Thursday, 29 September 2016

Come along! Adventures in the Calasparra mountains

 See that mountain? We are going there.
First, we wiĺl be passing by the in comparison much smaller tv-hill with important antennas and such, encircled by two rainbows: it rains a little. 
That's the thing with trekking: always turn around to see another stunning view. *Aah*
Here starts a nature trail to Moratella,
but we are going to follow Camino del Altiplano together with the other sporty people in bright shirts only a bit,
 Calasparra to our back
 and olive trees and mountains to the right
 and even some human touch
till it is time to start mounting Saint Miguel itself.
It rains a little again and wets our hair, but that just boosts us.
 We fund vibrantly colourful lichen. It stops raining.
 Up and up. Breathe well!
 Calasparra again, and trekking people with an umbrella. It starts raining.
But these exceptional shoes can take it. Good sport shops to visit when we come back are discussed. It stops raining and starts again, we lose count after the fifth time.
 Flora <3
We remember last time we went trekking and it looked like this, which should be about ten years ago.
 Flower I wish I knew the name of, do you know?
A mix of "aaah" and "a system camera would be good to have".
Oh, this is not it? Why is it alway, always ALWAYS more high up and farther away than one thinks? Here we think about the friends who would talk us out of this path and those who would encourage us. The rain blows vertically in the right ear but just for a while.
We realise that we can see La Cañada from here! Is it that close? No, it is not, it is just the mountain impression. We try to look for the Sanctuary de la Esperanza and the Puerto caves too, but the landscape is a bit too vast for a good estimation.
If we wanted to die up here, berries are at our service.
Sun begins to set and we try to think rationally about what would be the most rational thing to do.
Then we turn around, see this cloud and text "fuck" to a friend.
It is not that it is raining, it is that it also moves fast and rains A LOT.
We need a shelter. NOW.
Then how lucky that this sacred place is at hand. It is locked, but let's see what is on the other side! Hurry up, the first drops are already reaching us.
There is only one option: to squeeze in to this opening and wait out the rain.
 From this side of the church, it all looks peaceful, but the wind blows like a mild storm through our backs as a prelude. Then, everything becomes all white-grey and you are very happy for that window. So am I.
 But the trouble is not over yet:
the sun is about to set.
 And none of us brought a torch. So we HAVE to start go back though it rains still.
One of us wants to sleep as we descend jumping from rock to rock like gazelles and why not, there seems to be zero animals around. 
We get down safe, in one piece. 
High five, let's do this again some day! 

Wednesday, 28 September 2016

The sound of... not music

Military aviation.
What seems to be every weekday at 17.00 sharp, they make a circle around my house with ultrasonic speed. Today I managed to get a glimpse of one - maybe it is just one.

Wolf-whistling birds.
I am quite certain about this. The birds in the two trees opposite my terrace have a lot to say and fly arrends of all kinds, always busy as if they were up to something. Very cheerful.

The silence of my house:
"What is that sound?" friend said and then exclaimed: "Oh, now I know! It is me breathing."

Tuesday, 27 September 2016

Walking in Madrid and some poetry.

First, some Madrid captures. Then, some poetry. 
 A happy, empty street. How can you tell it is 8 a.m. on a Sunday? It is quiet. Everybody is asleep. Partying continues till at least 5 a.m.
 I walked to Matadero, the equivalent to Museum of Modern arts. First it was confusing because I didn't know where to go, but figured it out soon: there ARE many buildings, there ARE simultaneous different exhibitions going on. The tabloids seen here represent the program of each building, more or less. 
 The favourite that stuck in my heart was the sunflower walk (indoors!). It was like walking on the countryside, with sand and pebble, and houses projected at the end of the lane. It is about the Spanish house bubble 2002-2007. Artists: Madrid group Basurama.
There was also an art fair I didn't find interesting enough to enter and a market with huge flower bags and Turkish delight. This is cherry flavour, thumbs up.
Then it was time for a four-hour ride by car home. Seeing air wind mills in rows brings out one poetic reference after another. They form a cabaret group, no, syncronised swimmers, and they stich, stich, stich the clouds. 

Sunday, 25 September 2016

Madrid and I

 Hold on, here comes a stamp story that was made complicated because of the visit to the capital. 

At the regional post office in Murcia, in south east Spain, I asked for stamps to Europe. It was all very clear and one guy even spoke English: one such stamp for up to 50 grams heavy letters. I bought ten of them and put such a stamp on a 40 gram letter to Linköping, Sweden, and it made it all the way to my friend's mailbox smoothly. But, the next time I came to the post office, they said that in fact I needed two such stamps for a letter of more than 20 grams within Europe. Same stamp is valid for letters up to 50 grams WITHIN Spain but for 20 grams outside of Spain. Ok, now convinced I knew it all, I put one such stamp on a postcard à 0,005 kg and went to the biggest post office in Madrid. THREE people were needed to help me modify my postcard stamp and getting the right three special stamps, worth 25 cents in total, in addition to two heavy-letters-within-Spain stamps.

"Do you still like post office?" friend says with a smirk.
"Take a photo of my frustration", I reply.
 Then I went to the Parque de él Retiro, to the most beautiful glass building I have seen anywhere. The fish in the pond across is about the size of the swans but hide well and there are at least 20 turtles that all have the steady diet of popcorn and white bread.
Gran Vía and I started an acquintance. We went on at least four walks together, same spot each time.
Ministry of Education, technically my job place! 
Inanimate objects that still make a city's soul.
This is inside a shop. Museums can look less fabulous. 
 And then it was quickly time for dusk, again.  
 A hip man in dark clothes and light blue jeans set up these not so legal ads.
 Night clubs started pumping with life.
And I found a childhood shop! A greek place with sweets and cookies from the city I grew up in.