My name is Ema,
I was born in Windsor, Ontario, Canada back in 1978, but grew up in a small town in western Spain. Cullera is in the province of Valencia. It is surrounded by the salty seas of the Mediterranean, mountains and vast Orange orchards. Culture in Cullera is everything and everywhere. Men earned their wages either by fishing or working on the orchards. Women tended to mom and pop stores, bakeries, or simply tending to the home and the family. I lived there for 12 years. I learned the ropes of fishing on my great grandfathers fishing boat, I did not get to go often, but the few times I did go I learned to fish, mend nets, touched a baby shark, ate fresh sushi and learned to swim in the ocean. I loved and cherished every single moment. My great grandfather was a terrific, stern but very loving man. I vividly remember the feeling when he would leave on fishing expeditions to the straight to Gibraltar, it was a special time because a week later when he would return he would always have some hand made bracelet or trinket made by some woman in some small village, but the best was the huge loaves of bread and wheels of freshly made cheese he would bring home. Sangria, the sweetest anyone has ever tasted. Memories that will last a lifetime!!
Summers were quite special, even though my siblings and I did have a hard childhood, some things were still great and hard to beat. We spend most of it at the beach, or at our aunts chalet or at the orchard. I still remember the smell the wind carried through the orchards. Or the taste of the salty water, the feeling of being water logged on a hot afternoon and falling asleep on a lawn chair as the waves crashed on the shorelines. The hot nights but cool summer breeze coming in through the windows as we slept, I am quite sure this is my favorite memory, seeing my curtains slow dance in the breeze as I laid in bed waiting to fall asleep. As children we found magic in everything, even if it truly wasn't there.
Our house was situated at the foot of the mountains, the back trails of the mountain a favorite for tourist hikers spanned from the ocean to the very centre of the town. Looking out our kitchen window or even standing on the terrace of our house you could easily see the Grandeur of the castle atop the mountain, where the battle of the Moors against the Christians took place. A real piece of history staring down on the town, a place where Christians laid their virgin Mary to rest in safety after each passing holiday. And where at every Easter the towns people would gather to pray and join in the celebration of our culture. At night seeing the castle all lit up was breathtaking.
Yes, Spain was great, but I longed for more and new places, travel and change, I longed to know my parents, but most of all my father who I had really only met once in 1986, a visit that lasted only a couple weeks and was filled with anxious moments between my parents. But I remember good times, drinking fanta, at a local beach restaurant, flying kites at the beach and visiting zoos.
It was almost Xmas of 1990 when my father asked my grandmother to bring us back to Canada so on December 8Th we took a plane out of Madrid, headed to Windsor Ontario.
We spent the holidays with my father, Xmas was grand, lot of toys, more than we have every seen before, lots of food. My first time seeing snow. It was fabulous. weeks later, my father asked if we wanted to stay and live with him, I stayed and made this my permanent home. My siblings tried it but couldn't adjust. 15 years later I went in search for the perfect small town, that had the feeling of my beloved cullera. I found it here in Northern Ontario, and while I haven't returned to my beloved Spain, to my roots, since 1990, and though I will one day soon, I bought this home and this land with the purpose of bringing out my roots in my homes surroundings.
I was born in Windsor, Ontario, Canada back in 1978, but grew up in a small town in western Spain. Cullera is in the province of Valencia. It is surrounded by the salty seas of the Mediterranean, mountains and vast Orange orchards. Culture in Cullera is everything and everywhere. Men earned their wages either by fishing or working on the orchards. Women tended to mom and pop stores, bakeries, or simply tending to the home and the family. I lived there for 12 years. I learned the ropes of fishing on my great grandfathers fishing boat, I did not get to go often, but the few times I did go I learned to fish, mend nets, touched a baby shark, ate fresh sushi and learned to swim in the ocean. I loved and cherished every single moment. My great grandfather was a terrific, stern but very loving man. I vividly remember the feeling when he would leave on fishing expeditions to the straight to Gibraltar, it was a special time because a week later when he would return he would always have some hand made bracelet or trinket made by some woman in some small village, but the best was the huge loaves of bread and wheels of freshly made cheese he would bring home. Sangria, the sweetest anyone has ever tasted. Memories that will last a lifetime!!
Summers were quite special, even though my siblings and I did have a hard childhood, some things were still great and hard to beat. We spend most of it at the beach, or at our aunts chalet or at the orchard. I still remember the smell the wind carried through the orchards. Or the taste of the salty water, the feeling of being water logged on a hot afternoon and falling asleep on a lawn chair as the waves crashed on the shorelines. The hot nights but cool summer breeze coming in through the windows as we slept, I am quite sure this is my favorite memory, seeing my curtains slow dance in the breeze as I laid in bed waiting to fall asleep. As children we found magic in everything, even if it truly wasn't there.
Our house was situated at the foot of the mountains, the back trails of the mountain a favorite for tourist hikers spanned from the ocean to the very centre of the town. Looking out our kitchen window or even standing on the terrace of our house you could easily see the Grandeur of the castle atop the mountain, where the battle of the Moors against the Christians took place. A real piece of history staring down on the town, a place where Christians laid their virgin Mary to rest in safety after each passing holiday. And where at every Easter the towns people would gather to pray and join in the celebration of our culture. At night seeing the castle all lit up was breathtaking.
Yes, Spain was great, but I longed for more and new places, travel and change, I longed to know my parents, but most of all my father who I had really only met once in 1986, a visit that lasted only a couple weeks and was filled with anxious moments between my parents. But I remember good times, drinking fanta, at a local beach restaurant, flying kites at the beach and visiting zoos.
It was almost Xmas of 1990 when my father asked my grandmother to bring us back to Canada so on December 8Th we took a plane out of Madrid, headed to Windsor Ontario.
We spent the holidays with my father, Xmas was grand, lot of toys, more than we have every seen before, lots of food. My first time seeing snow. It was fabulous. weeks later, my father asked if we wanted to stay and live with him, I stayed and made this my permanent home. My siblings tried it but couldn't adjust. 15 years later I went in search for the perfect small town, that had the feeling of my beloved cullera. I found it here in Northern Ontario, and while I haven't returned to my beloved Spain, to my roots, since 1990, and though I will one day soon, I bought this home and this land with the purpose of bringing out my roots in my homes surroundings.
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