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Holiday travel countdown: 7 days!!!
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Saturday morning the village has its weekly market down in the central carpark. Which means that if you're not in the know and mistakenly leave your car parked on the southern half of the lot Friday night, when you come looking for it Saturday, the car won't be there. And the local police, who have had the coche towed, won't tell you where it is. So you get to spend Saturday traipsing up and down the village looking for it. Just a sample of the local humor. :-)
I did not buy much because we are traveling in a week and I want to use up as much of the produce that I already have. But I did stop at the flower stall so that I could pick up a few poinsettias to put in the windows. Thus far, I have done minimal holiday decorating, but after I saw Iluminada and Antonio had flashing lights around the balcony, a Santa-on-a-rope (these are v. popular here because nobody has a front yard but almost everyone has a terrace or balcony, perfect for hanging a "Santa-on-a-rope"; besides, the chimneys are v. narrow and no child would ever believe anyone could fit down such a tight space, making an entrance via the balcony much more convincing), and some tinsel above their front door, I figured I better do my part to "keep up with the Lopezes".
When I arrived back home, there was quite a crowd in the street, all the neighbor ladies, a bunch of grandchildren, and Linda (pronounced Leeeeen-da), I&A's latest puppy. Leeeeenda is a cute little thing, and she always gets so excited when she sees me, which amazes the neighbors so. This is only because I actually pay attention to her and make a little happy fuss and let her kiss my face---people in the village still don't really get the concept of pets. They get them as puppies when they are supercute, and by the time they get to the awkward-looking 4- to 5-month-old stage the locals become bored with them, and then god forbid when they go into heat, the dogs are thrown into the streets and called putas when they get gang-banged, most of the resulting puppies drowned, etc., etc. It is one of those cultural difference things I have not come to terms with, nor do I think I ever will.
After I handed Leeeeenda back to Iluminada, I was cornered by Almendena and the Herb Thief, who wanted to admire the poinsettias. Mena wanted to know where I was going to put them, "not up there, are you?" she asked pointing to the windows a floor up. I said no, probably on the two windows on the ground level and perhaps one by the doorstep. She and Herb Thief agreed that would be much better. They then told me, both speaking simultaneously over one another, that when Big Jim and I leave on the 22nd (how they knew the exact date I have no idea), they will make certain that they are watered while we are away.
I enthusiastically thanked them both as this was a very big deal; neither has ever offered to look after the place when Big Jim and I have traveled. We admired the flowers some more, and I told them it wouldn't be the holidays for me without poinsettias and a Christmas tree. Almendena jumped, "Espera, espera," and ran into her house. This was peculiar; people in the village don't generally move very fast. From inside the front room, she then called out, "Ven, ven," so I put down my bags in front of our house and went across to see what she had to show me.
Being invited into a neighbor's house here is also a very big deal, and in five years I have only been in Almendena's house once a year, on her birthday when I drop off a little gift and she insists on giving me a drink and some bonbons. As I peaked into the sitting room, I saw the little Christmas tree with its colored twinkly lights, and in the corner table was the Nacimiento, also surrounded with the same colored twinkly lights. Mena explained that she had bought the figures and painted them herself. She handed me the shepherd to admire, and I was impressed by her handiwork and the careful attention to detail, as well as by the fact that I actually could pull pastor from my slightly scattered brain---these women talk FAST when they are excited.
But then Herb Thief, who had followed me into the lounge, wiped her hands on her apron and announced she had to get back to preparing almuerzo, and Almendena jumped again when she saw the time, "¡Ay dios mio!" I don't think her family has ever had an afternoon meal not served exactly at 2:05. So I said my good-byes, let myself out, and walked the six feet to our front door.
As Herb Thief walked past, she told me that Almendena had also painted the figuras of her Nacimiento as well. And to think for all this time I thought the only painting Mena liked to do was the annual white-washing touch-ups she and the other women do the week before Semana Santa. Which makes me wonder what other talents the village women have hidden behind their buckets and mops....
One of my favorite fotos of the pups ever. From near Tavertet, in the north of Spain, where we spent the holidays last year.
hasta mañana,
mylifeinspain
This year, in addition to our usual 20-euro share, we also have joined up with a special 
