flamenco costume, too. Buses, trains, cars, horse-drawn carriages were all loaded with putative Carmens and their worried partners. To be fair, the enormous park where the Feria actually happens is nothing nor less than an excuse to see and be seen. There are carriages, temporary ventas (inns), some of which are private and some public. Added to this, there are squadrons of people riding horses. Not ordinary horses; not ordinary people. 
These are Hidalgos and their escorts. Men in tight trousers and leather chaps, with high boots and spurs and incredibly cool hats. They ride, holding the reins in one hand, with one hand on their hip and their signorita behind them. Faith was transported (not literally, unfortunately, she says)! We visited the Reale Alcazar, too. (What, more Moors?). It was spectacular, but we're all Alcazared out! Yesterday, Antequerra (the local town - you remember, a lovely place) was due to hold a grand display of Flamenco and Horsemanship in the bullring. We went down, but all was locked up. There was a handwritten notice that said, in effect, "Due to circumstances beyond our control ..." We found out what the cirumstances were. 
Cruces de Mayo. This is the Junior League Semana Santa (see earlier posts), when the children get to carry miniature versions of the Holy Images through the streets. Someone had made a major cock-up! The two dates coincided, and, quite reasonably, Cruces de Mayo won. The bullring organisers are probably galley slaves to a Barbary Corsair as we write. Today is May the First, people here seem to have a day off work. The Romanians are having a big friendly barbecue. I've taught them how to use the swimming pool here, in spite of its being only 68 degrees F in the water, but I've stayed clear of playing football with them so far - they are very fit (they pick broad beans in the fields all day). We tried to buy broad beans today, "Tiene usted habas?" Faith asked. "No. Hay muchos en los campos, pero nada aqui," was the reply. I bet Asda are bying them all up! 
The dry gorge today was spectatcular and quite scary (lots of plants and sheep bones and so on), but we did well! This evening we've eaten most of a bean stew (alubias rather than habas), but it defeated us in the end, and we'll have to tackle the rest tomorrow!
1 comment:
You are so obviously full of beans, you do not need to mention them. Sorry about the 0 comments from me on the Moroccan part of your blog, I can't keep up, but have been engrossed in your story. Where did you get that scarf, Faith, that you're wearing in the photos (not the snake, the other one)? And now Seville to remember, also! Have you had any chance to study the Spanish flowers in the midst of all these adventures?
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