Inger first came here from
her native Denmark 17 years ago.
It’s easy to see why she never went back.
Characterized by bric-a-brac
flat rooftops and
winding whitewash alleyways,
the higgeldy-piggeldy hamlet of Ferreirola
lies deep in the bosom of prime walker’s country.
Cherry and fig and prickly pear.
The tonk-a-tonk of the mountain goats.
Boy meets girl at the village fuente.
Inger first came here 17 years ago.
The same year, by my calculations,
as the nearby town of Huéscar finally
signed a peace agreement with her homeland;
thus bringing to an end (and not before time)
a curiously anachronistic ongoing anomalous
172 year declaration of hostilities between the 2 parties.
That’s right, from 1809 until 1981,
The Kingdom of Denmark
and the municipality of Huéscar
were “technically” at war with one other.
Something to do with Napoleon Bonaparte.
Something to do with King Fernando VII. Go figure!
Inger first arrived here from the Jutland Peninsula in 1981.
Mere happy coincidence? Somehow, I doubt it.
She swapped the smørrebrød for paella.
She traded Saint Lucia Day for Semana Santa.
She ditched the Jelling stones in favour of El Camino Real.
She fell in love. She ended the war.
She opened a bed and breakfast.
The Sierra Y Mar
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