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Miracles do happen, and Spain's peaceful transition to democracy is one of them. Perhaps, then, smaller miracles might occur in the south-eastern corner of Andalucia, especially if you have the guardian spirit of the "Santo Custodio" watching over you, as is the case with the village of Frailes in the province of Jaén. This is an immense landscape of olive-covered slopes, holm oaks, walnut, cherry and almond trees, framed by the distant profile of the Sierra Nevada: border country, a land of emigration and, after the Civil War, of hunger. In his poem "Andaluces de Jaén", Miguel Hernandez asked ironically "To whom do they belong, these olive groves?" As a popular song, it was banned under Franco.There are hints of the war in Michael Jacobs's account of village life. Though gruesome, they remain folkloric. The señoritos have departed, leaving their antique houses and remains of a spa. The young make for the city, even if only for the nightlife. Still, Frailes has a nightlife of its own and at the Pub Guaniero, the song of the summer is un movimiento sexi. It's the same at the Bar Lady Diana or the Discoteca Oh!, an Eighties throwback above the inn where the author finally settles.
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