Les Velles de Sèrra

I don't think I'm unusual in keeping my diary on Google calendar. It reminds me of the repetitive jobs, it reminds me of important appointments and it reminds me of birthdays. In fact it's probably one of the main banes of my life with its constant nag, nag nag. I also use the diary to jot down something interesting that I've missed. In that case I put a note to myself, at some appropriate time in the future, to check the details/dates/blood type of the missed event so that I catch it this time around. 

A reminder turned up a couple of weeks ago that said check Les Velles de Sèrra in Elche. So I did. There were several newspaper articles and bits on websites that talked about reviving this ancient tradition. It turned out to be a bit like the scarecrow competitions in the UK or Día de la Vieja in el Cantón with large dolls or mannequins dotted around the streets. In the case of the Velles these were, apparently, mannequins set in a tableau with some sort of commentary on modern life.

I couldn't find any specific information beforehand on where the mannequins were but, when I left home, some 45 kms from Elche, I was optimistic that they would be in central locations. Luckily for us, as we turned up just after 2pm the tourist office was still open. I asked, in Spanish, if there was any information, specifically a map of locations, for Les Velles de Serra. Now my Valenciano is weak to non existent so I had no idea how to pronounce Velles de Serra and the woman behind the desk obviously thought I was asking about the Valencian Fallas which, in Valenciano, are Falles

"Ah, no", said the woman, "They're in Valencia, not here." "No, what I'm after are these scarecrow type dolls that are in the streets here today" "Ah, Velles, no, those came and went." "I don't think so, I'm pretty sure that they are today, I've read a couple of articles that say they happen today until 5pm." At this point the woman checks her computer, "Quite right, today." (Knowing that this is a stupid question) "Do you have a map or a website address with locations?" "I don't think so but my colleague who is in the bathroom at the moment may know." The colleague, a man, joins us. He tells me that I missed them, the Velles that is. The woman puts him right and tells him that the computer says they are on today. He suddenly remembers that he saw some of the mannequins in a school yard this very morning. "They may be on in the centre, or el Raval," he says. I ask him if there are any repetitive locations. He says no. I ask where el Raval is. The woman draws a circle on the map. Thank you, very kind, I say.

We walked around the centre by the Basilica, by the Town Hall, in the old Flower Market. We walked around the central bits of el Raval. We had a coffee in el Raval, the server had never heard of Les Velles de Serra. As hope faded and we headed back towards the parked car, by a purposely circuitous route, I noticed some mannequins outside a shop. The sign with them started with "Che" which I'm pretty sure is a very common sentence starter in Argentina. Good to see the Argentinians keeping their end up for a bit of ilicitano culture. Only a couple of hundred yards further on we found another mannequin tableau about the recent floods in Valencia and this one had a woman guarding it. She told us there were 36 sets of monigotes spread across the city but she didn't know where they were except that some were in some schools.

A bit of a disaster really then. Or maybe it was a triumph in that we found any. Either way the gap between promotion and information seemed somewhat surprising.

Far, far away

I used to visit Spain as a tourist long before I lived here. Usually I'd just buy a plane ticket and then find a hotel/pension when I got to wherever. Travelling around was done by public transport. 

I've always liked trains. For tourists cast adrift in a foreign land, they have the big advantage, over buses, of going to stations that have name plaques. Provided you know the name of the place you're going then it's just a case of being able to read. Of course this is long before trains, trams and buses began to speak or you could GPS track your position.

Now Spain isn't bad at signing things but it isn't good either. Signs are apt to be missing when you most need them. Sometimes they are there but not obvious. They lurk. Not big enough. Not in your eyeline. Not right somehow. Once you get the hang of it they are more noticeable but that's when you don't need them. When you're in a hurry, flustered, weighed down by kilos of baggage etc., they never seem to be there.

So, I'm in Madrid, I decide to go to el Escorial for the day. I get off the train. The few people who get off at the same halt go both left and right at the station entrance. I have no idea which way it is to town. I chose badly. It was the same in Almeria and in countless other places. I sometimes walked miles in the wrong direction dragging my luggage (some genius had still to put wheels on suitcases) before finally getting somewhere central. 

Monóvar is a town about 15 minutes drive from Pinoso.You pass through it going from our house to the motorway. When we first moved here we passed what was obviously a railway station with a board outside that read Monóvar-Pinoso.  We presumed it was a rail line between the two towns. We asked around and were told there was no longer a railway line to Pinoso but that the station was still in use and that it was possible to catch a train from there to far away Bilbao in the Basque Country. It wasn't true. It was just the sort of dodgy information that we Britons provide to other Britons. It was simply the old, long closed, railway station in the town of Monóvar which had also served Pinoso in the forgotten past. In the same way that PG Wodehouse always used to have Lord Emsworth send someone from Blandings Castle to meet the train in Market Blandings there must have been taxis or carters moving people and goods between Pinoso and Monóvar.

Right then, after five or so paragraphs of round the houses, my point is that Spain has a habit of putting its train stations a fair way from the town centre and without any signs for luggage hauling pedestrians. Not always I should add. Alicante and Murcia, Madrid and Valencia, for example, all have central railway stations

Spain has had high speed trains for ages. After I'd been to the Expo in Seville in 1992 I caught the high speed train, the AVE, to Cordoba just to have a go. I was given a glass of sherry and a newspaper as I boarded by a young uniformed woman who I suspect had been chosen for reasons that would not now be acceptable. When the line from Albacete to Madrid opened at Christmas in 2010 we drove the 90 minutes to Albacete to catch the AVE to Cuenca just for the experience or 300km/h travel. As we arrived there were people on the approaches to the station to watch the train arrive. They were there because it was still novel. Mind you there's not much to do in Cuenca on a Sunday. The AVE station in Cuenca is miles from the town centre. The bus that joins the old Main Square to the station takes 24 minutes to complete its route.

It was the same when the line was extended from Madrid to Alicante. We were there to try it out. Our nearest AVE station is in Villena; the most underused station on the whole of the AVE network. When the route for the line was being decided one of the possibilities was that it would follow the traditional tracks which run right through the middle of Villena. The locals weren't for that. They wanted the lines to run underground so that they didn't have to wait at level crossing time after time. So Adif, the people who own the lines and stations and so on, saved themselves a shedload of cash and hassle by running the line through open country close to Villena. Now it takes about a quarter of an hour to drive to the station from the middle of Villena. I bet they wish the unused land option was open them in Murcia. In Murcia city there have been pitched battles between locals, opposed to the route chosen, and the police. The tracks are set to run through an economically challenged neighbourhood on the approach to the city.

Anyway. Only a couple of weeks ago the extension of the line from Alicante to Elche to Orihuela. that will finally continue to Murcia, was opened. I had to go to Elche yesterday because there was some recall on the software on my car (cars used to be recalled for problems with the brakes or fuel lines or some such but now it's software) so I thought I'd have a look at the new AVE station when I was there. Google maps got me there. The station is down a twisty track in a field in one of Elche's pedanias, called Matola. It's 8 kilometres from the town centre and the signs were few and far between, a bit like putting the bus station for Pinoso in Culebrón. 

A clean pair of heels

There's a shoe museum in Elda. You have to ring a bell to get in. They have some very odd (sic) shoes. Elche has hundreds of shoe factories. Nowadays lots of them have signs with Chinese script characters over the door but the product still carries the label "Made in Spain."

If Elda and Elche are the most important centres this area, in general, has a tradition of shoes and leather goods. The tiny village of Chinorlet about 3km from us has a factory that makes handbags. Our next door neighbour has a company that produces bows and buckles and the like to stick on leather goods.

Pinoso too has a history of shoe making.  In the middle of town there is a small square dedicated to the shoemakers, (just like there are places dedicated to marble and to wine the other big industries of Pinoso). A local firm, Pinoso's, always has a stand at the celebration of the town's identity, the Villazgo celebrations, where you can don an apron and pose with a shoe last looking like you're doing something very footwear. When I taught one of my students said that her family had a firm that produced a part of the soles for shoes and another was a sort of shoe broker selling designs overseas. Just beside the library, on one of the principal streets of the town, there is an anonymous building which always attracts my attention when I walk by because the powerful smell of epoxy resin that issues from its open window. I have no idea what they are up to but unless they are the glue sniffing unaccompanied minors that the far right party Vox is always going on about then it's something shoe related.

So Pinoso is still a shoemaking town. I don't quite know where the factories are though. I had a vague idea there was one near the sports centre, Maggie thought so too, and maybe on the industrial estate. I asked a Spaniard I know who seems to know almost anyone local over a certain age. He wasn't quite sure where the companies were either - maybe on the industrial estate he said but he also wondered if it were more backstreet workshops than big factories. I asked if he thought a factory on the corner of Calderón de la Barca and Camino del Prado was shoe related - "Could be," was the response.

Sometimes it's amazing what you don't know even after ages and ages even if you're home grown.

A damp squib

We've been to a few music festivals here in Spain - pop festivals, mainly indie bands - generally pretty close to home. I did investigate going to one near Burgos and another near Bilbao this summer but, even months ago, all the hotels were gone and we're far too old for that sleeping under canvas nonsense. A second factor in deciding against was that, when I did the sums and compared it to my monthly income, I decided that the best thing to do with the coming summer is to sit in the garden, perspire gently, listen to the cigarras sing and read books borrowed from the library.

Last century I worked for a youth club charity. We decided to hold a major fundraising event and we even hired an event organiser. She was well out of her depth and the event was destined to be a squalid failure. But the morning of the event dawned stormy and thundery; rain was falling in torrents. The event went ahead because everything was ready and there was no alternative. The dismal event and the financial losses were all put down to the weather.

In the book that we Britons call Don Quixote, often quoted as the masterpiece of Spanish literature, a work of two volumes with 1250 pages there is not a mention of rain. In Spain, if it rains, events are often scrubbed. Usually they are re-arranged but sometimes that's just the end of them. There's always next year.

I like festivals. I like the short sets and the multi stage thing. If one band isn't too good there is another to listen to and if they are no good either then there are vegetable noodles and falafels to buy. The truth is that I'm a bit old for festivals though. If I have to stand up for too long my back aches and my legs really begin to hurt. Maggie has a similar, but much more painful, problem with her hip. My contact lenses are another problem. They're fine till around 11 or maybe till midnight but, after fourteen or so hours in my eyes my blinking becomes non stop. There's another thing about later evening. The bar is now more battle ground like than earlier, the toilets are repulsive and the number of stoned (does one still say stoned for drugged up?) and drunk young people makes for more collisions and spilled drinks which have a negative effect on my good humour.

But I also have a theory. The headline bands at the festivals are probably doing alright. They probably spend their time travelling around the country in a Transit (does one still say a Transit as the generic for a mid sized van?) but they've given up the day job and they have a couple of albums behind them. They are, in a word, successful. And whatever happens tonight isn't going to change that. Their current reputation is made and their future will depend, not on tonight, but on their new songs and future albums.

The same isn't true of the bands at the beginning of the running order. If they do well tonight people might go out and buy their music (does one still buy music or does one simply steal it?) The opinion formers, looking for something to pad out their blogs, video channels and Instagram accounts, might say something nice about them. You can see, too, that the bands themselves get a buzz out of being on a big stage with a lot of kit. They put a lot of effort into doing as well as they can and they often look to be having a hoot of a time. Besides which the toilets are still smelling sweet, the bar is easy access and nobody is crashing into me because their motor control functions have been compromised.

We were going to a small festival in Elche this evening. The bigger bands, like Love of Lesbian and Sidonie, we've seen several times before, others, like Elefantes and Casa Azul, we've seen too but not so many times. Some of the bands on the running order like Kuve, Polos Opuestos, Atientas and Women Beat were all new to me. I was looking forward to it. Then, yesterday, via Facebook, not via the ticket agency that took my money, I find out that the event has been postponed and split in two with one day on the 20 April and another on May 12. We could have booked up lots of other things for this weekend but we didn't because of Elche Live. And why is the event cancelled? Because there is a high probability that it will rain this afternoon. Pathetic.

Immaterial my dear Watson

Elche is a biggish town just a little under 50kms from Culebrón. It's home to two World Heritage sites - well one of them isn't a place at all - it's an event; the Mystery Play. The play was awarded the badge of Intangible World Heritage back in 2001. The year before the palm grove in Elche, the Palmeral, the biggest palm grove in Europe, had also been given World Heritage status.

In the middle of the week we popped into the Archaeological Museum in Elche to see an exhibition called Inmaterial: Patrimonio y memoria colectiva. The exhibition was basically groups of photos based on everyday culture, on the intangible daily events which, though long gone, are still recognisable to us today - sections on trades, transport, on fiestas, gossip, division of male and female labour and the like. The title of the exhibition is a play on words of a sort. Patrimonio Cultural Inmaterial de la Humanidad translates into English as Intangible World Cultural Heritage. But inmaterial, as well as meaning intangible, also translates as immaterial - so, unimportant under the circumstances or irrelevant. Geddit? Crikey, that took some explaining. Maybe it's not such a good pun as I originally thought.

I enjoyed the exhibition. Some of the old photos were excellent. The information boards were short enough to be read but long enough to be descriptive. This was what the board said, more or less, about Fiestas, the adapted translation sounds nowhere near as good as the original: The fiesta is a collective expression which embraces a complex symbolism through gestures, clothes, dances, music, songs, recitals, beliefs and emotions. This set of manifestations, is repeated periodically following a well trodden path which constitutes what we call ritual and ritual is, arguably, one of the most expressive forms of any culture. These shared experiences, carried out in the present day, refer to a collective memory. In the Fiesta there is a shared identity among the members of a community which temporarily neutralises the daily tensions and fissures within that community.

Right, moving quickly away from Pseuds Corner, and back to reality. So there was a leaflet that went with the exhibition detailing lots of events related to it. One little section said that every Friday at 11.30, in the bit of the Palmeral which houses a museum and is used as a teaching space, there would be a demonstration of palm tree climbing. So I turned up to watch. The woman in the museum knew nothing about it. "Ask the lad who looks after the palm grove," she said. So I wandered around until I found a bloke pushing a wheelbarrow.

"Do you know anything about this demonstration of palm tree climbing?" I asked.
"Have a date," he said, "I just picked them. The problem is that there was a big group here about an hour a go so I shinned up a tree for them."
"So it's not on?," I asked.
"No, it's not a problem, I can go up again."

So having waited for him to get his gear I was given a detailed run down on the palm, the palm groves and associated lifestyle. We talked about the gear he used and its development over time and we had a useful conversation about keeping the weevil, that's destroying palm trees, at bay. I took careful note as it's something that may be useful to protect the palm tree in our garden - a sort of biological warfare using a fungus that's poisonous to the weevils but no problem to the palm or the bees or the birds. I think he talked to me so long in case someone else turned up. They didn't.

He shinned up the tree, I took some snaps, I said thanks and went to have a look at the Med down near Santa Pola.

Picudo Rojo

Probably the main reason that we have a house in Culebrón is because when we first came here Maggie had a job in Elche. One of Elche's claims to fame is that it has the largest palm forest in Europe. Looking for a house we could afford we moved up the Vinalopo valley and away from Elche.

The first time I saw our house in Culebrón it was the little drive, framed by trees, that impressed. Then there was the palm tree. There are other trees in the garden, there are some nice trees, but it was the palm tree that drew my attention. The outside space in Culebrón has always been its biggest plus.

All those years ago the palm trees in Elche were menaced by a little red beetle. The other day our village mayoress WhatsApped me a pamphlet to say that the Town Hall here was concerned about the spread of that same beetle and that there was a census under way of palm trees. Infected trees would have to be culled for the greater good. The thought crossed my mind that we were going to lose the tree, as well as the cat, on my watch.

The tree chap came today. He was an interesting sort of bloke. He stopped me at one point in mid sentence and after a moment of apparent silence said something like "Aahh, lesser spotted red leg."

Good news. He said that the tree is sound but that it will need a chemical treatment to protect it against the beetle. First he recommended that it was "brushed" to remove the layer of outer, now dead, organic material that gives palm trunks their typical appearance. Apparently the dead debris offers a perfect breeding ground for the beetle. The tree man will be back next week to tidy up the palm. That done we can get the trunk injected.

There was some bad news though when he pointed out something that I have been worried about for some time now. The electric supply for the three houses in our little block cross our garden from a pole on the track that runs past the house. The wires pass directly over the palm tree and as it has grown it now menaces the wires. The last time we asked about beefing up those wires, to increase the power supply, the electricity company said that the work would cost 18,000€. I have no idea what they will say if we ask them to simply reposition the wires but I know it wont be cheap and I know whose tree it is.

El Misteri d'Elx

Tangible World Heritage sites, on the United Nations Educational, Social and Cultural Organization list, include places like the Taj Mahal and the Egyptian Pyramids or, in the UK, Stonehenge, Blenheim Palace, The Ironbridge Gorge and the old maritime parts of Liverpool. Spain has lots and lots of sites with forty four all together putting it third in the world ranking behind China and Italy.

But not all heritage is "bricks and mortar" - heritage also includes cultural traditions. A good British example might be pantomime although it seems, from a bit of Googling, as though the UK has not yet joined the list of countries which subscribe to the UNESCO definition of what intangible cultural heritage is. Spain has and things like the Human Towers of Catalunya, Flamenco and the Whistling Language of the island of Gomera in the Canaries are all there.

The Elche Mystery play, or in the local Valencian language el Misteri d' Elx, was given the staus of  Intangible Cultural Heritage by UNESCO in 2001.

This play only takes place for a couple of days in mid August each year just before Assumption - the Christian festival which celebrates the taking of the earthly remains of Mary, mother of Jesus, to Heaven. It takes place in the basilica church in Elche and it has done so every year, without fail, for 600 years. Apparently it was a close run thing in 1632 when it took a Bapal Bull from Pope Urban VIII to exempt it from the ban on performing theatrical works in churches.

Despite Elche being just 50km from Culebrón we've never seen the play and it seemed ridiculous to let the event slip by us yet again this year. A quick check on one of the Internet ticket sites and we were in. Front row, only row, on the Puerta del Sol balcony. Just 17€. Well, on the site it was marked as a seat. In fact it was just a space, about 45cms wide, for us to lean against the rail. Nearly everyone else had seats but as recompense we had a splendid view of the action. The heat in the church was impressive. It wasn't actually that hot, maybe around 29ºC, but the humidity was incredible and looking down from above anybody and everybody was fanning themselves. A sea of hand fans in constant motion.

Although I'm on the cradle roll of the Weslyan Chapel in Elland I'm not much of a Christian but, being English and of a certain generation, Christianity came as more or less a standard extra. I know a few parables, the old version of the Lord's Prayer and I know who did what at Christmas and Easter. That didn't help me at all with this story. I didn't have a clue what was going on.

In fact the play was about as boring an event as I have ever witnessed. I don't think I was the only bored person in the audience either. Looking through the telephoto lens of my camera it was easy to spy on people playing with Facebook and WhatApp on their mobile phones. The play was all sung in an ancient form of Valencian and Latin by an all male cast. It lasted for about fifteen hours though my watch must have failed as it measured the actual performance as only lasting about two and a half hours. The watch seemed to work fine before the event, after the event and even in the intermission but during the event no. There were a couple of impressive bits when a trapdoor in the ceiling of the church opened and first one and later five people were gently lowered to the ground wearing angel wings, singing, playing harps and ukeleles (well that's what Maggie says they were though I suspect she may be jesting.) Actually at one point there were two ropes on the go with the five piece being joined by another couple of angels. It must be quite an experience to be hoisted up and down the highest part of a cathedral sized church whilst being required to sing or play an instrument.

Another good bit was that the human Mary, Mother of Jesus, Mary, was replaced by sleight of hand by the carved wooden Mary that represents Mary of the Assumption the Patron Saint of Elche. It was she who was hoisted up into the heavens amongst the harps and angel wings amidst the applause of the retreating audience who headed for the fresh air without any shouts for an encore or curtain call.

Despite it being boring, incomprehensible, sweltering and painful I am really glad I went and I would recommend it to you.