Tag Archives: culture

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

The Rock

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Recognize the profile of the Rock just behind the wind turbines? The mountains behind it are in Morocco.

Recognize the profile of the Rock just behind the wind turbines? The mountains behind it are in Morocco.

I missed Gibraltar. We originally planned to make it a day trip from Casares, but the weather eliminated a couple of travel days and we were having such a great time exploring the pueblos blancos (white villages) in the mountains that we elected not to drive down to the coast. But I was still hopeful that we could get at least close enough for photos on our way to our next destination, Jeréz. Not so.

We were anxious to get down the mountain from Finca Mosca before the forecasted thunderstorms hit the area. As we drove along the coast, we reached a point where we had to make the decision: Gibraltar to the south or Jeréz to the northwest? The clouds grew increasingly dense and dark as they roiled in from the Atlantic. We have some pretty intense storms in Florida, but nothing like the one brewing to our south. They say this type of weather comes into the Mediterranean from the Canary Islands off the northwest coast of Africa. I can believe it. This is the type of wild weather I’d expect from the open Atlantic. We chose to bypass Gibraltar. I know it was the right decision. The rain hit Jeréz about the time we arrived, and hovered over the city the entire week we were there.

So I didn’t get to touch the Rock, and I didn’t even get to see it up close. This is difficult for someone who loves geographical extremes and historical oddities. The Rock of Gibraltar, that crazy profile we know from the Prudential Insurance Company logo, is one of the mythical Pillars of Hercules. The other is Monte Hacho in Ceuta, across the Strait of Gibraltar in northern Africa. (Ceuta is actually a territory of Spain.) The “pillars” are only nine miles apart but stand on two different continents. Together they form the gateway from the Atlantic Ocean into the Mediterranean Sea, or, from the perspective of ancient Mediterranean civilizations, they define the end of the earth as they knew it.

Gibraltar is only 2.6 square miles in area, but due to its unique location it is prized politically. Whoever owns Gibraltar controls the passage of shipping traffic through the portal. It is a major vantage point, strategically and financially. It’s been conquered by many countries over the centuries; it’s been a British territory since 1713. Some say Britain’s possession of Gibraltar kept Spain from joining the Axis forces at the beginning of World War II. Having just emerged from a devastating civil war, Spain was not about to antagonize the British and jeopardize shipments of much need supplies through the strait.

The Spanish want Gibraltar back, badly. And why not? If they acquire Gibraltar, they’ll have both pillars – a matched set. But we know the desire to reclaim it is more than esthetic. And Britain is somewhat attached to her rock. As recently as 2002, the British residents of Gibraltar voted to reject Spanish sovereignty.

So sorry to miss this intriguing corner of the world, but so fortunate we had these views from the hilltop of Casares. It wasn’t the same as being there, but even from a distance I could sense the power of this majestic rock.

Memories are made of this

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We were enjoying ourselves so much, we forgot to take a photo of Mouche and Christian, but here is a photo of Mouche's niece in Andalucían dress with Pela, the free-range horse.

We were enjoying ourselves so much at lunch, we forgot to take a photo of Mouche and Christian, but here is a photo of Mouche’s niece in Andalucían dress with Pela, the free-range neighborhood horse.

While I welcomed an excuse to stay home after a harrowing drive up the mountainside in the pitch-black the night before (In the dark), I also looked at a day off from sightseeing as an opportunity to invite our hosts at Finca Mosca down to our (their) cottage for a glass of wine. But if we were going to be home the entire day and we had groceries to use before we packed everything up and moved on, why not invite them to lunch?

We liked Mouche and Christian immediately when they welcomed us to Finca Mosca. Unlike many of our hosts who are invisible during our stays in their apartments, they were eager to engage with their guests. They seemed genuinely interested in the social benefits of renting out their cottage, not just the financial gain. They bought the property sixteen years ago, living on it part-time in the beginning. They worked diligently, when they could get away from work and other obligations in Belgium, hauling materials up the mountainside to remodel the cottage. They have lived on the property full-time now for two years. They possess that magical combination of being both industrious, but also laid-back. Most importantly, they understand how to enjoy life. I marvel at the way they embrace living in a foreign country: learning the language, taking advantage of the bounty of their natural surroundings, and accepting their neighbors as their new family.

Lunch was nothing fancy; we used what we had on hand. It was a bit too cool to sit on the terrace, so Mouche and Christian brought two more stools down from their house and nestled in with us at the kitchen counter. They brought a delicious French rosé, a nice Spanish red, and some beer, and we talked through the afternoon.

This, my friends, is what this trip is all about. It’s not about the sights, the weather, the food, or the exchange rate – although all of those things may add to our adventure. We travel to interact with people – people who live outside our little box and who add so much to our lives with their perspectives. We get no greater satisfaction than spending an afternoon like this.

When we lived in Germany, we loved the concept of die erfahrung as it applies to travel. Literally the words mean “the experience,” but the concept goes deeper than that. Travel is not about how many sights on your itinerary you accomplish; it’s about what you experience while accomplishing them. Some people never learn the distinction; we feel fortunate that we did. It keeps the compass spinning.

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

¡Qué lástima!

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Chestnuts on the ground:

Chestnuts on the ground: ¡Qué lástima!

Marcus was researching something about fallen fruit online (I know! Where does he come up with these things?), and he asked me what ¡Qué lástima! means. “It means ‘What a shame!'” I said. “Why? How did you come across it?”

“In Spain, that’s what they call fruit or nuts that have fallen off the tree,” he explained. “According to what I’m reading, what’s fallen on the ground is free for the taking.”

I love this clever name for fallen fruit. I can just imagine someone happening upon a windfall under an apple tree, filling a bag with the proceeds, and serving up a delicious pie to her family later that evening. As each family member receives a piece, fragrant with cinnamon, I’m sure they shake their heads mournfully and say ¡Qué lástima!

Finca Mosca

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view of the Mediterranean from Casa Emilio

view of the Mediterranean from Casa Emilio

Every accommodation we have stayed in in Spain has been an apartment in a city, until now. Last spring, when I was booking apartments, I was looking for something near the Costa del Sol, but not on it. I didn’t want to stay in a high-rise condo with a bunch of ex-pats. I’m always surprised that so many ex-pats, people who choose to live in a foreign country, make such an effort to re-create their own country within their adopted home. If they want to eat foods and shop for groceries from home, why don’t they just stay home? To shy away from the foreignness of a culture defeats the purpose of living there, in my opinion.

casa emilioSo I was searching for something a bit inland from the coast when Casa Emilio popped up on Airbnb. (You have to love a cottage with a name!) I took one look at the photos of the tiled terrace overlooking the Mediterranean Sea from a hillside of the Sierra Bermeja mountains and I was smitten. I’ve been looking forward to it ever since.

the casita (little house)

the casita (little house)

Casa Emilio is a guest house on Finca Mosca, property owned by a wonderful couple from Belgium who moved to Spain part-time sixteen years ago. They are now full-time. Her nickname is Mouche, which means “fly” in French, so they named their property Finca Mosca; mosca means “fly” in Spanish.

persimmons, figs, and olives

persimmons, figs, and olives

When I was taking Spanish in school many years ago, my teacher, La Señora Jones, loved to play jokes on us. We had been practicing a dialog about ordering food in a restaurant for what seemed like months – until we knew it forwards and backwards. One of the objectives of the dialog was to teach the verb gustarse, a very important verb in Spanish. They have no verb meaning “to like;” they use gustarse, which translates literally to “to be pleased.” So instead of saying “I would like the chicken with rice,” one would say “The chicken and rice would please me.” It’s a difficult concept for beginning Spanish students, so Señora Jones drilled us.

Sra. Jones: ¿Te gustan albóndigas? Literally: Do meatballs please you? In other words, Do you like meatballs?

Student: ¡Si, me gustan albóndigas! Literally: Yes, meatballs please me!; or Yes, I like meatballs!

Sra. Jones: ¿Te gustan papas fritas? Do you like fried potatoes?

Student: ¡Si, me gustan papas fritas! Yes, I like fried potatoes!

Sra. Jones: ¿Te gustan moscas fritas? Do you like fried ???

Silence.

Student, thinking frantically: [This word moscas was not in the dialog. What the hell is a mosca? Well, I like everything fried.] ¡Si, me gustan moscas fritas! Yes, I like fried [whatever]!

Sra. Jones: ¿¿¿Te gustan moscas fritas??? ¡Jajajaja! You like fried flies??? Hahahaha!

a cork oak is stripped of its bark every 7 years

a cork oak is stripped of its bark every 7 years

Ha, ha, indeed! My first introduction to the Spanish word mosca and I haven’t forgotten it 45 years later, when most of the useful vocabulary I learned has gone out the window. La Señora Jones was a wonderful teacher; we loved her class.

snailSo here we are at the incredible Finca Mosca. Besides the fabulous view, there is an abundance of flora and fauna: fig trees (Mouche gave us fig jam!); lemons the size of softballs; orange, grapefruit, and persimmon (caqui) trees; olive, chestnut, and avocado trees; cork oaks; goats; chickens; horses; dogs; cats (Mouche and Christian have fourteen!); wild pigs; snakes; snails; slugs; and an assortment of insects that don’t deserve mention – and yes, moscas too!

Pela, a free-range horse

Pela, a free-range horse

Flamenco nights

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Please allow time for the video frame to load.

I didn’t want my first flamenco experience to be a tourist experience. There are plenty of places that will charge tourists 50€ to attend a prepared show. I wanted to see everyday flamenco in a local bar with locals who go there to enjoy the good food and local talent. Thanks to our friends Cordula and Gernot, we found that place at Rincón de Chinitas in Málaga. And we had the additional pleasure of getting to see Gernot show his talent! Fun evening with a great couple!

Das erste Mal

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Cordula & Gernot

I was just lamenting that it’s been a long time since we’ve experienced serendipity on this trip. Segovia. León. Santiago. They were weeks ago. And then it happened again. Málaga. It was as simple as lending a pen to someone in a café. I didn’t even notice the couple had sat down two tables away until Marcus was handing over his pen. Kismet.

Gernot returned the pen, and we began talking. This and that. We are retired Americans traveling in Spain for three months. They are Austrians, just a bit older than our children, in Málaga for a weekend away from jobs and children. We so enjoyed talking with them. We discussed Austria and the EU. We discussed American politics and next year’s presidential election. We discussed immigration – an important topic for both countries. We talked and we talked.

Cordula told us about a flamenco performance they chanced upon earlier in the day at a nondescript bar. She said the woman would perform again at 8:00 or so. We should join them. They couldn’t remember the name of bar. It was next to Casa Diego. Calle Santa María, Gernot said. We continued to talk. We missed the Picasso Museum. We didn’t care.

We met them later at flamenco bar Rincón de Chinitas, a hole-in-the-wall that took three inquiries in the neighboring shops to find. My kind of place – discreet and not for the easily discouraged!

We had a wonderful evening – worth a blog in itself.

Cordula emailed me today, something that brought tears to my eyes. “In Austria we say ‘Man sieht sich immer zwei Mal im Leben’ – which means that people always meet twice. So let’s hope that this saying comes true and we meet again one day.” What a beautiful thought. What a beautiful couple. I also hope it comes true.