Village People

One of the things we will miss here in our village, is the sweet people. They are hard working friendly people who have welcomed us with open arms. It seems like someone is always sweeping, or washing, or white-washing something as they are industrious and take pride in their homes and this special village.
They often leave their doors open at all hours of the day in every kind of weather.

Mozart and DaVinci have both connected more deeply with people because they have the language, but I have admired them in my own way from a bit of a distance. We always exchange “Hola’s” or “Buenas Dias” and smiles. People greet and chat as they pass on the curvy cobble stone streets, while waiting in line at small stores or sitting on one of the many benches.

Our regular shop people are familiar friends...two Maria’s and one Loli. We get different things from different stores and sometimes we hit all  three of our  favorites for only a few things. They give Mozart free candy and treats and talk or tickle her in playful repartee when we run into them outside of their store. We know Loli’s father with his kind eyes and inability to talk much because of his obvious history
of throat cancer in the past. Sometimes we see him and other pensioners from our balcony if we lean
out at the same time or when we walk by.

There also always men walking around with bags of produce on their shoulders from their gardens. At first we did not know what was in them. We get a huge bag of avocados for one euro or a bag or mandarins or sweet potatoes and various things regularly, fresh from their farms next to the village. There is always a market in the square on Thursday so we get things there too like cheap nuts.

There are many old people in this village. I have read that this is common as many young people move to cities where there are more opportunities. I have read that Spaniards  for the most part prefer city life to the country these days. I have been quite amazed at how many older people here use canes and walkers as these streets are not for the faint of heart. One of my favorites is a joyful “Abuelo” who proudly cares for
a six month old baby, pushing a carriage on these hills with one hand on it and another for his crutch.

I have been gathering a little collection of some of the people here. It is a small town where everyone knows everyone (except the tourist who are obvious and usually just here for a few hours with a tour), so
it has been a little awkward trying to take the candid pictures that I want to take as I also do not want to offend. Yet I want to capture something about their hearty spirits that touches something in me. I see heroes in ordinary moments and ordinary people and a little bit of the authentic Spanish past thru daily village life here.

There are young people here and of course lots of children and a small expat community from many countries that we speak English with, but this collection is more about the older people that I do not know accept to say hello and through observation. I have a bad knee from crushing it years ago (along with a broken femur) and have spent time on crutches and in a wheel chair. Perhaps that makes me notice people dealing with crutches and things on these endless hills and steps.