EXCERPT FROM SARA’S JOURNALJanuary 19, 1999
Vejer de la Frontera
We five are crammed into the little green Opel. The soundtrack of Rich'
s bronchial infection would rival the sonic boom. David is anxious to get to the
Mediterranean. Megan wants to drive to the Alhambra, at Granada. My twin, James
is looking for the perfect village, where he stayed for Christmas on a backpacking trip in
1990.
We stop briefly in Jerez, the city that produces Spain’s Sherries
and brandies. "Sherry" is the English adulteration of the Spanish word, Jerez.
The city is large and busy, full of high-rises and apartment blocks, and Sherry factories.
Vejer perches white and pristine, high atop a rocky crag, overlooking
the soft, winding Barbate valley. It is just a few kilometres from the plastic Costa del
Sol. James remembers the town distinctly, though he says much has changed in terms of
growth and development. It's 24 years since the death of Franco. The Moorish town is
mostly unspoiled, even with its proximity to the touristy coast.
We five check into the Posada, a small, family-run hostel-residencia.
The proprietor shows us to our freezing rooms. The shutters open to the Baetic foothills,
to stretching, endless roads, made visible only by their headlighted vehicles.
The town is perfect for walking, with steep, narrow roads, cobbled and
teaming with cats.
The man who owns this bar is watching us. We are boisterous by our
number. This isn’t just Rich and I whispering as inconspicuously as possible in a
corner. This is we five watching a Bionic Woman made-for-TV movie, filmed in Vancouver.
It’s called Contagio. All of the characters are getting sick. The
man approaches with a bottle. He places frozen shooter glasses on the table and pours a
clear liquid. He asks where we are from, how long we will stay, where we are going. He has
a friend who lives in Vancouver. The drink is lemony-syrupy. The glasses are frosty cold.
We think perhaps this might help to clear up our Contagio Gripales?
