What's new up here between Comares and Ventorros

I forgot to do my fashion commentary on my trip to Seville - what got me this time was that the Robin Hoods of Madrid with their tights, over-the-knee boots and long tunics... in Seville are transformed into medieval pages by gathering the loose tunic around the upper leg and creating, well, a page getup. And Madrid's pole dancers in their tights and high heeled high boots in Seville are jockeys, with a shorter top and mid to high heel boots. Next week I'm going to Cordoba and I'm curious to see what their twist is on this tights/loose top/high boots ensemble. I'd also like to report that NO ONE in the village of Comares is sporting this look, which is a huge relief. I do not want to see any of the Comares folk in tight anything.

Life has been busy up here on the mountain - I now have a neighbor and a housemate, and they have needs, and questions, and they want to chat. Of course they're up here to work so I see them in spurts when they come down desperate for conversation or just company and then when they feel like they can work again they go back to their cells - I mean, rooms. One is a poet and the other is a computer guy who wants to write more. Both lovely, both in Spain for long periods and up here to concentrate. No one told them I'm up here with the equally important mission of distracting them! Without them, you see, I can't really go much of anywhere, except for a walk, which I do. But if I want to go socialize in a tiny village I need a sidekick. So far I've gotten to have a couple of adventures with them as my social flying buttresses.

And I can go to Ruth's, in Ventorros. Ruth is the yoga teacher - today we had a yoga date and did a bunch of yoga, had lunch, and then I went to her afternoon yoga nidra class. It was someone's private class but she invited me to stay and you really have to be a fool to say no to yoga nidra. For the first time I didn't sleep at all! Made it all the way through, followed all the instructions - which made me realize why I'd always opted to fall asleep - it's kind of like work, yoga nidra. Especially if you are sleepy :) My classmate was a wonderful older English man who is just a  peach - so sweet I could've died.

After all that yoga we walked back up here and had a few laughs over the petrified almond I found on the hillside. So far everyone I've told that I found a petrified almond thinks that "petrified" is the funniest thing they've ever heard. I guess Brits use "fossilized." I keep forgetting, and keep getting laughs. But then of course she was impressed with the actual petrified almond, because it is clearly a very impressive item. Ask anyone who's seen it.

I've been reading Graham Greene so much I get convinced I'm living in another time and place. But all of his times and places have to do with war, deep questions of ethics, and human limitations. My place right now is on this mountainside, covered each passing day in more and more wild thyme and lavender, punctuated by olive and blossoming almond trees, where really nothing serious whatsoever is presently going on nor shall go on anytime soon. Up here it's all about time. And it's on our side.

John doesn't believe me when I tell him I've been up to the village frequently, because I haven't met the "looky looky" lady. He swears it is impossible to get all the way to the supermarket without being intercepted by her with her "looky looky!" She sells oranges, limes, lemons, dried figs, local honey, almonds, avocados, fig loaf, etc. Soap. The stuff they grow and make up here. So yesterday, I went up to the supermarket with my new housemate to show him the village. Of course we stopped by the church, which is stunning. First of all it's bright, with whitewashed interior walls and the only dark is the dark brown of the vegas that run across the ceilings. The altar is a spectacular shade of green (so refreshing after the gaudy gold and dark wood and stone everywhere else). There are fresh flowers everywhere and the place is spotless. Beautiful statues of the usual suspects, but they're well lit, and consequently much less depressed looking than the same characters in the bigger institutions. And in Comares, there was an old woman in church (among a handful of elderly folk) dressed in a purple bathrobe with white stars all over it - she looked like a small virgen de Guadalupe. As we exited the church (after T. made a huge racket by stubbing his toe on one of the pews), the Guadalupe got up and followed us out. And just when I thought we're gonna get nailed for sightseeing in church during her morning prayers, she says, "looky looky! Come my house! Vendo fruta y almendras!" We were totally cornered. I tried to get out of it, but she got us to go back to her house and actually her stuff was great so we bought a ton and T. even went back today and got more.