If you painted a couple of hundred of children’s blocks white then spilled them randomly out, you would have Ojen’s town plan. It also looks a bit like Montreal’s Habitat development, only whitewashed and placed on a steep narrow valley. Ojen is not pronounced owe-en, but owe- back of throat phlegmy-en. This sound is very difficult for an English speaker to make. In Canada, it is a sound that is usually followed by a gob not another syllable. So here we were in a town whose name we could not pronounce. Nothing new there.
If the wind was blowing in the correct direction in Ojen, you can smell the sea, which is about 5 km directly south. The bustling coastal town of Marbella in the Costa del Sol is also located directly south. Ojen’s elevation at about 200m above sea level in a narrow valley means that you can see the Mediterranean, not Marbella. Ojen’s population is about 2000 and they are fiercely proud of their village. So much so that one of the local restaurants discourages tourists. Fortunately, we were warned. Somehow, Ojen has also avoided the expatriate invasion and remains nicely isolated from the over development on the coast.
Leslie is more adept at languages than I am and she quickly took to Spanish. Soon, she was inflecting with a throaty, phlegmy vigour. She took flamenco lessons and her hair seemed to grow in thicker and longer and darker. I would often awaken to the sound of her practicing on the castanets. On Sundays, she was also starting to wear the beautiful tight fitting traditional Spanish dresses with the matching high heels. She practiced dancing until her little feet were sore. Her English even became tinged with a Spanish accent. With her newly acquired large brown eyes, she looked into my eyes and said, ”Signor, chou would make a great bullfighter.” Actually, none of this paragraph is true, I made it up. But I still think it should have happened, then the year off would have been truly worth it.
Yea, there was flamenco in Ojen and we went to see it live, honest, no guff. There were posters, all in Spanish, advertising it as a fund raiser for a charity. It was held in the Ojen flamenco studio and was attended by locals and one other tourist couple from France. We went expecting flamenco dancing. We did not know that in Ojen the tradition of flamenco singing dominates. To tell the truth, we had never heard of flamenco singing.
The show did not start until about 9:30pm which is early by Spanish standards. Nobody could speak English. The locals were friendly as best we could tell. The number of children present easily equalled the number of adults in spite of the late hour. The charity was certainly a worthwhile one as we sat in a crowded, smoke filled auditorium, our thirst quenched by the cheapest alcoholic drinks in our entire journey. It was kind of a self perpetuating process as they plied cigarettes and liquor on us as if to say you’ll be giving this year but receiving next. The fundraiser was for cancer victims, yet they seemed to endorse some of its more obvious causes, alora, as we “Italian” Canadians now say!
The first male singer and guitarist were introduced with no fanfare. They looked at each other dramatically and queued the first song. These people know how to emote. Anguish was conveyed easily with no translation necessary. I know the look of a man in pain and this guy obviously had a gouty big toe with a bamboo shoot tucked under the nail. I almost rushed on to the stage to help him.
They say the guitar player is subservient to the singer, who basically seemed to dictate the cadence of songs. The songs ended with a flourish, their heads held high, proud and content, applause being the obvious next step.
The majority of the singers were young males, early 20-30s but all age groups were represented. There was only one woman who sang and she was very good. They were all locals from Ojen. The pride was palpable in the audience. We were struck by the sense of tradition which must power these songs like a vein of silver through the generations. I don’t know how they do it. As we left, ladies at the door gave us a yellow sunflower and thanked us with a gentle touch on the shoulder. It was a wonderful performance and a privilege to have seen it.
Obviously, this leads me to the tradition of the virgin and the goat. Shortly after we arrived in Ojen, Leslie met an Irishman who lived 3 houses down. Leslie claims that he said there was a yearly festival in Ojen starting the next Thursday. It included a parade led by a goat and a virgin. Please bear with me as I swear I couldn’t make this stuff up.
I duly went to downtown Ojen (about 2 minutes away) with my wife on the appointed night. It was suspiciously quiet considering the magnitude of the event. We did not spot any goats, virgins or parades. Please also keep in mind there is almost no English spoken in Ojen. In retrospect, I’m quite glad there wasn’t, as our questions would have been difficult to explain. Leslie doesn’t give up easily and she continued to be on high alert for goats and/or virgins. More posters were put up in the village but they were difficult to decipher although they did give hints of an upcoming celebration. My enthusiasm was recharged and I too was now on alert.
My butt was still a tad sore after the cycling sojourn over the Alps; bear with me again as there is a point to this. This led me to a Marbella bike shop in search of a comfortable saddle. Diego, who worked in the shop, spoke fluent English and he was from Ojen of all places. I decided to ask him about the festival but carefully left out any mention of goats or virgins. Leslie was angry about this but does not realize what it is like for a man with a sore butt to go about asking questions with respect to either goats and/or virgins without seeming a little conspicuous. I managed to calm her down when Diego told me that their annual festival was approaching the next week from Tuesday until Sunday. He also cautioned, rolling his eyes, that school closes and they party until dawn on most nights. His house was right in the thick of the action on the small town square.
Well, they certainly can party and yes, they can make it until the sun is rising the next day. The festival was a combination of tradition as seen from the photos in the blog and fairground games and rides. Another unconscious theme but obvious to us was the inclusion of all age groups. The seniors had the best seats for the musical performances and games.
The terrain of Ojen is similar to a hike to Everest base camp up and down with many serpentine steep pedestrian pitches between the whitewashed houses. The frail elderly are only assisted if they have some obvious disability. Otherwise, the seniors risk life and limb every day negotiating the terrain once they put a foot out the front door. Our elderly neighbour, Anna, looked as if she would fall over any moment, yet I would see her perched on the steepest cobbled slopes, cane in hand, several blocks from her home. One false move and she would be in Marbella. I used to think it was cardboard cut out of Anna that somebody shifted from place to place to give the illusion of an energetic senior adrenalin junkie. However, there was no mistaking that this was the real Anna. You could tell by her shrill voice and raised cane as she made a point to someone.
Anna terrified me, all four and half feet of her. One day when Leslie was out, Anna dropped by to visit me. She was determined to convey something in Spanish. I did not understand a single one of the 600 Spanish words she uttered, although “capito” seemed to be the most frequent. I said “no espanol”, which only encouraged her to shout louder and louder as if somehow the increased volume would trump my incomprehension. I am sure she thought I was both deaf and stupid.
Unfortunately, Anna has an erosive carcinoma right smack in the middle of her nose which hasn’t been attended to. Through the 2 cm symmetrical gaping hole, you can see her nasal septum perfectly dividing her nostrils. When she was shouting at me, I can’t be sure but I think something went flying out of there towards me. I tried not to stare at it but it was literally a black hole that sucked light and my vision directly towards it.
When she had enough of my “deafness”, she brusquely pushed me aside and walked directly into our kitchen. She repeatedly flicked a switch for an outside light as she continued my lesson. I finally said “ah, ah, me capito” in my best Spanish. I thought that Anna wanted the light turned on so as to make her return journey at night safer. She smiled back at me with a twinkle in her eye thinking “the dumb, deaf Canadian finally gets it”. I thought we had been leaving it on already but as I watched her teeter off and I dutifully turned the light back on.
The next day, she started screaming at me again “capito, capito” and pointing towards the light. With the aid of a translator a day or two later, we learned she wanted me to keep the light OFF to save electricity, alora! I never found out what “capito”meant. I think we were still friends. Whenever I saw her again she screeched a friendly “hola” followed by 599 other words. I never saw her without a twinkle in her eye.
p.s. The annual parade was led by a saint who was headless. Fortunately, he found his head and carried it with him under his arm. Leslie remains on high alert for any parades led by a goat and virgin.
Monday, December 22, 2008
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Glesga tae Lawnzarrrrteh
In Canada, you can get on a bus in Vancouver and go to sleep for about 5 days before getting to the east coast. You would arrive, wake up smelling the worse for wear and scare the shit out the locals with your West coast Birkenstocks and “lord tundering” lululemon exercise gear. They would know you were from “away”. You would also thoroughly understand the difference between the east and west after having your butt jammed into a bus seat for close to a week. You would have stopped for donuts and coffee in the prairies where they know about all things that are flat. You would have stopped to use the washrooms in T.O. (That is Toronto, Ontario not Timmins, Ontario) where they know everything about everything. There would have been one last pit stop in Quebec for a coke, a smoke and some poutine. It may seem obvious but Canada is a vast country with clearly defined geography and cultural heritages strongly linked by a long road and a series of Tim Horton Donut franchises.
In Scotland, there also is an east versus west, north and south distinction that some would call a friendly rivalry. However, the east- west rivalry is a wee bit friendlier than Celtic playing Rangers in Glasgow where there may be lives, religious heritage as well as a football match at stake. A country doesn’t have to be big to have disagreements.
The Scots also pretend that it is long distance between the two coasts. “Yool no be goin’ that ferr, laddy in one day’s drive,” my Scottish alter ego advised. However, a bus ride between the Scottish coasts would leave you sleep deprived as it takes a little over an hour at the level of Glasgow and Edinburgh. It seems like a shrunken country, maybe dehydrated; just add some water and it will quickly expand to Canadian proportions.
Leslie and I were constantly caught out by the closeness of everything here. We would just settle in for a car trip and arrive shortly after pulling out of the driveway. No coffee or pee stops, amazing, a great way to save on petrol (aka gas). Our Canadian sense of distance had to be recalibrated constantly. There is no shortage of water on either side or in between, so it is definitely not dehydrated. The Scots keep themselves well hydrated from a plentiful variety of alcoholic and caffeinated beverages and water from burns and lochs.
The advantages and disadvantages of east and west are hotly debated by the Scots. Glaswegians sense of humour versus the Edinburgh culture and lack of sense of humour? Edinburgh’s active art scene versus Glasgow’s faded industrial heritage and rapidly expanding art scene. A Glaswegian described the city of Edinburgh as “dressed up in ah fur coat an nae knickers”. Another Glaswegian asked “Whas the best thing tae hae coom oot o Embra?”(What is the best thing to come out of Edinburgh) Answer - The Glesga (Glasgow) train.
They have also conveniently developed different accents, on purpose I think, to help them differentiate between the regions and therefore be able to argue about the differences. It all gets very complicated although on a smaller scale than Canada. The thick Glasgow accent can be very difficult to understand. I lived there for three years and have retained the ability to understand the thickest brogue. I had to translate for Leslie many times whereas in the rest of Europe she translated for me.
The “study” of Glasgow patter is called “parliamo glesga’’ originated by the comedian Stanley Baxter in the 1960s. For example if,” ya ken wit I meen” (if you know what I mean), “whit aboot this wan” (what about this one), “yur heeds fulla mince” (your head is full of mince ie you are out of it) or “och aye fur the noo” (doing OK). Or one of my favourite of Stanley’s, “air a pare o’ pears lyin’ oer thare oan the flare” or “There is a pair of pears lying over there on the floor”. The Scots generally have a great sense of humour and way with words.
The Scots had almost a 100% literacy rate early in the industrial revolution. It was promoted to read the bible. However, its effect was far-reaching. For a small country, Scotland has produced a disproportionate amount of academic thought, inventions, business and art contributions that benefited the rest of the world.
We are currently in Lanzarote, or Lanzagrotty, as some call it because it is overrun with Brits on package deal holidays and two unemployed (skivers in Scots patter) Canadians. We had considered migrating south to Australia or New Zealand before choosing Lanzarote to nest in for the winter. Some local birdwatchers mistook us for the last of a “breeding” pair of some extinct African bird species blown off course onto the island. We explained we were just Canadians and pointed to the northwest out over the Atlantic Ocean.
The wind seems to blow all the time in Lanzarote from a west to east direction. Here, east to west is only about 10 km. The temperature is moderate in the 60s (high teens in C). It blows so hard that sometimes I think it might flip the entire island over where east becomes west and vice versa nullifying any regional debates. Therefore, it is not a good place for comb-overs or cheap toupees. If whatever tethers the island here breaks, Lanzarote would be blown quickly eastward and bump into Morocco, (which is littered with lost toupees and lost windsurfers) which gives you an idea of where we are. It could be worse, as Nigeria and the Congo are a bit farther south around the big bump on Africa’s west coast. However, we do seem quite well anchored, at least we hope so as we plan on spending 12 weeks here. My first exploration on my bike reveals a stark volcanic landscape dotted with classic cones which we hope will see no action while we are here.
This may not sound too adventurous but we have decided to give ourselves what may be the ultimate luxury, extended time in one place to get back into some semblance of a routine (minus the work part). The rest of the world will have to wait for another year. No pressure to explore, just sit back, meet some Brits, read, ride bikes, new recipes, learn to kite surf (although I have been advised that the learning curve involves planting your face in the sand while being dragged by an oversized kite, “say lavy” as Stanley would pronounce C`est la vie?) We will plan and dream up new adventures, professional and personal, after a year of indulgence, we may volunteer in----- or ??? We also have our first visitor coming over in early January. That’s it then, weer away fer the noo.
In Scotland, there also is an east versus west, north and south distinction that some would call a friendly rivalry. However, the east- west rivalry is a wee bit friendlier than Celtic playing Rangers in Glasgow where there may be lives, religious heritage as well as a football match at stake. A country doesn’t have to be big to have disagreements.
The Scots also pretend that it is long distance between the two coasts. “Yool no be goin’ that ferr, laddy in one day’s drive,” my Scottish alter ego advised. However, a bus ride between the Scottish coasts would leave you sleep deprived as it takes a little over an hour at the level of Glasgow and Edinburgh. It seems like a shrunken country, maybe dehydrated; just add some water and it will quickly expand to Canadian proportions.
Leslie and I were constantly caught out by the closeness of everything here. We would just settle in for a car trip and arrive shortly after pulling out of the driveway. No coffee or pee stops, amazing, a great way to save on petrol (aka gas). Our Canadian sense of distance had to be recalibrated constantly. There is no shortage of water on either side or in between, so it is definitely not dehydrated. The Scots keep themselves well hydrated from a plentiful variety of alcoholic and caffeinated beverages and water from burns and lochs.
The advantages and disadvantages of east and west are hotly debated by the Scots. Glaswegians sense of humour versus the Edinburgh culture and lack of sense of humour? Edinburgh’s active art scene versus Glasgow’s faded industrial heritage and rapidly expanding art scene. A Glaswegian described the city of Edinburgh as “dressed up in ah fur coat an nae knickers”. Another Glaswegian asked “Whas the best thing tae hae coom oot o Embra?”(What is the best thing to come out of Edinburgh) Answer - The Glesga (Glasgow) train.
They have also conveniently developed different accents, on purpose I think, to help them differentiate between the regions and therefore be able to argue about the differences. It all gets very complicated although on a smaller scale than Canada. The thick Glasgow accent can be very difficult to understand. I lived there for three years and have retained the ability to understand the thickest brogue. I had to translate for Leslie many times whereas in the rest of Europe she translated for me.
The “study” of Glasgow patter is called “parliamo glesga’’ originated by the comedian Stanley Baxter in the 1960s. For example if,” ya ken wit I meen” (if you know what I mean), “whit aboot this wan” (what about this one), “yur heeds fulla mince” (your head is full of mince ie you are out of it) or “och aye fur the noo” (doing OK). Or one of my favourite of Stanley’s, “air a pare o’ pears lyin’ oer thare oan the flare” or “There is a pair of pears lying over there on the floor”. The Scots generally have a great sense of humour and way with words.
The Scots had almost a 100% literacy rate early in the industrial revolution. It was promoted to read the bible. However, its effect was far-reaching. For a small country, Scotland has produced a disproportionate amount of academic thought, inventions, business and art contributions that benefited the rest of the world.
We are currently in Lanzarote, or Lanzagrotty, as some call it because it is overrun with Brits on package deal holidays and two unemployed (skivers in Scots patter) Canadians. We had considered migrating south to Australia or New Zealand before choosing Lanzarote to nest in for the winter. Some local birdwatchers mistook us for the last of a “breeding” pair of some extinct African bird species blown off course onto the island. We explained we were just Canadians and pointed to the northwest out over the Atlantic Ocean.
The wind seems to blow all the time in Lanzarote from a west to east direction. Here, east to west is only about 10 km. The temperature is moderate in the 60s (high teens in C). It blows so hard that sometimes I think it might flip the entire island over where east becomes west and vice versa nullifying any regional debates. Therefore, it is not a good place for comb-overs or cheap toupees. If whatever tethers the island here breaks, Lanzarote would be blown quickly eastward and bump into Morocco, (which is littered with lost toupees and lost windsurfers) which gives you an idea of where we are. It could be worse, as Nigeria and the Congo are a bit farther south around the big bump on Africa’s west coast. However, we do seem quite well anchored, at least we hope so as we plan on spending 12 weeks here. My first exploration on my bike reveals a stark volcanic landscape dotted with classic cones which we hope will see no action while we are here.
This may not sound too adventurous but we have decided to give ourselves what may be the ultimate luxury, extended time in one place to get back into some semblance of a routine (minus the work part). The rest of the world will have to wait for another year. No pressure to explore, just sit back, meet some Brits, read, ride bikes, new recipes, learn to kite surf (although I have been advised that the learning curve involves planting your face in the sand while being dragged by an oversized kite, “say lavy” as Stanley would pronounce C`est la vie?) We will plan and dream up new adventures, professional and personal, after a year of indulgence, we may volunteer in----- or ??? We also have our first visitor coming over in early January. That’s it then, weer away fer the noo.
Thursday, December 4, 2008
The City of Lights
Hello again,
Just a quick word as we are in Paris, discovering the “City of Lights” for the week. We fly to the Canary Islands on December 11 and since we’re staying there for a few months, we’ll have more time to add to the blog. Aren’t you lucky!
Our last entry in October was from Ojen, Spain. November was busy exploring London and visiting family in Scotland.
I was excited to return to London. We rented a lovely sixth floor flat with views facing south over the city. The building did not have an elevator so the 100+ stairs provided the stairmaster. We could see the London Eye and St. Paul’s Cathedral and even on overcast days, the place was very bright with its huge windows. (www.vrbo.com/52647) It was close to Hampstead Heath, a great place for runs and walks...and outdoor bathing ponds open year round. More like duck ponds, I’d say and no, we did not partake in this fine London tradition. Many people did though!
Our last visit to London was ten years ago when we witnessed a monumental event...the FIRST London Starbucks opening! Now, they’re everywhere! This time, we went on the London Eye, the city’s enormous Ferris wheel, enjoyed two great plays; “Zorro” at the Garrick Theatre and The Norman Conquests – Round and Round the Garden at the Old Vic. We visited the National Portrait Gallery for Annie Leibovitz’s presentation, brushed up on our knowledge at the Science Museum, enjoyed both the Tate Modern and Tate Britain galleries and wandered around looking at all the Christmas decorations in the stores. We also reconnected with a friend from Vancouver, last seen seventeen years ago.
The month’s highlight was celebrating David’s Aunt Margaret’s 80th birthday in Dunoon, Scotland. David’s mom, Kathleen (Margaret’s sister) and her husband, George (are you still with me?) flew over from Toronto so it was a real family celebration.
After a week in Dunoon, eating and drinking much too much with David’s cousin Neil and his wife, Rhona, we went back to Glasgow for a few days to recuperate. We then spent four days in Carnoustie, Scotland, a golfer’s paradise on the coast just north of St. Andrews. Do we golf? No, but we couldn’t resist the great deals offered by the hotel. Even better, we were upgraded from a standard room overlooking the parking lot to a two room suite overlooking the golf course and North Sea! We also enjoyed some sunny weather...cold but clear. We’ve been joking that Scotland has been the sunniest country we’ve been in!
Paris has been magical. Our flat is in the Marais district, the 4th arrondissement www.vrbo.com/69232. We have wandered the hallowed halls of The Louvre and the Musee d’Orsay, travelled along The Seine on a tour boat, listened to (enjoyed? no, not really) an avant-garde organ concert at Notre Dame Cathedral, climbed to the top of the Arc de Triomphe to admire the view and puzzled over modern art at the Centre Georges Pompidou. Oh, and enjoyed much eating and drinking.
The Paris lights beckon us once again, so off we go. Au revoir!
Just a quick word as we are in Paris, discovering the “City of Lights” for the week. We fly to the Canary Islands on December 11 and since we’re staying there for a few months, we’ll have more time to add to the blog. Aren’t you lucky!
Our last entry in October was from Ojen, Spain. November was busy exploring London and visiting family in Scotland.
I was excited to return to London. We rented a lovely sixth floor flat with views facing south over the city. The building did not have an elevator so the 100+ stairs provided the stairmaster. We could see the London Eye and St. Paul’s Cathedral and even on overcast days, the place was very bright with its huge windows. (www.vrbo.com/52647) It was close to Hampstead Heath, a great place for runs and walks...and outdoor bathing ponds open year round. More like duck ponds, I’d say and no, we did not partake in this fine London tradition. Many people did though!
Our last visit to London was ten years ago when we witnessed a monumental event...the FIRST London Starbucks opening! Now, they’re everywhere! This time, we went on the London Eye, the city’s enormous Ferris wheel, enjoyed two great plays; “Zorro” at the Garrick Theatre and The Norman Conquests – Round and Round the Garden at the Old Vic. We visited the National Portrait Gallery for Annie Leibovitz’s presentation, brushed up on our knowledge at the Science Museum, enjoyed both the Tate Modern and Tate Britain galleries and wandered around looking at all the Christmas decorations in the stores. We also reconnected with a friend from Vancouver, last seen seventeen years ago.
The month’s highlight was celebrating David’s Aunt Margaret’s 80th birthday in Dunoon, Scotland. David’s mom, Kathleen (Margaret’s sister) and her husband, George (are you still with me?) flew over from Toronto so it was a real family celebration.
After a week in Dunoon, eating and drinking much too much with David’s cousin Neil and his wife, Rhona, we went back to Glasgow for a few days to recuperate. We then spent four days in Carnoustie, Scotland, a golfer’s paradise on the coast just north of St. Andrews. Do we golf? No, but we couldn’t resist the great deals offered by the hotel. Even better, we were upgraded from a standard room overlooking the parking lot to a two room suite overlooking the golf course and North Sea! We also enjoyed some sunny weather...cold but clear. We’ve been joking that Scotland has been the sunniest country we’ve been in!
Paris has been magical. Our flat is in the Marais district, the 4th arrondissement www.vrbo.com/69232. We have wandered the hallowed halls of The Louvre and the Musee d’Orsay, travelled along The Seine on a tour boat, listened to (enjoyed? no, not really) an avant-garde organ concert at Notre Dame Cathedral, climbed to the top of the Arc de Triomphe to admire the view and puzzled over modern art at the Centre Georges Pompidou. Oh, and enjoyed much eating and drinking.
The Paris lights beckon us once again, so off we go. Au revoir!
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