Bats, Roman slaves and food breaks
I remember that when I lived in the UK we'd often say, "Shall we go out for a drink?" Maybe it's the plastic chairs, and maybe it's just the state of my liver, but I wouldn't think to suggest that here in Spain. Obviously, given my strict Wesleyan upbringing, I'm happy to drink alcohol, but it's more a situational thing than a desire. We go out to eat, for instance, and, given that I don't have to drive, I'll put away as much of the stuff as I can so that I wobble but don't topple. When I do make one of those forays from the Englishness of home into the outside world of Spain, I'm far more inclined to go out to eat than to drink—and usually for lunch rather than dinner.
These days, an outing is much more likely to involve a romería, visiting somewhere, seeing an exhibition, catching a performance or, now and then, taking in something sporty—like snapping a few photos of bikes racing past.
And, as I said, on Saturday evening it was bats. There is an area, bounded by Petrer, Castalla, Tibi and Agost, which is referred to by the distinctly un-snappy title of The Protected Countryside of the Mountainous Areas of Maigmó and el Cid—the Paisaje Protegido de la Serra del Maigmó i la Serra del Sit. This protected area has education officers, and one of them had organised a bat-related event in Petrer. First we got the talk about their habitats and whatnot (the bats, not the education officers), then we went for a stroll around the town with a device that detected the ultrasonic sounds emitted by the flying mammals. I should mention that, being Spain, we were given time for a food break in the gap between the talk and the walk!
We've done other things with the same people: a Christmas climb to the top of el Cid wearing Christmas clothing, a wander around the sand dunes hunting out scorpions, shooting star spotting on top of a mountain and a hike around some woodland looking at the remains of old-style woodland trades, from quarrying and charcoal making to tree husbandry. They always advise stout shoes and an appropriate "picnic". Some events are repeated annually or seasonally; others seem to be one-offs. What I particularly like about these events is that they usually cost nothing.
In fact, there are plenty of other free things to do. Yesterday, for instance, before the bats, we popped into the Dámaso Museum in Petrer, basically to see a photo exhibition, but we bumped into one of their "open door" events. So as not to be rude, we let a couple of lads dressed as Roman slaves tell us about their work making bricks and amphoras for export back to Rome. This evening we can choose between a couple of music exchange events in Monóvar or on home ground in Pinoso, and a romería with a carved wooden saint handing out fruit in Sax. Next weekend I'm going to see the Castilian-Leonese singer Cristina Len at the Murmullos festival in the Ricote Valley, and the weekend after that it's a dramatised walk around 19th-century Jumilla.
Most of the Murcian tourist offices organise themed guided walks around their local area, and the one I mentioned in Jumilla in a couple of weeks is part of that programme. Just looking at next weekend, for instance, Caravaca has a visit based on the six religious orders that were important in the town, Moratalla is doing a visit to its cave paintings, Torre-Pacheco has a midnight yoga session "under the stars", and Totana is organising a visit to its snow caves and another to a Bronze Age site. Murcia city, as it does every weekend, has city tours with a mediaeval and classical theme, while Yecla is doing a visit around the town centre at sunset. And that's just some of them: there are another five on Sunday.
The other week I saw a ghost and legends walk advertised around Elche—a bit like the Jack the Ripper tours in the East End. I asked Maggie if she fancied it. "Thirteen euros," she said. "Thirteen euros per person? Is the food included or something?"
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