My experiences of living as a seasoned immigrant in Cordova (Andalusia): humour, culture, history, illustrated. Also includes poetry, quotes, thoughts, and nature.
Here is a photo of a cork oak tree taken from my morning’s walk in the countryside of Posadas (Cordova province in Andalusia). The photo’s a bit dark because rain’s expected (at long last, we’re having serious drought here!). You can see the red-brown trunk which has been exposed after the cork has been harvested.
Pigs love to eat the acorns that drop from its boughs:-
To see more photos of the oak trees and the PAINTINGS I do on the cork, you can click here.
The almond blossom is also a symbol of bravery and courage, purity, hope, and love. In Greek mythology it is a symbol of eternal true love, unconquerable by death. For the Christians, it is a symbol of Jesus’ virgin birth. In short, the almond blossom is a sacred symbol.
Nikos Kazantzakis was a Greek writer, considered a giant of modern Greek literature, awarded the Nobel Prize in nine times. Kazantzakis’ novels included Zorba the Greek,Christ Recrucified, Captain Michalis, and The Last Temptation of Christ. He also translated a number of notable works into Modern Greek, such as the Divine Comedy,Thus Spoke Zarathustra, On the Origins OfSpecies, the Iliad and the Odyssey.
Nikos Kazantzakis (Courtesy Wiki)
Thank you for visiting. I hope this finds you well — take care!
Hi folks! I hope that you are keeping well in health and spirits…
I just wanted to share a few sunrise and sunset photos that I took over the last couple of days, from here in Posadas (province of Cordova in Andalusia).
Well, that’s it for now. Thanks for visiting! Take care xxx
After an intensive day of rain and computer I decided to go for a brief walk around my country abode here in Posadas (Cordova, Spain. See this link for photos and also the explanation as to why and how I ended up here!).
Of course I did not go on my walk alone, but was accompanied by the usual moggies, as you shall see…
Firstly I stopped to admire the lantern-like flowers that were already out on the strawberry tree (Arbutus).
There was just one arbutus berry left because the birds had got at them already (especially the stonechats which are noisily prevalent these days!).
The sky started to clear somewhat, letting down a few illuminating rays onto the distant Sierrezuela Hills
Then it cleared even more…
…and as I was looking skywards, I had the curious sensation that I was being watched…
First there was one…
…then there were two…
…and another made three.
I don’t think they were so interested in me after all…
Full many a glorious morning have I seen — William Shakespeare (1564-1616, Stratford-Upon-Avon)
Full many a glorious morning have I seen Flatter the mountain tops with sovereign eye, Kissing with golden face the meadows green, Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy; Anon permit the basest clouds to ride With ugly rack on his celestial face, And from the forlorn world his visage hide, Stealing unseen to west with this disgrace: Even so my sun one early morn did shine, With all triumphant splendour on my brow; But out, alack, he was but one hour mine, The region cloud hath mask’d him from me now. Yet him for this my love no whit disdaineth; Suns of the world may stain when heaven’s sun staineth.
This morning was very misty and damp, just the right weather to go for a walk especially after having sat all day yesterday hunched up at the computer, teaching then illustrating my book.
The damp and humidity always remind me of Richmond Park, the area near where I grew up before moving to Cordova in southern Spain. (Why and how I made this move is explained inthis illustrated summary!)
A misty day by Adams Pond in Richmond Park near the Sheen Gates entrance. This was taken in November last year when I was there visiting my mother and brother and I am longing to return as soon as this Covid rubbish is beaten! There are some lovely photos of the park in their Facebook pageAnyway, the morning here in the countryside of Posadas (Cordova) was fresh, dewy and the mist was out…
as was the verdigris lichen
and dew on the prickly, wild asparagus bush.The cows were also out, some sheltering under the olive trees……and the flowers on the wild rosemary that was growing between the cracks in the schist were also out……as were the small, wild ‘acebuche’ olives……and myrtle berries……on their fragrant bushes.The coppers were out too…
…and the humble acorns on the holly oaks.
The wild boar’s out as well and the earth next to my vegetable patch is all hoofed up again! And not too far away, as the mist lifts…
…the lads are out picking the young arbequina olives by hand (‘milking’ the trees)
So these were some of the things that were out early this morning, as well as me!
But to end on a literary note, and with reference to the myrtle in the above photos, I’ve included a poem about this bush. It was written by Mary Robinson, a very fascinating lady.
Hi folks — I hope you are all well and managing okay in these difficult times.
I just wanted to share with you a few photos of how I restraightened my back, neck and legs after sitting all day cooped up in front of the computer editing and illustrating my book…
Firstly I decided to go and visit those cows down there in yonder field (after all, socialising is pretty limited these days in Cordova, especially with the 6 o’ clock curfew!)
I was careful not to tread on those pretty ‘snowflake’ flowers that herald the coming of spring. (I mentioned them in aprevious post.)
As you can see they are growing under the ‘encina’ holly oak tree (a protected species here in this neck of the woods)
Needless to say, I was well accompanied (though only two of my ten cats came — the others were lazing around in the sun!)
The toadstools are also just beginning to poke their heads above the fallen leaves and twigs of the olive trees…
and the geraniums are still flourishing in between the olives
I was waylaid by the vegetable patch and stopped to collect a few tomatoes which I conveniently collected in my cap!
Some creatures waited patiently for me…
…while others rolled around in the weedy manure heap!
Furry Zeus looked on from a distance making me feel that I was hindering the ‘walkies’ process
Then I got further distracted by checking how many ‘arberquina’ olives had been picked so far and deposited in the trailer
Then I noticed that the sun was already dipping low and I wouldn’t be able to make it to the cows and back before it got dark nor before the wild boars come out to play…
So unfortunately I had to beat a hasty retreat back up the hill as it soon started to get dark. Dingo, my other dog, wasn’t all happy about that!
As you might already know from my last blog, the weather here in Cordova has done a turn. From the 38° C hot, desert-like conditions to today’s 23° C thunder and rain.
The rain has been very heavy, so I did the thing that seemed most logical to me, which was to go for a walk. You know — ‘mad dogs and Englishmen’ sort of thing. (Or in my case, ‘mad dogs and Englishwomen’.) But at least I went armed with an undersized, telescopic umbrella the diameter of which wouldn’t even span my shoulders — and clad in a skimpy muscle tee-shirt despite the gale-force winds.
It had been a long time since I visited the Roman quarry, Cantera Honda, and being a former geologist, I was dying to delve back in the past. A past where after the sea receded from this part of the land in Cretaceous times, the ancient civilisations moved in: Stone Age man, the Celtiberians, Phoenicians, Romans, Moors etc. They left their mark upon the land — higher up on the ridge of the hills there are Stone Age dolmens, while lower down, the Romans quarried the land for stone from which they hewed out pillars that were then used in many of their palaces, temples and buildings. The pillars were rolled down the hill, carted by donkeys and loaded onto boats that then navigated their way along the Guadaquivir River eastwards to Cordova or westwards to Seville. (There are also many other mines in the vicinity of Roman, Moorish and modern age. More about that in another blog.)
Anyway, to cut a long story short, being an enthusiast of geology, culture and history, I thought I would mosey on down there, take some unprofessional, blurry photos in the rain which I could then share with you. I hope you enjoy my ‘walk’!
WARNING: There are quite a lot of photos, and they are rather grey because of the grey weather!
I left home when there seemed to be a ceasefire from the heavy showersI parked alongside my son’s olive grove, but by this time it had already started spitting. The earth was red from the earlier rainThe path passed by mature olive trees, soon to be harvested……and by the many dwarf palms that populate these lower footslopes of the Sierrezuela. (You can eat their berries)The colours became deeper as the sky gradually became more overcast. This was the sky that was behind me, but steadily moving in my direction……but ahead of me, towards the ‘finca’ planted with new olive trees, things looked clearer.
I passed by loads of giant fennel which smelled so fennelly and aromatic after the rain
And there are wild fig trees growing straight out of cracks in the bedrock
I would’ve eaten the figs had they not been as hard as rocks!I continued to walk westwards along this path, though the light became dimmerI passed the bordering palm treesI paused to look backwards over my shoulder, and I saw how the thunder clouds were quickly catching up with me. There was just one single beam of angelic light that was focusing down onto the village of Posadas in the distanceOnwards I pressed. I reached the sign directing me right to ‘Cantera Honda‘
I stepped over shelly sea fossils, millions of years old…and then a few steps ahead I came to the first ancient Roman column that had, with time, become half-buried in earth
And then there was a second just lying under a large pistacia bush
This poster told me I was now close to the quarry Cantera Honda (which is located on the local footpath of the Roman Paterna route)I reached the entrance of the quarry, and yes, it was raining quite heavily now! (Nothing like taking photos in the rain!!)Old columns and pillars hewn out from the quarry walls and shaped in rounded form by the Romans were strewn everywhere. (And now it was pouring — you can see the lines of rain if you look at the fig tree in the centre back)
More broken cylindrical rock up the side of the quarry (and more rain too, also noticeable !)
Above the quarry, broken columns just scattered the place, carelessly abandoned as if the Romans (or their slaves rather) had just upped it and left and more broken columns……and yet moreand even more…still having kept their recognisable form after 2000-odd years. (If only stone could talk!)
I was up at the top of the quarry (being careful not to slip — there is no fence) — and by now it was pelting (as you can see in the photo)
I was thoroughly drenched by now despite my measly umbrella, and my photos were becoming increasingly blurry, so I decided that it was time to turn around and leg it back…
I pussyfooted over the squidgy puddles and fast-running rivulets
..and with every footstep I became increasingly wetter — and so did my fox!
The fields took on another semblance than that of before — new rivulets, and the higher fields awash with water: (talk about soil erosion!)I headed back as fast as I could under the rumbling, menacing sky……until soon I reached my haven. (At least the rains had washed it clean — about the first good wash it’s had all summer — I hate washing cars!!!)I thought of taking my wet, muddy trousers off, but then again I thought, ‘Better not in case the ‘trafico’ road police are there doing spot checks on the cars. Could be embarrassing… but then I could always reply in my Englishy accent: «¡Oh, lo siento! No sé…» — pronounced, «Oh, low sientow! Know say», meaning «Oh, I’m sorry! I don’t know…»And just as I started to drive off, the skies started clearing. Sod’s law!
However, it was an enjoyable morning when all said and done, and I’ve been able to share my experience and photos with you, which I hope you’ve enjoyed.
If something can be learned from my little escapade it’s this: have a nice mug of steaming Tetley’s as soon as you get back indoors (the tea that is, not the beer!).
Well, at least I won’t be needing a shower tonight!
Thank you for visiting. If you like what you have read, then you might want to read some more. My book An English Lady in Cordova – the Alternative Guide is available from here. (I’ve finally learnt how to do the ‘Here’ thing!)
Hi folks! Firstly, I hope this finds you all in good health and spirits — these are difficult and testing times that we are living. We all have to get on as best we can and keep our spirits up, not just for ourselves, but those around us. After all, we are all brothers and sisters, aren’t we?
Anyway, I haven’t written for a while because I have fallen in love…
… fallen in love with these acrylic paint pens that I bought a little time ago and I just can’t be parted from them…
They are waterproof and non-toxic
So I wanted to share with you some of the things that I’ve painted since last I wrote…
Some of the smaller ‘golden’ stones with the flower motifs would be good as mosaic pieces, while the larger ones could serve as paperweights. I have written a description of where I got the stone from on the back, as a memento:–
Though the paint is water-resistant, I will be varnishing them before I then put them up for sale on my online shop and also a tourist shop in the Judería (Old Jewish Quarters) in Cordova town — that is, when the shop reopens again. Fingers crossed! (If you’re interested in any, then do let me know!)
We had a couple of promising cooler days last week where the temperatures only reached 33° C (= 91.4° F) so I painted outside in my D-garden. As you can see, I had some help (?) from my faithful friends, Sebastian and Little Grey.
They mean well though!
However, temperatures have since risen to the 38° C mark (104° F), so I paint upstairs in my craft room, surrounded by heaps of inspiration, even if it is a little noisy due to the whirring and whining of the two inverters that have just been screwed to the wall and coupled up with the solar panels we have. (The price of electricity is EXORBITANT in Spain, notably so if you have 3-phase agricultural supply like we have. Our socialist president, Pedro Sanchez, really should do something about it, especially if he wants to win the next elections, which might be sooner than he thinks due to his handling of the Covid situation.)
Anyway, since painting stones has also involved quite a bit of sitting down, I decided that it was high time I went for a brisk walk, heat or no heat. So being a Sunday, I got up quite late, at around 8. (Also I slept late not only because of the evening heat that lingers, but because these days I usually end up doing some time of night-time vigil, watching over my vegetable patch as the wild boars still loom large. I usually hear the familiar grunts, but luckily the vegetables have remained unscathed. Fingers crossed again!)
And the aubergine’s steadily and safely growing, away from the boars’ tusks (even if a little out of focus!)
So I just thought I’d share with you a couple of photos from my dry, dusty walk in the neighbouring hills of the Sierrezuela. (If you’d like to know more about this area or see more photos, then you can check out some of my earlier blogs with Sierrezuela in the title. Sorry, still haven’t worked out how to put ‘Here’ to direct you straight to the link, unlike the many other of you who have managed to work it out…)
The reddish, dusty path wends up and down, partly shaded by the pine trees, past dolmens and illegal (?) houses, and overlooks valleys and the hilly Sierra Morena range in the background., as well as the haunted castle of Almodóvar del Río
Last but not least, here are a couple of photos of last evening’s sunset.
Well, I think that’s all for now. Thank you for reading and as usual I welcome any of your comments or questions.
An English Lady in Cordova 