Orgiva pre The Millenium

Orgiva pre millenium , otherwise Orgiva pre "A Place in the Sun" and pre "Driving over Lemons" was a small, quaint, friendly and tolerant place. It is the first village you arrive at after driving through the tortuous mountain road from the coast. It has an altitude of 450m above sea level and is at 59km from Granada city.

Dominated by its 16c twin-towered church, with a most majestic and neglected building known as Palacio de los Condes de Sastago and crowned by the Ermita de San Sebastian, the patron saint of the town, you just warmed to it.

At its heart was Bar Santiago, a small bar-restaurant where anybody who was anybody congregated. It was run by José Santiago father and José Santiago son and their respective wives. Should one of them be away one day, it was easy to ask a relative or a friend to help.

On Mondays and Thursdays all foreigners from the "high villages" flocked into Orgiva to shop or conduct any pending business. Routinely, they met at Bar Santiago for coffee, sol y sombra and tostadas before dispersing in different directions. Often, they would meet again at supermarket Galvez where they were greeted by Antonio's Jovial smile. Apart from Ole, I don't think any of them could carry out a conversation with Antonio, but they all thought the world of him.

Thursday was street market day. Though it was a small affair, no-one wanted to miss it and whoever had guests, taking them to the "mercadillo" was a must.

The local policeman, Antonio, much like an English bobby of long ago, kept and eye on everyone, like a shepherd with a flock of sheep. It was a "welcome back" greeting for those who have just returned for their Winter stay, or "why is your wife/husband not here today, is she/he alright?" as his sharp eyes followed tolerantly some half naked "hippy" high on marijuana.

A nurse I befriended once said to me: "God only knows how many babies were born or have died in those communes without official recognition, because no doctor or nurse or even a Guardia Civil would go there."

I cannot forget "the poet", a lean rather well-dressed middle-aged man with thinning dark hair and dreamy eyes. No-one knew exactly, but it was rumoured he was German. He would stand for hours outside the church, gazing up at the towers or at some old building or just at the skies. One day, he was gone and today but a few remember him.

Very few would remember that during the Semana Santa the only work people were allowed to do was to feed their animals. To ensure this was enforced, the acequias were closed and therefore, so was irrigation.


My thanks to Inge Olsen for the photos of Orgiva taken about 1984
In 1991 I took the photo of the old Ermita before its makeover and that of a building on the High Street that has now been pulled down.