“Un Sendero Nocturno”. A night-time walk. It had sounded beautiful. A relaxed stroll in the moonlight, chatting with 30 friends and neighbours. Starting from the next village, Casabermeja, and wandering gently up to Torre Zambra, an old Moorish lookout point and beacon, under the bright light of the October full moon, to be followed by a meal in a bar. Lovely. Continue reading
I’d heard it a million times. Gardeners, exaggerating how marvellous their fruit and veg were. Fisherman’s tales of everything being greener, bigger, rounder, smoother, and above all, so much BETTER than everything we poor mortals were buying. Yawn. Until my awakening. Until that Damascene moment. Until I ate the first tomato from my own plant. Continue reading
It’s over two years now since the sounds outside my bedroom window that very first night, made me think about how we react to noise, especially at night “First Night in My Casita”. Back then, in July 2012, I took a firm decision that NOISE, however noisy, was not going to bother me. The combination of dogs barking, children shrieking, adults arguing, and church bells ringing, was clearly going to be a regular occurrence, and even as an inexperienced newbie it seemed to me to be something that I either needed to get used to and push to the back of my mind, or it would grow to become something unbearable. Continue reading
I’m not a salesperson. I vaguely remember working in some sort of coffee bar as a school student in Sydney, but as far as I recall I’ve never worked in a shop. I was a freelance trainer and consultant for 18 years so I suppose I had to “sell” myself to potential new clients, but I certainly don’t claim to know much about selling. Continue reading
So why did it become so interesting, the Ashya King story? The little boy with cancer, whose parents were arrested in Spain after a European Arrest Warrant was issued? Human interest, of course, and the added interest that the family was found in the Axarquía region. Continue reading
All around are happy people, pink people, spotty dresses, and an ambience. An inexplicable ambience, of people with nothing to do but enjoy themselves. Continue reading
Twenty-five years ago I crawled out of a tent in the Sinai Desert at midnight, hoicked my rucksack onto my back, and followed our camels in the age-old pilgrimage from St Catherine’s Monastery to the summit of Mount Sinai. You climb it at night as it’s too hot during the day. Plus the main point of the pilgrimage is to be on the summit as dawn breaks, and the extraordinary colours appear to rush towards you as the sun rises and picks out the layers of mountain-ranges spread out before you. Continue reading
It’s hot. July and August in Spain – it’s hot. Seriously hot. 40°C is forecast for today.
So at around 6 or 7pm there’s nothing better than firing up the barbecue. Continue reading
Actually, wedding presents were completely and utterly banned. So it wasn’t a wedding present. It was just a random present for a lovely friend who happened to be getting married to another lovely friend. Continue reading
If there’d been a World Cup for sitting, Spain would have won it. It’s a daily activity and it is taken almost to an art form. The best thing about sitting, is the practising.
Every Andulcían pueblo has its old benches with the old guys sitting there. Busy doing nothing, but doing it in company. Continue reading