Meet Cami

Life in Frigiliana: Village life in the eyes of a fourteen year old.

Frigiliana (Malaga, Andalusia) is a small village on the southern coast of Spain and, coincidentally, where I live. It's home to an array of rather stunning whitewashed houses covered in bougainvillea, all surrounded by vast olive groves and framed by spectacular mountains. It has a glorious view of a sparklingly crystal clear, hugely tempting, and absolutely gorgeous turquoise blue sea in the near distance. Heaven on Earth? Yes? No? Maybe? But, you can decide on that one.

Frigiliana, as it happens, has quite an amazing past; one that would probably start a wavering flicker of curiosity in even the most, “Don't speak to me about history because I'm not interested (I would rather carry on watching telly)” kind of person; A past, which although fascinating, is also stained by the faint remains of blood, death and a terrifying war. I don't want to say - but it's probably the latter things that capture people's interest. If we're honest, we know that (in general) people don't want to hear about cultural value and fabulous architecture. They want drama, revenge, suspense, love, or anything that's remotely similar to The Titanic. So, here goes:

Frigiliana occupied an important place in Spanish history during the expulsion of the Moors. After the fall of the kingdom of Granada, Frigiliana's population carried on being mainly Muslim, and there weren't many changes in the overall way of life. However, as time progressed, the Christians became more and more intolerant of the Muslim's customs and ways. It was this increased domination of the Christians over the Moors that gave way to disagreements and disputations. And, truthfully, who likes to have their taxes excessively (or even a tiny bit) increased? The Moors rebelled against the authorities; a blood-chilling battle ensued. And for reasons such as “I'm just about to have my dinner” I will not go further into the details. However, it wasn't long before one of the sides came out victorious: The Christians. Some Moors gave up and, with their head hung low, simply obeyed. Others though, were obstinate: they would not be ruled unjustly. The men carried on fighting, even though the battle was long lost. They died fighting for their rights - with their pride fully intact. The women did not have such an easy path: clutching their babies and children they threw themselves off the cliff, and wrought upon themselves a terrible fate.

On a more positive note, I will describe experiences of life in my darling little village. At first sight, nowhere could be more perfect. But, it's exactly the same as that fantastic Christmas present you wanted so much and practically begged for on your very knees. Once you rip off the shiny wrapping paper and delve deep into the fancy packaging, what you find is not what you expected. Sound familiar? If it's too good to be true, it probably is.

 I arrived in Frigiliana with a bagful of dreams, projects and wishes: grow organic produce in my very own vegetable patch (who hasn't ever wanted that?), go horse riding every Sunday, open a bakery, paint the landscape, get involved in local “fiestas”... But (and I suppose predictably) those projects are currently stuffed in a bag and carelessly thrown into a corner of the garage as we plod on with every-day life. Sometimes, when you're rifling through that bag, you decide to get one out. You dust it off feeling optimistic. “Yeah, I can do that”, you think. And as soon as it came ... poof! That optimism disappears and you give up. I'll get round to them someday...

But how to compare Frigiliana with say, Grenada or Malaga, with big cities?

Mainly, the biggest difference between a small village and a big old city is that in the latter you could start dancing the cha cha cha in the middle of the street and still remain anonymous. In Frigiliana, there is no such thing. Incognito? Excuse me! A who, what, when?

Suppose one day you fancy having a (wild) party: You're inviting quite a crowd, but obviously there are some exceptions; A few people you prefer not to mingle with. “There's no need for them to know. I'll just keep quiet” you think. Dream on. You'll be in the grocery shop buying a few bits of pieces and a friend (you didn't invite) will walk into the shop and stand behind you in the queue. She'll greet you and say “Good party, was it?” And then you just wish the floor could swallow you whole. You have to spend an agonizing five minutes desperately hoping Antonio (the shop owner) will hurry up so you can make a swift exit.

Then there's the other problem: neighbours. So now, when you knock on their door anxiously to tell them about the party, it's preferable you don't in fact mention the actual party. You're better off saying that you're going to have a “small gathering of friends”. Even though you'll have to endure their cold looks for over a month. “If looks could kill ...”

Moving on - now here's a WARNING: It is advisable not to have a dog that is prone to running out of the front door and over to the neighbouring community where it will drive everyone up the wall (and probably over it). Yes, that's sure to throw a new light on your neighbours, and that light isn't very flattering, let me tell you. They'll only see red.

Well, for sure, there are lots of other cons; and on a bad day the list goes on forever. So, how about taking a look at the pros?

For a start, Frigiliana is one of the most beautiful places in the whole of Andalucia. The small narrow streets seem to take you back to the time when Moors walked along the same cobbled road. The peace, the quaint little fountains, the traditional bars, the hanging baskets and the pots overflowing with geraniums ...

The processions are spectacular, the palm trees tropical, the smell of incense emanating from pretty little gift shops, the breeze, warm and sweet, blowing in your face, the men in their brilliant suits sitting proudly on their dancing horses, whose hooves clatter rhythmically on the cobbles; the women in their intricate, colourful and festive flamenco dresses

The pleasure in walking down the promenade and warmly saying ‘hello’ to all the sweet little and older men, who sit around on the park benches happily chatting away, is very gratifying. And seeing the tight-knit community, in which everyone helps everyone, is moving and makes you feel warm and fuzzy inside. Yes, there is quite a bit of bickering. Yes, everyone carries on doing what their ancestors did two hundred years ago (they adhere to convention and custom). Yes, there's always someone watching. And yes, your every move is then examined with careful precision - (like an archaeologist examining an old fossil or a forensic scientist uncovering evidence) - presently to be discussed behind your back. But, “It's better the devil you know, than the one you don't”.

Village life CAN be (very) annoying, but here's the truth and my sincere opinion: Somewhere is only as inspiring and pleasant as you make. I hope I never lose sight of that.

Camilita O’Reilly