Buy the sky and sell the sky…

When we were on holiday in Spain, it was noticeable from the first moments that, in the absence of air conditioning, room fans and through-draughts would be vital to our comfort in the apartment. The sea breeze was a Godsend. When we did visit a large shopping mall or indeed drive anywhere, we were cushioned by air conditioning. The car’s dashboard thermometer may have read 35º celsius (95º Farenheit) 0r more, but we didn’t comprehend what that actually meant, at least not while the cool, cool fan soothed and refreshed us.

The more I experienced the lung-melting, muscle-sapping heat as we opened the car doors, the more I felt that the air-conditioning was a blessing, but possibly also a blassing in disguise. Don’t get me wrong: I wouldn’t have been without it on our holiday. But I do feel that it effectively works against nature, as though mankind uses it to deny the true nature of our environment and habitat.

I feel that it’s important to understand how to live within a climate, rather than simply ignoring or denying its difficulties. By understanding and experiencing the climate, we are more likely to respect it and adapt our behaviour, for instance through adopting a siesta lifestyle and mentality. Insulating ourselves to a constant 68º Farenheit effectively prevents mankind from evolving coping strategies to sustain life in such a climate.

Of course I understand that creating air conditioning is an evolutionary act in itself. But my point is that we’re in conflict with nature, rather than working with or alongside it.

The autovia del mediterraneo motorway is a stunning piece of engineering. On one 12 mile stretch between Nerja and Motril, over half the distance covered is either tunnels through the mountains that plummet down towards the sea, or vertiginous bridges over the gorges and gullies. The drive from Motril to Granada is even more stunning, as I’ve previously reckoned…

But when I drove the old coast road around the headlands, diving up and down the steep hillsides, it’s a different kind of experience. I understood the true nature of the terrain. Amazing.

Years ago, when I travelled to Toronto in Canada, I marvelled at the miles of underground shopping malls, cinemas and car parks, primarily designed to enable the city to continue to function during Toronto’s frigid winters. Other Canadian centres have similar underground cities to protect their inhabitants from the bitter cold. Did it ever cross their minds that mankind perhaps shouldn’t live in such a brutal climate?

This isn’t by any means a fully-formed ‘reckon’. It’s not even fully informed, but it is what occurred to me when I cruised across the astonishing bridges, and tried to function in the midday heat of an Andalucian summer. Does our ability to overcome nature make us immune to its danger and challenges?

And it made me think of this fantastic REM song…

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Those who don’t believe in magic will never find it…

I learnt earlier this week that there is a Roald Dahl Day, every year on the anniversary of his birth on 13th September. And, for a few brief hours on Twitter, it appeared that people all over the world were celebrating his wonderful storytelling and magical imagination.

My eldest daughter is 8, and has read, listened to or watched pretty much everything Roald Dahl has written for children. She revisits them endlessly. What inspires and excites me about Roald Dahl’s writing is that (like Pixar films) the creativity, stories, characters, prose and dialogue always seem fresh, funny, interesting every time. They’re simply much better than most children’s fiction.

They’re much better because, on the one hand, the stories are often simple and easy to understand…

• Danny lives a bohemian existence with his Dad, who shows him all sorts of wonderful tricks and adventures
• Charlie wins a competition and experiences a fantastical trip through a chocolate factory unlike anywhere else
• Matilda is ignored by her parents but inspired by her teacher to discover her natural talent
• George is left alone with his tyrannical Grandmother, and plays a trick on her…

But at the same time, the stories are often dark, full of real threat and danger to the main characters, and there are some brilliant villains who are genuinely nasty. There’s an underlying depth to the writing that truly appeals to children. Roald Dahl seems to understand children, in that his stories are simple, and the stakes are easy to understand (can Sophie and The BFG stop the other Giants from eating children?), but explore complex themes and relationships (Sophie is an orphan, longing for parental love and affection, she has to face many dangers and take the initiative herself).

There’s usually a very strong central hero to each story, and these are almost as likely to be girls as boys. Sophie faces true mortal peril in The BFG, and has to enlist The Queen of England in her quest to save England’s children. Matilda also has to outwit and survive’ the terrible Miss Trunchbull. Danny has to act decisively to help his father when a scheme goes awry.

There’s a healthy(?) disrespect for authority, especially when that authority is misplaced, unnatural, or exploits children. George inflicts a terrible trick with his Marvellous Medicine, but to be honest his Grandmother deserved it. Miss Trunchbull bullies and suppresses children in her school, but gets her come-uppance at Matilda’s hands, and we celebrate her downfall. Fantastic Mister Fox thieves and pillages from Farmers Boggis, Bunce and Bean, but they are such grossly unpleasant men we are glad of it. When The Giant Peach squashes the miserable Aunts Spiker and Sponge and James makes his escape from their abuse, we are exhilarated and thrilled.

There’s an independence of spirit and courage in Roald Dahl’s characters that inspires children. This is made even more real by an often complete absence of parental figures, with the love, affection, attention and protection they would usually bring. Matilda is a child genius rejected by her parents. In James and the Giant Peach, James is an orphaned child who also rejected and abused by his two aunts. Sophie starts The BFG in an orphanage.  Yet despite these circumstances, the children use their wit, bravery and intelligence in positive and affirmative ways. They are never victims.

Best of all, Roald Dahl’s stories seem to assume that the fantastical and magical is and can be all around us, if we only believe it. He twists the norms of ‘old-fashioned’ children’s stories (remember he wrote many of these books in the 1960s), and subverts our expectations. His Revolting Rhymes and Dirty Beasts collections of poems are clever and often extremely funny, like this take on Cinderella…

We’ve loved listening to his books read aloud, notably Geoffrey Palmer as The BFG, and Simon Callow’s inspired reading of The Twits. I’ve tried in vain to find a clip of that, but trust me, it’s fantastic. Alongside the richness of the characterisation, one of the biggest joys of reading Roald Dahl’s stories are the tremendous illustrations by Quentin Blake. They are utterly charming and bring the words to life with real magic.

Roald Dahl’s life and work has been brilliantly remembered at a museum in Great Missenden, which is true to his spirit for both adults and children. There are storytelling sessions, brilliant interactive exhibitions and hand-on displays, as well as dressing up opportunities…

Is that spaghetti in my beard?

I thoroughly recommend Roald Dahl’s fiction for children in pretty much all its forms, including the museum. Think like a child, be open to the magic, and you will be be thrilled forever.

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There is nothing worse in life than being blind in Granada…

…(according to Wikiquote) The poet Francisco Alarcón said this to a girl who did not give a blind beggar charity and regretted that the blind could not enjoy the beauty of the city of Granada.

Friday 27th August has been logged in my memory as a pretty near-perfect day. It was the mid-point of our holiday in Andalucia, and possibly the hottest day of the week. We spent the morning mostly doing not very much; reading, writing postcards home with the girls, playing UNO, and in the swimming pool, where every day was a joy to me to see Hannah & Eleanor jumping, playing, splashing and swimming with such confidence and enthusiasm.

After a terrific late lunch of crusty bread with fresh beefsteak and plum tomato salad, serrano ham, avocado and manchego cheese, we got ourselves ready to go to Granada to visit the Alhambra. We’d booked tickets online in advance, hoping to avoid the worst heat of the day and queues of visitors.

The A7 Autovia del Mediterraneo is a masterpiece of engineering. The whole thing stretches from Algeciras at the Southern tip of Spain over 1,300km practically to the French border. It makes for an amazing drive along, or rather through and over the rocky Andalucian coastline. Large sections of the road from Nerja to Motril are either viaducts over gorges or tunnels through the mountainous terrain. As you turn inland to head North towards Granada, the drive gets even more spectacular. Alongside the roads of the Lake District and the French Autoroute over the Millau Viaduct and South towards the Mediterranean, this is one of my favourite drives…

In barely 30 miles the road travels from sea level to 860m over the Puerto del Suspiro del Moro (Pass of the Moor’s Sigh), so named after Muhammad XII, the last Moorish sultan of Granada, crossed the pass in 1492 after being ejected from the city and loudly sighed while looking back and longing for his palaces; an act which moved his mother to whip him with the famous “Now you weep like a woman over what you could not defend as a man” (ouch!).

When we arrived in Granada around 4pm, the car thermometer was reading 38.5º Celsius (in the shade). Despite having acclimatised to temperatures in the low-mid 30s over the previous few days, getting out of our air-conditioned car was like stepping into a sauna: dry, intense, soul-sapping heat.

Thankfully, the clever Moorish architects and designers (and indeed the current Alhambra management) thought to build shaded courtyards, paths and gardens which help reduce the searing heat of the full sun.To be honest, it’s a minor miracle that the gardeners could keep so many flowering plants alive in such heat.

The Generalife Gardens (as indeed is the whole palace) were designed to recreate ‘paradise on earth’, with column arcades, birdsong, flowers and the sound of running water. Even on a scorching August afternoon among thousands of visitors, I was astonished at the peacefulness, the silence and the greenery on such a bleached hillside above such a bustling city.

At the other end of the complex, the Alcazaba was like an open-air oven. Perched on the end of the promontory above Granada, this 10th Century fortress is forbidding indeed. Thick, thick walls, indeed layers of unforgiving walls and monolithic towers give amazing viewpoints over the surrounding plateau. Hannah and I climbed the Torre de la Vela. It was cooler inside the walls, but the stairs were steep and high. By the time we reached the top, she was almost literally melting into collapse, and I was worried about having to carry her down. But the overview of both the city and the palaces was terrific.

But while this is all mightily impressive, the real joy, the uplifting inspiration of The Alhambra that elevates it above other places I’ve visited comes within the Nasrid Palaces. We had timed our tickets so we had the last entry slot of the afternoon at 7pm. By now it was gradually beginning to cool, and the shade within the courtyards made it almost pleasant!

I’ll try not to go completely overboard with my adjectives in recalling my reactions and response to these Palaces. The precision and simplicity of design is amazing. The quality of work and detailing is astonishing. The display of wealth and power is in every arch, every ceiling, every niche, but so too is the dedication to Allah.

My ‘left brain’ loved the tessellating tiles, the repetitiveness of patterns and motifs, the extraordinarily clean lines and symmetry in the design of arches, doorways, and courtyards.

My ‘right’ brain was constantly dazzled by the colours, the intricacy, the beauty of the workmanship way beyond the functional requirements; the detailing and ‘over-specification’ of the ornaments. Every door, every arch, every niche, every ceiling is stunningly conceived and decorated. It’s mindblowing. And over 600 years old.

When the Christian monarchs overthrew the Moors in 1492, they evidently recognised the tremendous value of the Alhambra, both as a fortress and symbol of power, but also its artistic brilliance, and they preserved its heritage, including the never-ending devotion to Allah. I’d seen this before in Istanbul, where Muslem and Christian ‘conquerors’ recognised the beauty and intrinsic value of the other religion’s artefacts, and did not destroy them, nor seek to impose their will and values over them. Hmmmm…

And after all that, we didn’t even have time to explore the wonderful Albaicin,  the old Moorish Quarter of Granada, that spreads over the hillside facing the Alhambra.

Instead, we ate at Cafe Central, just a few yards from the Plaza Nueva in the centre of the city. The food and service was fantastic, and we enjoyed terrific Salmorejo soup (similar to Gazpacho), a sausage of black pudding wrapped in filo pastry and deep-fried, wonderful cod steaks and arroz con leche with amazing almond icecream.

We also had a terrific time watching the tapeadors sampling the delights of Granada’s bars. As we left around 11pm, the city was truly alive, and there were families with children everywhere. Toddlers were snoozing in their buggies while their parents grazed or walked with friends. The heat was finally dissipating (it was still around 80º), and it was the end of a brilliant day.

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Here comes the sun (it’s alright)…

We have just returned from a fantastic 9 days in Nerja in Andalucia. I’ve already posted (quite a few) pictures on my Facebook page, and will certainly be blogging about the Alhambra Palace in Granada in more detail (because it’s simply one of the most astonishing places I’ve visited), as well as a couple of other things that struck chords while we were there.

This holiday was our first foreign trip since our Grand Tour de France in May/June 2008, and we deliberately chose to go to Spain in August because we wanted ‘guaranteed sunshine’. We certainly got it, and a few other things besides…

1. It was a real thrill to see Hannah & Eleanor spend hours (and hours) in the swimming pool. Rachel has recently bought them Swimfins for them both, and they proved absolutely brilliant at enabling the girls to swim confidently in water way too deep for them to stand up. We had a whale of a time, and their swimming came hugely – Hannah even learnt to use a snorkel.
2. We had dinner at the various restaurants on Burriana Beach three times during the week. Of course these were popular with the tourists but also seemed to have a large local clientele; probably because of the quality and value. The Montemar was probably our favourite, mostly for its fantastic barbacoa and the fresh fish on offer.

   

3. The Siesta approach to living with the heat is very relaxing! On all but one day we had cloudless skies and temperatures in the mid-90s. It really was too hot to do very much outside of the pool or the sea; so we didn’t. Indeed, as our balcony was shaded for the afternoons, we started a new family holiday tradition…
4. …playing UNO! This simple card game brought out some memorable moments, notably the refrain “it’s not about love, it’s about WINNING”, which was started by Rachel, but willingly taken up by both Hannah and Eleanor whenever they played a wild card or scuppered someone else’s plans. “I cannot go, said the Big Bells of Bow” was a cheery jingle started by Hannah and adopted by the rest of us. In the end we scored a running total over a few days, and with (almost) no quarter given by the grown-ups, it woz the kids wot won it, with Eleanor (4) and Hannah (8) outscoring Rachel (ahem) and I (41) pretty comprehensively.
5. We stayed in a small complex of around a dozen apartments around a shared pool. Most of the people were Brits, and I experienced the ‘towels on sunbeds‘ mentality for the first time in years. Every morning, the sun was barely peeping out over the mountains, but there was a row of sun loungers, aligned with towels and parasols at the ready. It all seemed rather childish (“you can’t sit there, it’s saved“), but then I found myself at least partly entering into the mentality. We usually went down much later, but even then I would guard ‘our’ territory jealously. These other families left before us, so at the end of our holiday I would look down from our balcony to see empty loungers, lonely beside the pool; and I almost felt cheated, no longer able to scoff at the playground behaviour.
6. The proximity of mountains and sea in Andalucia is fantastic. I sometimes wonder which I prefer (the Lake District or the Cornish Coast), but here you can have both.
   

   The view from our apartment balcony. The other way was the Mediterranean.

   In just a few miles from Nerja you can be in  amazing countryside. Precipitous valleys and winding mountain roads take you to places like Competa or Frigiliana, where you can marvel at the impossibly steep olive terraces, the avocado trees and prickly pears at the roadside, and the countless villas and houses built on ridges and hilltops.
   The astounding drive from the coast near Motril to Granada is barely 40 miles but takes you over 850m above sea level. A further 20 miles and you’re at the Sierra Nevada ski station at Pradollano, 2,100m above sea level and with skiing above 3,000m…

7. The entertainment at Burriana Beach was fantastic. The Ayo restaurant has regular Flamenco evenings which are massively popular with locals, Spanish and foreign tourists. Even more “impressive” was the other act. After the Flamenco group had finished their first set, before the seated group of children had a chance to move from their places in front of the stage, a cheer went up as a lone man approached the stage.
   He must have been in his late 40s or early 50s, looked fit (Spanish tan, quite lean), with a white shirt open to the waist. He started a dance routine to a tape of disco music. He looked like a camp ex-matador, twirling capes and cloths around him like a kind of middle-aged Rhythmic Gymnast. The tourists seemed to look at each other, partly in disbelief, partly in apprehension at what might happen next.
   We were right to be nervous. After much bowing and blown kisses, he disappeared and returned in a long coat, apparently without his shirt or trousers. A few more twirls later and the coat was gone. Now he was shimmying, gyrating and thrusting in cut-off denim hotpants. A few moments later and his shuddering hips caused the shorts to fall, revealing a rainbow thong. All of this to loud disco tunes and barely 6 feet in front of the row of young children, sat cross-legged on the sand. It was like you’d booked the VERY wrong entertainer for your child’s birthday party. The crowd laughed and cheered. Lord knows what the kids thought.
8. On Sunday evening we went to Church in Nerja. The congregation was fairly elderly, and most of the women came armed with fans. Throughout the service (fairly swiftly done, the Priest looked pretty hot in his robes) we could hear the sound of fans flicking open and shut, like the swoosh of primitive light sabres. There were many different techniques to admire – subtle, flamboyant, and even a ‘his-and-hers’ where the woman fanned her partner as well with a larger action of the wrist…
9. Did I mention the Alhambra? (more of that later…)

I realise this reads like ‘what a great holiday I had’, but we truly did. And I was resolute in not tweeting about it while we were there etc. In fact, I’m delighted to have found that the Twitterati and Interweb seemed to get along just fine without me. All the time I spent playing with the girls, chatting to my very lovely wife, swimming or reading or just doing nothing instead of checking Facebook et al was extremely well spent.

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