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In Which I Know The Way To San Jose
April 1, 2008 by Mike
San Jose
Route: Orgiva - Motril - El Ejido - Almeria - Cabo de Gata - San Jose
I cheated a bit yesterday. I wasn't busy, but the day was simply packed.
After clearing up the garden and stacking the empties for recycling, I took Vicki on the bike for a trip up into the mountains.
Her son and daughter-in-law have built a house overlooking an impossibly beautiful valley. Jake has grown up knowing this place: now he's building a future there for their kids.
Just up the hill, the first generation are doing well. Paul and Fi have a wonderful home now: when they moved here, it was a ruin, overrun, a million miles from running water. Now it *sprawls*.. and they have broadband.
(They also run walking holidays here and in Morocco -- bootlace.com -- highly recommended. Say Mikey Bikey sent you.)
(And while I'm advertising my new chums' businesses -- try and make The Rocket Festival (myspace.com/rocketfestivalspain) in May.)
The valley was dying before the hippies arrived. "Your children will leave you here alone!", they were told. This had happened to the Spanish. It *hasn't* happened to the hippies -- yet. Kids try Britain and decide that on the whole the sunshine and good vibes are better, man. Maybe there's something in the grass.
--
But me? I can't stay here. I'm missing the seaside.
A fond farewell to Vicki, Sue and the family, and I'm back down the mountain to Motril and the coast road.
No one in Orgiva could tell me what the coast east of the Hippy Valley looked like. Some had been out to Cabo de Gata -- more in a mo -- but none had stopped in the main city of the province, Almeria. And no one had warned me how awful El Ejido would be.
This is a hot-house agricultural centre. Literally. The fields are covered in plastic sheets -- for mile after mile. Everything heats up. Things grow faster. The farmers here turn out three crops a year. There's money in it. Whoever's in charge conveniently ignores the fact that it makes the entire area look like a play area for an incontinent giant.
On my map, El Ejido is tiny -- and the map isn't that old. But in the last 15 years the town has expanded as fast as the crops have grown. Now it reaches clear down to the sea, a never-ending dusty trail of plastic fields, plastic factories, low-rise housing and warehousing. Ugly, soulless, inhuman. It doesn't smell great.
This is the first time in Spain that I've seen large-scale immigration. There are scores of west African workers here. I saw perhaps 200 men -- and two women.
This is also the first time I've seen large-scale bicycling -- as a means of getting around, rather than sport or exercise.
These two facts are related: all the cyclists I saw were of African origin.
Spain has coped well with immigration, is far more accepting and generous than many 'experts' expected. What had been a reactionary society, dominated by conservative Catholic mores, has in a generation adopted same-sex marriage, 'living in sin' -- and significant immigration. But some things never change: the new faces arrive at the bottom of the ladder and have to work their way up. They do get on their bikes, Mr Tebbitt.
(I watched Poli Ejido beat Real Sociedad back in September: if I'd known how crap their hometown was, I would have been even more upset.)
--
Towards Almeria, a return to resorts full of English tourists and English Breakfasts -- and a brilliantly friendly welcome from Colin and Maggie in the Baggies grocery shop -- go on, Colin, buy yourself that Bonneville! You know it makes sense! -- through Almeria -- I didn't stop, it was getting on a bit, but this felt like a city that's big enough to have a decent record shop and small enough to love -- looks good too -- to Cabo de Gata. It *doesn't* mean Cape of the Cat, but it's still lovely.
I'm staying in... well, I had to really:
More tomorrow.
Comments
By mark | April 7, 2008 5:36 PM
Good to see your back on the bike
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By karen With | April 6, 2008 7:54 PM
So very nice to have a catchup Mike - seems you have gotten those wheels turning again plus some really lovely writing, sis