When I was a child in the 40’s I was watching the workers of my family’s tannery at the back of our house, at 48 Soutsou Street, where the “Faros” restaurant used to be. I watched the workers wash the skins and scrape them in the lake, a few meters from the house. Then they carried them to the basement of the house where they were softened in water and lime in the “abastades”. But what impressed me the most were the trucks that emptied tens of kilos of acorns in our yard to crush them with special stones and paint with them the skins.
The tannery
