Transition from child to adult

My sisters Lourdes showing off one of her dresses

( Celebrating Santa Lucia the dressmakers patron saint.

Many lovable faces and names in these pictures)

14 years old 1961

Year 1961, I am now 14 years old . My eldest sisters business grew steadily and I was going to school, running errands, delivering, shopping for the business and teaching the basics of patter design to the Academy students. It was interesting to realise that becoming a dress maker was a good profession to have, and many families thought that if their daughters were to learn the skill they could survive.
Learning the techniques to draw a dress pattern is not as easy as it may appear and many of the young women that came to learn the basics had had very little schooling and found the simple patter very difficult to understand. In order to make a plain dress pattern one needs to divide the collar measurement by 6 parts, the thorax by 4 parts, the hip by four and eight parts, and many of them could vaguely add up.
They also found that their fingers had never entertained delicate work in the fields and farms, and manoeuvring the thread and needle in delicate stitching was a hefty task. Many cried in desperation when they saw the result of their course and unsatisfactory work. Others persevered and achieve their title becoming the dressmakers for their villages.

When I now see the “pret a porter” cloths with beautiful button holes or perfectly stitched lapels I remember the difficulties we all encountered with poor thread, machinery and knowledge. An yet the paying customer demanded the best cut, design and latest fashion with unrealistic expectations. Today the masses are less meticulous and have moved forward to a different level where we can all be quite happy with something ready to wear. Equally, I also think that most women nowadays, in the develop world, have no idea about the effort needed to make a pocket or a button hole. Prove of this concept is Primark and its bad cut, poor finish and cheap quality materials.

Times were very hard, unemployment was extremely high and those that were employed were abused and very badly paid.I remember seeing morning after morning, hundreds of men of all ages leaning against the church wall, in our village, waiting for some employer to arrive and offer a day's work or an hour.

There was not much going on, deep recession was affecting all areas of society and the only preoccupation the government had was to cover their backs in case there was another up rise. Analysing old pictures in festivities of that time around Spain, one can see the Spanish Guardia Civil making sure their presence was felt by their uniforms, their three corner hats and their rifles.The attendance of religious processions enforced on all of us, kept the appearance of devotion for a church that had treated so many so badly.

Employers would ask for the strongest men among the group and take them away for a day's work and a pittance wage. It was not uncommon for these abusive employers to ask the waiting men to show their biceps to assess their potential power.
In this region of North Spain there were many mines and these very men were brave miners that had worked down the pit risking their lives before they were closed down. Poverty and hunger are stimulants to remain silent, keep a low profile and become obedient and subordinate.

As I have mentioned before, we lived by the main road, and there were many dispossessed families going from one town to another begging. I have vivid memories of a mother and child eating a plate of hot soup and a piece of bread that my mother had offered them. Many a time I gave my piece of bread away to passing children that wore no shoes and were much poorer than us.

This was the Spain of the sixties. In Spain we did not have the benefits of the Marshall Plan : (Relations with Spain in the late 1940s, under the government of General Franco, were strained. Spain did not join the UN until the mid-1950s and was not a member of NATO or the European Union until the 1980s, after the death of General Franco and the establishment in the 1970s of the democratic, constitutional monarchy with the present king, Juan Carlos.)

(1944 Approval of Marshall Plan. Two years later, the Bank issued its first, and largest, loan: $250 million to France for post-war reconstruction; an issue which has remained a primary focus, alongside reconstruction after natural disasters, humanitarian emergencies and post-conflict rehabilitation needs affecting developing and transition economies Seventeen European countries received Marshall Plan aid: Austria, Belgium, Denmark, France, West Germany, Greece, Iceland, Ireland, Italy, Luxembourg, the Netherlands, Norway, Portugal, Sweden, Switzerland, Turkey, and the UK.)

Franco made the decision after World War II not to participate in the U.S. sponsored Marshall Plan. It was one of the first, but certainly not the last, of Franco's decisions that eventually hurt Spain's economy. In 1951, several years after other European nations had taken advantage of the Marshall Plan, Spain received its first loan from the U.S. government. Later that year Spain and the U.S. signed the Pact of Madrid. Under the terms of agreement, the United States received permission to build military bases in Spain in return for considerable economic aid. In an undoubtedly related incident, many of the United Nations imposed economic sanctions and restrictions (due to Fascist associations and human rights violations) against Spain were lifted, opening the door to foreign investments and markets.

Franco and the church did nothing to abate the famine after the war. (The low export figures, combined with the nation's rising inflation rate, created a volatile situation for Spain's economy and Franco's government. In one year, the nation's rate of inflation rose from an average of 9.1% to 15.5%. In an effort to contain the problem, the Franco regime instituted a series of economic measures collectively known as the "Stabilization Plan."
A ceiling of 80,000 million pesetas was imposed on government spending during the coming year. Strict limits were enforced on lending by the banking system to the public sector. Transportation and public utilities prices were increased up to 50%. Limits were also placed on the amount of credit banks could make available to the private sector. Furthermore, additional efforts were made to attract foreign investors. )

Franco decided our destiny by assuming we were able to take the hunger for another 40 years before he died. And he was right some did survive, many others did not.

Attempts to remove Franco were made by various brave men, but they failed in the attempt and paid with their lives. We owe our gratitude to them.

5 People were machine gunned in 1975, the last of the Franco´s brutal regime. Three from the FRAP organization and 2 from militant ETA. Xose Humbert Baena Alonso, Jose Luis Sanchez Oteagui, and Juan Paredes Manot and Angel Oteagui. The world and the Spaniards manifested its disgust and condemned these deaths.

Soon after this sad episode Franco died, in bed, as most dictators do. Agnostics feel a sense of unfairness for they manage to scape punishment, and one somehow hopes that in the after live these criminals should feel in their flesh the pain they caused for so long,to so many.

In our vicinity there was the headquarters of the Guarda Civil.(Spanish police) We knew many of the officers. Some were good men in the wrong force, others were sadistic animals that enjoyed their power and privilege and took advantage of it when ever they had the opportunity. More than once the screams of young men were heard from our house when the interrogations and tortures were enforced. There was a particular officer named Porro who was well known for breaking legs with a truncheon, thus the name Porro.

Another man we knew had a vine plant around his front yard and he liked listening to “La Pirenaica”, this was an independent radio station, emitting from Romanian, ( before Chauchesco came to power). Listening to this station was prohibited, but men wanted to be informed about other European countries and their political situation, and listen to this enlighten radio station, hoping for a guiding light that would take us out of the inferno. He had the bright idea of wiring the vine plant and use it as an aerial. He enjoyed the improvised system for some time, but one early morning the Guardia Civil came to pick him up and he was never seen again.

Life just went on as best we could. My father felt disillusioned, he had lost two brothers fighting for the Republic against Franco, he himself had to go into hiding for a year. Then a sort of amnesty was announced requesting miners to come forward to reopen the old mines and start production. He was in a state of insomnia as were most of the men that had tasted freedom albeit for a short period.

The Republic of 1931 had been a eye opener of what Spain could have been. Nostalgia set in as the fashiest regime grew stronger and men had to succumb to bad working conditions, humiliation, bad management and pittance wages.

Overall, my father had lost his house with 10 flats ready for habitation, he had to leave his home town, his family and his roots, and he felt trapped in a system without hope. The mines were functioning with the most rudimentary conditions one can imagine. The proprietors, (many mines were privately owned) only understood profit and productivity. He worked very hard, drank very heavily and embraced the pub ambiance where men could feel some freedom talking about what could have been!.

The way out emigration

In 1962 people were talking about emigrating to England and other European countries. This was seen as an opportunity, although it was a huge step to take. Going abroad without skills, language knowledge or money for the journey was seen as a huge hurdle.

I can sympathise with the illegal immigrants coming from all parts of the world to Europe, America or Australia, looking for work and a better life. When your own country has nothing to offer people will take risks even with their own safety.

However, the Spaniards had many more advantages than some other nationalities coming to England or any part of Europe today. Foremost we were white and service providers were in great demand, catering workers, domestic workers, drivers, builders, road sweepers etc. Additionally, we were given work permits and we were respected as workers much more than in our mother land. Today many immigrants are not white, they have no legal documents and are desperate for survival, I personally feel for their predicament.

My mother actually sent Tina and me, and later my brother to a private school directed by a republican tutor. This was very advanced thinking for my parents, considering that we were living in Franco's Spain. The Academy was directed and run by a talented teacher named Sr. Andres. The teaching was advanced in comparison to the national schools infatuated with religious studies, conformity and suppression of free spirits.

My personal advance at the academy was poor, and it was financially difficult to keep us both in private schooling. After some consideration it was decided to teach me a trade like my sisters and keep my bright sibling at the private academy . She would benefit more that I would and I was sent to state school at the age of 14. I remember noticing the change from the Academy to the state school, suddenly all freedoms were interfered with, no more free comments,questions or interruptions. We would be educated as the state saw fit,ready to obey and serve our superiors and that was that....

My mum has always been my concern. By this time the cow enterprise had grown into six cows and a piece of land in ownership, (the same land where the first cow was placed in an hay stack improvised farm), and the foundations for a new house had been laid down. My mother continued being very busy and had many upsetting matrimonial situations, including health ones.

She developed arthritis quite early and it affected her hands. Being a farmer ones hands are always being used. Milking the cows was specially painful, but she had to do it. When she stretched her fingers they pained her and when she closed them even more. Her joints were all deformed and appeared very sore, and looking at her expression you could tell they were very painful. My father helped, but more often than not he would be late or forget about it all together, he too had his health issues and was dealing with them as best he could.
He suffered from spontaneous bleeding, a vein in his lip would burst and emanated blood like a fountain. He was diagnosed with 3rd stage of Silicosis (miners disease). Additionally, the doctor had announced in not very delicate words a bad prognosis and forcasted a three year death sentence, at the age of 55.

Many of his colleagues were dying from lung disease caused by the coaldust. He never complained but deep down he was affected by the breathing difficulties, the tiredness and the courage that we all have to face at some point with our own mortality. I am sure he never thought he would live to the grand age of 84.

My mother had no means of scape and milked the cows with tears in her eyes, physical pain in her hands and sadness in her heart. Customers needed the milk for their breakfast the next morning. Having cows is very demanding job with regard to milking them. It has to be done twice a day, including Christmas and Sundays. The church could not put a stop to that. I remember going to confession one day and the pompous priest asked me about my poor attendance to mass on Sunday. I explained that I had to help my mother as much as I could when I was free from school duties, and was also helping my sisters. He took this as an aberration, my free time as a child should be dedicated to praising and learning about the Lord. He, with his well fed tummy could not understand our precarious situation. On that very Sunday he included my confession in his sermon. As he emphasised the issue I could feel his eyes pointing at me, and I, as a teenager was sure everyone knew he was talking about me. I have never gone to confession since and I have distrusted their advice or teaching from that day onwards...
I was only 14 years old and I had never learned to milk a cow, nor did any of my sisters or brother. My mother wanted better life for us and did not use us in that sense. Neither did she send us to sell the milk, she did it all herself. I suffered for my mother and I was constantly looking to see if it was about to rain, or if the weather turned cold, while she was shepherding the cows in the fields far from home. She would be cold, hungry or wet. All this situations preoccupied me no end. I would jump on my bicycle (by now I had one in possession) and go to her with the umbrella or a cardigan, she always greeted me with affection and a smile.

We also had an agar cooker that functioned very badly. For ever my mother would be blowing trying to make it start up. We were given free coal for my father worked in the mine. (This may appear as some concession from the employers side,but do not be fooled by it,strikes were fought for this benefit.) But coal will not start burning unless you have some wood. This was a task that we children were always involved in finding. It was not very easy as many households had the same problem, and they too looked for fire wood.

Both my parents worked very hard for more than 9 years to build a house with very limited resources. They would buy two sacks on cement one month, and a few bricks the other, the scaffolding was very rudimentary as it was made of cheap materials that my father would carry on his shoulders from the carpenter´s shop. There was no wood lying around like I see today, skips full of any thing and everything that my father had to do without.
The tools that he had were very poor quality too. When I go to the DIY and see the fantastic electric tools for sale I always think of him, and of how much he would have enjoyed using them. But with the regime´s poor power supply would have probably not being able to use them!

They, my parents, managed to build a two story house. We had an entrance hall with the dining area on the left. The kitchen followed with our Agar cooker still not functioning properly, a large bench that my father had built and a long table. A large window opened out to the street. He had also made cupboards around the Agar and the sink. The kitchen was our communal room. The radio was placed on a shelf over our bench, and it had a pretty white cover to protect it from the kitchen fumes. My father was a communist as it is fitting for a miner, and I remember all of us listening to the radio during our evening meal, hoping the estrange voices would helps us to find a solution to our gloomy destiny. Listening to other non national stations was forbidden during Franco's forty years regime, but some people took the risk, and informed themselves about developments elsewhere, even if back home we were in oblivion.

Outside the kitchen was a larder for our cold food staff (fridges had not arrived in Spain yet)and the stairs that led to the three rooms and a complete bathroom. My mother was delighted, she had achieved her gaol, but she could not forget the house that she had lost due to unforeseen circumstances. My mother suffered from claustrophobia and my father came from a large family. He had always lived in a large house with lots of space and light.Having a decent house with lots of windows and spacious, was important to her and he complied. She worked day and night to pay the rent, but we always had a good and bright home. In my time I have always known a bathroom in all the places that we have lived in. It was a luxury, for most people had to go to the cow shed or the pig stay to do their business.
You see both my parents came from farmers homes, and if it hadn't been for the vicissitudes that life had in store for us, by the age of forty they had built a house with ten flats ready to rent, which shows their determination, background and vision to provide for the family and their old age. Alas, it was not to be the first time round.

Teenager years

Fifteen to twenty years old

My third eldest sister Tina, was by now teaching in a convent school in Ponferrada, and staying with my second sister who had married there.It was 1962 a very bad year, as bad as many others, unemployment was very high and jobs were hard to come by. Even the dressmaking business had gone into decline. The parents of future designers were affected by the recession and had to withdraw them from the academy. My eldest sister married a miner and with the miners salary, helping with the farm and my sister's reduced dressmaking business they moved into their rented home.

Life was a bitch as paying rent is a burden that poor people find almost impossible to meet.
My mother, father, brother and myself moved into the new house that had taken seven years to built. Only one flat was finished but it was very nice. It was spacious with a yard at the front that led to the cow shed. We had cows, chickens and a vegetable plot. We also had a pig stay and a pig.
My father continued working in the declining mines and although there was a lot of activity at home it was difficult to make ends meet, life was very tough.

I helped my sister with dress making and in the farm. And continued worrying about my mother's health, work, and general poor home environment. She tried so hard to give us a better life and a stable home.

A year later my third sister (Tina) decided to emigrate to England to study English and perhaps return with one more skill to find a better job. The nuns helped her in this venture and she was actually sent to a very good part of the country Cobham in Surrey to work as a domestic in a boarding school for girls, Notre Dame School.

She did very well there and she learnt quite a lot to start looking for something that would pay better. She applied for a job in St Thomas' Hospital and started training as a cook. At home I was a teenager of 16 with few prospects apart from marrying a miner and start the same sacrificial life of my two eldest sister and my mother, or take a plunge and go to England.
Of course this was a big decision, emigration then was a sad affair, as it is now for those that come from Romania, Poland or Bulgaria needless to say Africa or many parts of Asia or South America.

Those that come to England from Spain today, as students or even as workers, have a completely different approach, as they come with an education, money in their pockets and something to go back to. The Spain that we survived offered us nothing at all, what ever I had my mother lacked.
The country treated us as very badly, without any concern for our well being, our education, our health or our future.

Emigration was also seen as tragic event for the family, for the unknown is always frightful. Lack of information, created a feeling of desolation.What to do in the worst scenario.! How can one deal with problems as such a distance?. -You see, when you are poor, the unknown is equal to fear and uncertenty.

Weighing it all up, I thought I had to take a chance and give it a go. My mother was a dilemma for me as she would be left alone with my brother who was 10 years old, and my father. My eldest sister, Gely, had married and her house was a short distance away. Lourdes, lived further in Ponferrada 20 kilometers away.

Life continued at the same pace with the cows, the hay harvesting, milking and selling milk, my father semiretired by now due to ill health etc.

On 14th June 1964

14th June 1964 I embarked for Tilbury in the Port of Vigo, north of Spain. The ship was a passenger-ship that took migrants from Spain to England.

style="font-size:130%;color:#990000;">Although I was 17 years old, I looked like a 9 year old would look today, and to improve my appearance I had four milk teeth missing at the front.
I had actually saved from somewhere, enough money to visit the dentist once, to have my teeth repaired, as a teenager I was concerned about my dental appearance. I visited the dentist and he actually removed two on each side of my front teeth and left me with two gaps. I looked like a buds bunny.

style="color:#990000;">My brother- in- law had been to Madrid to do the military service and was seen as a man of the world at home, and he was the candidate to take me all the way to Vigo 450 kilometres away.
style="font-size:130%;color:#990000;">The train journey was very exciting as I had only travelled short distances between Asturias and Leon. The world opened up in front of me and mile after mile I could see, houses, people and fields that went on and on...

As a young person one looks at ones surroundings with different sensations. The places that we could see from the train were poorly built and in a bad state of repair. The country side offered more of the same back home, agricultural workers striving to make a living, without effective tools, poor crops, bad seeds and not enough food for their families or animals.

The agricultural workers that one could see from the train window, wore poor clothing and one can only describe their situation as a miserable one. However, I remember being excited and full of new emotions and hope.

In Ourense, north of Spain, I remember we came off the train for a short period, and people were trying to sell different things to the train passengers, they spoke in Gallego and believe me,we were amazed as we could not understand anything they were saying. This was my first encounter with spoken language that I could not understand. And it was in our own country.

We arrived in Vigo and the first thing we did was to look for a cheap “pension”. The cheapest we could find was more expensive than we had anticipated. I am told, that I said to my brother in law, to take one room only, he was 28 years old, and recently married. Luck was on my side for he did not take my offer...

The next day we ventured out to find my ship and make enquiries. We were told it would leave in two days time. "Oh, well", nothing to do and lots of time in our hands. We decided to go to the beach. In Vigo the beach is not just up the road, although the city is by the sea,we actually had to take a boat to get to the it, all very exciting and new.

We had a swim and I decided to sit on the rocks to rest, while my brother in law, Isidro, continued swimming. The beaches were not supervised or controlled by the authorities in any way and we all took risks with our life everywhere we went.

I saw Isidro swimming among snakes that sprang their heads up as they went along in the water. When I saw this I thought I would die, for I am terrified of snakes. I screamed and begged him to come out of the infested water.

The people from this region are very secretive and introverted. They will not tell you where they are going or whether they are coming. And if you ask, are you coming?, they will answer no, I am going...

Any way, there were we sitting looking at all this strange sea in front of us, and we actually fell asleep, and we did not realize that the tide was coming in. Just before dozing off we noticed that people were looking at us in a strange manner, but as they did not speak we ignored them.
You will not believe this but it is true, we were left alone, on an island surrounded by water infected with snakes, and it was more than two meters deep by the time we woke up. I could not swim and my brother in law suggested he would go first with the cloths and then come back for me, I do not know why he did not suggest to take me first and then return for the cloths, but I would not hear of it, and I started screaming for help.
Fortunately a boat came to pick us up, and fully embarrassed we thanked them and removed ourselves as quickly as we could to change into civilian cloths among the corn leaves. We left the beach feeling desolate...( I also remember that we had no swimming costume and swam in some discreat underware)
Next day we decided no more swimming and we just walked the beach. We were hungry and on seeing small crabs running around our feet, we thought why not have a few for our lunch.

We managed to catch quite a few and we sat on some rocks ready to enjoy our rich pickings. We came from in-land, and sea creatures were unknown to us, we did not know they needed boiling and started separating their legs alive...

The poor crabs squeaked and fought us in spasms, our masochist intentions were the consequence of hunger and we were looking forward to eating crab. After pulling and stretching and removing a limb or two, the flesh was inedible, hard and tasteless for which most of them had a lucky scape and crawled back to their life in the sand and the sea...

Emigration ship to Tilbury England

My Sister and Husband Isidro and myself before emigrating in 1964

June 1964

Finally, I was taken to this big ship full of people. On deck there were hundreds of people with a bundle of cloths at their feet. I had a cabin that I shared with three other young women. Once we were all in the ship they removed the stairs that connected us to land and the horn of the ship starting hooting in a long poignant sound that penetrated the core of ones heart.

The dictatorship psychologists must have thought it was a good idea to play a sad song on loud speakers for the migrants leaving the shores of Spain. They chose nothing else but “Adios mi España Querida” ( Goodbye Spain of my love) from Juanito Valderrama. This is a melancholic song for Spaniards going abroad. You cannot imagine the effect that this had on everyone including those on land. Tears where flowing as rivers, and sad sounds were echoed where ever you looked. Everyone was waving to someone dear to them. The occasion was sombre, the future uncertain, and we did not need a lamentable song to depress us further.
(In 2010 I saw a video of emigrants that went to Argentina in 1950 , and they too spoke of the same sad song played to them 14 years earlier)

The captain of the ship took special care of me. I expect he knew some law regarding juniors travelling alone, and I did appear very vulnerable. I ate my meals at his table and he made sure that I did not run into any problems during the two days voyage from Vigo to England. The first night in my cabin,I was fortunately placed on the lower part of the four banquet beds in our cabin. I say fortunately, because I suffer from brittle bones, and as we were passing the cape Finisterre the ship tossed and shacked everything including the two girls that were trying to forget the rough seas in their upper positions and landed on the floor with a loud scream and a big bang.
I cannot imagine how the passenger on deck fared that night, a few might have gone overboard and they are still searching for them...

During the voyage I was in my element. -Can you imagine such a large house floating in this immense pool of water. I found it unbelievable and kept looking at the waves hitting the bulk of the ship. I investigated everything; there were boats hanging on the sides of the ship, their purpose amazed me, for there were only three on each side, and the ship was carrying hundreds of passengers. The stairs run up and down into different floors than change in exuberance according to how deep or high they were. It thought me something for my cabin was two floors below. There was a large swimming pool, and a smaller one. I never saw anyone using it although it was June and the weather was hot, perhaps the migrants forgot to include swimming gear into those bundles that they used as pillows on deck at night, the luxury of swimming suits was not included in their list of priorities, nor was mine. Perhaps this ship carried different class of passengers at some point of its life. There were very luxurious rooms with glass chandeliers, mirrors and tapestry, beautiful mahogany cabinets and chairs, carpets on the floor and expensive looking ornaments. We all saw them but dared not enter.

When we arrived at Tilbury passengers started picking up their bundles and placing them on their shoulders, removing themselves from the deck where they had spent two nights and one day. I had prepared my small carton -suitcase with my voyage cloths and had change into my only extra set of cloths to receive my sister , that was all I had inside, but at least I had a suitcase... I often wonder how did my mother think of a buying me a suitcase, and of how many tears she had shed the day she packed my modest possessions.

I placed myself on line in order to descend the stairs and look at this new country that I knew nothing about. The Captain's eyes soon spotted me and removed me from the queue to await for some relative to take care of me. He did not let me go until my sister came on board and formally signed for my departure. I never thanked him properly for his kindness and care. He must forgive me for I did not know any better. I am sure my sister thanked him, but she did not know then, how kind he had been to me. This sort of kindness I was to receive many times over the years. This country received me with open hands and offered me opportunity and gave me a chance, something my own country had denied me.

Au-pair experience

Myself in Esher Au-pair´s house in 1965

Tina had looked with a thin comb for a decent family for me and found a family from Argentina Mr and Mrs Stamford. They lived in Claygate in another beautiful house called the Windmill."The Windmill", house is in Claygate near Esher. This family who naturally spoke Spanish was my first contact with other people in a home environment. They were very advanced by my standards. They had two girls of 10 and 11 and a new 8 months baby(another girl).

Here I saw people eating at the table in a different style,(we always ate at a table with good manners, my mother saw to that) children being read stories at bed time, by their father, children being driven and picked from school, children being taken for horse riding lesson and swimming, children deciding what cloths they wanted to buy and wear, children that did not eat apples that had fallen from the trees in our own garden, because they had not come from the supermarket shelf...

I was a child myself and just observed and learned in total amazement. The husband a tall handsome and kind man was an executive in a cigarette company in London. He left early in the morning dressed in a pinned stripped suit and a boiler hat, never forgetting his umbrella. He left early and returned at around 7.00 p.m. By then the children had done a million things with the help of their mother who was totally dedicated to their busy lives.

My duty was to take the baby out for walks, very long walks for I could not come back for at least two hours. So I walked this baby, and saw other people doing the same thing, probably Au pairs from other countries. Some even walked the dog at the same time. Fortunately for me the family had no dog or cat.

(I am not used to having animals at home)

I also attended a school of English three times week, and I had to take the train to Finchillywood at 3.00 p.m. "Can you imagine, me asking for a train ticket to Finchellywood"? I was very lucky because the family really treated me well and did not use me as a domestic ever. I was paid as an Au pair girl, which meant, board and lodging, family integration and three pounds a week.

-Do you know? in this agency my sister took me to, we were given a list of dos and don't s. I suppose some families tried to use the Au -pair girl as a domestic and this agency made sure that that was not my case. I only performed light duties with the baby and the washing up at lunch time, for the house wife, the baby and me. In the evening when I came back from school I found the dishes done drying on the sink.

I was told the father had actually washed the dishes after supper.

-What about that !

I had never seen any man back home doing domestic work, never mind washing the dishes... After my supper I would go upstairs to say good night to the two girls, the baby would be asleep. More often than not the father was reading the bed side story to the two girls. I was shy and had not much to say, so I had never dared to look at him straight, but when I did, I saw him winking. I immediately looked else where wondering why?

-Was it going to be one of those situations like the one Paqui and I has experienced?

I wondered for a while avoiding him as much as possible, until one day I went to use the bathroom and found a glass eye in a glass!!!! -

Well, what is that I thought!!! Then the penny dropped, and I realised he had an eye glass and was not winking at me at all.

-What a relieve, boy, boy!!. I could perhaps relax now. He was very kind and helpful, and at weekends when we all had lunch and dinner together, he made a special effort to teach me some basic words and include me in the family reunions never making me feel an outsider. I am grateful to him too.

The months went by and my sister took me to the dentist to have a dental plate made. If you remember I was walking about with four front teeth missing. The dentist Mr Doelly was very kind. He checked and repaired everything wrong with my teeth and he made me a plate that lasted 35 years. I was also his patients for 30 years until he retired. His ambition as that of many parents was for his son to take over his practice, but his son's heart desire was not dentistry. He became a rock musician.

I was very pleased with my new dental appearance and I suppose I displayed my new smile to the baby. The baby notice something different and place her little finger in my mouth trying to touch the difference. Accidentally I miscalculated and I bit her finger more than I intended. The poor thing cried very loudly, I am sure the mother is still wondering why the baby was suddenly so distraught....

-I could not tell her could I?

I often walked with this baby to see the trains go by. There is a foot bridge in Claygate that leads to the fields over the railway line. I spend hours there seeing this trains coming and going somewhere, currying my thoughts to my mother. Moving trains are nostalgic, for they are going from one place to another while one is static. From there I could see fields and cows grazing. My mother's picture presented it self to me very often. But alas, she was far away and having a worse time than I was caring for that baby.

The thought of political parties, presidents, dictators, kings, and queens and any other powerful person that makes people's life a misery will never cease to irritate me. Working so hard, living so simply, measuring all your needs and balancing every effort did not bring you out of the next day's needs. Human necessities are very basic ; but providing for those very basic necessities can be an excruciating effort that in this wealthy world no one should be put to the test.

I wrote very long letters to my mother and father, my eldest sister was also eager to hear about our survival, and they all cried when reading our news. They never failed to respond asking for our well-being never wanting any thing from either of us. Always offering to us more that they could afford. A year later Tina decided to train as a cook in St Thomas hospital. Her vacancy at the house in Esher become vacant and with much regret I took her position for I was paid more and could attend school for longer hours

The Beast and the Beautiful beast

1965 A year later Tina decided to train as a cook in St Thomas hospital. Her vacancy at the house in Esher would become vacant and with much regret I took her position for I was paid more and could attend school for longer hours.

The adultery issue I was telling you about earlier, led to separation, and a new home was rented for this beautiful woman and a man twice her age. She was from Germany, 28 years old and had a long blond pony tail plus a sensual body that she displayed generously to all and merry. She met him working as a nurse in a hospital in Kingston, he was one of the patient suffering from psoriasis.He was being treated by her and one thing led to another until she convinced him to leave his wife, who was suffering from cancer.

This couple had no children. She was a real bitch, at the time it was fashionable to walk the house nude, and she drove him mad. She would not sleep with him unless he found £50. He was a rich man. His family had started an innovative system to pack potatoes in plastic bags. He also owed a club in Hampton Court by the river and he was doing very well. Still £ 50 in 1965 was a lot of money.

This man was infatuated by her beauty. Many a time after she had gone to work, he would go to her room and take one of her shoes and come to show me how delicate, pointed and colourful they were, or he would smell her dresses, or he would take the car and drive all the way to Southampton hoping to see her during her break. More often than not he would come back disappointed not having seeing her.

I expect she gave instructions in order not to be found, she had move that far in order to see less of him. At one point he came back saying that she was having an affair with a young doctor. Well, she probably was, any way they would have a holy row and I would always be the beneficiary of the aftermath result. They would make up and take me for very nice treats. To see the airport in her sports car, and for a meal in best pubs, to the theatre, for a meal at the club, or to the best restaurants. I remember once I had the audacity to ask for turtle soup, and I enjoyed it.

I was a fast learner! I, represented normality to their abnormal relationship.At that time I was naive and actually attended mass ever Sunday. On one occasion, it was raining and she offered to take me in her new bright red sports car he had recently bought for her. I wasn't to sure of her motives, but at the church´s door I actually asked her to come in with me. She looked at me in total disbelieve and said that no church on earth could forgive her sins. Had it been today I would have understood her comment. There are bigger sins in this world than seducing silly old men.

I some times think Tina's recommendation for me to live with this family must have appeared somewhat questionable, but her assessment was correct. He was nothing but kind, respectful and always demonstrated a high regard for both Tina and for me.

Tina and I continued going to school and meeting mostly at week ends for long chats and meals. Tina was trainee cook in one of St Thomas' nursing homes, Chetney House in Chetney Walk by the embankment. It was all very English and proper. The midwife's and nurses were well provided for. All services were available for their comfort.Tina worked in this beautiful well equipped kitchen and had free hand to feed me as she pleased. I enjoyed great meals cooked by her there.

We also had some sort of telepathy going on, I expect it was our youth showing through, but for some years we had nothing but laughter. Tina had a especial talent for languages and she picked expressions and phrases very well and she used to say in a very English way " honestly" this for some reason I found very funny, and would start laughing uncontrollably, until Tina started giggling in her particular way that was very contagious and we would fall over each other in complete happiness. Our only nostalgic moments were our thoughts of every one back home.

The saga between these two people continued and I attended my lessons and improved my vocabulary and communication skills. She, Carol, continued withdrawing money from him, for different reasons. When she had a reasonable bank account in Germany, she decided to go back for good. This poor man was distraught as one can understand. His wife had passed away and he was an old man. He had regrets, we all do, and to kill his time he used to drive all the way to Germany to see her. His visits were short. He never said much, but I could tell that she continued demanding money and he complied to keep the lines of communication opened. At the end he had not much to sell, he finally sold the washing machine to purchase a tape-recorder to sent her tapes full of loving words, memories and lost love. I too deserted him as with her gone my services were not needed.

St Thomas Hospital (employment)

St Thomas Hospital 1965

Through Tina I got a job in St Thomas Hospital. Years later I visited Mr Wright, he was seventy years old. He still managed to keep a flat in the outskirts of Esher and had services provided by the lodge. He was OK. He had had a full life and memories to keep his mind occupied. I was pleased to see him in a good state of health and well cared for. He promised to include me in his will, but it never materialised. I expect she, Carol, needed it more than I did.

St Thomas' Hospital 1965, I was offered a nice room in a residential house at the hospital named Riddle House. It had every amenity needed. We had a room with a bed, table, wardrobe and side table. lamp and all included. We also had a sitting room and a television. It was centrally heated, hot and cold water, and we were offered meals and accommodation all in one. We were given one sheet per week to change the bed, the custom was to change the bottom sheet and replace it with the top sheet and then put the new one on top. Board and lodging it was called.

At the dining room where meals were served, we had separate tables according to rank.The Sisters and senior nurses had their own separate dining room. The Consultants and junior doctors were separate too, and in the main hall of the large dining room, rank was also recognised by the administration table. Set aside by the windows with cutlery laid down and water jugs.

We the domestic and catering staff had made our own, the right side of the dining room. But we all ate the same food, and had the same portions, plates and cutlery. Food was available at all times in large quantities. We were also provided with beautiful uniforms in those days. Green dress adorned by an impeccable white starched apron, a green belt and a white cap for our head. The cooks wore the same style but in electric blue, or brown if they were training, the domestics no apron, the nurses like us but different colours and belts according to their qualifications. Kitchen Porters wore a white kimono. Dining room porters a brown overall, chefs uniforms have not changed much with time.

I remember the kitchen porter's hands were always red, poor things, there were huge sinks in the kitchen. One would be filled with water and soda, to wash the large containers, pots, large bowls, frying pans and cutlery that the chefs used uncontrollably and placed with a big bang on tables as they shouted “ very hot”. Other sinks were filed with clean hot water for rinsing. Gloves were not available then, and their hands were boiled by this harsh environment.

At 1.30 pm. The chefs and their assistants were served meals in the mess room above the kitchen area. It was our task to clean all the working tables for the chefs, thoroughly, and the slicing machines. The porters' duty was to clean all the ovens and floors. Well, there was an army of people attacking the various duties that needed doing. But we were all happy. The kitchen superintendent (Mr Marsillac) was a kind man, and had never restricted food for his staff. So although we had all had our meals in the dining room at 11.30 am.by two o'clock in the afternoon we were ready for some more treats. Left over food from all the dining rooms came back to the kitchen at this time and we had our feast, specially in the pastry room. I remember taking a pie dish full of cream caramel, adding some peaches and cream and eating it all. Or apple crumble, I am partial to apple crumble....

We were well treated and with respect, after all we were six young women surrounded by 15 chefs and 12 porters, and many more that came to the kitchen with different deliveries. Mostly the girls were Italians and Spanish in 1965. The porters too were from Italy and Spain. We are similar people in customs and language and in general got on very well with each other.

There was this handsome Italian porter, Mario, who was besotted with me and would sing me amorous songs all day long, in a good tenor voice. I hated him, for he did not recognise discretion, he wanted the whole world to know his love for me. And he used to say that hate is love and the more I hated him the stronger my love for him became. It did not materialised. If the kitchen had not been demolish his love songs would still be heard on its walls today....

The Management of the hospital as I said treated the staff very well and foreigners in particular.Being from Spain and Italy, they knew we were catholics and our soul was cared for too. A priest would be available every Sunday at 6.00 am. To conduct mass for those people who were on duty at 6.30 am. The Muslims traditions were also respected and were allowed time for prayers according to their custom. This way we all kept our individuality and felt no resentment against our employer.

Another effort made by the Hospital administration was to rearrange rosters to fit in with our English classes. I had lessons on Monday, Wednesday and Friday. My schedule was always early on those three days. Others had different times and days and like me I never missed a class because of our working hours.

The managers of different departments were also observant and recognised potential, and were conscious of our personal development. Job opportunities and training were there for those who demonstrated an interest or aptitude for personal advancement. Today immigrants are considered a pest, and are treated with contempt, but I am sure mostly they work hard to improve their lives and that of their families by doing legitimate work and contributing to society.

I am a recipient of good practice and in return I have worked hard for forty five years, paid taxes, responded to a just society in an honest way,recognising the civility that was offered me and I hope I have contributed by returning and not just receiving.

Many nations included my own should follow England's example with immigrants and would benefit from their investment.

I was 18 years old and in the kitchen a young trainee chef was always asking me out. He would wait for me in the corridor of the hospital holding his bicycle and a parcel with some treat for me to have. I sometimes wonder what he must have thought when he offered me a banana, which I ate in front of him. Well, I did not want to offend him, after all he was nice. We went to the cinema several times and he was determined to speak to Tina about our possible relationship. Tina was not happy, and told him so. She told him that I was too young and time would tell.

My sister Tina in Regents Park

Years later we would meet again, when I did not need permission for our interrupted relationship. A friend of mine from Palencia, Luisita, worked at the hospital with me and we got on very well. She was much more adventurous than I, and she planned a tour holiday to Italy for a whole fortnight. Tina would not let me go, and I had to ask my parents' consent from Spain. I did not get it, but I went just the same. Teenagers will always revel and disobey orders, we were no angels.

Trip to Italy

Luisita and me in 1966 My Australian admirer Luisita myself and a nice couple

Trip to Italy 1966

The bus left from Victoria with forty other people of all ages, mostly passengers were in their forties except for one Australian who was 26 years old. We were the attraction of the coach. We had never been anywhere apart from our remote villages in Spain, going on a coach and finding out the large world out there was very educational and exciting. We travelled for a few hours before we reached Dover to cross the English Channel. The bus actually went into the boat with all of us inside. This was a real treat, we were so excited. We run around this floating house, it reminded me of my first journey to England, only now I was actually going on holiday, it seemed unbelievable that my life could change so fast in a matter of months. We took the steps to the deck and looked around realising our dream, going somewhere by boat,water all around, no houses to be seen, only water and the sky...

Next stop was in the motorway in Germany. We were well pleased to be stopped in the middle of no where, half a sleep, to help our selves to self-service catering from vending machines. There was no staff at all. Machines were available fully replenished with all sorts of foods, hot or cold. We just had to find lots of coins in order to have some food. I suppose it was a taste of the new world to come.

We arrived at three o'clock in the morning at this hotel near Innsbruck.We slept for a few hours before we were awaken again to continue our journey via Austria and by the autostrada, into Italy.

In the 1930s the Fascist government built over 800 miles of motorways connecting all of the major cities of Southern and most of northern Italy. Construction ceased in 1941 due to World War II and the magnificent highway network fell into ruin until 1956 when plans to rebuilt the major links began. During the 1960's and 1970's most of the Autostrada was rebuilt and today is the fifth largest motorway network in the world.

From Austria across The Tyrol to Innsbruck I wanted so much to take in the impressionable mountains, the Alps, the magnificent green fields, lakes, trees, miles and miles of never ending natural beauty. The various colours of green, the river bends, the different terrain, the mountain vacation huts, hotels, the expensive chalets for the better off, the cows and sheep enjoying the rich pastures, the lorries that were travelling in the opposite direction. This beauty was enhanced by the smoothness that the autostrada provided while travelling by coach. A poor road would not have allowed one's senses to be transported into wonder and bewilderment.

The size of natural beauty was overwhelming. I was allowed to put my head out of the window and capture not only the view, but the taste and smell too. Some fields had been harvested, it was June, the hay was flat in rows of perfect size, drying under the wind and the sun. The smell of all these unspoiled rich valleys suffocated my senses to the point of breaking into screams from time to time. I arrived in Italy with a natural suntan due to the sun and wind of the unspoiled country side of the Tyrol experience.

The construction of this impressive motorway had recently been finished and we were told about its beauty, its splendid short cuts through great mountain passes and impressive tunnels, its advantages for future travel and the achievements of adventurous engineers that foresaw the possibilities in their drawings before executing the project to reality. Conditions during its construction were far from ideal. Dangerous and hazardous situations were tackled with little concern for safety, and workers suffered great loss of life.

The Europabrücke (Bridge Europe), located just outside of Innsbruck and a few kilometres north of the Brenner Pass, is a large concrete bridge carrying the six-lane autobahn over the valley of the Sill River. At a height of 180 meters and a length of 820 meters, it was celebrated as a masterpiece of engineering upon its completion in 1963. The Autostrada is the Italian National system of motorways. The total length of the system is about 6,400 km, in North and Central Italy mainly as tollways, the biggest portion owned by the Autostrade Group which operates some 3,408 km of highways, although some are also under the control of other operators, such as Autovie Venete in the north-east. Italy was the first country in the world to start building motorways. Italy's Autostrada has one of the highest speed limits in Europe.

Brenner Pass (Passo del Brennero) is a mountain pass through the Alps along the border between Italy and Austria, and is one of the principal passes of the Alps. It is the lowest (4495 ft./1370 m.) and easiest of the Alpine passes, and one of the few in the Tyrol region. For that reason possession of the pass has long been coveted.

Below the pass, high Alpine pastures have been used by dairy cattle for summer grazing, making space available at lower altitudes for cultivating and harvesting hay for winter fodder. Many of the high pastures are at altitudes over 1000 meters.In order to ease the road traffic,there are plans to upgrade the railroad from Verona to Innsbruck with a series of tunnel under the Brenner Pass.Work started in 2006. I am fortunate to have lived this far and through “goggle earth” venture into this episode of my life with the aid of a simple mouse.

We arrived at Padua. The waiters at the hotel were all over us and we spoiled their interest by requesting peace and quiet as we were exhausted. The next day we would regret having being tired as we realised how handsome and ready to please they were.

Padua and St Anthony

Padua

We arrived at Padua. The waiters at the hotel were all over us and we spoiled their interest by requesting peace and quite as we were exhausted. The next day we would regret having being tired as we realised how handsome and ready to please they were.

The most famous of the Paduan churches is the Basilica di Sant'Antonio da Padova, locally simply known as "Il Santo". The bones of the saint rest in a chapel richly ornamented with carved marbles, the work of various artists, among them of Sansovino and Falconetto; the basilica was begun about the year 1230 and completed in the following century; tradition says that the building was designed by Nicola Pisano; it is covered by seven cupolas, two of them pyramidal.

On the piazza in front of the church is Donatello's magnificent equestrian statue of the Venetian general Gattamelata (Erasmo da Narni), which was cast in 1453, the first full-size equestrian bronze cast since antiquity; it was inspired by the Marcus Aurelius equestrian sculpture at the Capitoline Hill in Rome.

There are also four beautiful cloisters to visit. To be known, Sant'Antonio is Vatican territory. Padua has long been famous for its university founded in 1222.Under the rule of Venice the university was governed by a board of three patricians, called the Riformatorio dello studio de Padova. The list of professors and alumni is long and illustrious, containing, among others, the names of Bembo, Sperore Speroni, the anatomist Vesalius. Copernicus, Fallopious, Fabrizio d'Acquapendente, Galileo, Galilei,Pietro Pomponazzi, Reginald,later Cardinal Pole,Scalier,Tasso and Sobieski.

The university hosts the oldest anatomy theatre (built in 1594) and the oldest botanical garden (1545) in the world.The place of Padua in the history of art is nearly as important as its place in the history of learning.

The presence of the university attracted many distinguished artists, as Giotto, Fra Filippo Lippi and Donatello; and for native art there was the school of Francesco Squarcione, whence issued the great Mantegna.Padua is also the birth place of the famous architect Andrea Palladio, whose XVIth century "ville" (country-houses) in the area of Padua, Venice, Vicenza and Treviso are among the most beautiful of Italy, and they were often copied during XVIIIth and XIXth centuries. The famous sculptor Antonio Canova made his first work in Padua, one among the statues of Prato della Valle (now a copy stays at open air, while the original is in the Musei Civici, Civic Museums).

One the most relevant places in the life of the city has certainly been The Antonianum. Settled among Prato della Valle, the Saint Anthony church and the botanic Garden it has been built in 1897 by the Jesuit fathers, and kept alive until 2002.

During WWII, under the lead of P.Messori Roncaglia SJ, it became the center of the resistance war against the Nazism. Indeed, it briefly survived P.Messori's death, and it was sold by the Jesuits in 2004.

Some sites are trying to collect what can still be found of the college: (1) a no-profit pixel site is collecting links to whatever is available on the web; (2) a student association created in the college is still operating and connecting Alumni.

I am sure there were more important heritage and relevant information that could have been shown to us about Padua; but to see St Anthony's finger preserved in a glass and brass ornamental container appeared to be “The item” to see, and the memory to take away with us from this beautiful city.I remembered being a bit sick by the preserved digital member of St Anthony that lived some centuries before.

For me his significance was concentrated in St Anthony's prayer and his image in a brown monk's habit. The prayer we were taught as children and we were instructed to believe that it was beneficial to recite when one lost something important. Mind you, you would only find it, if you manage to recite the prayer correctly the first time. Otherwise the item was lost for ever!

This is the prayer, I will not bother translating it;

Si buscas milagros, ruinas,muerte y error desterrados,miseria y demonios huidos,leprosos y enfermos sanos. El mar sosiega tu ira,redímense encarcelados;miembros y bienes perdidos recobran mozos y ancianos. El peligro se retira,los pobres van remediados;cuéntenlo los socorridos,díganlo los paduanos. Gloria al Padre,gloria al Hijo,gloria al "Espíritu y Santo".El mar sosiega su ira,redímense encarcelados;miembros y bienes perdidos recobran mozos y ancianos. Ruega a Cristo por nosotros,Antonio glorioso, santo,para que dignos así de tus promesas seamos.

Padua has one of the oldest universities in the world. Galileo taught there from 1592-1610. The famous Anatomy Theatre where Vesalius taught through dissections is the oldest in the world. The botanical garden Orto Botanico di Padova was founded in 1545 as the garden of curative herbs attached to the University's faculty of medicine. It is the oldest botanical garden in the world and still contains an important collection of rare plants.

From Padua we were transported to Venice. Amazement is the only word I can think off to describe this island without streets.

Venice joy

Venice In order to get there, there is this long stretch of road that is sitting on the ocean, for there is nothing but water both sides of the road. It is quite long and you wonder if it will take you somewhere. The hotel was placed looking out to one of the canals and we were somewhat preoccupied with the safety of our accommodation as we had never been in a place like it. We decided it was time to wonder off and experience the Venice adventure.

Luisita, my friend was fearless when it came to experiencing new cities, I was to find her navigation skills very useful at a later date. I do not have a good sense of direction and it would have been impossible for me to return to the hotel after the never-ending labyrinth of passageways, bridges and narrow alleys.

We navigated our way into Plaza San Marcos. Boy was it grand! I was amazed, I found that people were very handsome, both men and women were beautiful. They were sitting in terraced cafes, monkey promenading, eating ice cream and the children playing carelessly. The pigeons were flying everywhere, the gondolas going up and down the canal as the sun shown splendidly. It gave a surreal effect that one could only sigh and feel the gratifying effect of the surroundings.

Being young ourselves, we fitted well with the rest of the beautiful ambiance around us. Youth provided us with the necessary equipment to enjoy life and this unique holiday which we had never imagined even in our wildest dreams. We looked, observed and laughed. We took pictures, we hugged each other and we bough an ice cream, it costs us several millions Lira, but who cares. We returned to the hotel much later and we were told off for disappearing. We started bragging about San Marcos Square as if we were tourist guide.

There was an Australian young man in our group that was fascinated by my child like behaviour. He was about 26 and was much better educated as he was doing his European tour. He took pictures of me all the time. He must have more than a thousand if he developed them all.

That evening we were taken by gondola to a concert that was taking place on a large ship. ( Italians are very good singers)The gondolas were placed in a circle around the ship, and the music started.( here the flash camera of my Australian friend never stopped flashing). There were lights on the ship and we were lucky in our positioning, for we could see clearly the handsome tenor and the orchestra.

The background was the city lights, the silence took hold of the night. The waves rocked us in our gondola and tears were brought to our eyes. The suspense was broken as we heard the beautiful voice of the tenor singing at the top of his lungs Eduardo Di Capua “Oh Sole Mio” His notes touched our souls and left us with an unforgettable memory. This occasion is one I have cherished in my list of favourites.

The next day time to see more unimportant things. A glass making factory. Tour operators enhance there wages by offering this sort of visits. A commission is usually paid on sales. I was more fascinated by the blowing techniques in shaping glass into different forms than any thing else, just the same I did buy my sister Tina a neck less of beautiful blue glassed beads. I think she still has it.

From there we visited San Marcos Square and to the Basilica and its Byzantine heritage, the Doge's Palace and its adjoining prisons.

The palace is one the most sumptuous palaces in the world. After all Venice enjoyed the virtues of the first republic for 1070 years, until Napoleon entered the city in 1797. We were told about important and famous people nee in Venice like Marco Polo. We enjoyed tales of this legendary globe-trotting Venetian. Casanova and his lust for life was also mentioned in our illustration of Venice life.

The mask festivities just before lent used to last for six months in order to keep the anonymity, indiscretions and gay festivities that wearing a mask provided for the Venicians. The Bovolo (snail in Italian) staircase impressed me too , it was built for wealthy Venetian at a time when many Venetians still travelled around the city on horse-back. The elaborate staircase enabled the wealthy nobleman to ride his horse up to his private apartments within his palace.What about that for modernization!! After an exhausting morning we finished the tour near the Rialto Bridge, and were taken to a Restaurante Italiano for Spaghetti Bolognaise. Huge servings were provided and we devoured everything.

Time to retire to the hotel for a rest and prepare for an early rise to travel to our next destination Pisa.

Travelling by coach in this speedy tours has one draw back and that is the hours one has to spend sitting and seeing things from afar.

It is not unusual to travel for six and seven hour in a day and sometimes more.We arrived at Pisa in mid-morning and we were allowed to climb to the top before we could eat our packed lunch and continue to Florence.

Naturally we were excited and ventured into climbing the leaning Pisa in order to take the precious pictures that we would show everyone in our return. I did not notice the leaning effect once I was up there.

Italy and Spain similarities

Italy and Spain similarities

1965 was a time of precarious living in Europe and one could see many people working the fields, using very rudimentary equipment, dressed very poorly and working very hard without the aid of animals or machinery to cultivate the land. At most a donkey would be carrying a load for an old man, and a child would carry on his head wine wood for the fire or a churn of milk in his hand. Shoeless and looking miserable reminded me of home. The same scenes could be seen in Spain any where from north to south. Spain and Italy's geography is very similar. It is sunny, warm and rich in heritage, family values and protectiveness of our relatives, but both countries have not been generous with its people. The church in particular with all their study and wisdom has been very unkind creating a two tear society differentiating between those that have and those that have not and acting very contrary to their preaching. Monarchy and the feudal system were barbarous to their subjects. Dictator-ship the later illness inflicted on both our countries was particular brutal and it had taken a toll on their people for many centuries.

Florence We arrived in Florence and fell asleep as soon as we were accommodated. Dinner would be at 8pm and a rest was much needed. Florence at night is a beautiful city. We were taken by coach for a city tour, which we much enjoyed. The Ponte Vecchio, David Statue the Medici palace and the Duomo cathedral are all clearly lit for tourist and residents to enjoy. The Duomo Cathedral is impressive from near and afar. Its elaborate bronze doors tell bible stories and are very impressive. The restaurants, boutiques and the coffee houses with there pretty padded chairs,the Italians monkey promenading, and the sound of an orchestra singing in every plaza makes the tourist heart delight and wonder into nostalgia. Should life be this good for every human being on earth? Of course it should, but we all know that people are suffering in some place somewhere, and that reduces quality from that very special moment...
In the hotel we were being served with special attentions by two very handsome Italian waiters. Next evening we were invited for dinner at a very nice restaurant near to the Ponte Vecchio. We were fed, wined and danced until very late at night. We sat on the veranda on rocky hammocks with these very handsome and attentive boys. We were young and full of laughter and gaiety, we were served breakfast in bed the next morning. How did we get back to the hotel is a mystery to me to this day, but we were there safe in bed... Next morning saying goodbye was a sad episode, but I am sure our Valentinos forgot our faces as soon as the next coach arrived full of young tourist. “C'est la vie”

Next day a new venture was promised in Rome. The tour operator described the wonders and the rich heritage awaiting us over the microphone. Once again it was a long journey and we arrived for dinner in another hotel near the impressive Coliseum. Vivid memories of the stories told to us by the religious teachers about the pour catholic martyrs being devoured by lions in public due to their resilience in renouncing their believes and their God. It is all too barbaric to contemplate.

The Vatican experience

The Vatican

San Peters Basilica is grandiose and illuminating. The cupola size, the paintings by the great painter Michaelangelo. The “Pieta” is very pleasing to the eye, the soft forms, the beautiful sad expressions, the delicate way of the mother holding her dead son, the postures and the soft colour of the marble makes one forget its origins, a hard stone transformed and conquered by the master. After all that morbid education we were quite excited and needed some real life entertaining. “The Fontana the Trevi” is a good place to contemplate life from another angle. Young people were soaked, laughing and taking pictures. The weather was fantastic and we too removed our shoes and joint in the fan. We had our ritual pictures taken and then we were taken to San Marino restaurant for more of the same pasta and spaghetti. There were other things on offer but Luisita and I decided that when in Italy do as the Italians do, and had more pasta... We then climbed the “Scalinata Spagna” The Spanish Steps and more shots were flashed by our Australian friend. This was an opportunity to observe the chaotic traffic disorder in Rome from a higher level and marvel as to how people manage to get anywhere on time. From there we walked and saw the King Victor Emmanuel monument, monumental and all in white marble. Inside there is a huge 12 meter high statue of the King sitting on a horse. Near the statue is the tomb of the unknown soldier, guarded by two sentries of honour. The “Forum Romano” one needs to have a good imagination and a liking for broken stones. There was nothing there worth seeing apart from remembering about the passed glory. The Castel San Angelo. This structure was originally built by the Emperor Hadrian (117-138) as his tomb, but in the face of barbarian invasions, Romans adapted it for use as a fortress. Over the centuries, additional fortifications were added as well as a suite of Renaissance papal apartments. During threatening times, popes took refuge here (when things got really bad, there was always Orvieto to fall back to). The statue of the angel at the top of the fortress commemorates a plague epidemic in 509. Pope Gregory the Great had a vision of an angel at the top of the citadel sheathing his sword, and from that time, the plague subsided (thus the name, Castel Sant' Angelo). Rome's view from the top of this castle is excellent. The bridge over the river Tiber, Ponte Sant' Angelo, is the traditional starting point for the pilgrimage route from Saint Peter's to San Giovanni in Laterano, the original Christian church. (The adjacent Lateran Palace was the official papal residence in Rome until 1377.)

The Coliseum structure is enormous and intimidating, to think of a society that recognised as enjoyable the reality of men and women being devoured by lions is an unimaginable scene. I looked at its basement quarters and touched the old stones that saw such criminal acts. Feeling the cold walls in silence y thought, I heard the screems of the victims and the laughter of their oppressors, I shivered.... By the time we reached the hotel we were all very tired. A shower some rest, dinner and to bed as early in the morning the coach was going to be our restricted residence for many hours before we got to Naples. Many miles of solitary agricultural workers never seized to remind me of home were the resemblance to my fellow Spaniards were in every field or village we passed by. They were poorly dressed and their feet badly covered with rubber home made shoes or shoeless. The straw hats were threaded with hay to hold them together before total disintegration. Their trousers were held up in their thin waist with a rough string, their shirts colour could not be defined due to the inclemency of the hot summers. Mostly they were walking to one place or another with their working tools on their shoulders. Women always had an extra weight to carry and it was that of their infants, attached to their waists or holding to their skirts. Some children, although, appeared very young to curry anything at all, were always transporting some heavy tool, basket or another child. Life was hard, the war had taken a toll.Immigration was a blessing as it opened doors that one could have never imagined in ones vicinity. It was a very sad occasion too, leaving the loved ones behind in those sad conditions teared one apart. Everyone's mama in particular...

But deep down you also though of the possibilities of improving everyone's lot with your departure, and you tore yourself away from your mama's embrace