Farewell Sedella

The view of Maroma from my house of which I never tired.

After two years of living in the campo of Sedella I have bade it farewell and moved to the coast. The move is only temporary (well I say that now) but it offers me more opportunities for work though I will have to swallow the higher living costs. Imagine my horror when I had to pay é4 for a glass of wine! I am resolved to stay in even more than I did before, which has its benefits. Clutching my bottle of red from Lidl I can be creative in the comfort of my home albeit surrounded by the noise of neighbours.

The first day in Sedella

Sunset in Sedella campo

Sedella is a lovely place to live for seclusion and being close to nature. I will miss the cry of the eagles as they glide over the valley. I will miss the vultures as they rise from the pen and circle into the sky. My traffic jams will no longer be a Berlingo van stuffed to the gunnels with sheep that winds slowly up the mountain roads, and road-blocks now come in the shape of the Guardia with guns rather than 50 goats and a wizened man with a stick and scrawny dog. The beautiful sunsets will have to be viewed over the rooftops rather than from my verendah through the bamboo, though I have promised myself to try and be high up in the campo behind Calahonda for at least some of them.

Snow on Maroma

The boys waiting for their walk

There are benefits to moving to Calahonda. I no longer have to drop everything to meet the postman at 11.30 as I can wander to the Buzon at the end of the drive and pick up my post at my leisure. Shopping trips will only take a minimum of 2 1/2 hours if I spend the time lost in a bookshop or hunting for shoes, not because it takes 1 1/2 hours to get there and back without thinking about whether to splash out on a tub of hummus or make it myself. And I can get a takeaway (of which I have had only one in the two years) without it needing to be re-heated once I get home - though whether that is a benefit for my waistline is another matter. And then there is the sea. The sea, a fifteen minute walk away, with the cooling breeze, the fresh invigorating air and the opportunity in the winter months for the boys to swim to their hearts' content.

Still, it was with a heavy heart that I said goodbye to Sedella and the friends I made there. It was a wonderful two years during which I achieved my dream of writing and publishing not one, but two books.

 Hasta Proxima, Sedella!

There's always a fiesta in Spain

SUNDAY, 6th MAY

Sayalonga was bursting with life. Music clashed in the afternoon heat as DJs and bands vied for supremacy. The sickly sweet aroma of churros vanquished all other smells.  The village partied in recognition of its plentiful fruit – the níspero (medlar). 

The plaza was dominated by a stage and seating – two singers belted out Spanish and international hits. The music pulsed down the side streets past tables of families seated in the shade of the sails that draped between the buildings. Fire and Guardia Civil officers stood idle, eating ice-cream; there, just in case.

Children darted between the feet of the elders. Men, faces weathered by sun and wind, carried their nísperos home. The village’s Andalus choir, resplendent in their purple flamenco dresses, stirred the Spanish spirit. Impromptu flamenco dancing broke out around the plaza; hands and feet beat out the rhythm. 

Smiles and laughter reigned triumphant as the duende took hold.

Memory

There is something about the way that the rain is running off of the roof onto the tiles around my house. It reminds me of England. Of dank days in winter when the insistent rain overflowed from the blocked gutters and dropped onto the sodden ground below; splodging into the mud, soaking the ground around the fuschia so that it grew stronger every year with beautiful purple and pink bells. Days when you do not want the TV to rudely barge into the room but want to be cocooned by the words spiralling out of a book. When red wine is the only drink to have. When getting dressed isn’t required. When only a warm deep bath will do, none of this showering malarkey. Sinking down into the warm water, bubbles around your ears, watching the condensation race with the rain drops on either side of the window pane. Warm, content, quiet.

Guernica Remembered

26th April, 2012 is the 75th anniversary of the bombing of Guernica famously depicted by Pablo Picasso in his artwork of the same name. The German luftwaffe and Italian Aviazione Legionaria caused widespread destruction and many civilian deaths in support of the Fascist Nationalists during Spain's civil war. Guernica stood between the Nationalists and Bilbao though it had not, up to that point, seen any fighting. It was seen by the Republicans as an important area to defend, a key strategic point. There were battalions of the Basque army in the vicinty and it was a place of refuge for those fleeing the Nationalists.

The bombing raids took place in the afternoon of the 26th April 1937 and resulted in three-quarters of the town's buildings destroyed with the remainder suffering damage. It allowed the Nationalists to take over the city with little resistance in the following days. An eyewitness account, a foreign journalist Noel Monks writing for the "Daily Express"- he was one of the first on the scene - gives an idea of the destruction,

...The only things left standing were a church, a sacred Tree, symbol of the Basque people, and, just outside the town, a small munitions factory. There hadn't been a single anti-aircraft gun in the town. It had been mainly a fire raid.

...A sight that haunted me for weeks was the charred bodies of several women and children huddled together in what had been the cellar of a house. It had been a refugio.

 Monks, Eyewitness, 1955

Picasso was commissioned to create a mural for the Spanish Pavilion at the 1936 Paris Exposition before the Guernica bombing. When news reached him of the atrocity he painted what was probably his first overtly political painting. The bull and the horse, symbols of Spain (the bull also used as a symbol for Picasso's ego) are central, though Picasso never gave a full explanation of the symbology within it. Also 'hidden' in the painting are a skull, a sword and the merging of some of the elements. Picasso's 'Guernica' has become one of the most recognised and talked about piece of artwork, copies of it are dotted around Spain including my locla town of Torre del Mar where it decorates the promenade. 

Talked about it may be but lessons have not been learned as was demonstrated on both sides during WWII and in various conflicts throughout the world since. Pictures may be worth a thousand words, but many refuse to see and hear.

Picasso's 'Guernica' as a tiled mural in Torre del Mar, Andalucia