After surviving the boat trip and clearing customs we started our journey to th South of Spain.
I had been asked to do a favour for a friend whilst on my travels!My friend had bought a small cortijo on the Mediterranean coast. A cortijo is the Spanish name given to a small rural farmhouse! This friend, (having to quickly disappear some funds that would have otherwise be liberated by the tax man), had responded to an advert in the Exchange & Mart. He sealed the purchase over the phone with nothing more than a black and white faxed photo. So I was charged to try to first find where he had bought, and let him know what on earth it was! Andalucía had been a favorite as we had pawed over maps, read books and had decided that in this large region with coasts from Portugal to Murcia we surely would find somewhere to start our Jet Ski dream! So, with nowhere better to aim for we decided to find our friends cortijo, which was on the southern most coast of Andalucia in the province of Granada.
It had taken a few circuits of Santander center looking for the signpost that would lead us to the open road leading southwards. We revealed in the austerity of our first Spanish city, surveying all that was miles away from the culture we had left.
Having found our way, we drove for a few hours in complete silence, awed by the views, terrains, sights and smells. Not far south of Santander, we started climbinng up a winding mountain road, through an enchanting ancient forest. The late morning sunshine was pleasant, and our mood was now light and optimistic.
The assent was very steep in most parts and the campervan laboured up slowly under the weight of the trailer with it's load of jetskis and assorted paraphynalia. My eye would constantly flicker to the temperature gauge that was dangerously close to the red zone, I nervously searched for somewhere to pull over to allow the engine to cool. The lush vegitation and woodlands had now given way to a rocky and barren landscape.
The sides of the road were punctuated with three meter red and white poles. The purpose of these was to indicate where the road was in times of heavy snow, allowing the ploughs to carve a way through. I was grateful that it was not winter! The air got thin and a little chilly, which helped the long suffering engine somewhat. There then appeared an old stone barn standing lonely amongst the sharp hard terrain, as we neared we could see a small sign hanging off the front announcing that it was actually a road side Café Bar. With a squeal of glee we pulled in for coffee.
As we dismounted from the van we felt the familiar pitching feeling of the boat, motion sickness was going to stay with us for a further few days! The coffee was excellent, which is something that Spain quietly triumphs in. You could always get a great cup of coffee, from an old stone barn, a petrol station bar, or a rickety wooden shack on a lonely beach. We were the only patrons in the bar at the time so I tried to strike up a conversation with the barman, I failed in any effective way! I had an audio course in Spanish which I had been studying, but once I had used up the greetings and ordering of coffee the lessons had been more or less used up. I resorted to sign language and the international pointing finger. The barman was quite pleasant and cheerful, and did not seem bothered with my burblings. Fortified by the coffee I used up my last card and with an "adios" decided to forge on.
As we were walking towards the campervan a large english plated car pulled in steaming proffusely from its radiator. I recognised the couple from the ferry. I went over to ask if they were alright and could I help in any way. They were quite a scruffy and dishevelled couple and a little on the freaky side, but then again weren't all of the people on the boat a bit freaky in their own way? We were all deserting our homeland for an unknown life in a foreign land. They explained that the car had been overheating all the way up the mountain and they would just need to allow the car to cool and top up the water. They would then be on their way. We all chatted together in a quite animated way, recounting our experiences on that frought crossing.
It seemed quite surreal standing on top of a Spanish mountain with no one else in sight taking to compatriots as if thrown together into some type of time warp .
We decided to take another coffee and chat some more. The four of us went back in the bar to order more drinks. The barman looked suprised as we re-entered but greeted us like old friends. We all sat around a small wooden table and made our introductions. He was a Dave and she was a René and they could be best described as alternative. They too were leaving to start a new life in Southern Spain. They had packed in their car, Dave told me, a canvas that had been made up into a covering for a 'Tipi'as they called it, which was a type of American Indian 'Wigwam' tent. They only needed to find the wooden poles to support it when they reached their destination. Dave went on to explain that a small 'Tipi' village had sprung up in a lush valley surrounded by all the natural resources that would be needed for a completely self-sufficient community to live, undisturbed by the ways of the modern world. I was quite fascinated and asked them to tell me more. René explained that the makeshift village educated their own children and ran the community with the ethos of the American Indians, respecting nature and not harming the earth that fed them. Each member had a trade or skill that benifitted the greater good, she was a midwife and he was a market gardener.
I wasn't sure that they completely approved of our plans to run fossil-fueled machines as a business, but we all politlely wished each other good luck in our new lives as we walked out to see if the cars had now cooled down. As Dave replenished the radiator with water I noticed that the whole back of the car was indeed well over loaded, but there was something quite odd about this car. It was much longer than your average estate, and had a long window that stretched all along the back. I took a step backwards and suddenly realized that it was infact an old-fashoned hearst. Good God I thought, quite shocked, how many loved ones had been taken to their final resting place in the back of this car? And now it was transporting this off beat couple, and all their worldly posessions, across the length ofSpain! I found it all a little macarb. we watched in disbelief as they took off up the mountain discharging a cloud of blue smoke behind them.
