Exciting news from Switzerland, where local born lad (in 1947) Jose Luis Sanchez Lorente, financial director of Surbus (urban bus company) has succeeded in obtaining his L3 model rocket license.
Not sure why this is worthy of a whole page in La Voz, but upon reading further I notice that he’s one of only two people in Western Europe with this license. His model rocket, 3.5m long and weighing 25 Kg, reached speeds of 750Km/h and at one point was pulling 10g. Not a toy, then.
He is proud to recount that in the whole of Spain, the Spanish Rocketry Club has only two launch sites, one in Llerida and one in Almeria (was Tabernas, now Velez Blanco), and has over 2000 members.
He spent a year building this rocket in his basement in Huercal de Almeria, and his flight lasted less than a minute. However, he did recover it almost undamaged.
The Blue flag beaches in Almeria report is out, and this year we have lost a further 5 flags, dropping from 15 beaches to 10. (We had 16 in 2006).
Marina de la Torre & Venta del Bancal in Mojacar got one each, San Jose beach in Nijar, La Bajadilla & Urbanizacion Roquetas, in Roquetas del Mar, Levante – Almerimar, Poniente Almerimar & Guardias Viejas, in El Ejido, and San Nicolas & El Censo, in Adra.
Again, neither Garrucha nor Vera got anything. For some reason, nobody seems to be telling us why these beaches lost their blue flag, but I suspect that vast quantities of raw sewage probably has something to do with it. Not a good idea when your economy is based on people coming to swim in the sea. However, since all the fishermen are on strike, at least we don’t need to worry about the pollution getting into the food chain.
I await the Ecologistas en Accion annual “black flag” awards with interest.
The renowned Catalan Chef Santi Santamaria (3 Michelin stars, runs the El Raco de Can Fabes) has become the poster boy of hate for Spanish chefs after attacking their work in his new book, La Cocina al desnudo (Cooking stripped bare). He stated (and stands by his comment) that many chefs are so busy chasing accolades that they are serving up dishes that could actually be harmful to the consumer, chasing as they are that ever elusive Michelin star (or good review on this website!).
800 top Spanish chefs have signed a protest against the chef, and the row shows no signs of abating. In fact, he came out today and suggested that all restaurants should list the ingredients used in their dishes on their menus. A suggestion rejected by the Ministry of Health, who reminds us that “all Spanish restaurants comply with both Spanish and European health laws”.
“What do we want”, ask Santi, “Mediterranean diet or a diet of additives?” He has rejected claims that he is simply trying to promote his book, and has announced that the profits will be split evenly between an MS charity and an Consumer Defense organisation.
Update: 4th August 2008. It’s now moved, according to the normally reliable Lenox Napier (I never venture down Mojacar Playa this time of year unless driven). It’s now in Pueblo Diana, in front of El Levante. The landlord has reopened keeping it almost the same.
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La Cabana Argentine Restaurant, Parrilla Argentina, is a restaurant in which I only ever seem to go to when I’m with a large group of people who are always determined to get drunk. Hence, it’s always been a bit difficult remembering much about it the next day. Nor have I ever been much inclined to try.
I’m not sure why this is. It doesn’t, to judge from the bills the next day, seem to be especially cheap; it’s not famous for hosting large drunken parties of rowdy people; and it doesn’t tend to put on large plates of food to share. It’s probably because it has a large main salon roadside where 20 or 30 can sit at ease. (Also smaller tables and a second room leading off the main one).
For a steak, taking into consideration the fact you have to face Mojacar Playa, I’d prefer to go to Cortijo Albari or Lomo Blanco. After all, if you’re going to bbq a steak, I prefer olive wood rather than charcoal. And while Argentine steak has a certain flavour, I’m dubious that you can get the real stuff in Mojacar.
But never mind about all that nonsense. If you’re going to turn up with a bunch of people who all want meat, and want a drink with it, no point going to the previously mentioned places. And it’s easier getting a taxi home from Mojacar. And La Cabana is certainly more informal than Albari or Lomo Blanco.
I have to say, the meat on Saturday was very nice. Mandine ordered for the table (it was, after all, her birthday) and a selection of meats and salads appeared. An interesting melted mozzarella dish, salads, some Argentine sausage that frankly left me as cold as it was, some dips, and other starters were soon demolished. We then called out for the main courses, and the meat that appeared was very decent. The steak was rather overdone for my taste, but since apparently we requested it this way I couldn’t say much. I’ve had it better done on other occasions. Also chicken. All grilled on the charcoal grill. Everybody else got chips, I got a jacket potato with a nice garlic centre. After I had smugly eaten half of it, somebody pointed out that they’d ordered it. It still tasted OK.
There was another large table in that night, a bunch of local lads out on a stag do. They ordered a round of tequila shots that involved putting on a hard hat, being hit on the head five times, then doing the shot. Since our table was mainly composed of girls, they soon came over and invited us to a round. I had two. Very nice. Leaves the head ringing. Don’t mix tequila with Cava, the bubbles get up your nose.
Vaguely remember coffee, then some loud music next door in Sitio. Don’t worry, I got home safely.
La Cabana Argentinian Restaurant. Paseo del Mediterraneo, 101, Mojacar Playa.
(In front of Buddha nightclub, just after Lua)
Tlf 950 61 51 79. Find it on Google Maps
The true history of the Indalo, Indalico or Mojacar man
Tired of seeing so many erroneous articles about the infamous “indalo” man, the prehistoric cave painting appropriated by the Mojacar town hall for their unofficial logo, I thought I’d jot down a few facts about him.
The prehistoric cave painting that came to be the Indalo man was first identified by the local archaeologist Antonio Gongorra Martinez in 1868, when he published his book “Antigüedades arqueológicas de Andalucia”, based upon his study of a large cave in the north of Almeria that was covered in ancient paintings. It’s value and importance was confirmed by later studies at the turn of the century, and in 1924 the area was designated a National Monument of History. On the 5th December 1998 UNESCO declared it to be a World Heritage site. Currently, the cave is off limits to visitors.
This cave, known locally as the Cueva de los Letreros (Cave of the signs), is nestled among the folds of the Sierra de Maimon Grande, in Velez Rubio, in the north of the province of Almeria. While many caves nearby show indications of bronze or stone age humans living in them, this particular cave, due to the absence of normal living detritus, appears to have been dedicated to ceremonies of an animalistic religion. Dating of remains found in the area brings us to conclude that the caves were inhabited (and the paintings drawn) around 5500 – 6000 c.e. While a number of other caves in the area also have similar paintings, these are generally of an inferior nature. All the paintings are done with typical dyes found in the cave paintings process, and are generally red in colour.
The cave paintings have been described as enigmatic. Figures and symbols are repeated throughout, and human figures dotted throughout express a great sense of movement and expression. It has been concluded that there is an underlying symbology in the paintings, linked no doubt to the religious or ceremonious use of the cave. Archers, Sorcerer and idols are the figures that are most commonly repeated, along with animals such as mountain goats and deer.
Due to the fact that the most common symbol in the cave was that of a man holding a rainbow (the ancestor of our current Indalo man) local villagers took to daubing the outside of their homes with this symbol, converting him into a modern day superstition designed to ward off evil and storms. It has been said that after the Mojacar and Vera earthquakes, locals in these villages (which were both destroyed in the 17th century) took to imitating their northern neighbours who had escaped lightly.
It was in 1946 when Jesus de Perceval, painter and intellectual, disciple of the somewhat anarchic philosopher Eugenio d’Ors, adopted this local symbol as the flag of his new school of thought and painting, which took as its base the “vital position, the cosmovision of the Almerian, and the essence of ancient and past civilisations before our own”, in order to “continue the great cycle of reinnovation and reinvention of classical classicism as a movement that cycles for eternity”. (I may have lost something in the translation there, but even in Spanish it sounds like somebody was taking a lot of drugs when they thought that one up).
The Indalo figure became for these artists, based in Mojacar, a potent symbol of their unity, and eventually they adopted the name “the Indalo movement”. These Indalians saw in their symbol an ancient hero who by capturing and controlling a rainbow symbolised the pact between the Gods and Man to never again repeat the awful destruction of the Flood. This led to the Indalo symbol being identified by the world at large with Mojacar and this region in general.
The word “Indalo”, incidentally, is believed to come either from the language of the Iberian tribe, who lived in Iberia during the Classical era (aprox 600 c.e.): indal eccius (messenger of the Gods); another theory is that it is derived from the name of the Patron Saint of Almeria, San Indalecio.
In recent years, the Indalo has been appropriated by diverse tourist boards and PR companies who have turned it into the logo of first Mojacar, then the Levante, and finally of Almeria. Indeed, the official logo of the 2005 Med games was Indalete, a happy little fat fellow based on the Indalo.
Incidentally, despite the vast quantity of nonsense spouted about who or what the original Indalo was, it is generally agreed that in the original cave paintings he is no more than a hunter who uses his bow and arrows to bring down birds in flight.
Theories joining him with Egyptian gods, spaceships, South American Incas, or Zambian warriors can probably be ignored.
Photo of the original Indalo
The Indalo stands proudly in a street in Almeria city.
“He wants Taliban? We’ll give him Taliban” growls local businessmen.
Open warfare in Macael, as local marble businessmen brought the village to a halt in a general strike yesterday. They claim that the proposed solar energy plant will not only block access to new deposits, but also block off the only tipping ground for their mines, which will mean they are forced to close. Understandably, this has irritated the local population, most of whom depend on the mines for a living, and they descended upon the streets to voice their displeasure.
The Mayor, Juan Pastor, has vowed to fight on, and has denounced everybody he can think of to the Guardia Civil. The local business association, in turn, have denounced him to the Guardia. “The Mayor is impossible” announced Miguel Sanchez, head of the local marble association. “His posture is that of jump when I tell you to, and there is no talking to him. It is impossible, all he does is insult us. This will end up in the courts, there is no other way forward”.
Influenced by all the press clippings about going straight to jail if you step over the speed limit by 2 kph (is that right?), I’ve recently been going exactly the speed limit. Cruise control rocks.
Mind you, since I’m normally going quite a bit faster than everybody else, I’ve never noticed just how aggressive everybody is on the road. These last few days I’ve been exposed to more aggression and fury than in the last 5 years. Just this morning, I slowed down to 40 (as told to by the sign) to avoid some road worker chappies smoking by the side of the road, and instantly had two large cars tailgating me, lights flashing and generally asking me to “get a move on”. One of them actually overtook on a blind corner to get past me.
Wonderful – a completely legal way of being annoying. Drive according to the law.
What is it with Karaoke? It seems that we are so desperate for fame that the mere showing of a microphone turns almost anybody into a high pitched public irritant.
I’ve only done Karaoke once (being forced to) and am fully aware that since I can’t carry a tune to save my life I shouldn’t be up on stage being a nuisance. But thinking about it, I’ve been involved in a number of close encounters with it; almost being beaten up by rednecks in a bar in Florida when laughing at the crying Yanks as somebody drunkly sang Lee Greenwoods “God bless the USA” (if you want to laugh at a Yank, just put that song on and chuckle as they stand up, sing along and wave), stumbling across 50 chinese businessmen singing away in a huge cavern in Xi’an (now that WAS weird), or having to suffer through some twit who didn’t know how to use his new equipment in an Irish Republican bar in NY (not a good bar to be in with an accent like mine).
Karaoke? You can keep it. It’s a bloody nuisance. Still, while people like it, I’ll keep putting it on in my bars.
The mayor of Macael is involved in a spat with local marble companies, who are protesting against the installation of a large solar energy plant on top of a large deposit of “prime white marble”. The marble companies (20 of them) say that the plant will affect their mine in the area, the town hall says it won´t. “These businessmen” fumed Mayor of Macael Juan Pastor to a Europa Press reporter, “are nothing more than 4 talibans who are simply determined to attack the Socialist party in any way possible, despite all we have done for them”.
No news back from the “Taliban HQ”, but knowing local politics this looks like it will become great fun – who will come up with the best insult? Socialist Mayor vs Capitalist businessmen, and the Junta seems to be keeping low.
While planning a trip around the ancestral homesteads in the Cotswolds, I was informed by L that she had always wanted to sleep in a castle. Her wish being my command, (and bearing in mind that castles tend be draughty places, at least all the ones I’ve been in so far) I booked into Thornbury Castle, which happened to be on our way down to S. Wales.
Arriving, I was startled by the sheer tradition of the place. Beautifully decorated and tastefully restored, it’s set in some stunning grounds and is right next to Thornbury Church, which is a wonderful backdrop as you have afternoon tea on the lawn. The sun was shining, birds were chirping, immaculate waiters were doing their thing with the pink champers, and the whole scene was only slightly marred by two elderly Lords and their respective wives, telling dirty jokes about MPs and demanding pigeon for dinner the next night. I shall refrain from saying which Lords they were so as not to be accused of namedropping.
The chambers are enormous, and ours was up in a tower up a rather narrow and winding staircase of stone. While fully equipped with all modcons, I was able to sit in an incredibly overstuffed armchair and pretend it was still the middle ages.
Dinner was one of the best I’ve had in a long time. Mr Lee Heptinstall and his little chum Marco Mellace certainly know their stuff. I had the seared Scallops followed by Loin of Exmoor Venison, L had the Ballontine of Beetroot Cured Salmon and Taste of Local Duck. We discovered that the elderly waiter was Spanish, and had been at the castle since day one (32 years, if you’re interested). Much chatting, we discovered that his brother in law was from Almeria, and so we got an extra large helping of cheese from the trolley.
The Lords again sat next to us at dinner, and upon leaving one of the Ladys came over and apologised if they had been too noisy (they hadn’t, simply being happy in a very discreet, upperclass way). A nice touch. It must have been the handmade silk and cashmere jacket I was wearing.
The entire experience was one I intend to repeat as soon as possible, and was marred only by the bill the next morning. I should have expected it from a place that offers to fly you down from London in a private helicopter. I shall not tell you how much it was, only that for the same money 20 years ago you could have brought a house here. *
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