Going Native
In order to tell this tale we need to go back in time. Not far. Just a bit…
It is 11.55am, Friday 24th September and Mrs P is getting edgy.
”You want a cup of coffee!? How long will that take? We said we’d be there by 2.”
She is so edgy because today we are going to visit her little brother, Mr J. She hasn’t seen him for 2 years. Not so much to do with global pandemics, that shall remain nameless, and more to do with the fact that Mr J, until recently, lived in Japan. She doesn’t want to be late.
Los Duques. The population just doubled
We are heading for the small town of Los Duques (population. Wikipedia says 88, but there are about 200 in the local WhatsApp group. I know which one I believe).
Approximately 100km (60 miles) inland from Valencia, near the town of Requena (population: A lot more) and surrounded by vineyards Los Duques is small. Yes, it has a bar, but all small villages in Spain have a bar. There is no shop. It does have a church though, which is so small it has been able to succesfully hide behind a tree during all our previous visits.
Downtown Los Duques. The kids are on the streets tonight. .
Mrs P’s brother and family moved back here from Japan in April this year having lived the last 9 years in Japan.
It’s a long story, the potted version of which is that they lived in England, then Japan, then England, then Spain, then Japan and now they are back in Spain. I’d tell you to keep up and threaten a test, but I can barely follow it myself. This is what they look like…
And then there were 3. (There is a 4th, but he decided to go university to avoid us).
When siblings accidentally dress the same. So cute!
Being here with them we are getting a crash course in the Spanish way of life and particularly the foibles of eating and sleeping times. If I’m right it goes something like this…
Wake up - drink coffee
Mid-morning (10.30am ish) have a small snack called an almuerzo (and maybe another coffee)
Take a Siesta (Around 2 -2.30pm) - Siesta is a sleep, not a meal
Mid afternoon (any time between 2.30 and 4pm) have lunch
Late evening (around 9pm - 10pm) have dinner
Bed at around 11pm
That means the Spanish eat about 3 times a day, pretty standard, it’s just the times that are different. However, I’m struggling with this. My body is hard wired to eat at certain times and only sleep at night. This is how I am fitting in with the family…
Wake up - drink coffee Have Breakfast and tea (I don’t drink coffee first thing)
Mid-morning (10.30am ish) have a small snack and maybe a coffee - I am more than happy to buy into this particular meal
Snack in lieu of lunch at about 12.30-1pm (quite a big one because I am hungry)
Take a Siesta (Around 2 -2.30pm) - I tried this. What happens is that I sleep briefly and wake feeling awful, so I don’t do that any more. Besides, I just ate. You could even say that I have managed to turn a siesta in to a type of meal. Question: “What are you doing for siesta?” Answer: “Calamari and chips.”
Mid-afternoon (any time between 2.30 and 4pm) have lunch - More food, but I just ate! Oh well, mustn’t appear rude, so eat huge lunch number 2. “Piece of cake?” “Don’t mind if I do.”
Late evening (around 9pm - 10pm) have dinner - Still stuffed from 2 lunches and breakfast, but I soldier on and do my very best to do justice to the additional lovely food that arrives. It would be rude not to, right? “What’s that? Would I like dessert? Oh, yes please.”
Bed at around 11pm, but stay awake till 1am because I am too full to sleep. I might pop down and get a snack.
So, by my reckoning I am now eating 5 meals to everybody else’s 3. I LOVE Spain.
So, remind me, is this breakfast, lunch, dinner or just a snack?
On our first full day with Mrs P’s family we went into the much larger town of Requena, where we visted the market and bought our very own paella dish.
Mrs P and little Bro’ in search of the perfect paella dish.
Mr J (Mrs P’s brother, remember?) is part of the Requena band, so we also went to see them play. Aterwards we had a dinner at about 10pm. Possibly my 6th meal that day.
Sociedad Musical Santa Cecilia de Requena in full swing
Then visited the castle, which was open till 1am! We went up to the top of the castle tower to see the lights of the town below. It was an interesting climb. Huge, ancient and uneven stone steps spiral up to the top of the 40 metre tower, the whole of the climb seems to be lit by what felt like one solitary 40 watt light bulb that was forever at the farthest end of the climb. It certainly wouldn’t be allowed back at home.
Anyone got a torch? Castile de Requena Tower at midnight
View from the top.
Down at street level the Requena band has competition! Valencia Youth Jazz (note the drummer, who should been in bed long ago).
Back in Los Duques we have been introduced to various of the locals. The Bar is managed by an ex-professional flamenco dancer, who thinks it hysterical that I order coffee with a beer chaser at 5pm.
A busy day in Los Duques
Gandalf, resting in Los Duques
One of the highlights of the visit, we get to meet señor JM, his partner, her son and all the wonderful horses and other animals at his stables. Señor JM is a horse trainer. Many years ago, before he became a horse trainer of some repute in Europe, Señor JM used to work in England training horses for a super famous rock star who shall simply be known here as Mr MR (Let the speculation begin).
Señor JM. Expert horse trainer and king of the paella.
We were invited for Sunday lunch. And what a lunch. The most magnificent, and huge, paella ever. A tour of the stables and great, great company.
Just one of the many beautiful horses Señor JM has in his stables.
4 days later and both Mrs P and I are like locals (apart from the 6 meals a day and no sleep thing, oh and we still can’t speak Spanish). On one occasion I can even be seen chatting with one of the locals in the street. Admittedly the conversation was quite stilted, but still, practically natives.
The following are just a few images from our guided tour of Requena by Mrs P’s little brother. It’s a lovely place. Well worth a visit.
The monument to the local wine harvest.
little surprises round every corner (admittedly, sometimes it’s laundry, but on this occasion…)
Many residents are keen gardeners…
…though some clearly worry about theft.
It’s the bull ring. I promise we didn’t go in. Been once, never going again. If you are a bull I would steer clear (“steer” geddit? No? Oh well.)
As always, no tour is complete without a visit to the local church. I haven’t been struck by lightening yet!
