Tag Archives: art

Mercado de los Tres Culturos

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el Casco Viejo (Old City) in Cáceres

el Casco Viejo (Old City) in Cáceres

We’re winding down—only four days to go on this Grand Tour of Spain—and it’s getting harder to get excited about venturing out. While I love my Roman ruins, Moorish fortresses, and medieval walled cities, how many can you continue to experience with enthusiasm after three months? We had exhausted Mérida’s offerings the day before and didn’t like the thought of staying in the apartment all day, so we went ahead with my plan to visit the ancient city of Cáceres.

These walled cities, perched high on a hill overlooking what was once their domain, are always exciting on the approach. As the car enters the Casco Viejo (Old City), the roads become increasingly steeper and narrower, the massive stone buildings grow a bit closer together, and the parking spaces are fewer and farther between. There have been many old city streets that we have declared too narrow to be navigable only to see someone’s car parked outside their home farther up the hill. How do they get them up there? Nerves of steel.

jabalí (wild boar) on toast with melted local cheese

jabalí (wild boar) on toast with melted local cheese

We tried driving to the top—car in first gear, mirrors tucked in tightly, breath sucked in, and ears tuned for that dreaded scrape of metal on stone that miraculously never comes. There comes a point where we wonder if we could actually wedge the car into a space so snugly that we wouldn’t be able to get out. That’s when we lose our nerve and look for a road—any road—heading back down the hill.

Safely at the bottom, we found a parking garage in the more modern and open part of the city and set off on foot to climb the hill. We arrived out of breath in the heart of the Old City and made our way toward the Plaza Mayor. As we walked, booths popped up here and there on either side of the narrow alleyways. By the time we reached the plaza, we were in the middle of a full-blown souk, or zoco as they call them in Spain—a Middle-Eastern market. Vendors, dressed in historic garb, were selling all manner of artisanal crafts. Unbeknownst to us, this was the first day of the Mercado de los Tres Culturos, the Market of the Three Cultures—Muslim, Jewish, and Christian. Spain is very proud of their four centuries of prosperity under Muslim rule when all three cultures coexisted peacefully, and well they should be. We could use a little more of that in today’s world.

meat vendor

grilled meat vendor

wood carver using a manual lathe

wood carver using a manual lathe

We had so much fun shopping: saffron and smoked paprika, olive oil soaps, meats and cheeses—all handmade in Extremadura. The food booths were extraordinary—whole roasting pigs and paella pans full of rice and vegetables, local wines and even craft beer. What an absolutely lovely day we had—the kind that makes you glad you ventured out!

Real flamenco

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flamenco1

We thought we had seen real flamenco in Málaga just because it was in a small bar full of locals. But then we talked to people and read a bit, and I realized we had to try again. There is no better place to seek out flamenco than Sevilla. It is the heart of Andalucía, where flamenco was born.

Here is what I learned: Although there are many forms of flamenco, often regional, they usually consist of four elements: guitar, singing, percussion, and dancing.

I would be happy just to listen to good Spanish guitar. Send home the singers and dancers, the guitarist is the core of the performance. He starts the show and provides the underlying structure; the singers and dancers respond to his music. A skilled guitarist can play four parts at once, two with each hand. He can hold a chord while plucking strings with the little finger of the same hand, and all the while his other hand is strumming and plucking simultaneously. Increíble!

flamenco2Once the guitarist establishes the melody and rhythm, the singer begins. Not on a specific bar, but when she feels it. Flamenco singing is very emotional. There is a lot of wailing and crying out. It can sound odd to someone who doesn’t understand the lyrics, but you have to admire their passion.

Once the guitar and singing blend, the percussion begins. Flamenco is all about the percussion, and it can be accomplished in various ways, usually by the dancers who up to now have been standing by grooving to the music. Typically it starts with a syncopated, back-beat clapping. Like the singing, the clapping is a personal response to the music. The dancers join in as the music moves them, each with their own rhythm and cupping or flattening of hands to create different sounds. In flamenco, clapping is an art.

Percussion can be created with castanets too, but in the performances we saw, the dancers clicked their fingers. The clicking was so loud and sharp, we thought they did have castanets at first. The use of their bare fingers added to the beauty of the performance. Hand movement is very much a part of flamenco, and the clicking enhanced it.

Then the ultimate percussion: the dancing. Male or female or both together, each performance tells its own story. The dancing begins slowly – a natural progression of the clapping and finger clicking. As the hands work, the hips start to sway and the feet start to tap, increasing in intensity as the dancer gets into the performance. The guitarist and singer pick up the pace a bit, and the dancers respond. The skirt is hiked up, and the feet stomp so loudly on the wooden floor you want to cover your ears. The dancers are in each others’ faces; then they’re stomping across the stage in a crazy staccato rhythm. Their feet move so quickly that sometimes they are just a blur, yet always keeping the rhythm. Passion and heat fill the small room. The artists are no longer performing; there is no choreography. They are responding to the music and each other, body and soul.

flamenco3

I thought I could visit Spain and skip the flamenco. Or, at most, one performance would be sufficient. But now I understand why people go back again and again. As they claim in bullfighting, the experience you have depends on the particular talent; in this case, the guitarist, the singer, and the dancers. You never know what each combination will bring, but each time you hope for magic.

The Mushrooms

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Metropol Parasol

Metropol Parasol

What is this crazy wooden structure in the middle of Plaza de la Encarnación in Sevilla?

setas2It’s called Metropol Parasol. I don’t understand the name, but it certainly is in keeping with the mystery of the thing. It is art with a purpose beyond esthetics. Below ground level, where you catch the elevator to the top (if it’s still open), there are some Roman and Moorish ruins. On ground level is a food market. Along the top are walkways and a restaurant from which you can admire the city. Unfortunately we arrived too late to go up.

What an unusual juxtaposition of history, art, and gastronomy.

setas3Sevillanos called it “Las Setas,” or “The Mushrooms.” Supposedly it is the largest wooden structure in the world – so big that Marcus couldn’t capture the whole thing in one photo. I looked for a postcard in the gift shop that would show it in its entirety, but they couldn’t do it either. Perhaps that’s what the architect intended – by removing the possibility of the big picture, he forces the viewer to be part of the work. As someone who feels more comfortable knowing where the borders are, I kind of liked getting lost inside for a change.

Now this is a Plaza de España!

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Plaza de España

Plaza de España in Sevilla

We dropped our luggage at our new digs in Sevilla and drove to the train station to return rental car #2. The walk back to the apartment was around 30 minutes, so I thought we’d take in a sight or two on the way back to break up the walk. The only thing in our path was the Plaza de España.

Almost every city in Spain has a Plaza de España. Typically it’s just another square in a city full of squares, although often a good-sized one, and if you’re lucky it has some good cafés. So I wasn’t expecting much from this Plaza de España. One difference I noticed on the map, however, was its unusual shape. Unlike most plazas in Spain, which are square or rectangular, this one is semi-circular.

towerAs we got closer I saw a brick tower rising high above the trees and other buildings in the neighborhood. “What is that?” I wondered out loud. I hadn’t seen this tower on the map. As we came round it, we saw its twin on the far side of a phenomenal D-shaped plaza. A straight line connecting the towers forms the vertical line of the D. The curved part is a beautiful brick colonnade running from one tower around to the other.

In the center of the D is a half-moon island, with the requisite plaza fountain embedded in cobblestones, surrounded by a D-shaped canal. The canal separates the plaza from the colonnade, and is wide and long enough for people to row boats in it. Crossing the canal at four different locations are tiled bridges connecting the plaza-island to the walkway in front of the colonnade. Later I learned that these bridges represent the four medieval kingdoms of Spain: Castilla, León, Aragón, and Navarra. I stood, open-mouthed, taking it all in. I felt like I had stumbled across a little bit of Venice!

a bridge representing one of the four Medieval kingdoms of Spain

a bridge representing one of the four medieval kingdoms of Spain

Then I remembered reading about this plaza in the guidebook. It was built for the 1929 World’s Fair. King Alfonso XIII, the last king of Spain before the civil war and Franco’s 40-year dictatorship, wanted to demonstrate his country’s magnificence. I’d say he accomplished the task.

As I strolled along the walkway below the colonnade, I noticed azulejo (painted tile) benches, 50 in all, and each one representing a province of Spain. Behind each bench is an azulejo mural illustrating a provincial legend. And on the ground in front of each bench is a map of the province. What a glorious display! This is truly a Plaza de España; the only one we have seen that actually lives up to its name.

a tribute to Zaragoza, one of 50 Spanish provinces

a tribute to Zaragoza, one of 50 Spanish provinces

I took my time examining each province. We haven’t been to them all in our nine-week journey, but we’ve been to most. It was like seeing an azulejo slideshow of our journey. How fitting that we should stumble across this beautiful tribute as our adventure draws to a close.

sunset view from our apartment of one of the two towers

sunset view of one of the two towers from our apartment

Ronda

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view from the new city

view from the new city

Ronda, one of the oldest cities in Spain, is also one of the most dramatic mountain towns. Nestled deep into the mountains, it has this crazy gorge – a dizzying 380 feet deep – that separates the old Moorish city of La Ciudad (dating from the 8th century) from the new city of El Mercadillo (15th century). [Interesting to think that “new” for Spain is before Cristóbol Colón set sail from Spain to discover the Americas.] The gorge features so prominently in the topography of the city that they gave it a name: El Tajo, or The Pit. Uh-huh….

Moorish minaret/Christian belltower in the old city

Moorish minaret/Christian belltower in the old city

Ronda was a headquarters for bandeleros from the 18th to early 20th centuries, bandits who would prey upon travelers passing through Andalucía. I remember Washington Irving mentioning the notorious bandeleros as he traveled to Granada in his Tales of the Alhambra. I wonder if he was passing through the mountains of Ronda.

We loved the views of this verdant valley from our vantage point in the new city, but crossing the narrow gorge into the old city was spectacular. We crossed on the Puente Nuevo, the New Bridge, built in the 18th century. Its design really accentuates the depth of the gorge as the supports extend to the bottom. Prior to its completion, the citizens of Ronda had a choice of the older Puente Viejo (not surprisingly, the Old Bridge) or the even older Puente Árabe (Arabic Bridge). After viewing El Tajo from the Puente Nuevo, I can’t imagine crossing it from an older bridge. My knees were weak enough as I looked through an opening in the wall to the Guadalevín River below!

Puente Nuevo

Puente Nuevo

Ronda has one of the oldest and most prominent bullrings in Spain, thanks to the Romero family, local matadors who were instrumental in defining the modern style of bullfighting. Ernest Hemingway and Orson Welles, both bullfighting aficionados, spent quite a bit of time in Ronda. In fact, Orson Welles’s remains were buried on bullfighter Antonio Ordóñez’s property in Ronda.

at the bullring

at the bullring

The city was a haven for other artists as well, and not just for the bullring. Many poets and writers, or viajeros románticos (romantic travelers) as they were known to the locals, spent time in Ronda inspired by the beauty around them. I am in complete agreement, as long as I have firm ground underneath my feet.

Puente Viejo

Puente Viejo

Casares

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Casares, a pueblo blanco in Andalucía

Casares, a pueblo blanco in Andalucía

The cottage we’re renting this week is outside the town of Casares, a beautiful pueblo blanco (white town) in the Sierra Bermeja mountains. The magic of these villages is their sudden appearance on the hillside in front of you as you drive ‘round a bend on a mountainside road. Looming before you is a brilliant-white cluster of buildings literally hanging off the dusky green hills. They are so characteristic of sunny Andalucía, and they take my breath away every time one appears before us.

love these winding passages in the town

love these winding passages in the town

There is a prevalent theory that the pueblos blancos inspired Pablo Picasso cubism style. He was born and raised in Andalucía amongst these little villages stacked up like so many sugar cubes on the hillside, so it just might be true.

climbing up to the Moorish castle ruins

climbing up to the Moorish castle ruins

We had lunch in a little bar on the main square of Casares, then climbed the hill for the views. We are in love with this little town!

mosaic in the town center

mosaic in the town center

Ignore the Terribles

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the ambassador's entrance to Madinat al-Zahra

the ambassador’s entrance to Madinat al-Zahra

I couldn’t decide whether to make the trip to Madinat al-Zahra, the 10th-century summer palace of the caliph of Córdoba. Once a spectacular city of 25,000 built by Abd ar-Rahman III for his favorite concubine, now it is not much more than a footprint of stone. I turned to TripAdvisor to help me decide.

A popular destination in TripAdvisor may have hundreds of reviews. It’s not possible to read them all, nor is it worth it. Many contribute nothing. Most of the “Excellent” reviews are uninformative and repetitive, so I start with the “Terrible” reviews.

Review: The video presentation at the Visitor Center is very well done, but then you go to the archaeological site and don’t see anything resembling what you saw in the video.

Reaction: Either the archaeological site is a pile of rubble, or this person has no imagination.

Review: They have reconstructed the buildings at the site; you can’t tell what is original and what was created.

Reaction: Okay, so there’s more than a pile of rubble, but it’s either all fake or this person can’t tell the difference.

Review: We refused to pay 2,10€ to ride the bus to the archaeological site because they wouldn’t let us drive our own car.

Reaction: Cheap bastards with an axe to grind!

By now, I was hopelessly confused, so I turned to Marcus. “Let’s just go,” he said. Quite right. Why am I wasting all this time with people I don’t know when I can just ask the one I know best?

animated view of the Caliph receiving foreign dignitaries

animated view of the Caliph receiving foreign dignitaries

We went; we loved it! The video presentation at the Visitor Center was amazing – the best I have ever seen at an historic sight. They not only used computer animation to show what the 1100-year-old ruins most likely looked like in their magnificence, but they also used animated people to show how they most likely lived. The most remarkable example of this showed ambassadors from foreign countries visiting the city. The entire entourage (maybe twenty people) would ride their horses through the fabulous entrance arches into a maze of ramps up to the Caliph’s reception area. The path twisted and turned, designed to give the impression that the reception must be just around the corner. Corner after corner was negotiated only to reveal another ramp. Visiting dignitaries could only imagine the enormity of the palace. Then, when they finally arrived at the reception room, they had to wait for hours to be received – all designed to impress upon them the Caliph’s importance.

actual reception hall

actual reception hall

partially reconstructed arch

partially reconstructed arch

After the video, we were thrilled to go to the actual site to see these same arches and ramps. If I hadn’t seen the film, I wouldn’t have had any idea what I was looking at. And, yes, it was obvious what was original construction and what was not. They intentionally used concrete alongside the original stone to show how it had been reconstructed. One of my favorite exhibits showed the reconstruction of an arch from the few original pieces they had found. Made me want to run right out and become an archaeologist!

Can you tell which is original construction and which is new?

Can you tell which is original construction and which is new?

One of the Terribles commented that the archaeological site at Madinat al-Zahra was a travesty, like reconstructing the Colosseum. Nonsense! They have created the perfect balance between displaying the ruins as they were unearthed, and allowing us to imagine what this phenomenon was like at its pinnacle. Don’t bother with the Terribles; just go and enjoy!

La Mezquita

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La Mezquita (the mosque)

La Mezquita (the mosque)

Granada’s Alhambra and Córdoba’s Mezquita were leading contenders for my most anticipated experience in Spain. The Alhambra, the fortress and palace of the last Moorish emirate in Spain, is the Numero Uno tourist attraction in España. La Mezquita, a cathedral built over a mosque, is a close second.

minaret within a bell tower

minaret within a bell tower

You know about my experience with the crowds at the Alhambra (Tales of the Alhambra). I was a tired and cranky person by the time we descended the hill. So I entered La Mezquita warily. I have to say the minaret at the entrance to the outer courtyard was not very promising. It had been enclosed in a chunky cathedral bell tower. Then we entered the Patio de los Naranjos (Courtyard of the Oranges). Okay, a bunch of orange trees with a fountain in the center. It was only through the self-guided audio tour that I was reminded that what appears as an ordinary fountain in a cathedral courtyard was originally the requisite means of ablution for those about to enter the mosque for prayers.

doorway detail

doorway detail

But when I stepped into the mosque/cathedral and took in the rows upon rows upon rows of Moorish arches, I was blown away. My source of awe at stepping into La Sagrada Familia cathedral in Barcelona (Holy Cathedral!) was the uncharacteristic (for a cathedral) Modernisme architecture. The source at La Mezquita was the achingly gorgeous ancient Moorish architecture. Two artistic styles, lightyears apart, and both made me swoon. In one geometrically perfect spot I could see an infinity of arches extending into the darkness in front of me, and an infinity of columns disappearing to my right. I didn’t want to move.

the mihrab where the imam or caliph led the prayers

the mihrab where the imam or caliph led the prayers

But I had to explore this incredible space. I wandered for a half hour, and all I saw was mosque – endless rows of columns and arches like the olive trees planted on the hillsides of Andalucía. At one time this mosque held 9500 worshippers.

As I spiraled my way in toward the center of this open space, I was shocked to come across a solid marble wall – the cathedral, built smack-dab in the middle of the mosque. After the Reyes Católicos (Catholic monarchy) kicked the Moors out of Spain, the mosque was converted into a cathedral. To their credit, they didn’t tear down the mosque and rebuild on its foundation, but this obstruction in the center of that seemingly endless space is an architectural travesty! It left me deeply unsettled.

the cathedral in the center of the mosque

the cathedral in the center of the mosque

I remembered James Michener had written about his visit to La Mezquita in his book Iberia, which was so instrumental to my trip to Spain. Seeking consolation, I turned to his words. He had more knowledge of and appreciation for art and architecture than I will ever have. Like me he was totally blown away by the vastness of the mosque and the beauty of the architecture and was completely surprised by “running into” a full-sized cathedral in the middle of it all. As he pointed out, building a cathedral over – or even inside – a mosque was commonplace back in the day. The Visigoths built over Roman temples, the Moors built over Visigoth churches and the Christians built over mosques. It’s the natural progression of history. That the Christian monarchs left so much of the mosque intact indicated their appreciation for what they inherited.

I love Michener’s interpretation of the juxtaposition of the cathedral within the mosque:

…[Spain] is a Christian country but one with suppressed Muslim influences that crop out of unforeseen points; it is a victorious country that expelled the defeated Muslims from all places except the human heart; it is a land which tried to extirpate all memory of the Muslims but which lived on to mourn their passing; and it is a civilization which believed that it triumphed when it won the last battle but which knows that it lost in fields like poetry, dancing, philosophy, architecture and agriculture. To me Córdoba’s mosque was the most mournful building in Spain…

Thank you, James.

one of many Christian chapels that replaced the open arcades of the mosque

one of many Christian chapels that replaced the open arcades on the periphery of the mosque