Buying a Tree from Gypsies

Atocha near dusk, on our walk to the Plaza Mayor.


On Friday we walked to the Plaza Mayor to look at all the Christmas gear. They really do have everything a family could want for the holidays. Fresh strips of cork and live chunks of moss to make your super-realistic nativity scene, and all the fresh trees you could want.


Most of this stuff has been harvested from the mountains above Madrid, although the majority of the decorations you see just behind us (above) is purchased wholesale from bargain plastic importers.

The cork, the moss and the trees, though, are the real Spanish deal, although they are probably not harvested on farms. Somehow we think that all of these particular Christmas goods are surreptitiously collected under the cover of night. Maybe it's the plastic bags used to contain the root ball of each tree. Or maybe it's the unmarked old white van parked next to the old gypsy lady who warms her hands at a charcoal fire in a metal bucket, waiting to sell you a tree in a leaky bucket.

We must say that the selection is terrific and we found the perfect tree for only 16 euros. You can bargain if you want.

The problem, you see, is getting the tree home when you don't have a car.


Here we are selecting the tree that we will adopt and take home with us.


Our tree, all wrapped up in his little diaper and ready to come home.


Walking from the Plaza Mayor to the nearest Metro stop, which is at Tirso de Molina. This particular stop has the added advantage of not requiring any transfers on our way home. Transfers are no good when you are lugging a tree in a box.


Walking. Pause for photo.


Walking. Tree. Getting. Heavier.


A is getting really tired here. We've come all the way from the Plaza Mayor, and now we are going to have to get that tree through the Metro turnstiles.


In the Plaza Tirso de Molina. Approaching Metro. Soon A will pass the tree back to S.


Finding an empty-ish Metro car. Pause for photo.


All trees ride for free. FYI.


The ride home. Relaxing. Thankfully it was not rush hour. Sometimes you have to push your way in. We did not have to do that this time.


Our Metro stop. Almost home.


Getting closer to home. We have climbed the stairs out of the Metro and are waiting to cross the street.

Allow us to say that this was one heavy little tree. He's short, but very dense. Although this photomontage might suggest that the tree project was a collaborative effort, in the interest of maintaining amagomundi's high standards of full disclosure and perfect honesty, we must inform our faithful readers that A carried the tree the whole time.


While we look happy enough, upon arriving home we were dismayed to learn that the tree was not exactly what we expected. After we had purchased a bucket at the local euro store to put our tree in, and having found some stones to put in the bucket to maintain the tree's vertical attitude, we finally unwrapped the root ball and settled our little tree into its new habitat. And what a surprise we had! The tree smelled exactly like (do not blanche, dear readers) wild animal piss. Yes. Underneath the sweet smell of fresh mountain pine, there is a strong scent of mountain animal urine. Imagine our surprise.


After trimming the tree and a bit of odor control (for the tree), A wrapped some gifts for our family. The tree smells much better, but it doesn't quite smell normal. It was pointed out by one of our faithful readers that, in yesterday's New York Times, there was an article about how in Nebraska "they prevent people from stealing little trees from parks and campuses and places like that by spraying them with wolf (or other mammal) urine. "It's called seasonal tree poaching, and it's happening everywhere. “When the tree is out in the cold, the smell is not noticeable,” says Mr. Baird, a landscape engineer at the University of Nebraska, but once the tree is inside and starts to warm up, “it’s nasty.”


Our beautiful little stinky tree.

Check back soon for a photo of Charlize Theron with a moustache!