ORANGES AND LEMONS
say the bells of St. Clements
Before leaving England to live in Spain we thought it might be a good idea to prepare ourselves for this jolly big adventure by learning a little Spanish. Three months of once a week night school we hoped would equip us with the basics e.g. Donde es …..? Como…..? Cuenta por favour….
The two most important we discovered, being, no comprehende and mas despacicio por favour!!!
Not realising then that it is all well and fine to utter a few stock phrases, the critical bit is to understand the reply. When we first arrived in Spain our first reality check was realising that we had landed not only in Spain but crucially in Catalunya. It was as if someone had set sail for England only to find themselves landing in Wales. Que supresa!
Que supressa ! too for our new neighbours, when suddenly one day without warning two aliens complete with mobile home landed on their doorstep. Armando and Theresa were in their mid sixties possible early seventies and were kindness itself, warm, open and accepting, coping with our pidgin “Spanglish” with delight and humour . Despite their age, they cleaned their land, pruned and collected the harvest with an energy that put us to shame and they did their best to educate two hopeless townies into the art and mysteries of becoming an olive farmer. For having survived the exodus after the civil war and exile in France, they were more than sympathetic to those struggling to make a new life in a foreign land.
Often when they came to visit, just hopping over the dividing stone wall, in the extended hand of friendship was often clutched a huge bag of oranges (with the occasional lemon or two), more than we could possibly eat. Courtesy would brook no refusal, so my solution to this unexpected bounty was to commence the making of marmalade and what better idea than to reciprocate the gift of oranges with a return gift of (mobile) homemade marmalade.
What I hadn’t bargained for that this would lead to an orange marmalade loop from which there appeared to be no end. Thankfully nature had its own way of solving the problem, the end of the orange harvest. This experience of our first encounter with our lovely Catalan neighbours prompted my first Catalan/Spanish poem;
La Naranges de Catalunya.
The oranges of Catalunya,Twice warmed.Once by the Catalan sun,Once by the Catalan earth.
The oranges of CatalunyaTwice watered.Once by Catalan rain,Once by Catalan tears.
The oranges of CatalunyaTwice caressed.Once by Catalan winds,Once by Catalan laughter.
The oranges of CatalunyaTwice blessed.Once in the giving,Once in the receiving.
Twice warmed, twice watered,Twice caressed, twice blessed.A hard land, good people.
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I would put this on the labels with the following note;
This marmalade contains small quantities of TLC which may when consumed cause unusual feelings of well being and happiness. It is advisable after consumption not to entertain major undertakings, such as proposals of marriage or enter into financial contracts.
To our regret when we moved a few kilometres away we gradually lost contact but the memory of their kindness will be with us always.
Sarah A. Massie.
Short URL: http://www.chroniccat.com/?p=534
Posted by editor
on 2010-08-18 Filed under August 2010, General.
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