Femes

Femes’ claim to fame lies not in its size, its shopping opportunities or great night life. Perched on top of a hill, it is wedged in between two dormant volacanoes, the highest being Atalaya de Femes (“Atalaya” meaning lookout post), 608 meters above sea level, second only to the 670 m Peñas Chache, some forty kilometers further north.

Sure, the little hamlet is picturesque in its unassuming smallness. The church, Capilla de San Marcial, whitewashed and fresh like the rest of the few houses, lies strategically in the center. Its nice little square, framed with palms and benches, is today void of life, due to the cold wind blowing away any thoughts of sitting down, contemplating life.

A few cars join mine in the allotted parking places behind the church, but not many people have bothered to make the trip. When they get out of their vehicles, most of them take a few hurried photos of the view from Restaurant Miradore’s terrace, before scuttling indoors, to warm themselves with a cup of coffee or a glass of something even more life sustaining.

I hang about a little longer, the sun is debating whether to give us a full show, or just a few sampled scenes through erratic openings in the clouds. It’s still around forty minutes till sunset, but suddenly the clouds recede...

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