(Photo credit: internet image)
The day (Wednesday) began as an adventure in Mijas Pueblo, the charming mountain village high in the hills above Fuengirola. El Carro took us on a small detour past the golf course, but led us on safely. Steven (my brother) and Christine marveled at the scenery, the mountain and the white houses in the burro village as we climbed higher and higher. I wanted to share the quaint village that faces the Mediterranean Sea with them, the small Plaza de Toros de Mijas, the catholic church, (Virgen de la Peñas), the Moorish belfry tower and the old fortress. And the burros. I'd wanted to return on a Wednesday because I knew Spanish flamenco dancers offered a free exhibition in the square.
We walked in and out of shops, found a Lladro porcelain shop inside a cave with the a sign "año 890" above the arched stone entrance (890 A.D.) with a flamboyant flamenco dancer with her arms raised above her head, fingers splayed and a 520 euros price tag on her... I never did see the lottery numbers on my ticket a month ago. Maybe if I won, I can get this beauty? Otherwise, it will stay in Spain along with the 1,225 euro manton scarf I left in Granada...
I led them through the narrow streets, up and down stone steps and into La Reja, my favorite cave restaurant where we enjoyed "menu de la día" which is a menu with several offerings as bread, salad, main dish, pastry and coffee for 13 euros. Delicious as always (thank you, Lyn M. for introducing me to this lovely place).
When Steven needed a wifi café to print some papers, I started thumbing through the books inside the Biblioteca Publica (library). I was interested in books during the years 1907-1913 Spanish immigration for those immigrants who left Spain for the sugar plantations of Hawaii, since that is my favorite era of understanding and learning. The assistant and I chatted in Spanish and I was on a roll by the time I thought to mention my book, The Girl Immigrant, and explained I'd written the book about my grandmother and her family's immigration in 1911. She wrote down the title and my name, since it is now translated into Spanish after I showed her the book cover from amazon.com. She was delighted and talked to the man who appeared to be the head librarian.
By now, I was doing somersaults inside my head. He immediately typed the title and my name onto his screen and grinned at me when he saw it pop up on his screen. I'm sure we looked like two giddy children. MY BOOK WILL BE ON A SHELF INSIDE MIJAS LIBRARY! Be still, my heart.
Afterward, we celebrated with sangria at a roadside tapas bar where the cobblestones met the street and the Spanish chatter surrounded us. The breeze kicked up skirts, brought goosebumps to our arms and told us to prepare for tomorrow's rain. But for today, my heart was click-clacking against my ribcage. My abuelita's (grandmother) immigration story will be read by Spaniards. One library at a time. One book at a time. One heartbeat at a time. And I'm pumped.
Tomorrow, we drive to Algodonales (northwest of Ronda) to be part of a documentary Eterio started the day I arrived in Spain over two months ago. We will meet Eterio and his crew at the little café by the church where I spent several days with my journal and a café con leche. It will be good to visit that beautiful village where I left a few piece of my heart inside the flamenco shop and see my friend, Jose Luis SM. And then possibly... the Smurf's village (Juzcar) afterward?
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