Vetusta Morla

  • Filed under Spain

  • June 5, 2024

Vetusta Morla

This blog post is dedicated to my late Tia Gloria who left the world last week. She was loved and will be missed.

Have you ever become obsessed with a singer or band (in a good way)? I have, several times in my life. Billy Joel was the first one that I clearly remember. Years later, after seeing Jason Mraz in concert, I couldn’t get enough of his songs. The ABBA tunes in both Mama Mia movies were my latest obsession, especially during the Covid lockdown. And now, it’s Vetusta Morla, a Spanish Indie Rock Band. They are phenomenal!

The band, composed of six guys, is named after a character in Michael Ende’s The Never Ending Story. The young men, who have been friends since high school, created their band right here in Tres Cantos, the city where I live, in 1998. Small world!

What’s more, the former owners of the apartment I live in are the aunt and uncle of the band’s drummer, who calls himself El Indio. The former owners’ son, El Indio’s cousin, was the person who told us about the group when we were looking to purchase our home. It turns out that El Indio used to practice in his aunt’s (what is now our) storage room in the basement before Vetusta Morla came to be.

©Carolina Sánchez

That unique connection is what first got my attention, but the band has come a long way from its humble beginnings, with some of their songs now boasting more than a million monthly listeners, according to Spotify. They’ve won 17 musical awards and have been written up in the world-renowned Rolling Stone magazine several times. And just this past spring one of their songs, El Amor de Andrea featured in the movie with the same name, was nominated for best original soundtrack for the Goya prize (the prestigious annual Spanish cinematographic award).

So, what’s so special?

They are versatile and talented musicians who write and perform their own original songs that are both catchy and deeply lyrical. When I was speaking to friend from Salamanca about the group, she said that one of the things she loved about them was that they were basically poets who put their poetry to music.

So let me give you a taste of their music by linking a song at a time and discussing them. Then I’ll share my entire Vetusta Morla Spotify playlist at the end. By clicking on the song title, you can listen to the song on Spotify. As you get to each song, you can listen to the whole thing or only the first minute, to get the feel.

We’ll begin with Copenhague which, as one of their first songs, has been listened to the most, according to Spotify. Notice the lovely guitar introduction. The song reminds me of summer. You can even hear gulls calling at one point and for a few seconds there is the sound of a radio, as if it was coming from a neighbor’s house.

The lead singer of Vetusta Morla is called Pucho. Doesn’t he have a terrific voice? It’s masculine and yet he manages to hit the high notes so well. It’s a distinctive voice that adds to the uniqueness of the band’s sound. And he enunciates very well, which makes it great to listen to if you are trying to improve your Spanish.

Two of the other band members, El Indio and Guillermo, also provide backup vocals, which you’ll hear in some of the songs. Their voices are a great contrast and support to Pucho’s.

If you like drums, the intro to this song, called La Deriva is really fun. See what you think!

Some of their songs make me want to dance when I hear them. That’s the case with Valiente. Listen to the first 15 seconds (at least) and you’ll see what I mean. And as the song goes on it just gets more fun! This is one of the songs I often wake up hearing in my mind because it’s such a catchy tune.

When my husband listens to music he often just tunes into the song’s rhythm and the sounds of the instruments, while ignoring/not noticing the lyrics. But for me, a song’s lyrics are often an integral part of enjoying it.

So, let’s cherry-pick a few lyrics from another of my favorite songs by Vetusta Morla called 23 de junio (June 23rd).  Although the song references an important summer holiday here in Spain called San Juan (Saint John’s Eve is the 23rd of June), to me the notes and lyrics of this song conjure up a feeling of All Hallow’s Eve. Listen to the first minute of the song and see if you agree.

Now let’s look at what they are saying (and please note that none of the translations in this blog are official translations, they are just my translations so you can enjoy):

Antes del frío, levanta las velas (Before the cold sets in, take out the candles)
Guarda en tu falda los granos de arroz (Stash some grains of rice in your skirt)
Y haz ceremonias de Luna llena (And perform ceremonies to the full moon)
Antes del frío, lánzamelos (Before the cold sets in, toss them to me)

Spooky, right? Later the song changes and talks about leaving your baggage behind, at the water’s edge, so you can be seen as you wish to be seen. And then he says, go ahead and jump in, I’ll be waiting here for you. Yeah. I’m sure I´m not doing the lyrics justice, but they are really good.

Another song I really like is called Consejo de Sabios, which translates to “Council of Wise Men.” It’s got a lovely keyboard intro. Listen to it and then come back.

Here’s a brief translation of the first part of the song, (skipping a couple of lines that I don’t exactly understand.) Again, I’m translating only a part of the song as the entire thing would be too long and I just want to whet your appetite. This song is about a relationship that is falling apart, and as you can hear by the tone of voice Pucho uses in the beginning, it’s about someone who is sad and trying to figure things out, but sometimes, there’s not much you can do to save a relationship that’s so far gone.

Antes de hacerlo estallar (Before blowing it all to pieces)
Quiero que aguantes mi mano (I’d like you to hold my hand)
Dime si el pulso es constante (Tell me if you can feel my pulse, and if it’s steady)
O es un murmullo lejano (Or if it’s just a distant whisper)

[…]

Es pronto para la amnesia (It’s too soon to forget)
Y tarde para irnos intactos (And too late to come through unscathed)

¿Qué hay que hacer? (What’s to be done?)
¿Qué hay que hacer? (What’s to be done?)

Ahora que todo está hablado (Now that everything has been said)
Lo intenté, lo intenté (I tried, I tried)

Whew! I almost want to cry with the deep despair that reverberates through in this song.

Now for another one. When I teach Spanish, I often encourage my students to listen to music as it helps hone pronunciation skills and gives them a bunch of new vocabulary. Here’s a fun song called Sálvase Quien Pueda (Save Yourself, If You Can) that is full of verbs in their infinitive form. We’ll only look at the first 3 stanzas. It’s also about a relationship that is in trouble.

Puedo volver, puedo callar (I could leave, I could shut up)
Puedo forzar la realidad (I could distort reality)
Puedo doler, puedo arrasar (I could feel pain, I could crush/be crushed)
Puedo sentir que no doy más (I could feel like I can give no more)

Puedo escurrir, puedo pasar (I could slip by, I could ignore)
Puedo fingir que me da igual (I could pretend that I don’t care)
Puedo incidir, puedo escapar (I could repeat my mistake, I could escape)
Puedo partirme y negociar la otra mitad (I could throw away half of myself and negotiate the other half)

Puedo romper, puedo olvidar (I could break up, I could forget)
Puede comerme la ansiedad (I could be worried sick)
Puedo salir, puedo girar (I could leave, I could turn around)
Puedo ser fácil de engañar (I could be easy to fool)

Yes, what a great song!

Another one my husband and I really love is called Los Días Raros. It starts out softly, with just the keyboard, and then a tiny bit of percussion, gradually adding Pucho’s soft voice. It builds up and then at just past 2 and a half minutes in, it suddenly stops. When it resumes a couple of seconds later, it’s soft again, like a heartbeat, and slowly builds back up. Ah! It’s really a work of art.

Let me leave you with a couple more songs that I love: Los Buenos has a pretty guitar intro and it’s one I’m often humming throughout the day.

Maldita Dulzura is also great.

Finisterre, is also the name of the western-most city in continental Spain. The city’s name comes from Latin, “finis terrae”, meaning the end of the earth because it was once thought to be the last piece of land before the world ended, i.e. if you sailed any further you would fall off. As a play on words, the song is about how the singer no longer cares if the world ends (“… whether the forests burn or the ocean boils”) as long as his girl is around.

Remember the song I mentioned right at the beginning, that was nominated for the Goya award? It’s called El Amor de Andrea. and was done in collaboration with Valeria Castro, an up-and-coming Hispanic singer. She sings the first part of the song, and then Pucho joins her. It’s a gorgeous song.

Cuarteles de Invierno is another really nice song. And the list goes on! I’m leaving out a lot of good ones, believe me! But this blog was already too long.

Vetusta Morla just put out their 6th album, called Figurantes at the end of May, 2024, and I’m excited to hear their new songs!

Well, what do you think? Aren’t they amazing? If you want to hear my Vetusta Morla playlist, here’s the link. I’m missing a few songs, but I’ll add them as I can. Happy listening!

I hope you enjoyed this blog post. I haven’t written for over a year, so I hope you don’t mind how long this one was. And as always, please check out (and tell someone about) my novels here.

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To Help a Magpie

Good morning. Today’s post is about an opportunity I had to rescue a bird.

I’m still using a crutch to walk so I don’t go far. Yesterday morning I was birding in our local park, a five-minute walk from home, and it had been nearly an hour so I was about to head back for breakfast. Suddenly I heard several Eurasian Magpies making a big fuss. Since I’ve been birding, I’ve learned to pay attention when birds are upset.

Magpies are corvids (like crows, ravens and jays) and are found in the US, Europe, the Middle East, Asia and Australia. Here in Spain, we have two types: the shyer Iberian Magpie, an elegantly dressed bird, is not usually found in the city, but can be seen pretty easily in the countryside. My friend, Victor Escribano generously shared some of his photos of Iberian Magpies below.

The other type of magpie found here is the noisy, ubiquitous Eurasian Magpie. I also think the Eurasian Magpies are quite pretty with their bold black and white pattern. In the right light they sport a greenish/bluish sheen on their glossy backs. In flight, their tails flair out into a cool wedge shape as they glide between trees or over lawns.

Eurasian Magpie photo by Stefania on Wikipedia. Notice the wedge-shaped tail with the middle feathers much longer than the outer ones.

When I heard the magpies chattering very loudly, I decided to go see what the commotion was all about. I was thinking it could be a raptor (they’re migrating now on their long journey from northern Europe back to Africa for the winter, and a hungry bird will sometimes stop for a quick snack along the way) or an owl, or maybe even a snake or a cat.

The magpies were all in one tree, so I followed their gaze, peering deep into the branches and then I saw it–a magpie hanging by its neck from a white string.

It was on the far side of the tree and its wings were fluttering sporadically, obviously on its last legs. Distressed, I headed toward the stony steps that would take me closer to the tree, looking around for someone who could also help. The park was pretty empty, but fortunately there was a grounds maintenance person, sweeping in the lower level of the park.

I called to him (in Spanish, of course) and asked him to help me save the bird. He was an older gentleman, close to retirement age, his face wrinkled and dark from the sun. “What bird? I don’t see anything,” he called back. I told him to hold on and hurried down the uneven steps as fast as I could.

When we got to the bird, we could see it dangling by its neck, only occasionally moving, about 12 feet up in the tree. I think it’s caught in a mask, he said. But I don’t know how to help. I don’t have a ladder.

Eurasian Mapgpie hanging from a string by its neck. You can see the tail folded under as the bird struggled.

I asked him to get his broom and see if that would reach enough to pull the branch down.

He hurried back and after a few missed swipes, he was able to hook the branch and bring it down. Soon we had the magpie in hand. I directed him to hold the bird, pinning its wings, while I dealt with the head.

“Ten cuidado que no te pique,” he advised. Be careful it doesn’t bite you.

It wasn’t a mask that the bird was trapped with. A tight white plastic cord was wrapped around the bird’s neck like a noose, and this cord was attached to a plastic bag. I wished we had scissors, and as if reading my mind, he lamented that he didn’t have any in his cart.

Then, speaking soothingly to the bird, I used the bag like a potholder to grab its beak and anchor it shut with my left hand while I softly ran my finger around the bird’s thin little neck, looking for a way to release the cord. The bird tried to flutter but didn’t protest too much. Unfortunately, there seemed to be no way to untie it. The cord was a solid all the way around.

Then I looked back at the bag, thinking hard about what I could use to sever the tie. My keys? A sharp rock? I scanned the length of the cord—about 8 inches, checking how it was attached to the bag. All of a sudden, my paradigm shifted: it wasn’t a cord attached to the bag, it was the bag’s handle, stretched out and very tightly wound around and around.

Still talking softly to the bird, I released its beak and began untwisting the bag, checking to see if I was going in the right direction and making sure to stay clear of the occasionally snapping beak. After several turns the man understood what I was doing. “Sí, es verdad. No me había dado cuenta. Sigue así. ” Yes, you’re right. I hadn’t realized it. Keep going.

About 15 seconds later I had the whole thing untwisted and off the bird. It moved its head gingerly left and right, as if checking that it could really move.

“¿Qué hago ahora?” the man asked.

Place it on those bushes, I instructed.

As he stepped back and away, the bird shook itself and then flew to another tree about 30 feet away.

Eurasian Magpie photo by Victor Escribano

How did you know the bird was in trouble, he asked. You were up there, and you couldn’t have seen the bird down here, on the other side of the tree. 

I told him about hearing the racket that the other magpies were making. And I did see the bird, with my binoculars.

“Ah, claro,” he said. Of course. He’d been sweeping in that area and had heard the birds too but never thought to look up to see what the matter was. To him it was just noise.

But how do you think it got caught like that?

I explained that Magpies are very intelligent. Checking the bag still in my hand I now noticed that inside was a baggie of what looked like potato chip crumbs. I bet it fished the bag out of the trash can and took it up to the tree to try to get the treat, then somehow got tangled in the bag’s handle. When the magpie tried to fly away it would have been halted and thrown off the branch, swinging around and around as the handle wound tighter and tighter into the taut “string” that I had found.

Eurasian Magpie in the lawn in front of my house. Photo by Christy Esmahan taken a different day.

“Ud. tiene mucha humanidad,” he said. You are very humane. You were speaking so kindly to the bird. But, where are you from? You weren’t speaking in Spanish.

And that’s when it dawned on me. I had comforted the bird in English! I was so focused on helping the little thing and soothing it, that I hadn’t even realized that I had switched languages!

I thanked the man for his help. He handed me my crutch, which had fallen on the ground, and went to retrieve his broom.

Eurasian Magpie photo by Victor Escribano

On my way home I whispered thanks to the Universe for letting me be in the right place at the right time to help a fellow creature in need. Also, if the other magpies hadn’t made so much noise, I would have been there but not known that their companion was in distress.

As I was reflecting on the softness and warmth of the small being I’d just had in my hands, I also started thinking of all the ways we unintentionally harm birds. Every year untold numbers of birds get hung accidentally when they get tangled in pieces of discarded string or rope. And most perniciously, fishing lines caught in trees are death snares to birds hunting along rivers. Other birds fly into electrical wires, snapping their necks. Many more, especially ones who spend a lot of time on the ground like pigeons, get pieces of thread tangled around their toes and end up losing part or all of their foot.

Discarded masks and plastic bags are another an unintentional menace. I pull the loops off my masks before I throw them away. But I had never thought of cutting (or tying up) the loops of plastic bags before disposing of them.

Anyway, I’m so thankful to have helped that little bird. I hope you enjoyed this blog post and as always, please check out (and tell someone about) my novels here.

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Atapuerca

  • Filed under Spain

  • August 11, 2022

Hello, how is your month of August going? It’s still pretty hot here in Madrid, and I’m still in PT for my ankle, but thankfully, things are improving on both fronts. Today I’m going to talk about a road trip we took in mid-July.

What does it mean to be human?

In college I took an anthropology class and ever since then I’ve been fascinated by discoveries of very old humans. So, when I heard that this year the oldest human fossil in Europe had been discovered in Spain, I made a plan for us to go visit the site.

Atapuerca is the name of the town, just outside of Burgos, where some of the most important archaeological discoveries have been made. It’s a two-and-a-half hour drive north of Madrid—perfect for a weekend excursion. I called and made reservations for the guided tour of the dig site and the museum, just 6 Euros (about $6) each.

Seeing as we were renting the car for a few days (and we are still happy about our decision to live without a car,) we decided to explore some parts of Madrid where unusual birds had been seen. And, perhaps not surprisingly, it was my new birding friend Victor who suggested some good sites.

First we headed south to where a Western Reef Heron had been spotted for the last several weeks. This heron is normally an African resident and the few occurrences of it wandering north onto the Iberian peninsula had always been on the coast. This was the first time one had shown up in Madrid and birders from all over Spain (and the resto of Europe!) were making the trek to go see it.

Western Reef Heron Photo by Victor Escribano

From there we headed to find another rarity: Long-eared Owls. They don’t really have long ears, of course, as owls don’t have pinnae, the fleshy part of the ear that sticks out from our heads. But they have tufts of feathers that resemble ears, and these owls have very long tufts. My husband led the way across the sun-bleached park to the exact tree that Victor had pinned on a map for us, and there they were, the cutest darn things, much smaller than the Eagle Owl, staring down at us.

Long-eared Owl Photo by Christy Esmahan

After that we headed north, stopping along the way for one more bird: the endangered Egyptian Vulture. Now, vultures aren’t the cutest birds in the world, sure, but this one was very handsome, mostly white with starkly contrasting black borders on its wings, a bright lemon-yellow face and a diamond- or wedge-shaped tail. Egyptian vultures, rather smaller than the other 3 types of vultures we have in Spain, have a pretty wide range, breeding from Spain eastward over the rest of eastern Europe and Asia and into India. But their numbers are very low and declining, and central Spain is about the only place in the world where numbers are slowly increasing.

Mid-July is probably not the best time of year to visit an outdoor excavation site, what with the triple digit temps, but it wasn’t too bad as the nights got down into the 50s and so overall, it was much cooler than in Madrid.

Panoramic view of Atapuerca excavation site from a distance Photo by Mario Modesto Mateo

And it was so worthwhile to see the site where 5 species of humans (4 of which are extinct)  have been found so far! We had a terrific guide who was patient with our group’s endless questions. She explained how the Atapuerca mountains had been blasted with dynamite in the 1800s to open the way for a train to pass through, but with so many limestone caves, the area had eventually been deemed too unstable to support the trains, so the project had been abandoned.

A view of some of the excavation areas in Atapuerca. Photo by Mario Modesto Mata.

Then, in the 1970s, a graduate student studying Black Bears in León heard rumors of people in the town of Atapuerca wearing necklaces made of bear incisors. So, he came to the Atapuerca and the townspeople told him they had found the bear teeth in old caves that had been opened up by the train company a hundred years ago. The graduate student went to explore the caves himself and, along with lots of bear teeth, he also found a jawbone that was clearly not a bear’s. It was in a deeper, darker cave which the townspeople had not explored. He took the bone to his professor who correctly identified as being human, and hundreds of thousands of years old!

As you probably know, all humans evolved in Africa. And then, about half a million years ago, Neandertals, our closest human relatives, came to live in Europe and parts of Asia, where they continued living until about 20,000 years ago. But, until the discoveries at Atapuerca, what we didn’t know is that there were humans in Europe, pre-Neanderthals and even earlier humans, living in Europe for over a million years!

Here you can see the layers of sediment. The lower down, the older the fossils. Photo by Mario Modesto Mata

The oldest bone discovered, the one they found this year, is between 1.2 and 1.4 million years old. It’s part of a face—a flat face with human-shaped teeth. And from the placement of the hole for the spinal chord at the base of the skull, it’s obvious that that individual also walked upright. At first they assumed it was a young boy, and an artist made an illustration of what he may have looked like. But just a few weeks ago they were able to recover enough DNA to confirm that it was actually a girl. (So now the artist will need to make changes to the picture!)

The other bones discovered in the different layers and caves in the area—and there are about 200 dig sites—show that at least 5 species of humans have lived on this land, from modern humans to Neanderthals to pre-Neandertals to a couple more as yet un-named species. They’ve also found cave paintings and stone tools. And plenty of animal bones as well, including now extinct rhinoceros, horse, and elephant species, all with butcher marks on their bones!

One surprising find is that some of the oldest human bones also show butcher marks made by stone tools. So, over a million years ago humans were cutting up humans. Was it cannibalism? Was it in battle? We may never know.

What does it mean to be human? These other humans were not our species, but they were still recognizably human. They walked on two feet, made clothing and used fire, made stone tools, hunted in groups and must have used language.

In one of the caves the skeletons also told some interesting stories of events that took place a million years ago, among the early humans. One story is a young man who had been hit in the face by a heavy object—a stone? A kick from a wild animal? In any case, the trauma was such that his mouth and cheek and eye socket had been crushed inward. But, the person did not die of that injury—at least not immediately. Scarring of the bone shows that he was able to live at least 4 months, perhaps as much as a year after the injury. He would not have been able to chew and would have been blind in one eye, so his family must have taken good care of him to keep him alive, probably even chewing his food for him before giving it to him to swallow.

Another skeleton was that of a young girl, probably 8 years old when she died. Her fossils show that she was pretty badly handicapped from birth defects and would certainly not have walked well. But she lived with people who were very nomadic, travelling 25-30 kilometers a day and only making temporary camps. So the fact that they kept her alive for that long, probably carrying her from camp to camp following the animals they hunted and taking care of her until she eventually succumbed to death, is pretty extraordinary.

Both of these examples speak to kindness and compassion over a sustained period of time that our ancestors showed to one another before we evolved into modern humans. So is that what it means to be human?

Here we are at a village close to the Atapuerca dig sites. Yes, the wind was a welcome relief from the heat!

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this account of our trip to the World Heritage Site of Atapuerca. And as always, please check out (and tell someone about) my novels here.

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A Birding Friend

It’s been a couple of tough months, health-wise, first with the gallbladder surgery, then with the sprained ankle, which is still a problem, and then Covid. But this blog post is about a wonderful thing that happened in the middle of it all, as a result of the trials and tribulations I was facing: it’s about how I made a new birding friend. 

While I was still in an orthopedic boot and couldn’t walk much, my husband rented a wheelchair for me. I like to bird in the mornings and he likes to run, so our arrangement was for him to wheel me to the park, go for a run, then come back and wheel me home. After being home-bound for several weeks, this was a splendid arrangement and I thoroughly enjoyed being out in the wonderful weather.  Even if I couldn’t go very far on my own.

One morning in the park, I had been staring up at some very tall pines for several minutes, following the calls of the chattering Coal Tits, Eurasian Blue Tits and the music box Serins, when I suddenly saw a much larger, bulky brown thing perched very high and very hidden on a branch. No! Could it be?

Do you see them here?
They’re sleeping close to the trunk, one above the other. You can see why no one had seen them before!

I had been wanting to see owls since we moved here, and I had never seen one. But then it turned its head and yes! It was clearly a very large owl. 

I recorded the sighting in my all-time favorite app, eBird, and when Jose came, I showed him the bird.  

The owl was resting and it’s head was facing the other way, so we weren’t 100% certain that we’d identified the correct species.

While still in Austin I had looked at pictures of birds typical of Madrid, and the Eurasian Eagle Owl was one I had really wanted to see. A grown owl stands 2 feet, 4 inches tall. It has ear tufts and gorgeous orange eyes! 

I just love these spooky orange eyes! Photo by Victor Escribano.

Although we had never seen one, we had heard Eurasian Eagle Owls calling in late winter, both from a nature preserve we had visited as well as from our home. But when we heard the one calling near our home we figured it was in the big park just south of us, not the little one close by! 

After seeing the owl in the tree for the first time in the morning, we returned in the evening to see if we could watch the owl fly off, and after we’d been in the park for a short while, a high-school student showed up with a camera. He saw us with our binoculars and said, “A friend told me a Eurasian Eagle Owl had been spotted here in this morning.” 

“Yes, that was me who found it,” I told him in Spanish. I had always wondered if anyone was paying any attention to my eBird entries, and it turns out, someone was! “But it must have moved because we haven’t seen it again.” 

The three of us began to circle the clump of pine trees, hoping to find the bird again. And then Jose located it. In English, I told him to show the young man where it was. 

And just like that, the young man switched to speaking to us in English. It was heavily accented, but fluid and a very thoughtful gesture as we shared the excitement over seeing this bird. 

“Wow!” he exclaimed as he took photos. “I’ve been trying to see an Eagle Owl for two years! When I heard there was one just half an hour from my home, I came right over. I’m so glad you found it.” 

After the sun set, we watched the owl fly off and meet up with another owl, probably its mother. 

Victor, as the high schooler is named, then stayed talking with us for another half an hour, showing us lots of pictures he’s taken of other wonderful birds in Tres Cantos and other parts of Spain. 

The next night we came again to watch the owl, and this time there were 3 or 4 other people, all with huge cameras. Victor introduced us to his friends, most of whom were in their 40s or 50s, and we all watched the owls—yes, two this time, high up in the tree. 

Afterwards, Victor told me that he couldn’t come back for a few days because he had to study for final exams, but said that more of his friends would be there. We now knew, based on their plumage, that the birds were actually owlets, recently fledged.

You can see the downy plumage on the lower parts of the owlet, where its contour feathers had not grown in yet. Photo by Victor Escribano.

Victor was very afraid that they would abandon the tree in the next few nights, before his exams ended, so he asked me to let him know if they were still there when I visited the park. His intention was to return right after his last exam and take a lot of pictures. 

I sent him daily updates and each evening a larger crowd gathered at the base of the clump of trees. All had heard through Victor about the owls. Dogs barked and kids squealed as they chased each other around and the owls, whom we were afraid would spook, took only a passing interest in the commotion below.   

I was so inspired by the owl that I drew this picture of it.

On the 5th day after our first owl sighting, the day Victor’s exams finally ended, there were about 20 people gathered below, with tripods and very expensive, arm-length cameras. A veritable owl-paparazzi gathering. “This is the most important ornithological event of the year in Tres Cantos!” I heard someone joke.

And the owls, well, they continued posing wonderfully, completely unconcerned, then flying away just after dusk. 

After that, school was out and we met on many evenings to observe the wonderful birds. There was a core group of 5 or 6 of us and soon we all knew each other’s names. As neighbors passed by, everyone wanted to know what we were staring at, and then they would also pause to gape at the impressive birds. One morning, a whole kindergarten class showed up to see the owls! 

This is one of my favorite images! Victor had been focused on the owl and its eyes were closed until this Eurasian Blue Tit showed up. Then the owl suddenly opened its eyes. Photo by Victor Escribano.

Eventually, with enough neighbors stopping to comment on the owls, their back story was fleshed out. Apparently, the mother owl had nested in the high eave of an abandoned interior patio in the building close by. But, several weeks into her nesting project, with the chicks just about ready to fledge, the owner of the patio had returned home and was frightened to see those large birds there. He scared them away, and, unable to fly yet, the three nestlings glided down to the patio. 

The neighbors across the way, who had been watching, were horrified when they realized what the owner of the apartment had done, so they called Animal Control Services. The Animal Control people came and captured two of the nestlings—the third one died—but were unable to get the mother. (Adult Eagle Owls have a wingspan of more than 6 feet and are one of the most formidable predatory birds in the world.) 

The owls were taken to a shelter close by, but by then they had learned to fly. Seeing that no harm had come to them, and hearing the mother’s continuing calls, they released the owls. The young owls flew to the tall clump of trees close to the building, and there they roosted each day and then met their parent for evenings of hunting. 

At this point most of the adult feathers have come in and the owl is looking very much like an adult! Photo by Victor Escribano.

Eventually the crowds watching the owls nightly thinned down, and now when I go to that park, almost 5 weeks after the first sighting, it’s often just me, staring up into the trees, finding one or two owls and watching them fly off after sunset. 

My friend Victor comes as often as he can and also lets me know about other great birds he’s seen.  

And to think, if I hadn’t been injured, I would probably never have sat still, staring up at those trees for so long, and I would have missed these magnificent birds—and the opportunity to make a new friend. 

Victor caught this image just as the owl was getting ready to fly! Isn’t it lovely?!! Photo by Victor Escribano

I hope you’ve enjoyed these pictures and my story of the owls. And as always, please check out (and tell someone about) my novels here.

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Cuenca–revisited

  • Filed under Spain

  • May 4, 2022

You know that saying, “I try to take one day at a time but lately several days have attacked me at once”? Well, with me it’s been several months that attacked me at once! Mostly good stuff, just super, super busy. And it’s not abating, so, although I still LOVE living in Spain and in Tres Cantos, and we are getting out to travel a bit occasionally, when work, weather and the pandemic permit, I’m waaay behind on blogposts. Plus, last week I had a colecistectomia (gallbladder removal surgery). All went well and I am recovering, as well as busy learning all the new vocabulary associated with the surgery. 😉

But let me tell you about a little trip we took to Cuenca, back in February. If you’ve read my older blogposts, you might remember that I wrote about a trip that I took to Cuenca in the mid 1990s.

And it was time to go back!

Cuenca a small city southeast of Madrid, about halfway to Valencia, on the Mediterranean coast. Cuenca is in the mountains (which doesn’t really tell you much since the same could be said for most cities in Spain!) It’s also close to a major park/nature preserve called Parque Natural de la Serenia de Cuenca. Since we’ve chosen not to own a car, we rented one and drove the easy 2 hours from Madrid for a lovely weekend.

First off we visited the large park, a place called Ciudad Encantada, which means Enchanted City. The fantastical rock structures in this smaller park were made millions of years ago, as water partially eroded sections of the limestone mountains, creating dozens of whimsical rock structures.

Can you guess the name of this one? Yes! Tornado!

It was a lovely, warm afternoon, and we enjoyed the prelude to spring.

Standing in front of the “alligator”

We spent the night in a hotel located outside the old city, since the accommodations there were more reasonably priced, and we were rewarded with gorgeous views of the countryside.

the countryside outside of Cuenca

Then we drove into the old city and had an excellent breakfast of toasted croissants with jam. Here’s Jose with a mocha-coffee that he said was delicious.

The old part of Cuenca is built high on cliffs, where it could be protected from invaders.  

In this photo, taken from the other side of the ravine, you can see that spring was just starting to blossom

On one side of the ravine was the requisite monastery, which is now a parador, a gorgeous hotel, and on the other side was the rest of the city. To go between, there was a stone bridge, but it fell apart in the 1950s, so they built another one of metal and wood, rising from the foundations of the old bridge. After walking around the ravine, we climbed the mountain and walked across the bridge.

A view of the new bridge, built on the stone foundations of the old bridge, connecting the two sides of the ravine.

One of the most famous sights of Cuenca is the Casas Colgantes—the Hanging Houses—which were built on the cliff faces in the 1500s.

Casas Colgantes–literally hanging over the edge of the cliff!

These houses were abandoned in the 1800s as they fell into disrepair, but then they were purchased to house a modern art museum in the mid 1900s and restored.

Here’s a view from inside the museum in the Casa Colgante.

Walking around the old city is also very worthwhile, not only for the spectacular views, and great aerobic exercise, but also because of the monuments.

A view from high in the old city. The monastery/now hotel is on the left, and you can see the bridge connecting it to the old city. The newer part of the city is in the valley beyond.
A king on horseback accompanied us as we had lunch at an outdoor cafe.

When we looked off further west, we saw some creative person had painted two large blue circles into the side of the mountain….

Perhaps this was an inspiration for Michael Jackson’s song? “I always feel like…”

Anyway, it was a lovely and magical weekend, and I’m glad I finally had a chance to share it with you!

Night settles on the city of Cuenca.

I’ve got several more posts to write to catch you up on our adventures. But for now, take care, stay healthy, and as always, please check out (and tell someone about) my novels here.

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Madrid Taxi story part II

  • Filed under Spain

  • March 19, 2022

Just a quick follow-up to the blog post from last week: the taxi drivers are back, safe and sound. They took over 25 tons of supplies to the Ukrainian border, and returned with 135 Ukrainian war refugees, mostly babies and small children, their mothers and some senior citizens.

On their return, more than 100 taxis lined the streets of Madrid, honking horns and heartily cheering the return of these courageous drivers who made a difference. Then as they got out of the taxis, the refugees cried and hugged their drivers. In one video I saw, there is a young mother being interviewed and she says “I never dreamed I’d be a refugee. Yeah…No one wants to leave their home. But, here we’re safe… ” and she stops talking, her eyes filled with tears.

Poor thing. I can only imagine what she’s going through.

Here’s a link to some reporting on Twitter.

And from what I’ve heard, this story is inspiring more people to take action, across Spain and Europe, to help.

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Madrileños helping Ukraine

  • Filed under Spain

  • March 11, 2022

It’s been a while since I’ve written a blog post and I’ve been super-busy, but I don’t want to wait to share a story with you about how everyday Spaniards are reacting to the war crisis in Ukraine and doing their bit to help out.

By Jean-Pierre Dalbéra from Paris, France – Barajas Airport (Madrid), CC BY 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=24670868

This is not your everyday story about people donating food, goods and money—that’s a given and is happening in every town and city across the country and across Europe. In Tres Cantos there was a collection at the town hall and within a few days they had 2000 boxes of non-perishable supplies—everything from diapers and baby food to medicines and even sleeping bags, that were loaded onto trucks and shipped to Poland a couple of days ago. There are also silent vigils to protest Russia’s aggression.

But the story I want to tell you is about something that happened, this past Sunday, at the Madrid airport. There was a group of taxi drivers, standing around talking, waiting for customers, and of course, the topic was the Ukraine invasion. Everyone was lamenting the terrible situation and wishing they could do more. Suddenly, as happens, one of them said, “You know, we could…” and here’s how I imagine the conversation went:

“Could what? Go to war ourselves?”

“No, be more direct with our help.”

“What? How? We’re in Madrid.”

“What if we drove there…”

“Where?”

“And do what, pray tell!”

“What if we drove to Poland, to the border with Ukraine…”

“Yeah, we could take supplies with us to give them help, right there on the border.”

“And we could bring some Ukrainian refugees back with us. We are professional drivers, afterall…”

Excitement grew and they started putting forth more ideas.

Then suddenly one of them said (and this part is true, according to the taxi drivers who were there,) “¡No hay huevos!” meaning, no one has the balls to do it.

And just like that, there were suddenly a whole lot of “huevos”.

So, they raised money and made plans. On Thursday, March 10th, in the afternoon, just 4 days later, 34 taxis, each carrying two drivers, left Madrid. It’s a 30-hour trip, some 3000 km (2000 miles) each way. Their plan is to stop only to switch out drivers.

Their taxis packed to the gills, they are transporting thousands of pounds of humanitarian aid. When they arrive on the Ukrainian border,  they will offload, spend the night in a hotel, then pick up refugee passengers (as approved by the Ukrainian government and NGOs that are helping with the massive resettlement operation) and turn around and drive the 30 hours back to Spain.

Once they arrive in Madrid, the Spanish government will organize housing for the war victims.

Over 2.3 million people have fled from the country whose population is only 40 million. These are people that 2 weeks ago had jobs, went to school, and lived in a democracy. And here in Europe, they are our neighbors.

It’s a small effort, bringing back the number of people who can fit in 34 taxis, but it is meaningful. I’m so proud of those taxi drivers—and everyone—who is doing what they can to help.

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Starting the New Year off on the right foot

  • Filed under Spain

  • January 4, 2022

Happy New Year!

I hope this is a wonderful new year for you, healthy and challenging only in ways that are fun. 😊

The typical New Year celebrations in Spain, as I described in my blog post several years back, include eating 12 grapes at the sound of each of first 12 chimes that ring in the new year, and watching the big ball fall in the Plaza del Sol in Madrid.

Since Covid numbers are really high, we did not spend the evening with friends, but rather had a quiet night, spoke with family members on the phone, then ate our grapes and got to bed. But, the next morning we headed out early, to bird some of the outskirts of Madrid, where there are some really pretty nature preserves.

First we headed to the southeastern part, to the Parque Natural del Sureste and walked the Ruta Circular de la Laguna El Campillo.

Laguna El Campillo, in southeastern Madrid

We birded around the lake area, and then climbed the hill and took in the scenery. It was a gorgeous day, in the 50s, with plenty of sun. And there were tons of people there too, of all ages, walking and riding bikes. I was surprised at how busy the place was!

My favorite of all the birds we saw that day were the white storks, which used to migrate back to Africa every winter, but now have been hanging around in Spain since climate change has made the winters more accessible. Some of these birds will go back to more northern areas of Europe for the summer, and some still do fly to Africa for the winter, but there is quite a large population that toughs it out here, two per nest. These birds stand 5 feet tall, so you can imagine how large that nest really is!

Then on Sunday, we drove north about 25 miles to the mountains called Sierra de Guadalix and spent the day walking on dirt roads, enjoying the birds. There were a few cars that drove on these dirt roads, but we didn’t think our little rental car could handle the mud holes further down.

It was another lovely day and we had packed a lunch, so we just stayed and admired the views.

Unpaved roads between fields at the foot of the Guadalix mountains
A crop of winter wheat

As we walked, we found the ruins of a small castle or nobleman’s home, probably from the 1400s, now completely in ruins, standing on the top of a hill with a great view.

The ruins of a small castle or nobleman’s house.

Even the sunset was spectacular. And on the left of the picture below, you can see 4 towers that are in Madrid.

We stayed until the sun finished setting.

So that’s how we started the year. How about you? Were you able to be with family and friends?

Hugs to all. And as always, please check out (and tell someone about) my novels here.

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Santo Inocente

  • Filed under Spain

  • December 27, 2021

One of the sillier reasons I love living in Spain is that the Día de los Santos Inocentes (“Day of the Innocent Saints”) which is the equivalent of April Fool’s Day, falls on December 28th. The roots of this celebration go back to biblical times, and even Pagan traditions, and this day is celebrated not only in Spain, but Latin America as well.

As we do on April Fool’s Day in the US, in Spain this is a day of pranks and tricks which can be perpetrated by anyone, from the news media to your mother or best friend. And when someone succumbs to the joke, the prankster says “Santo Inocente!”

In a few small towns in different parts of the country, the festivities include dances with silly costumes and other merry-making. But here in Madrid, especially with Covid numbers going through the roof, today has been pretty quiet.

A fountain in Tress Cantos. As you can see, there aren’t many people out and about.

Still, thinking about this day reminded me of some of the times my American mind can get fooled with everyday things in Spain. Take light switches, for example. I’m not talking about the kind that toggle, where you have two switches for the same light at different ends of the hallway or stairwell. No, I’m talking about the simple ones that are one switch for one light. If you have two switches (for two different lights) and you see them in this configuration, where the left switch is down and the right one is up, and you want to shut off the one light that is on, which switch would you press?

Which light is on, the left or the right?

To my American-trained brain, the split-second look at the switches seems to indicate that the right-hand switch is the one that’s on, since it is up, and the left-hand one is off. But, no, in Spain, light switches are switched down for on and up for off. Santo Inocente!

Or think about a pill-box where the days of the week are indicated with only the first letter of their name. How do we deal with the fact that Saturday and Sunday start with the same letter? We separate them, having one S at the beginning and the next S at the end. There’s also a problem with Tuesday and Thursday both starting with T. When I was in college, my university used the letter “R” for Thursday on our class schedules, so this got me used to seeing a different letter to mean one of those mid-weekdays.

In Spanish, the days that repeat letters are martes and miércoles (Tuesday and Wednesday). So, the system they use is to place an “X” for the second one.

A Spanish pill box

In this case, there’s no relation between the word miércoles and the letter X, but my brain quickly adjusted to having a strange mid-weekday symbol. Except, I’m used to the strange day being a Thursday, so every time I get to Wednesday on my pill-box, I have an instant of surprise: It’s Thursday already? But after a second, I process that the J means jueves, which is Thursday, so the X is really Wednesday. Santo Inocente!

Another example is Friday the 13th. In Spain it’s not a day of foreboding, but Tuesday the 13th is. The saying goes, “Martes y 13, ni te cases ni te embarques.” (On Tuesday the 13th, don’t get married or board a vessel.” And in a broader sense, the feeling is you shouldn’t start any huge personal projects or begin a long trip on that day.

It’s just a superstition, and I haven’t really found anyone who truly pays it any mind. Certainly, the planes and trains all work on Tuesday the 13th just as they do on Friday the 13th. But I was surprised when I first moved to Spain, over 30 years ago, that my classmates would ask, “Why are the horror movies all set Friday the 13th? That isn’t the scary day!”

Santo Inocente!

In any case, I hope you enjoy the day, and here’s wishing you a wonderful start to the New Year 2022. May it be the best year yet!!

All the best, and as always, please check out (and tell someone about) my novels here.

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Nativity sets from around the world

  • Filed under Spain

  • December 21, 2021

Christmas is just around the corner and here in Spain, Nativity sets are the main holiday décor item, both in homes and in stores. The typical ones feature a caucasian Mary, Joseph, and baby Jesus lying in a straw crib, and often there are other figures including some angels, the Three Kings, perhaps some other village people and an assortment of barn animals like donkeys, cows and sheep.

What I did not know, but should have guessed, is that Christian communities around the world also set up Nativity sets, and, quite naturally, these reflect their own cultures, traditions and values. Not only are the figurines dressed in different and sometimes quite surprising, beautiful and elegant clothing, but also the animals and other figurines can be quite different.

The Ayuntamiento de Tres Cantos (our local town hall) is featuring Nativity sets from all over the world, and I just loved the display! Come with me and see how beautiful! (And if you click on each picture, you should be able to read the card and see what country the display is from.)

We’ll start with the Latin American Nativity sets. I just loved the colors in this one from Peru:

And I thought this one, also from Peru, made of glass was quite elegant.

Here are some more from Latin America:

And now, let’s head to Africa, where the artisans used wood (ebony and others), beads or stone to create their Nativity sets.

Now on to the South Pacific, where we’ll see sets from Australia, New Zealand, Papua New Guinea and others.

On to Asia

And finally, a couple from Europe:

Wasn’t that fun?! I love seeing how creative people are! I would never have dreamed of setting up a Nativity set with chickens the size of chairs, or even tropical birds. And the colors of some of those outfits! Which were your favorite?

Have a wonderful Holiday!!

And as always, please check out (and tell someone about) my novels here.

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