Schools out

They made it, the final day of school arrived and we were all excited, relieved and very proud that the girls have made such a fantastic effort at coping with life in a foreign country.

Their shool's equivalent of sports day was an “acro sports’ event with Madeleine and her class dressed as superheroes and Yve in a red and black version. There were lots of goodbyes and photos taken but frankly the girls were very keen to leave and are really looking forward to returning to school in the UK.

Obviously being in Spain over the last couple of weeks has been rather football driven! We headed to the local bar to watch Holland v Spain on the 'big' screen with Daniel, Deb and family, who had arrived from New York just in the nick of time to catch the game. Wanting to get into the swing of things we bought flags to wave enthusiastically ... apart from Yve who stated categorically, “I do not support Spain!

A great week for all of us with Deb, in her inimitable New York style, organising guided tours of the Alhambra, Frederico Garcia Lorca’s house in Granada and an overnight trip to Cordoba. All fantastically cultural with the children's highlight's being the water park, the ice cream parlour and an unscheduled stop off at a games arcade!

We have only two weeks left until we depart Spain and head back to our life in Blighty. Probably just as well as word has got out in our village that I have a sewing machine and last night our neighbour Concha (Immaculada de Concepcion) arrived on our doorstep with several pairs of rather large black trousers that she wants altering in return for vast quantities of vegetables. This is village life in Spain where cash is not king but rather what & who you know.

All Things Spanish

I think we have started to get the real feel of the ‘duende’ of Spanish people – their characters, social life and the ever so subtle aftermath of Franco. Simon has been interested in seeing a bullfight since reading Ernest Hemingway’s ‘Death in the Afternoon’ but wanted to see it with a keen Spanish bullfighting supporter. That turned out to be our neighbour, Antonio. Antonio has watched the toreo avidly on television all his life but had never been to a fight. Simon proffered an invitation and Antonio agreed in the usual nonchalant Spanish manner leaving Simon not quite sure whether he wanted to go or not!

It was the ‘Feria de Granada’ and the Plaza de Toros attracted a big crowd, with many of the women in full flamenco dress. Local boy ‘El Fandi’ (one of Spain’s top matadors) was a big draw. The most surprising aspect was the diversity of the crowd. A real cross-section of young and old, men and women, rich and poor filled the plaza, and all very enthusiastic.

There is a lot to understand about the event itself and I’m not sure I have either the knowledge or the space here to give it a fair rap, but the experience was undeniably spectacular with the word ‘Gladiatorial’ springing to mind. 3 toredors, 6 bulls, 4 hours. Visually, you don’t have to be the husband of a fashion designer to appreciate the colour and the clothing. It’s quite something, but I found the contest a little too one sided (and I don’t mean in the bull’s favour), to really appreciate it as a sporting event.

I have no doubt about the torero’s bravery and skill but he has a significant support crew, and whilst the risks are high, you know that whatever happens only one of them is going to end up on the barbeque..

Any doubt in our minds to whether Antonio wanted to go to the bullfight or not was put to rest that afternoon when the girls and I smelt incense and looked out the window to see a religious procession heading down the street. Nothing unusual about that other than leading the procession, was Antonio’s daughter in full communion dress with the rest of the family following behind. Evidently this was another ‘Corpus Christi’ event with the recently confirmed children being star attraction!

The following day we invited a few friends to lunch at which we, other than one American, were the only native English speakers. We had a lovely time and incredibly easy to entertain 6 children with a swimming pool and sunshine.

Simon coyly announced that he had been to a bullfight the night before knowing in advance that everyone there was anti the sport. Interestingly the main objection was that as children under ‘Franco’, they had been force fed a television diet of Flamenco, Bullfighting and Football.

Morocco

We weren’t sure whether total submersion into Spanish school was enough for two English girls, so we decided a trip to Morocco would heighten the cultural differences! A ferry from Tarifa to Tanger and then a five hour train trip to Fez (1st class, 4 people, £40) was a great way to see the countryside, untouched it would seem by the 21st century.

I’m not sure anything can prepare you for Fez – the hustle and bustle, the fabulous colours, the donkeys, the dust. We stayed in a wonderful riad which had been lovingly restored by its owners, and most evenings the guests all dined together on one table eating delicious tagine, cous cous and discussing their days adventures.

The highlight for the girls was a trip to a Hamman, where you strip off, sit in a steam room and then get scrubbed by a burly looking Moroccan woman. I was slightly reluctant as saunas and steam rooms are my idea of hell but I got swept up in the moment and have to say it was a lovely experience. My skin felt wonderful, in part because they don’t use western soap but an Olive oil style “gunk” which we bought in the Medina the next day.

Haggling is part of the deal when you go shopping in the medina and we all seemed to get the hang of it, but it does get tiresome.

It was a relief to get on the bus and head North to a town called Chefchaouen, (the kif capital of Morocco) which for reasons best known to them, is predominantly painted blue. Very striking. We hadn’t booked any accommodation on the advice that there is always somewhere to stay ... apart from that weekend when an agricultural conference had rolled into town!

The best we could do was one room in a very ‘authentic’ hotel. Limp communal showers not withstanding, at £20 for the night it was a done deal, the compensation being a delicious supper until we remembered that would mean without alcohol, being a Muslim country!

On the day of our departure we negotiated a price with a taxi driver to take us to Tanger. He kindly helped us carry our bags through the town to the taxi, where we loaded up the boot and hopped into the very ancient looking Mercedes. The taxi driver then announced that his brother was taking us to Tanger - slightly alarming as all I could see were the crutches. The taxi driver assured Simon that everyone thing was fine as the car was automatic. Simon muttered that we must get a photo of us all in front of the car when we arrived. At the port we got out the car and I realised that not only was the driver on crutches but that he only had one leg!

That Old Time Religion

Last weekend we had the ‘Romeria Virgen del Cerro’ fiesta which so far, has been the most relaxed and colourful occasion we have participated in. My basic understanding of the event is that Mary spends most of the year in the chapel on the hill. For the fiesta however, she gets a lift down to the village church and then after mass on Sunday, gets to tour around the streets before heading back up to the chapel on the hill for a party (accompanied by the usual religious firecrackers, gun blasts and girls in flamenco dress). The sun was shining, a huge paella was prepared and everyone settled in for a wonderful afternoon.

After the fiesta I had to fly to the UK and arrived just before they closed the airport again (more volcano action). Luckily I was able to dash around London, complete my work and fly back to Spain without any other delays.

I returned to Spain with to find that we had been invited by our neighbours to go to their daughter’s ‘First Holy Communion’, (a great honour). She was one of six graduates(?) and a massive crowd turned out in all their finest to attend the hour-and-a-half long service. The local hairdressers had been very busy judging by the array of ‘hair do’s’. We then proceeded to a local restaurant for lunch. We were half expecting a nice ‘finger buffet’ but no - a sit down five course meal for the 50 or so members of the family. Fortunately the sangria flowed. As the girls scampered off to play, Simon and I swallowed hard to support our position as the only English speakers in the room!

p.s. This morning we waved goodbye to Yve as she left for a 3 day activity trip to a National park near Jaen with the school. Simon and I looked at our red haired English daughter leaping on the bus undaunted with 30 Spanish children ... and felt very proud.

May Bank Holiday

Simon is back and the ash has settled … or so we’d thought. Just as I am planning a work trip to the UK the volcano is spluttering again, and I could be forced to follow the ferry/train/bus route.

In the meantime we have just had a lovely bank holiday weekend with my aunt Jane and cousin Lucy, visiting us from the UK. They travelled on what must have been nearly the last Ryanair flight in and out of Granada. (Not because of the volcano, but because of a fallout over local subsidies). Very sad because it’s been really convenient.

Lucy was patient as she modeled the tester garments for the Spa hotel I am designing for at the moment. Needs-must have led to a makeshift studio being assembled on the kitchen table and using wallpaper as a substitute for pattern card!

The sun was shining and lovely Ana, our Spanish teacher, invited us all to a very relaxed birthday barbecue. There was plenty to keep the children occupied and it was a great opportunity to practice our Spanish with her ‘easy to understand’ friends from Madrid.

We also visited Kitty Shepherd in her studio in a village even more remote than us, for tea, cake and a preview of her wonderful ceramics before she exhibits in Sussex this weekend.

Semana Santa

Semana Santa (Easter) in Granada is a week of religious processions which we didn't attend but were told it was a 'must see'. The chance of skiing for a few days was an opportunity not to be missed. Our village however, had a mini celebration, which we saw from the window of our house.

Easter holidays encouraged a few English friends to head south and visit us, which we were all very excited about. My oldest friend Nina and her husband Tim decided on a 'carbon neutral' trip which involved a ferry to Santander and a lengthy car journey to Southern Spain, Simon and I were slightly sceptical about it, now of course it seems an extremely sensible idea!

Following the incredibly wet winter here the wildflowers are blooming and as Nina is a keen horticulturist, looking at the countryside through her eyes, I could see more than the never ending Orange trees.


Yve and Madeleine have been looking forward to seeing their English friends, with the added bonus of not going to school for a couple of days. The British had arrived when Vanessa, Olivia and girls clad in their bikinis leapt into the very chilly swimming pool - the first time for any of us this season.

A lovely few days only marrred by the Icelandic Volcano, which halted any flights into the UK, leaving Vanessa, Olivia and girls stranded in Spain. Following a bit of map activity the group bravely set off home by train via Barcelona and France with the added complications of a French train strike and travel sick children. All safely arrived in the UK ready for school on Monday.

Photos finally posted and Simon safely back in Spain after an extra week in the UK as well as a ferry/train and bus trip to get to us.