A Deya Dinner

In many ways, I’ve been struggling to write these blogs.  On one hand, I have too much to say and can’t pick what to write about.  On another, maybe these stories aren’t exciting in the slightest and I’m dragging my few readers through the seemingly endless paces.  Oh well; I’ll just write a little more and see what happens…

Deya, as I’ve mentioned, is a small town.  Walking the streets and sipping coffee (and beer) at the cafés, we see the same people each day.  Early in the trip, when the amazing and life-changing bar Sa Fonda was open, we made friends with many of the townsfolk, and later, at the big bonfire, these friendships were solidified over wine and dancing.  So, nearing the end of the trip, we were invited to dinner at our friend Dora’s house.

Dora has an interesting back story—she spent her early years in Deya, but then moved to Boca Grande, Florida for middle and school.  It’s no surprise that upon graduation she quickly returned to Spain.  I can’t really imagine a change like that.  Deya (quiet, mellow, Spain) to Boca Grande (rich, weird, Florida).  Yikes.  Anyway, Dora was obviously smart enough to realize this, and that’s why she lives in Deya.  She’s an artist and spent lots of time carving wood.  I won’t explain her project in its entirety because, a) I couldn’t totally picture/maybe didn’t get it, and b) I don’t want to spoil it since it will surely be in MOMA soon enough.  So on to dinner.

We showed up a little late (we had just eaten the lamb at Alaro and then driven back), but luckily no one had eaten yet.  There were nine or ten of us there, and sat in the living room and around the table.  We sipped wine and rolled cigarettes.  We smelled the soup in the kitchen and listened to music.  It couldn’t have been more relaxed.  Llewellyn (the DJ and Robert Graves grandson) picked out the songs carefully and expounded on their virtues, all the while dancing quietly to the beats.  Eventually dinner was served: bowls of hearty vegetable soup (made from “literally everything in the fridge”), a delicious salad, and some crusty bread.  As I was still stuffed with lamb, soup and salad was perfect and I gobbled my share of both right down.  

After dinner, the wine flowed and smoke filled the room.  A fire blazed in the hearth.  Deya is a very spiritual, new-age type of place, and the conversation quickly veered towards time-travel, using pyramids to communicate with a higher power, earthly vibrations, and crop circles.  While none of these topics are my forte, I do enjoy looking at pictures of cool crop circles,
and I’m game to listen rational arguments about time machines and visits to Mars.  

Here's one:

Suddenly it was two in the morning, and people drifted towards the door.  Outside, the moon was practically full, and around was a huge halo.  We lay back on the patio to ogle this astronomical oddity and nearly fell asleep under its glow.  

It looked like this, but with a better backdrop:

Finally Llewellyn stirred us to action, and we departed.  Crashing into bed back at the villa, we slept hard and readied ourselves for our final days.