Another Happy Valley Sunday - April 15th

As the sun remembered that it is meant shine in Spain , I spent an exhausting weekend eating and drinking (television work was involved, but more of that another time). On Saturday Nola and I joined a party of friends on a Tapas Tour of Granada. Some places she and I knew well and some excellent, new destinations. This was all thanks to Gayle Mackie of www.granadatapastours.com A magnificent seven of us followed Gayle from bar to bar. Not the tourist haunts that serve a plate of crisps or olives as a tapas. Instead we went through the back streets of the City working our way towards my favourite barrio, Realejo. Gayle has lived in the City many years and takes small parties of visitors to Granada on entertaining and informative tapas tours. Her fluent Spanish, and the fact that she has established such a good working relationship with many of the bar owners, all make for a superb culinary experience. Go with Gayle and sample real tapas in one of the few locations left in Spain where it is free. It constantly astonishes me how few Brits who live in the area actually take time out to stroll the backstreets of Granada and get to know the more genuine areas. They are missing out on what is special about the City. Book a tour with Gayle via (00 34) 619 444 984.On Sunday Nola and I attended Church - a rare event, I confess. Lucia, the grandchild of a local bar owner was being christened. We attended with friend Helen Park and her artist husband Jim (www.jimparkgallery.com ) The after church party was splendid. Nice people, a genuinely warm welcome (the four of us were the only non Spaniards attending) and way too much food and alcohol. At one point we had to leave proceedings briefly so that Nola could meet a new client who wanted a garden created (www.granadagardens.blogspot.com )This was just at the very moment that the gigantic home made Paella was about to be served. At this point we motioned to leave the party so that we could keep our appointment. The proud grandfather of the child insisted that we did not leave until i had eaten a vast plate of Paella. Now I love the stuff (unlike Nola), but we had a deadline to meet. However, not until i had consumed most of the Paella were we allowed to leave the vast garage in which the party was being staged. One hour later we returned and before I could sit down a tasty pudding and another beer had been planted into my hand. The generosity of the family was extraordinary. They had never met Nola and I before and yet they treated us like long lost friends. After weeks of depressing weather in Spain, it served to remind me why we moved here. For me there are too many "Little Britain" aspects to living in Spain. I'm afraid too many Brits in Spain do not mix with the indigenous population. That drives me crazy! The same people who bemoan how areas of the UK have become ghettos, come to Spain and proceed to create ghettos of their own. I hear them say that they don't mix with the "peasants" in Spain. That is one of the more polite comments i hear and wince at. I want to live in Spain - not Spainshire. Thank heavens that this past weekend provided in every sense of the word a taste of (cliche alert!)... 'real Spain.' It had been a while!