The weather has turned once again. We are now into the summer season which means the temperature is slowly creeping up to the mid 30’s each day which means more issues with trying to walk the dogs at a time and place where they’re not going to overheat.
This means the hills around Cordoba. It’s the only place remotely suitable for them. I could take them over the other side of the train tracks but that would mean navigating the broken glass that the local young Reefer Smokers like to sit amongst on the steps as well as the ticks that hide in the long grass and the mud patches that Dora loves to walk in in addition to the people who walk their dog to the area and then stand there for hours on end just talking with other people or on their phone whilst their poor dog hangs around looking bored.
If it were possible to define the overarching activity for all Andalusians then I would say it has to be talking. They will do this anywhere. They will drive their car and turn around to talk, at length, to the people sat behind them oblivious to the road ahead. They will talk at the doctor’s surgery at volume because otherwise it might be a bit dull. They will walk over to talk to their fellow police officers who are trying to help some idiot foreigner who has lost his wallet and is trying to deal with the fiendishly difficult process of trying to replace his cards – HANDY TIP: Don’t ever lose your wallet – and who obviously needs more advice.
Andalusians will talk to you with great enthusiasm about how you shouldn’t fall down heavily whilst doing a two and half hour trail run that literally goes over the top of mountains and about how having good trainers is a good idea. They will talk, unbelievably loudly and for an awfully long time, during a gig that you’re trying to enjoy because the cover band you’re watching are rather good.
And if you think it is only British people who talk repeatedly about the weather, think again.
They will, naturally, talk during a football match in Cordoba because that’s normal for everyone in the world. They’ll say bad words to the referee and to the opposition players and that’s rather enjoyable if I’m being totally honest. They will also look at you in puzzlement when you call the referee and opposition bad words in English because you’re now a fan of a rather non-descript team in the second tier of Spanish football but who elicit passion from the residents of the city.
What to do? Several of my work colleagues have season tickets so I asked to tag along. They find it amusing that I would be excited about it. Their way of looking at it is that they will support Barcelona or the big Madrid teams for the glory but will go to Cordoba FC games for the suffering.
The end of the football season here coincides with Feria/Festival time whereupon thousands descend upon any city, town or village to party into the small hours. Fuente Tojar had theirs last weekend which Sonalee avoided due to a gig and galivanting with fellow colleagues and which I returned to just to allow the dogs some time in the campo that they love so much.
Graham and Jane described the nights as Hell. This is because they live opposite the plaza where the bloody loud action takes place. They also have a garage whose doors are used as one of the unofficial toilets for the hundreds of patrons to use if the 2 (yes, two!) official ones are busy. Obviously the campo nearby is also used.
Dora enjoyed it though. She got to bark at the tons of people committing the despicable crime of Walking Down Her Street And Talking Loudly.
The Feria in Cordoba is on another scale entirely, to the point where schools close for a couple of days just because if they didn’t then no one would turn up anyway. Imagine the biggest fairground you’ve ever seen and then quadruple it. It will be chaos and we will not be going – walkies in the campo will be far more preferable.
It will be a nice break from the bizarre, dangerous and frankly unbelievable driving antics of the local populace – each day brings a new surprise – and the sight of so many locals sat around eating caracoles from the hundreds of pop-up tents serving the seasonal delicacy in every plaza in the city.
We are nearing the end of the academic year at school and it has been a busy time especially for Sonalee as the older students complete their formal exams. We’re both a bit tired and are really looking forward to spending much more time in Fuente Tojar and in our home. We miss it despite its quirks and foibles. We know how lucky we are with the deal we have with the place in Cordoba – it has a swimming pool after all – but the dogs need to be in the village and Luna needs to run in the campo.
The cats? Well the cats will be annoyed wherever we are because they’re cats. They tolerate me as I am the purveyor of ham each evening. We think they prefer being in the village since the house is much bigger and has lots more soft furnishings to lie on without dogs. But, you know, they’re cats.
It’s hot!
Hasta Luego, inshallah
Ciao
Ayubowan
Paul
PS We saw these guys last weekend. Loved their Depeche Mode stuff. They have been around for quite a while.