The rain is Spain does Not fall mainly in the plain

It rained Sunday. The first since I have been here. So I spent most of my day bundled up, reading. When it began to clear in the late afternoon a gaggle of neighbors began flooding in. It was music night and people crowded into the tiny music room to play. Tea was brewed and wine was mulled and much revelry was had! Among the guests were two other wwoofers from the States. And better yet, they were from around Chicago and went to school at Grinnel! We talked a bit about home. Their names were Dan and Sarah and Dan mentioned he had been in Iowa City during the homecoming game. So had I and we reminisced about the snow that day, the last snow either of us had seen. It was a lovely reminder of home. I played drums a bit, sang some Beatles songs, drank some homemade wine, and ate some raw fig truffles! And as we played it continued to rain! I was absolutely beautiful. There were about ten people in that little room. As it got darker we went back to the house for mulled wine and bread. I spent the rest of the evening chatting with Alex and Joel (I know, weird, right!?). They were staying with some friends of Mathis and Marianne and traveling with Rainbow, a group of hippie nomads. Alex was from Austria and was heading toward Morocco, Joel was from southern Germany and had done the pilgrimage to San James de Compostela! Everyone there was either German or English. It was a really fun evening and I enjoyed meeting new people. Monday I woke up with numb toes. Despite bundling up, the strong wind chilled me and I did not want to get up. But I did anyway and got blown around in the tree tops during work. I have decided Milan is one great kid. He knows a lot about the farm, is very curious, and enjoys everything in life! I overhead him ask Guillame one day what could be better than work and the only thing he could come up with was food. I got to meet his sheep Emma and her lamb, and his goat Flor. I even watched him milk Emma! We also went to visit another neighbor, Grete, who had fallen and broken some ribs. She is a pensioner from Denmark and we help take care of her horses and cats and made sure she had enough firewood. Milan was very helpful and Grete was very grateful. She invited us in for muffins and sparkling cider and she and Milan told me about rebuilding her house after a mudslide. She also said she loved the States and had a relative who studied in Davenport!

Giving thanks for New Homes

Not long after I arrived Guillame and Mathis were talking about homes. Cliches were exchanged like "home is where the heart is" and such. But Guillame said those without a home have many. While I will always feel my home is back in Iowa, I have a better sense of feeling at home in many places. Now that I have been here for about two week my head has finally stopped exploding. I was so overwhelmed by all this newness and really very anxious. But now I have gotten more comfortable with people, the routine, and the place, and my place in all of it. Apparently that takes me about two weeks! With that said, I shared a lovely Thanksgiving here on Friday! I came in early from work and Marianne and I fixed a big feast! I had prepared pie crust the night before and made pumpkin pie (the crust was perfect! I am awesome!). And we had mashed potatoes, stuffing, and sort of green bean casserole. And salad of course. Before we ate I explained a bit about the holiday, to the best of my ability, and its traditions and we went around the table and gave thanks. Then we stuffed ourselves silly! We did not, however, watch American football afterwards, but I wouldn't have done that at home either. I did have to explain what American football was to the kids though. And they have all insisted that I make more pie before I leave and teach Marianne to make it too!

Haven

I just wanted to include another quick post about my internet café. I have spent all day here today and need to rave about how wonderful it is. It is run by an Eritrean woman who is very sweet (she helped me get home last week). And there's a Dutch man who works here as well that has been attentive and helpful. I got here just before open at 10am, paid 5€ for internet service for the whole day, was given a place to sit and continue to use during the three hours of siesta when it's usually closed, given bread and chocolate and tea during that time, and given a free refill of avocado juice this evening! Ananda's Mundo is a café, shop, and a hostel as well and is really great. I realize I sound like a commercial but they've been so generous I just can't help myself. I feel very comfortable here, it's like my Spanish Red Poppy or, dare I say, House of Aromas. :-D

Missing Home

It may seem hard to believe but I really miss home. I know I'm in this amazing place doing new and exciting things and meeting new and exciting people but I can't help but think about the place and people I've left behind. I've been dreaming every night about all of you and about Iowa. I even had a lovely dream about mom's Solstice cookies and candies, boy am I going to miss those. So I wanted you all to know that I miss you, all of you, a whole damn lot! Today is Thanksgiving back home and I just so happen to have the day off. And I discussed it with Marianne and on Friday we'll make pumpkin pie and mashed potatoes and some other traditional fare, although I'm the only American here. So I explained at breakfast this morning a little about what Thanksgiving is and how we celebrate it. I got some snide comments from Mathis, David, and Marianne about the absurdity of pilgrims and native americans feasting together, which I certainly agree with, but I know that's not why I want to celebrate. It makes me feel a little more welcome that they are willing to celebrate with me. I also feel more welcome because Florina gave me a string of beads that she made! Last night she spent the evening trying to climb all over me and doing flips in my arms. I also got fully introduced to the music room. I had been shown the door but had no idea what was inside. But the other night I heard music as I was about to go to bed and I followed it into the room and found Marianne playing the piano. The room itself was enchanting and Marianne's playing was absolutely gorgeous so I sat and listened for a while.

Cold nights and new fruits

While many of you are probably jealous of my current climate while Iowa gets colder and snowier, you may be grateful for one thing: indoor heating. On average the days here may get up around 70ºF, although it feels a bit warmer whacking at olives on top of a tree in the midday sun. However, nights here are frigid. I bundle into flannel pants, a sweater, socks, all under three woolen blankets and still wake up chattering my teeth. Needless to say my accommodations are not heated. And so it was Monday, the whole day was crisp and crystal clear and quite cool. We went down to Orgíva again. I found some lavendar in the garden there and put some in my hair and down my shirt and spent all day getting pleasant whiffs of it all day. If you know how much I love lavendar I don't need to explain how much it really brightened my day. And after a hard day of work we were welcomed home with real Swiss fondu! Marianne and Florina brought back all kinds of goodies from Switzerland, mostly chocolate and have been sharing them with everyone. Before I forget I have discovered an amazing new fruit since coming here, I think they call it quika. Every snack time at the farm in Orgíva we gather fruit from a tree that stands amongst the olives. I thought it looked like a tomato at first but after biting into it... wow. It's so juicy and sweet and has strange jellies inside. It's been a wonderful addition to our noon snack. However, Tuesday we started work at La Jimena on Mathis' trees where there are no quika trees. There is a horse and more sun.

Truth: Wine and chocolate are just better in Europe

I've been rather reclusive lately, disappearing as soon as lunch is done. But last night I finished my book and have no more excuse. So Sunday come and I attempt to break out of my box! Marianne and Florina have returned and we had a wonderful, large welcome back breakfast this morning. I slept until about 9am and breakfast didn't start until 10. Florina, who is four years old, is quite shy and doesn't speak English. She spent breakfast chatting in Swiss-German and periodically glaring at me from across the table. Marianne is older than I expected but seems sweet. We even ended breakfast with chocolate banana cake! It was very tasty. Afterward I went with Cinja and Nicky to Pampaneira, a touristy village on the other side of the mountain. Cinja called it one of the "white villages," which also include the nearby towns of Capileira and Bubión. The trek uphill (well, up-mountain, to be more accurate) was exhausting but once we reached a major road we hitched the rest of the way to town. The whole day was beautiful. It was mostly just wandering through shops but it was fun bonding with my roommates. And everywhere I looked I found some trinket or another that reminded me of someone back home! I wanted to buy everything: earings for Eliana, necklaces for Maeryn, hair clips for Qi, shawls for mom, mirrors and whole sets of rainbow ceramics for Jenn, bizarre T-shirts for Mike or Trey, cool teapots and cookware for Eric and Pat, maps for dad and Alex, even hand-made baby clothes and shoes for Missy's twins (I didn't see a flag for Robbie though), and so much more! It gave me a warm feeling to be reminded of everyone. But I spared my wallet and settled for some post cards. Cinja explained that a particular type of tiling and ceramics is unique to Alpajurra and there were plenty of examples. We sampled some amazing chocolate, sat at a café and sipped tea, and had lunch over looking the town church and a beautiful view of the valley. Cinja had the most amazing brownie I'd ever tried! It was like a molten chocolate cake only with the richest, darkest, most amazing chocolate I've ever had the privilege to experience. We also tried shaved jamón; it was a little nutty and a little smokey but like most ham and pork products I wasn't a huge fan. It was still quite an experience. I think what I liked most about the day was spending time with Cinja and Nicky. They tend to speak German to one another and I've begun to understand a little from their tones and gestures and the homynyms between the languages. They have also been good about speaking English in order to include me. Poor Cinja switched between German, English, and Spanish all day and was getting a little confused. Honestly I was just impressed. On a side note, Nicky pointed out the serious lack of attractive young Spaniards. Like me she had been warned about the lecherous young men but we realized that there really aren't any in Orgíva or Pampaneira, at least not that we've seen. Ha!

Hoes and almonds

Friday we were back harvesting olives. Unfortunately the car broke down part way down the mountain. Luckily a kind neighbor with a giant 4x4 pickup truck towed us back up and we went down in the lorry (truck, everyone who speaks English here uses the British terms, I'm beginning to adopt them). Riding in the back of a closed truck on bumpy, winding roads is not good for the stomach, and also illegal, but we didn't have many other options. On Saturday we went up to the garden where there grows a large variety of vegetables. We did a little harvesting and weeding. But we spent the majority of the day sitting around an unfinished building sorting through almonds. You see, Mathis runs a kind of CSA (community supported agriculture) but rather than selling his produce around here he takes it up to Scotland once a year. In order to maintain a standard of quality we had to pick out only the nicest almost for his patrons and we did so for nearly five hours. It wasn't so bad though, we got plenty of wwoofer bonding time!

The Day Off: MARKET DAY!

Once again I thank David for his wealth of helpful information. While Mathis did give me a run down of the daily schedule, he neglected the weekly schedule. David was kind enough to fill me in: Monday through Wednesday and on Friday we harvest olives, Saturday is gardening, Sunday we relax, and Thursday is MARKET DAY! So, I got up as usual on Thursday and had breakfast with everyone but afterward I walked with Guillame down the mountain of Cerro Negro to Orgíva. The walk down was fairly long but Guillame and I chatted most of the way. When we got nearer the bottom we hitched a ride with Kev, a Brit who lived up the mountain as well. In town Guillame showed me around a little and then left for Café Baraka where all the foreigners hang out. Apparently Orgíva is a hub for hippies from all over because of a nearby commune called Beneficio, or so I understand. I found an internet café, Ananda's Mundo, and stayed until they closed at 2pm for siesta. This is mot likely the only time I will be able to stay in touch and the reason my blogs come in big chunks. So, once a week for the next month or so. I thought maybe I would go back in the evening when they re-opened so I planted myself on the steps of a nearby church and read. There was a girl sitting next to me playing guitar. I found out her name was Sofie and she was Swiss, she shared some wine and wrote a song about me. Other hippies joined her, one yelled at me in Spanish about reading in the street and having money and brains... I was amusing but distracting and I remembered how quickly it got dark after about 5:30 and how long a walk I had to get home. So... I tried to figure out how to get back. As I wandered through town I was propositioned by a man from Sierra Leon and given bad directions by a Spanish shop owner. I went back to the internet cafe to find a map and asked the clerk for help. She was from Eritrea and spoke English well and gave me clear, simple directions. From there everything started looking familiar and I knew I was headed the right way so I stuck my thumb out and got a ride to the bottom of the mountain from a nice young Spaniard who made conversation with me in Spanish! I was quite pleased that I could actually carry such a conversation. Then I started the long ascent toward La Jimena. I wasn't a mile up before an older man on a motorbike stopped to see if I needed a ride. So I hopped on and watched the lights of Orgíva get smaller and smaller. The man's name was Steve and he was a neighbor of Mathis'. He was British and we chatted a bit before he dropped me off right in front of the farm. So that was my first day off. I'm sure my mother especially is gnashing her teeth over my risky behavior, what with the hitchhiking and wandering around alone in a strange town in a strange country. It's true, it's irresponsible and crazy and quite honestly I've been terrified since the moment I stepped through security at the Chicago airport. But that's why I'm here, that's why I'm doing this: to face my fears, to take chances and try new things, test my own abilities and limitations. And when I come back in tact I'll have a life-time of stores to come back with me!

Routine

Mathis explained the routine to me the first day: Get up, go to breakfast by 8am, to work by 9am, work until noon, snack break, continue working until 3pm, lunch, then free time. And even by the second day of work I felt the routine setting in. It's quite easy to follow and gives me a feeling of serious productivity. Breakfast is always bread with choices of fresh avocado, garlic, cheese, jam or marmalade, and a variety of other things to top it with. And tea - which to almost everyone is a mild, almost flavorless herbal tea, but David makes real black tea and shares it with me. Once you've had your fill you make sandwiches for noon snack and head to work. Right not, Mathis, Guillame, Milan, David, and I all go to another farm in Orgíva owned by a Norwegian couple and help with their harvest. For those of you who don't know, harvesting olives is less picking and more placing huge nets down and whacking trees with large sticks. Sometimes, if a tree is large enough, which it most often is, you climb up with your stick so you can reach the tallest and farthest out branches. Olive trees are practically built for climbing, with several low limbs and others that shoot out in every direction, but sometimes I still find climbing a challenge. Guillame and Milan have it down to an art of which Mathis is the grand master. Once we've knocked the olives out of several trees and the work day is almost through we gather up the nets, get the olives in a big pile, pick out the bigger branches and leaves that we've knocked down, and put the olives into crates. Then drive home for lunch. Cinja and Nicky work on the olives on Mathis' farm, La Jimena, but quit early to prepare lunch. Lunch is usually a salad of mostly carrots, then one other vegetable dish and a starchy entree, and occasionally dessert. The very first day David baked apples with raisins and nuts smothered in custard! Yum!

Dynamics and support

I've gotten quite a lot of amusement from the people here. First of all I think I would never have survived my first few days here without Cinja and David. David in particular has been very nice about explaining things I might not otherwise understand. He told me one day that Mathis has a special way of doing things and doesn't really explain things (obviously), he just expects you to pick up on things. It was nice to hear that it wasn't a personal test and I don't have to struggle alone. I find a lot of the relationships between people here very revealing. The very first day of work I noticed that Milan and Guillame behave like brothers, teasing each other and competing. Mathis and David are like old friends or colleagues and they talk a lot about politics and history. This, of course, is endlessly fascinating to me. There are even times when Mathis asks me about what I think of this event or that politic. He's very opinionated and I get a daily dose of criticisms and wisdom on global warming, immigration, globalization, agro-business, and so on. Every morning before starting work David tutors Milan. I am assuming it is because his usual teacher, his mother, is absent. But David used to be a teacher by profession and Milan goes on and on about how good of a teacher he is. Bertha is kind of reclusive. She goes to school until lunch time and often doesn't join us for the meal. But she's also fourteen and definitely acts it. Sometimes she reminds me of me at that age. It's no until later in the evening when we really get to interact. Usually when the sun goes down everyone goes inside and sits about the indoor dining table. Bertha does her homework and everyone else reads or chats or does some kind of craft. This is the time when we get to see the real sibling interactions between Milan and Bertha. I shouldn't be surprised but they are such typical siblings in the way they tease and bicker.

Such Great Heights

Perhaps I ended my last post on a rather sour note. Mathis has really been quite nice generally, he explained that he just doesn’t like dogs and sees them as pests because they are everywhere here, and to be honest he isn’t wrong, though I don’t think that merits running them over. I thought I ought to explain that incident as it was rather bizarre. Anywho… I am now a wwoofer on Cortijo la Jimena on Cerro Negro outside of Orgíva. When I arrived with Mathis and his fourteen year old daughter Bierta (I’m not sure if that’s the proper spelling) I was introduced to the rest of the clan over lunch. Mathis, Bierta, and Milan, Mathis’ twelve year old boy, are a German family that have lived on the farm for I think four years or so. They all speak fluent English with British accents because they had been living in Scotland. I have yet to meet Marion, Mathis’ wife, and Florentina, their four year old girl, who are visiting family in Switzerland. They are apparently coming back Saturday evening. There are four other wwoofers besides myself. Sinya and Nicky are both German as well, are around my age, speak some English but not much, and are my roommates in a yurt (wooden structure) downhill from the main house. Nicky also introduced me to our other roommates: three geckos! Sinya has been very sweet and helpful and does a lot of the cooking; she gave me a tour of the farm. Guillame is twenty, I think, and is from southern France and David is in his fifties or sixties and stopped here after biking all the way from his native England. Guillame and I are the only ones who don’t speak German and most table conversations are either in German or English. So much for practicing my Spanish. Sinya did explain to me that the neighbors only speak Spanish and would probably be happy to chat with me. The farm itself is gorgeous, but very rustic. Mathis explained that we are “off the grid”: any electricity is gas, battery, solar, or wind, and water is from a spring for drinking and a creek for washing, the only toilette is a pit and used from composting. But the shower is warm if you use it at the right time, the food is filling and home grown, there’s plenty of water to drink, and at night the light is shared by everyone for reading, crafting or socializing before bed. When I arrived I chose my own cup that I’m responsible for while I’m here. We eat on a deck overlooking a beautiful valley. The view is truly amazing and as I sat and ate my first meal I couldn’t believe I was really sitting there with such a diverse group of people, in this self-sustaining, breath-taking, mountainside olive farm, in the Sierra Nevada of southern Spain… so far from home. There wasn’t anything to do the day I arrived and I was told I could do as I pleased. I felt kind of awkward but figured I could use the time to absorb my surroundings and recover from traveling. Since I didn’t have a flashlight I would have to make sure I got down to the yurt before dark because the trek down was rather treacherous so I went down by myself and read until it got too dark. I continued sitting outside for a while, looking down the valley into the town below until I decided to turn in… it was probably only 7pm.

Mountains twisting

Monday I woke up in a very dark hostel room. Time to get up and get on the road to Orgíva! I paid for my stay and headed back out to the bus stop. I like to think I have a good memory for direction and in this case I remembered exactly where the bus stop was. Walking through Granada during the day was much different than it had been at night. The city was gorgeous and I was quite tempted to wander around for a bit and enjoy the sights, but I was expected. I had noticed in Madrid as well as in Granada and everywhere in between that Spain has a plethora of graffiti and litter… mostly graffiti. I’d like to think this is because of some Spanish tendency for individual expression and self-importance, but it’s more likely that they just don’t have any laws or regulation regarded defacement of property. I got back to the bus station easily, bought my ticket to Orgíva and immediately went out and found my bus. Sometimes I think they try extra hard to make things difficult here because even though my bus ticket had a number and seat assignment, the buses themselves are not clearly labeled. I asked a woman for help and it turned out she was going on the same bus! We even sat next to one another and she helped me make sure I got off at the right place. The ride through the mountains was quite exciting, a large charter bus twisting around narrow mountain roads. I don’t know how the drivers do it, however, they must do it with a lot of ease because at least once I caught our driver on her cell phone. Finally I was at my destination! There was a phone booth right outside the bus stop: unfortunately it didn’t work. An American man found me looking rather confused and directed me to another working one about four blocks up the road. I called my host, Mathis, and waited for a little less than an hour on a bench near the police station. A funny little truck that looked like it belonged to an electric company pulled up and a grungy man in glasses and a visor with a feather in it squinted at me. This was Mathis, my host for the next month. We greeted one another, got my suitcase loaded and were to pick up his daughter from school before heading to the farm. As first impressions go, he came off as rather cold, but attempting to be friendly, and then proceeded to purposefully hit a dog that ran into the road, saying “got ‘im!” Needless to say this was not comforting…

Arriving in red

Wow! So here it is, my first blog entry. For those of you who didn't know, I flew out of Chicago last Saturday, waving good-bye to my parents as I started through security. It's hard to imagine all the faces I won't see for so long. On the drive to Chicago mom counted nineteen red-tailed hawks and one blue heron, which she took as very good omens. The long flight across the Atlantic was uncomfortable but I did watch an episode of Flight of the Concords and most of Julie and Julia before we landed (it took me a while to figure out how to use my personal TV, so I finally asked my neighbor, who didn’t speak much English). My first sight of Spain was from the very center seat of a very full flight looking out the window over someone’s head. The earth here is red here, iron rich. I landed in Madrid and had to find a bus station to get me to Granada which would then take me to Orgíva. My limited Spanish has been mildly useful in the need to find transportation but I continue to start most conversations with “¿Habla Ingles?” I’ve always been kind of chicken-shit about language in the first place, primarily because I’m not really confident even in my native tongue, so I figure if a Spaniard knows even a little English it will help. It is true that most people here have very limited English if any, but I haven’t let it get me down! Waiting for my bus in Madrid for about two hours was fruitful. I made friends with a lovely old English woman, a teacher who had just come back from Bangladesh and gave me the advice to keep moving forward and never regret. I also had my first meal in Spain! Un bocadillo de tortilla española! It sounds fancier than it was: basically a thick, cold potato cake in crusty bread. But it was filling and satisfying and lasted for two meals, and besides a tiny airline Danish, all I ate that day. The bus ride to Granada was long but I watched the sunset over the rolling foothills of the Sierra Nevada after stopping at a roadside villa to stretch my legs and finish my bocadillo. I admit I did sleep for most of the bus ride but woke up frequently to admire the scenery (sorry, Mom, no flowers, but I did see a raptor of some kind). It was plenty dark by the time we got to the station, about 8:30pm, so I thought I better call my hosts and let them know I wouldn’t be able to come until the next day, which meant I had to find a place to stay over night. Luckily there was a kiosk right inside the bus station with a lovely young man who spoke English quite well and showed me not only where to find a hostel but also where all the hot spots of Granada were. After a long bus ride through the city – a bus ride that offered no visual or audible indication of what the stops were – I found my stop and continued to wander the streets with my map, trying to find any street signs at all… I was unsuccessful. I found another hostel and asked them about staying but they cost nearly twice as much as the one I was directed to, so I pulled out my map and asked them how to get to Posada de Colón, and wandered a little more. By the way, wandering around heavily cobbled streets, walkways, and alleys is especially not fun when wheeling a fifty pound piece of luggage and carrying another maybe twenty pounds worth of purse and messenger bag. Just when I was about to give up and ask someone else for help I got a wave and the question “Are you Brianne?” The hostel turned out to be almost completely unmarked, but the hostess, who knew my name from the guide at the bus station, welcomed me in and got me a room right near the door. I shared a room with Christina, a young Swiss woman who was taking a short vacation. I took a shower, hopped online for a while and then went to bed, in a horizontal, real bed, with a pillow and blankets! It’s amazing how just two days of travel can make you appreciate the little things.