I'm still in the process of hunting for a house. It has been a bit frustrating, my disinclination to decisiveness notwithstanding, as several of the houses that I have found that seem almost perfect have been pulled off the rental market for the summer months. Their owners hope to charge outrageous summer rental prices to the folks from Madrid and Extramadura who will flock to the beaches of Andalusia for the holiday months of July and August. The population in Rota and El Puerto de Santa Maria triples in those months and prices, apparently, quickly hit exorbitant levels. There will be plenty of long term stuff available come September, but who wants to wait that long to start the settling in process? Not I. That said, I have at least three likely prospects for next week in the lovely urbanización of Vista Hermosa, and am optimistic that one of them will be THE place.
Right now though, I'm still in temporary housing on base. As I believe I've mentioned, it's nice
enough - fenced yard, modern appliances, and well tended. As it turns out though, a fair number of places are unoccupied. There are I'm sure,many reasons for this, including the coming and going of families, the ongoing maintenance of the houses (which have been here for a long time), and the condemning of some of the places nearest the shoreline due to cliff erosion. The odd thing about this is the feeling you can get at most times of the day that you (and your dog) are the only inhabitants. The streets are empty. The sun beats down on the perfectly trimmed grass, the wind soughs through the yards and open car ports, and magpies flit from tree to roof, and there is nobody to be seen. It has the feel at times of one of those phony towns built in Nevada or New Mexico where the effects of atomic blasts on suburban infrastructure are to be tested. I've included a photo above so that you can get the sense of it.
Speaking of magpies, my Spanish critter count continues to grow. Besides assorted lizards and rabbits, the birds have been a treat. There is a small flock of bright green psittacine birds that I take to be monk parakeets. They are an invasive species from Argentina, but they are so similar to the green Mexican parrots who love raising hell in the trees around our home in Ocean Beach, that I can't see them and not smile. There have been hoopoes, egrets, and at least two species of raptors that I am too slow to identify. My favorites this week have been a pair of what I presume are glossy ibis seen walking through the marshy area near the school, and a pair of nesting white cranes currently
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| Glossy Ibis (AFZO.org) |
occupying a huge nest atop an apparently abandoned electric tower just outside the Rota gate. They are gorgeous birds, and I've seen them landing in the nest and at other times circling in the ruling air over the fields of Rota. Cool, huh?
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| White Stork (LES MERVEILLES DE DANIELLE: septembre 2011) |
We're actually pretty close to a real birding paradise, as the Parque Nacional Coto de Doñana, at the delta formed by the Guadalquivir river is just a few miles to our north. It's home to lots of indigenous species, and a popular spot with migrating species as well. I'll hope to get there this Spring, although by reputation it's also a great place for those fond of mosquitos...
On Sunday, armed with guidebook and GPS, I headed into the city of Jerez (actually Jerez de la Frontera, acknowledging its long ago role as a border city during the Reconquista). There is sherry-based tourism aplenty there and, being fond of a nice fino, I look forward to spending hours educating my palate. On Sunday though I was headed to the Archeological Museum, north of the town center. Spanish drivers and pedestrians are far more rule based than their counterparts in Southern Italy, but even so I found navigating the narrowing streets of the oldest parts of the city a bit exciting, as the Garmin lady and I had divergent ideas about where it was prudent to turn. Eventually we compromised. I found an underground parkade a mile south of the town center and turned her off. It was a pleasant day for a walk though, and it was fun to wind my way through the barrios of the town.
The museum itself was a small gem with a great collection of stuff from the stone tools of the Paleolithic era, through Greek, Roman, Visigothic and Moorish artifacts. As it turned out, admission was free on Sunday, as was the audioguide provided by the very helpful folks at the front desk. Save for one small family group, I had the place to myself. It's a rare treat to meander slowly through a museum with no call to be anywhere at any particular time and I had a lovely couple of hours. There were a lot of small highlights, a couple of 4000 year old cylindrical idols with graven owl-shaped eyes among them. (see above). My favorites were the 7th century B.C. Greek helmet, retrieved in unbelievably good shape from a nearby river where perhaps it had been cast as an offering, and a wonderful Roman sculpture from the late Republican period. I was astounded at how the sculptor had wrung from the stone a portrayal of such delicacy and detail - unsparing of the subject's age and flaws, but communicating something of his immense dignity across the millennia.
After a marvelous ruminative interlude, beckoned by the rumblings of hunger and mindful of Charlie on his own at home I headed back to the car. The streets of the inner city, which had been only sparsely populated during my morning walk, now bustled with people, cars and sidewalk cafes. If I were a more evolved soul, I would have sat down and enjoyed a solitary lunch...but instead I found my way back to the parkade, the rented Citröen, and eventually my little house on base - where the streets were empty.
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