by Parks, Alan
Darkness had descended and the moon was starting to rise up over the olive groves casting eerie shadows towards our house, when all of a sudden ‘Beep, beep, beep.’ The solar electricity started to go wild. When the batteries are low or if it requires a sudden burst of electricity it beeps. I ran up and pressed the button to stop the noise, but the inverter had a red flashing light. That meant the system was struggling. I couldn’t understand why but went and turned off our fridge, which although it is an A+ rated appliance, is probably our main consumer of power. I was truly baffled. A few minutes later Justin and Kim came down, well-coiffured and looking pristine.
“I think there is something wrong with your electricity,” Kim said. “When I was using my hairdryer, the lights were all flickering.”
“Ah, so it was you,” I replied. “It’s not good using a hairdryer with the solar, especially at night when there is no sun.”
It takes our visitors a lot of getting used to. They must be made to understand that it is better to do ‘electrical’ things during daylight hours rather than at night. We need to recharge our electricity during the day for when we need it during darkness. Thankfully, with it being the longest day, we made it through and the batteries held up for the night.
With that we were off out. It was a beautiful evening and already midnight when we left the Olive Mill. On reaching Cordoba, I dropped the gang off as near as possible to the action before going to look for a parking space.
“I’ll meet you at the first show,” I said blithely, giving them a copy of the map I had printed, and went to park the car.
A few minutes later, I was walking along the river weaving in and out of hundreds of adults and children. I reached the road where I needed to turn and looked for the lane that led to the square where the first show was being held. I turned the corner to see a massive, beautiful church with Moorish arches in the stonework and hundreds of people seated in a makeshift arena, while hundreds more were crammed shoulder to shoulder around the outside. Bloody hell, how am I going to find them? I asked myself.
I walked around the outskirts of the crowd, trying to stretch and see over the top just in case they got there early and had found seats. After one song, and no sign of them, I walked around the corner to phone Kim hoping they would hear it over the music.
“Kim, where are you?”
“We’re sitting at a bar by the river, having a gin and tonic. Where are you?”
“I’m at the show. I’ll come and find you.”
So I headed back and found them all relaxing in large comfortable chairs outside a lovely bar on the riverfront.
“You were supposed to meet me there,” I complained.
“Ah well, we decided to stop and have a nice cold drink first. We thought you would be ages,” said Justin. “Let’s head back.”
So we made the trip up the road (in my case for the second time) and when we got to the plaza it was even more packed than before. We could just make out four female dancers, all decked out in white on the stage. By the time we had found a suitable viewing angle, peering between heads, the dance had come to an end. But it wasn’t the end of the show. Next up were six male dancers clad in black. Lorna was transfixed by them stamping their feet and clapping their hands, whipping the audience into a frenzy with shouts of “Olé, Olé” coming involuntarily from the men in the crowd. Faster and faster they danced and Lorna couldn’t take her eyes from the stage. By the time they had finished, the audience was on its feet, and the men were sweating and taking loads of water on board.
The final dancers were a group of three women, all with traditional flamenco shawls draped around their shoulders. Again, both Lorna and the audience were completely transfixed. They received a standing ovation; it was only the first free show of the night and there must have been three or four thousand people there.
The next event was in the plaza outside the Mezquita and seemed to be a guitar and singing show, but we were pleased to see when we got there that there were seats for the audience. The night was still sweltering and all the walking wasn’t making things easy, but we were determined to make it through the night. The atmosphere outside the Mezquita was amazing: there were TV crews and people buzzing about the place. The orange blossom on the trees wafted across the courtyard; children were running about eating ice creams and it felt like an afternoon in the park. Only it was 1.30am. We sat quietly and listened to the music and the flamenco singing. As a non-Andalucian, I find the singing difficult to appreciate. Often the songs sound very similar from one performer to the next, and most of the time it is quite depressing as though the singer is suffering some kind of terrible anguish. So while those surrounding us sat looking in awe at the performers, we slipped off to try and get to the next location.
The Plaza del Potro is a small square in the city and proved to be quite a mission for us to find. We had a map but we kept missing it, and it took us about 30 minutes to locate. When we got there, the stage was ready and there was loud Queen music blaring out from speakers. We were starting to flag, so sat down on the edge of a kerb and took the weight off our feet for a while.
It was now approaching 2.30am and although we had seen lots of people, young and old, consuming vast quantities of beer, we had yet to see any kind of trouble. All the sites were manned by one or two casual-looking police officers, usually laughing and joking with the crowd and sometimes even sharing a sneaky cigarette. If we had been out in the UK at 2.30 in the morning, the atmosphere would have been very different, with police everywhere and certainly no young children enjoying themselves.
The show was scheduled to start but, by 2.45, there was still no sign of anyone, although the crowd was building and the atmosphere was electric. Eventually, a man came onstage and started playing guitar, then another, then a man on drums, some backing singers, the lead singer and finally a dancer. This time, one man danced his way through about four different songs and by the time he finished you could see his shirt was sopping wet and his hair was wringing. He, too, received an amazing ovation from the masses of people who had gathered to see him. I got the impression he may have been local; he certainly seemed very popular. He was treated like a pop star as he left the stage while flashbulbs lit up the night sky.
Next up was Plaza Jeronimo Paez, and this was the big star of the night, ‘La Argentina’. We had been told this was the must-see show by none other than Ricardo, who could be counted as one of her biggest fans. Because the previous show had started late, by the time we arrived at this one, the large square was heaving. There were a few stone benches spread around and we managed to grab ourselves a spot on one of these.
As the show started the crowd surged forward, but we tried to stay where we were. On the bench next to us, about five people climbed up to get a better view. This caused a bit of unrest from those behind, and was probably one of the first times we have ever seen the slightest sign of trouble in public. A very angry woman marched her way through the crowd and tapped a man on his shoulder, insisting he get down as the people behind could not see. He tried to fight his case but after a few minutes, he and his girlfriend jumped down to a ripple of applause from behind. Two older ladies, probably in their 70s, stood firm however, ignoring the complaints and even the paper cups and rubbish being thrown at them. When they climbed down at the end of the show, the angry lady marched back over and said something to them, pointing in their faces, but they just held their heads high and marched off. La Argentina was probably the star of the night but, as I said before, much of the singing passes us by and we find the dancing much more entertaining.
The 4.30 show was in the Plaza de la Tendillas, which is the main shopping square in the centre of Cordoba, and an enormous stage had been erected. This time there were three female dancers telling the story of a passionate affair with an unfaithful lothario. The main dancer was a fiery-looking character, and she did a great job conveying the tragic story to the crowd. Once again the reception was fabulous, but we were starting to seriously
tire now. The final show at 5.30 was on a large stage situated in front of the Roman bridge, and by the time we arrived there were thousands of people amassed there, even mums with babies in prams.
When the music started it became clear this was a bit more like a rock concert than traditional flamenco, so we decided to call it a night and headed back to the car. On the drive home, the sun started to rise and, at the top of our track on one side, you could see the moon still just above the horizon and, on the opposite side, the reds and oranges of the morning sunrise. We arrived at the Olive Mill, said goodnight to Justin and Kim and hit the hay, not waking up until the afternoon.
Justin and Kim were staying one more night, so we decided to have a barbecue and invite Ricardo and Rita over to join us. Kim had said to us when we were arranging the dates, “You’ll love Justin. He is a fantastic guest; he eats everything that’s put in front of him.” So I decided to challenge him. Whenever we have a barbecue I make homemade hamburgers, and they have always been popular, but normally they are big - very big!
I set out to make a special one for Justin, just to see how true Kim’s words were. Our barbecues always start with a salad course and, naturally, bread. This is normally followed by chicken, sausages and potatoes, cooked in olive oil. The final course is always the giant burgers. It has become somewhat of a tradition now to see who can finish one of them at the end.
Throughout the meal Justin was his normal complimentary self, and accepted second helpings of salad, bread, chicken and potatoes while we all relaxed in the warm evening air.
Then Lorna said, “Alan, you haven’t put the burgers on yet.”
“Oh yeah,” I said, “I’ll get them now.”
You could see the look of horror on Justin’s face, but he didn’t say anything as I threw a burger on for everyone. After a few minutes sizzling, I brought them over and started dishing them out. Lorna refused, already full, but I managed to deliver Justin his specially prepared super-size burger, and he loaded it up with salad, cheese and ketchup. He slowly got through it, making a big deal of how much he was enjoying it. By the time he finished there was still one uneaten on the table.
“Do you want another, Justin?” Lorna asked.
You could see the dilemma in his eyes, not wanting to be rude but completely full.
“Go on, I can see you want it,” she said. “Just leave what you can’t eat.”
So she served him burger number two, and he manfully munched his way through. By the time he finished, he was slumped with his belt unbuckled and a pale tinge to his face. Lorna vanished inside, and a few minutes later emerged with a huge chocolate cake she had prepared the day before. You should have seen Justin’s eyes widen. I thought he was going to bolt, but he didn’t. He managed to force down two small helpings of cake before sloping off to bed. We were laughing with Kim about it, and we all went off to bed about half hour later.
In the morning, they came down to have breakfast before heading off, and I asked Justin what he wanted.
“Just a cup of tea, please,” he said sheepishly.
Apparently, when Kim had gone up the night before she had found him lying on the bed groaning, with an upset stomach from all the food. So we had a bit of a laugh and joke at Justin’s expense and gave him some Milk of Magnesia we had in the alpaca first-aid kit and didn’t force any breakfast on him. They assured us that they had had a lovely time, even Justin.
Just as we had said goodbye, Barb appeared from around the corner, meowing loudly as if she was trying to tell us something.
“I wonder if she is hungry,” said Lorna.
“Hang on. Look at her back, I think she has blood on her. I bet she has had the kittens.”
Lorna started talking to Barb, who for the first time ever was actually approaching us for attention. Then she trotted off around the corner but all the time checking behind to see that we were following.
We followed her around to the far side of the boys’ paddock, underneath the large eucalyptus tree. Then she made her way down the steep bank and under an old door that keeps the fence in place. Lorna went down, and after moving a few branches to get a better view, she could just make out four tiny kittens.
It was the first time we had ever seen Barb have four kittens, so we were a little worried about how she would manage. As always, though, she coped really well and we did give her a little extra food to help her on her way. After a few weeks and much deliberation, we decided to name them Eeny, Meeny, Miny and Mo.
Justin’s Giant Burgers
1 kg pack of mixed mince (beef and pork)
1 onion
2 cloves of garlic
Salt and pepper
Rosemary
Chop half the onion and the two garlic cloves finely.
Fry the onions and garlic together with olive oil and salt, pepper and rosemary.
Let the mixture cool.
Mix together the onions and garlic with the mince.
For giant burgers, divide into four large balls and squeeze and mould into burger shapes. For very large sized burgers make five.
Flatten between two plates and chill for a few hours. This should prevent the burgers from falling apart when you cook them.
If cooking on a barbecue, use an oven tray until they are slightly brown on either side, otherwise they stick to the grill. Once brown, place directly on the grill until the juice has run clear.
Serve in a bun with your choice with cheese, ketchup, mustard or mayonnaise.
Chapter 27
Caught in a Trap
Occasionally we feel the urge to escape the Olive Mill for a bit, even if just for a few hours in Cordoba or to go and stay overnight at a friend’s house. We now have so many animals it is impossible for us to go on holiday together. I have not been back to the UK for over four years but I think it is more important that Lorna has the time with her children and grandchildren. We had been invited to go and spend the day with Justin and Kim, so decided to take them up on the offer. In the spring and autumn we are happy to leave the dogs and alpacas for the whole day, but in the summer we need to be there to constantly refill their water.
We set out about 9am having fed and watered the menagerie, but just as we pulled on to the motorway there were three Guardia Civil cars blocking the road.
“What’s going on here?” I said to Lorna.
“Not sure. I can see loads of police up ahead. Maybe there's been a big accident or something?”
After a few minutes wait, the police cars began to move slowly off and the queue of traffic started to follow. As we approached the officers, they were lining one side of the road, all bearing machine guns, holding big police dogs and looking very mean. (They all act like they are US cops from films, complete with mirrored sunglasses). We could see officers looking at the occupants of each passing car before deciding which ones were to be sent over to the side of the road and searched. As our turn approached, we both held our breath. The officer checking us out did a quick double-take when he couldn’t see a steering wheel by Lorna, but he waved us through. He probably didn’t want to deal with foreigners.
“Look over there,” Lorna said pointing at the cars at the side of the motorway. “Has that lad got his trousers down?”
It was just possible to make out a young man being searched, partly blocked by his open door, but with his trousers around his ankles. All the cars that were pulled over were occupied by young drivers, predominantly male, so we thought that the police were looking for drugs. We used to see this quite regularly but since the crisis has hit harder we see it less and less. We continued our journey and as we approached Justin and Kim’s house, I called them.
“If you wait by the bus stop,” Justin said, “I’ll come and get you.”
So we pulled over and waited. It was like a ghost town; there was no one around and we didn’t see a single car go past. After a couple of minutes we could just make out something in the distance moving slowly in our direction. After a couple more minutes, we could se
e it was Justin driving an old golf cart.
“How fabulous to see you again,” he said, hugging us both tightly. “Lorna jump in with me and Alan, you follow!”
So I got back in the car and crawled along behind the Justinmobile. At the top of their track there was a short descent toward the house and as we started down the slope, the cart started to speed up a little. I could hear Lorna squealing on board, and hoped she wasn’t travelsick. When we arrived, I went to see if she was OK. Luckily, she was in hysterics and had obviously enjoyed the ride.
After we had spent a little time catching up over a coffee, Justin said to me, “Alan, I could do with some help with something, but it’s a pretty big favour.”
“Of course, I’ll be happy to help,” I said, not really knowing what I was getting myself into.
After we were out of earshot of the women, Justin told me that they had been having a few problems with rats around the house, eating through wires and pipes. Although Kim knew about it, she didn’t like rats and didn’t want to be involved. Justin had asked his Spanish neighbour the best way to deal with them, and he said that trapping them and then drowning them in a bucket of water was the best option. Justin had tried once to drown them but he couldn’t go through with it (he is an animal lover). The rats, however, needed dealing with. So he had invested in some traps that snapped shut, killing them instantly. Today was the day to check the traps and get rid of the carcasses.
I followed him around, checking traps in the garage and around the outside of the house, and collecting the dead rats in a bucket to bury. Justin was holding up well. We moved into the barn where they kept their hay. He was certainly expecting some rats in there and had positioned the traps behind the stacked-up hay. I saw his head disappear around the corner checking the next one. Suddenly I heard a gasp, and an “Oh no!”