Turkeys, Burros and Blueberry Cheesecake

Jabbing a finger on the map and then taking whatever road led to a tiny village is pretty much guaranteed to delight every sense. Not far from Antequera is Archidona –  famous for its international film festival which has promoted cultural diversity since 2004.  The town has an unusual and striking octagonal plaza, part of which was being used as an outdoor cafe.  An enormous edifice which used to be a library but now houses the high school sat squarely in the middle of town.  There is a plaque on the wall that mentions the famous poet Miguel Cervantes and commemorates the 400th anniversary of the publication of Don Quixote. Interestingly, Cervantes conducted his own ‘Quixotic’ journey around Andalucia … but as a tax collector for the government!

La Joya a track takes you up, way up to the Hotel la Fuente del Sol with commanding views of the valley far below.  It’s a four star hotel and restaurant out in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by glorious and immaculate gardens … and a flock of turkeys wandering happily through the bushes … gobbling conversationally as we approached.  A señora was just getting into her car and explained that they were closed for the next two days – probably the usual Monday/Tuesday closing. But she urged us to come back and try the excelente locally grown and prepared regional food.  

On another outing a double archway framed the entrance to the village of Moclinejo high on its mountain perch. A photographer’s dream, as literally every house, window, garden, and set of stairs cried out to have its photo taken.  By now we were reasonably adept at squeezing down cramped, cobblestone passages, but not here I’m afraid – we’d met our match. Around one corner there was a sudden intake of breath as we met an oncoming car on a steep, inclined hill, and no easy way of backing up.  Obviously the other driver was local and probably well used to incompetent tourists visiting his town . . . he graciously backed up into a corner the size of a postage stamp, and waited for us to pass.  Best thing was to park and walk … so we did.  Past the Iglesia de Nuestra Señora de Gracia with a cat sunning itself outside – blue pots bright against the dazzling white walls … a window crammed full of plants and succulents … colourfully tiled stairs leading to doorways draped in wisteria, hibiscus and bougainvillea.  Near a lookout stood a carved wooden statue to Pablo Benthem Martín-Alonso, 1966-2019 who appeared to be an adoptive son of the village … and someone who seemed to have done practically everything – adventurer, diver, member of an expedition traveling through north and south Africa by autogyro – as an homage to its inventor, Juan de la Cierva.  Pablo became involved in the history and traditions of the village, and as such this memorial was created in his honor.  I just love the last words of the plaque … “above all, there are always your neighbours, your family, so that where you are in the sky, the soft breezes and wind will tuck you (hold you/protect you?) in every flight”.  This was worthy of further investigation so here (if you click on the English translation, upper right) you can read a bit more about this adventurer. https://www.laopiniondemalaga.es/municipios/2019/02/25/moclinejo-declara-dia-luto-muerte-27828997.html

On our way back to the car, a clip-clop of hooves materialized into a young lad leading four burros down the road towards us. The two older ones were haltered, but the two youngsters trotted along behind.  I called out asking if I could take their photo . . . and as they came level the two young ones slowed and eagerly approached, ears perked . . . however they were quickly “hushed” and “clicked” back in line to continue their journey.  There was a clatter and buck of hooves in protest, before they all disappeared round the corner.

Another stop El Borge …  even more dizzying views below … and another distinctive archway into town. The cobblestone patterns and designs differ from one place to another, too. Rounding the church, we found ourselves in an open plaza with what looked like a flight of stairs in front and a wall to the right.  As we pondered the situation a jovial señor detached himself from his compañeros at the outdoor cafe and approached with a grin.  No doubt we were not the first to encounter this conundrum.  We gleaned enough to figure  that the road did in fact continue beyond the wall – with equally good views, apparently … or if preferred we could go back out the way we came.  Of course an animated but good-natured discussion ensued as all the cafe patrons weighed in over the pros and cons of which way was best – lots of friendly jibes and laughter.  In the end, we parked the car and after an amble around town, returned to the plaza for tea.  

An elderly señor sat on a bench beside the entrance, hands clasped atop his cane – no doubt his usual spot.  We nodded and wished him buenas tardes …  he replied with a tooth-challenged smile. In our best Spanish we began to order at the counter, but the owner was having none of it.  She wanted to show off her English … and to be honest it far exceeded our attempts.  She insisted we try her blueberry cheesecake . . . or even better the carrot cake . . .. no, no, by far the best was the chocolate everything (she struggled to find the right words) “chocolate to die from!” she exclaimed triumphantly.  And was probably right – calorie-wise. 

A game of dominoes at a nearby table had just ended and there was a loud clackety-clack as the tiles were vigorously shuffled.  As is customary here,  tea is drunk from small glasses – often with hot water and tea bag on the side.  If milk is required it is usually heated and brought in a small metal jug.  However this time there were tiny teapots in which to steep the tea . . . but the piece de resistance was the cheesecake … light and creamy with a layer of tangy pureed fruit jelly, fresh blueberries, swirls of whipped cream and wafers on the top. Decadent, sinful but deliciously wonderful.  Every mouthful was savoured in its entirety.  The server confided to us that it was only his second day on the job, and that the owner was actually his ex wife.  And that’s Vale? (OK) we asked, a bit hesitantly. He quite cheerfully replied it was perfectly fine.  We’d now had dessert … but I don’t think we’ll be needing much dinner tonight.  As we got up to leave, the owner reminded us to come back and try the ‘chocolate bomb’ … and everyone at the nearby table called out adios or viaja con cuidado (travel carefully).  Quite often in small towns there’s a certain ‘reserve’ around strangers – at least until overtures have been made . . . but not here.  They were openly welcoming from the get go. 

On the trip home, there was the damp, earthy smell of rain in the air … although it didn’t amount to much.  Just a few sprinkles.  It took an age to loop our way down into the valley. All the mountainsides are tightly terraced – with slopes of 45 degrees, or more and cultivated with either citrus or mango trees.  Some terraces have horizontal sheets of  galvanized corrugated metal as retaining walls, and it’s quite something to see the rows of glinting silver all the way down. I can’t imagine how uncomfortable  and difficult it would be to work on these steeply angled fields.  As we neared Antequera the cap of clouds lifted just enough to let the sun peek under and give everything a golden glow.