January 2006

Things almost never turn out the way you expect them to. This is especially true when it comes to vacations. I learned this lesson years ago when I first traveled as an adult to Europe. The more things didn't go my way, the unhappier I got... and the unhappier I made everyone else around me. It wasn't until shortly after returning from my sojourn that I realized what had happened, and I swiftly changed my outlook. I'm a quick study when it comes to attitude adjustment, and this was reflected later that same year on my trip to Thailand - a much happier vacation.

As I was saying, you picture things one way in you mind, and invariably they turn out looking like something else entirely. Now, this is not necessarily a bad thing; it's all a matter of perspective. For example: let's say you were adamant about getting a pony for your birthday. Instead you got a dog and you were pretty bummed out. What if it turned out to be the best dog in the world, able to do cool tricks and stunts? The only problem was that you would have to be the one to train it to find out. If you never took the time because all you wanted was that damned pony, well you'd never find out just how great he was. But, if you did... if you actually took the time and put the work into having the best dog in the world... . Well, you just might have the time of your life... or at least someone's life at any rate.

No, this isn't about my birthday - well, not directly - and I don't need a pony. We've got burros! Two of them! And I could ride them if I... er... they wanted. Either way, we've got burros... and chickens... and goats... and cats, and dogs, and rabbits, and other creatures that I'm sure we have that I'm as yet unaware of. That's right, I'm living on a ranch in the south of Spain.

So what - so I'm not running around doing the touristy things that I'd thought I would, seeing the sights and sipping virgin daiquiris on the beach. I am spending time getting to know my family and what they're about. And, I'm doing quite a few things that I've never really done before, as well assome things I haven't done in years.

Curious?
Well, let me tell you about it.

First off, I'm learning conversational Spanish - "Slowly, slowly catching monkey," as mi tio is so fond of saying. Learning a language is like that - so many words / mas palabras - when you learn a little bit, you find that there's so much more that you don't know, and thus it all gets even further away from you. I know now both more and less than I ever have about speaking Spanish. Some of you have taken the learning-to-speak-a-foreign-language train before, and know exactly what I mean. Slowly, slowly catching monkey. ["Lentamente, mono lentamente que coge" - AB]

As I've said, there are quite a few things that I'm doing that I haven't done before / in quite a while. I've learned to pick olives, for instance.

 

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Mum and me on mi Cumpleanos	John and the Big Olive Score	Raphael Tortuga: Executive Olive Picker!

We have about 1,000 olive trees on our sizable property here in the Andalusia Mountains. Subsequently, I've had plenty of practice in the variety of ways you can collect olives. You can pluck them from the ground after someone has beaten and/or shook them from the tree. You can pick them from the tree itself, and this way you get the freshest of olives though it does take longer. The fastest and easiest way to collect them, however, is to spread a large net on the ground. The net is more like a large, loose, screen, and you lay it out around the tree in such a way as to catch the olives as they fall when the tree is beaten with a big stick called la bara. Usually I am standing a little ways down the mountain - most of our collecting is done at a severe angle - holding up my end of the net and making sure that none of the olives roll/bounce past me. It's towards the end of olive season here in Spain, and we have about a month left to gather at least 80 kilos together. That's the minimum amount required for the mill to take for squeezing. Basically we have to collect 20 large bags - we've got around seven so far. At roughly four kilos a bag that's... well, that's a whole shit-load of olives. Olive oil is a big thing in most of the world, but especially here in Europe. There's been quite the olive drought this season, and the price is going way up as neighboring countries scramble for their year's allotment. My family has decided to collect rather than purchase this year, and so daily I find myself clinging to the side of a mountain while olives rain down around me and goats nibble at my toesies. Get the picture? Good, because I don't think that I could go on about this anymore.

Of course, there are a variety of other things that I do here on the ranch. But first, a little background. Before my family moved from Glossodia in New South Wales, Australia - just a year or so ago - their spread of land was called Rancho España, but here in the countryside near Malaga, Spainit's known as corteja El Cura - which basically translates to the priest home. Apparently this corteja was at one time a religious structure. Maybe this explains why, though I am staying in a strange place with many a strange noise to be heard en la noche, I've never been wary about resting my head and chasing sleep.

 

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Cortija el Cura	Rome's Glory, still standing	Carlos and I break for a sheep crossing

I'm spending time here with my birthmother (Mum) and the two men who long ago became her family (Carlos and John) and who are now fast becoming part of mine. They have been together for more than 40 years, spending most of that time dancing and performing around the globe as the world-renowned flamenco troupe, Los Carmonas. It is a bit surreal living and working and laughing with these people whom I barely know and yet are strangely familiar. Whether this is due to me and me mum's shared gene pool or the fact that I already share a similar family dynamic with my brothers, Los Tortugas, I don't know... but I do know that I like it. And as with my Brothers Tortuga, this, too, feels like home.

While here I've also chopped wood; moved stones; helped chisel holes around a window and put in the security bars; fed and cared for burros, goats, and chickens, and rabbits - oh my! I've also assisted in constructing a small building - mixing cement, laying brick, and even using a pickaxe on dirt and stone to dig out an area for the incubator. This new building is where we're moving the chickens and rabbits, etc. to so that we can turn the other into a small home. They're hoping to lease that one out to a couple in exchange for watching over the property and taking care of some of the chores. Any takers?

 

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Have axe, will chop!	I got a huge Chip-Away set for my birthday!	John and I bring in more firewood

With all this going on, we don't get to town much. Maybe once or twice a week we make the 25-30 minute jaunt down the mountain on winding roads that twist and turn enough to do the same to your stomach. They laughed at me the first time I put on my seat belt, but I put it on anyway. I'm from Florida, and it's mostly flat there. I've been here just over three weeks, and I still couldn't find my way into town - too many curves, crooks, and side roads... not to mention the occasional sheep or burro crossing.

When I do get into town it's usually to Pizarra. It's not a bad place, but not very touristy. That means no Internet cafes, no Spanish knickknacks for my friends back home, and no post cards. Don't worry; I did manage to find post cards in Alora. (That's A-lo-ra and not A-lo-ra like you'd think. The accent is on the first 'A'.) I also found an Internet café there. Only three weeks or so into my trip and I was finally able to let a few people know that I am alive and well.

 

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Welcome to Pizarra	Alora - Que Bonita!	I get lucky in Alora

The only real contact that I've had with the outside world is through Spanish TV. It's bad enough that I can't quite make out what they're saying - though my mum does translate the juicy stuff for me once in a while - but they don't really talk about anything going on in the States. FYI: we're not Americans here. Usually when they're talking about Americans they mean South Americans. We're from los Estados Unidos. Weird from our perspective of being the end-all be-all, but you get used to it. So anyway, I have no idea what's been happening States-side the last three weeks, and I feel like I'm missing out on the really important stuff. It's maddening! I mean, can anyone tell me how the Tampa Bay Bucs are doing?! Sheesh!

I have reached the point in my "vacation" where I have become homesick. It tends to happen to me whenever I spend a lengthy amount of time - evidently three weeks plus - outside the US. I miss my country, I miss my friends, I miss my life! I have been given the opportunity to see Spain through the eyes of people who live here and, though it is a beautiful country, it is not my country. As always, I urge each one of you to take every chance you have to broaden your horizons and see new lands, meet new people, taste new sensations. It is well worth the experience... but never forget the country that affords you the freedom to do so.

Believe me when I tell you - there's no place like home.