Granada to Órgiva, Spain, Tuesday December 16th

We are becoming experts at packing and walking with our packs but this morning we took a local bus the four kilometres to the bus station. Luxury! Once we left Granada, which spilt out of its two hill packaging in an untidy way into suburbs and semi-rural areas, we felt as if we were on the road again. Olives, olives and more olives. The mountains were rugged and steep, with snow on the higher ones and in patches lower down as well. The road wound around with steep drops over the side, in ways that I would have felt sick to be experiencing in a car, but somehow I felt one remove from real life as a passenger in a bus. The driver tooted at extreme corners, although his judgement and mine of 'extreme' were not the same. I settled for looking up, and there certainly were magnificent views, and also lots of windmills creating electricity. Villages of white buildings and high spired churches seemed super glued to the mountain sides. In the distance, cars crawled like ants across the face of the mountains, the roads invisible to the eye below.
It was a raucous fun filled bus with a group of senior citizens and the bus driver bouncing comments off each other. I could not understand a thing, but Keith could follow a little bit. One lady took off her coat when she got hot, and revealed a purple top with sequins on it. This brought cracks about her wearing evening clothes in the morning and where was she off to etc. She brought the house down when she replied that she could have night life in the morning. The bus stopped at many villages along the way, and there seemed to be no hurry to get on or off, and plenty of time to chat. Oh how I wished that I could understand Spanish!
When we arrived in Órgiva, a larger white washed town with two bus stops, and the home of all the senior friends, Sarah was waiting for us. She had the most beautiful smile and we felt welcome straight away as we walked and talked our way down the lanes out of the town and into the countryside.
Sarah and Chris, and their two children then aged eight and six, came to live here nearly nine years ago. They had taken a trip to look for somewhere to live, and this was where they landed, finding a house on an enormous block that met their needs of electricity, a road to the house and walking distance to a town with schools. Their house previously belonged to a lady called Rosa, whose seven sons had all grown up and left, but who kept seven beds available should they all return at once. It seemed funny and sweet, but upon reflection, what we have done, despite theoretical plans for sewing rooms and libraries in the vacated child bedrooms at our house. I warmed to Rosa, who had finally gone off to Barcelona to be near most of her sons.
Chris and Sarah have made enormous changes to the house, and it was amusing to hear that our room was once the goat shed, that the lounge room was a pig sty and that the room currently being worked on had been a rabbit hutch. All the walls are part of the one building, which is now an intricate string of rooms opening off little passages and other rooms. It is charming and cosy and must have taken so much work to achieve. Any work has to have a permit, and Sarah told us of how they were rendering the walls inside one of their rooms when the police arrived and told them to stop work because their building permit had expired. Outside there are 48 olive trees, orange trees, Sarah's vegetable garden, a pool, a grape covered terrace and a soccer field and goals for Oliver. We didn't meet Isabel, off at University in Grenada, but she was lovingly spoken about in this tight knit family. Three much loved cats claimed spots by the fire.
I was very tired after yet another late night email vigil, so while Keith helped Chris with a jammed door, I went off for a sleep. I woke to a delicious lunch of pizza and baked potato, coleslaw and fruit salad that Chris had prepared. After our cold food and cold drink days in Granada and Córdoba, to cradle a hot cup of chocolate in my hands and to eat this lovely lunch was bliss.
Oliver was home from school, and covered in injuries from a fall on the hard ground of an icy soccer field. At last my excess of dressings from my spider bites came in handy and we were pleased to note how few of our precautionary items in our medical kits had been used. Touch wood. The needles and syringes for Tanzania looked extreme now and as if we were hypochondriacs. After some chatting and an unsuccessful attempt at making the wifi work with our computer, we set off for a walk.
The lane led past other farmlets with olive trees and oranges, down to a dirt track that took us to a cliff over the river. It was running quite fast, but there was not much water for the sound it was making. As we walked back, we crossed a paddock that sounded as if we were eating crisps with our feet, the dried grass stalks were so brittle. A herd of goats was grazing under a tree at the bottom of our lane, but we chose to take another path and explore a bit further.
We followed a lane that led us past some ancient olive trees whose twisted trunks looked like ancient spirits waiting patiently.
There were some well cared for houses and others, in absolute ruins, that Keith suggested I might have in mind to purchase for him to restore. It was nearly dark when we returned, meeting Chris on his way out to a meeting as we walked up the lane. It was so comfortable relaxing with Sarah and Oliver, and Barbara after she had showered and settled inside after her day's work. She is a student who has taken a year off to work and travel in rural areas in Spain and in other countries. She is there via an organisation that places people on farms for work experience (something like WWOOFers - willing workers on organic farms), and has had short term placements in Ireland and Spain. From the north of Spain originally, she speaks 'correctly' and doesn't drop her s's as the southerners do. Part of her work with Sarah and Chris is to help them to practise their Spanish. She is a delightful girl and very easy to get along with.
Oliver cooked himself some supper, but the rest of us waited to eat with Chris. It was hard to believe that we had only been here for half a day, so much at home and welcome had Chris and Sarah made us feel. We drank the white wine from Lorraine that Michel had given us, in honour of our wedding anniversary. We thought how lucky we were to have each other, our family, friends and the chance to be travelling about as we were.


Perhaps this is the perfect house to buy and restore.

This small red gum plantation will be used for both building and firewood.