A Day in Rural Andalucía: Encounters, Traditions, and Simple Pleasures

Rural Andalucía life is never dull, even when it follows the same comforting routines. Today was no exception, with morning dog walks, friendly encounters, and a visit to the olive mill.

Morning Walks and a Familiar Face

As usual, the day started with a walk, passing the spot where a Podenco is sadly chained up 24/7. We always stop to give him a treat—one of the small ways to brighten his day.

Later, while walking near the cemetery, we bumped into an old chap we know, Miguel (I think that’s his name). He admired Issy, calling her muy bonita (very beautiful), but when he looked at Poppy, he simply said mala (bad). Harsh, perhaps, but I assume he was commenting on her timid nature rather than her looks. She wouldn’t say boo to a goose, bless her.

The Olive Harvest and the ‘Ramón’

With the olive harvest coming to an end, a new process begins—what locals call the Ramón. It involves cutting back and reshaping the trees, with the larger branches set aside for firewood and the smaller ones used as kindling. Ramón is how it sounds to my ear, though it’s likely an Andalusian expression.

Ordering Sourdough from the Traditional Spanish Bakery

On the way home, we stopped at the local panadería to order sourdough bread. Here, it’s not something you just pick up—you need to order in advance, and they require three working days to prepare it. So, my bread will be ready next Tuesday.

Buying Unfiltered Extra Virgin Olive Oil

Next stop was the Tucci olive mill, where I picked up five litres of unfiltered extra virgin olive oil from Amador. I had given him a heads-up on Sunday, and today he told me he had never sold unfiltered oil to an English person before. I watched him fill my bottle from a vat that holds zillions of litres.

Incidentally, in rural Spain, anyone from the UK, Ireland, Scotland, Wales—even France—is simply referred to as Inglés. My French friend Fran and her Belgian husband are also grouped into the same category, much to her disdain.

In case you’re wondering, my unfiltered extra virgin olive oil cost €7 per litre—well worth it for the quality.

A Bar Visit and a Generous Gesture

When I first arrived at the mill, the office staff told me Amador was out and to return in 30 minutes. Surprisingly, one of the younger guys spoke English and seemed happy to do so.

With time to spare, I headed to the bar, leaving the girls in the van, parked in the shade. Hunger kicked in, so I asked Piqui if she could make me a cheese and tomato baguette. That’s an unusual request in these parts, so she asked me to repeat it just to be sure. What arrived was a baguette with a side of freshly fried chips—an unexpected but welcome addition, and a sachet of ketchup too.

Of course, I turned it into a chip, cheese and tomato butty, and I noticed José raising an eyebrow at my unconventional approach. When it came time to pay, I was a little short on cash and jokingly asked if there was a pensioners’ discount. Piqui just waved me on my way with a smile. It appears there was!

Soaking Up the Winter Sunshine

Now, as often happens in winter, I’m back home on the patio, enjoying the Andalusian sunshine with my two dogs stretched out on the tiles beside me. A very cold 0% beer sits in my hand—a leftover from my Dry January experiment, but that’s another story.

Lastly, I am waiting for my chicken wings to defrost then I am going to have my first BBQ of the year. I might just have another 0% beer too!

And that, my friends, is what passes for an exciting day in my rural Andalucía life.

Another post about rural Andalucía life can be viewed here.

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Rural Andalucía life