The Romance of Moorish Spain

[Janie]

By janie and geoff from Canada, Fall 2004

May 2004 - After reading “Tales of the Alhambra” by Washington Irving, I fell in love with the romance of Moorish Spain. If you love history, architecture, the strong flavours of the Mediterranean and fabulous sherry, Andalusia is a must and will not disappoint.

Malaga ... and Jet Lag​

Friday

Geoff and I landed at Malaga International Airport, the busiest in the south of Spain, and picked up our rental car at Hertz (thank you American Express points!). Our plan was to use the condo only for sleeping, showering, and breakfast and to spend the rest of the time touring. The time share membership made the condo so cheap that we could afford to book a few hotel nights away in Seville and Granada, because we wanted ample time to tour those cities. We knew that Andalucia had such a wealth and density of historical sites that we could see a lot just with day trips. That and the fact that highways there have speed limits that would be illegal on this side of the Atlantic, so distances are smaller.

We had some forewarning about the Costa del Sol as we headed west on the N340 towards Malaga. Something about the place being overrun with Brits and Germans. I’m not sure about the Germans, but every other billboard for real estate, golf and furniture stores was in English. We found out later that the local English language radio station has an audience of around a million people. There was much that was tacky about the resort developments, but the Mediterranean was as blue as the promotional brochures and somehow those Spanish-style condos don’t look as bad in Spain as they would in Vancouver. Whitewashed walls, terra cotta roof tiles, bougainvillea and palm trees really do work in that kind of environment.

The Club Marbella resort is in Calahonda, one of many towns that are really just tourist developments. As we got off the highway, the place fulfilled all my worst nightmares and at the same time, it was so funny you just had to accept it as part of the reality of the Costa del Sol. There were restaurants lining the street, fish and chip stores with Union Jacks, English style pubs, Plumley’s Tea Rooms, cheap Chinese, Italian and Indian restaurants (“You’ve tried the cowboys, now try the Indians!”), burger and pizza joints. It was like the East End of London, only with better weather and palm trees.

Fortunately our condo was just perfect, and all the plumbing worked. We had a very large and shady balcony to make up for the tiny living room/dining room area, and a very well-organized kitchen. There was no dishwasher, but the cupboard over the sink was fitted with racks rather than shelves, so that you could put wet plates in there to drip dry down into the sink. Very practical. It’s these little differences and ideas that I love about travel.

We then went to the local super-mercado to buy fruit, water and breakfast foods and there Geoff found that beer was cheaper than some bottled waters. No wonder all those sunburnt Brits think that Spain is paradise, what with the sunny climate, cheap beer and working plumbing.

As the sun hovered down the horizon, we decided to drive into Marbella, which was closer than Malaga to find a place for dinner. Somehow the thought of English food on our first night didn’t seem appropriate. We followed our noses into Marbella and explored a bit by car. We ended up in a residential street a few blocks away from the center of the city and had dinner in one of the many neighbourhood restaurants. It was obviously patronized by regulars because the owner greeted each of the groups by name and with many kisses. We entered at around 9 pm and left more than an hour later, and people were still just strolling in.

There on green and white checked tablecloths under a wall hung with beautiful rustic plates, we had our first taste of the intensely flavoured cuisine of Andalusia. We started out with some fino sherry, lovely and mellow. A small dish of olives and bread appeared. Andalusia is the world’s leading producer of olive oil, and the olives were small and green with a satisfying meaty kind of flavour. The mixed salad came with chunks of tuna, grilled peppers and whole anchovies. Geoff’s aubergine in béchamel sauce was extremely rich and so was my red pepper stuffed with mixed seafood. All in all, perfect when accompanied by the bread. At the end of the meal, the waiter gave us shot glasses of some unidentifiable liqueur, a digestif on the house. I couldn’t understand what it was made of, but the word started with a ‘B’ and the waiter rolled his thumb and forefinger to show that is was a small, round fruit. By now we were like zombies from jet lag, and went back to the condo to collapse.

View of Malaga from the Alcazaba

 

[Janie]

Malaga and the Alcazaba​

Saturday

At around noon we finally got our butts in gear and decided to go into Malaga to see the Moorish fortress there. It was not highly rated by Michelin (who can be real snobs) but it was the closest Moorish monument and we wanted to get our bearings. The most stressful part of travel in old European cities these days involves (a) negotiating the narrow, winding, one-way streets in the ancient parts of town and (b) finding parking. The first activity is usually marriage-limiting and the second is merely stressful. Geoff navigates by his superior sense of direction, which doesn’t help with the one-way streets but which eventually lands you in the general area you want to be in.

We parked underground, just beside the Alcazaba and walked all around until we found the entrance and ticket booth. Michelin definitely are snobs, they only gave the Alcazaba one star. We thought it was a wonderful place, full of horseshoe arches, pillaged Roman pillars, views of Malaga and the Mediterranean. The Alcazaba was built starting in 1040 and the Castillo Gibralfaro on the hill above it was built in the 14th C. The two were once joined by defensive walls, forming a small self-sufficient town. The walkways zigzag up to fortified gateways, through terraced gardens that once must have been beautiful, when the pools and fountains were working. The gardens are still planted with greenery of the low-maintenance variety and some walls are covered in climbing honeysuckle and bougainvillea. We saw our first highly decorated Moorish arches there, and experienced the serenity of water enclosed by courtyards. Unfortunately the Museo Arqueoologico was under restoration, apparently it has a good collection of prehistoric and Roman objects found in the area, as well as Moorish art.

At the foot of the Alcazaba are the remains of a Roman theatre, still being excavated. Malaga was named Malaca by the Phoenicians, conquered by the Romans, named Malaka by the Moors, then conquered by the Catholic Monarchs. Every place in Andalucia seems to follow this pattern of invasion and occupation and the Moorish occupation has made for a unique architectural heritage that exceeded our expectations.

We went into the Malaga Cathedral, a 16th century effort and there saw our first double organs, facing each other across the choir, decorated with angels and trumpets. I’d never seen two organs in a cathedral before and urged Geoff to take lots of pictures. As we left the cathedral, there was a wedding in progress at El Sagrario, a smaller church inside the gardens of the main cathedral. So we couldn’t go in to have a look, but enjoyed some people watching as the wedding party milled around outside.

Finally, we strolled along the Paseo del Parque, the wide, shady avenue that runs beside the town hall and the local museums, trying to figure out which bus stop was the one for the No. 35 bus that would take us up to the Castillo. There was a walkway between the defensive walls once, but it’s under renovation and visitors could no longer climb up on foot. We squinted at route maps at the bus shelters for some time, then gave up and went for lunch at a Subway. It must have been jet lag clogging our brains, because after some food and coffee I suddenly said “why do we have to take a bus up to the Castillo? Why can’t we DRIVE up?” A quick visit to the Info kiosk beside the Alcazaba and one free tourist map later, we were no longer in thrall to the Malaga bus system. But we decided to save the trip for later.

After a nap (more jet lag), we set out for dinner in Marbella, determined to find the main tourist spot known as the Plaza de los Naranjos. This was supposed to be full of shopping and we were on the lookout for a plate to bring home. We didn’t find the Plaza but we did find a parking spot that we used every time we went into Marbella, and we also found a wonderful traditional restaurant called A Fuego Lento.

Again, very good fino sherry to start, and the waiter brought us olives and bread, and small chunks of spicy sausage speared onto rounds of bread as complimentary tapas. Then I ordered the manchego cheese, which turned out to be a cross between asiago and a young parmesan. Geoff had the broad beans sauteed in (lots of) olive oil with hard pieces of hard, air-dried ham. The beans were to die for, so sweet and fresh in contrast to the salty ham. For the main course I had shrimps in garlic and Geoff enjoyed his hake in a garlic parsley sauce. We were really getting to like the seafood and the strong flavours. And I can tell you that the crème caramel there was better than anything I’ve tasted in France. Very, very dark caramel flavour, as burnt as you can get without becoming bitter, with a pinch of cinnamon somewhere to warm the palate.

Entering the Alcazaba

 

[Janie]

White Villages, Roman Ruins, Cadiz, and the Guy Who Lost the Spanish Armada​

Sunday

Today we decided to make a long, full day trip to Cadiz and to stop at Gibraltar along the way just to have a look at the Rock. There isn’t much open on Sundays, but we expected this and were fine with pot luck sightseeing. We took bottles of water, our maps, and got on the N340, now almost like an old friend. This highway follows the coast all the way to Cadiz. There is now a new superhighway, the A7 (Autopista del Sol) but we wanted the scenic route. Well, by the time we scenic-routed past Marbella, I was feeling pretty queasy from all the roundabouts in the urban areas. The N340 actually is a great drive because it is by the sea, and there are ruined watchtowers here and there from the days when the locals kept an eye out for invaders from Africa.

Marbella is a playground for the rich and famous, with big hotels and all the designer stores. Geoff pointed out an entire strip of car dealers, starting with Ferrari and Rolls Royce and ending with Toyota. There was a grand old style hotel facing the sea in Marbella, right out of Somerset Maugham with white-painted Victorian scrollwork on the balconies. We drove past Puerto Banus where the rich and famous tie up their yachts and decided to keep on driving and skip the marina, although we always do enjoy ogling beautiful sailboats.

Spain is obviously prospering from joining the EU. There were highway infrastructure projects going on everywhere – bridges, tunnels, extensions to the A7, all EU sponsored projects. Resort communities are being built at such a rate and quantity that it makes Whistler look under-developed. Cranes are everywhere on the coast. It may be that with EU membership it is now easier for other Europeans to purchase property in Spain and Spanish beachfront is still pretty cheap compared to Northern Europe. Spain is probably also the lowest cost labour source right now, and benefiting from investment and manufacturing. However, I have to say that the percentage of ugly developments was much lower than what we would find here in North America during an equivalent building boom.

By 10 am we reached Gibraltar, and in Andalucia, that’s so early on a Sunday that even the McDonald’s was still closed. Gibraltar is one big rock, granite. Apparently the Squamish Chief on the way to Whistler is the world’s second largest hunk of granite after Gibraltar. La Linea de la Concepcion, the Spanish town beside Gibraltar, is not much of an event. Since we didn’t have our passports, we did not cross into Gibraltar. In any case, we were quite satisfied just looking at this massive rock, which was dramatically shrouded in wisps of fog. Much later in the vacation, we drove inland north of Marbella and on a clear morning we were able to see Gibraltar, so far away.

By now the N340 was high above the Mediterranean, and before Tarifa, there were lots of billboards advertising ferry rides (30 minutes!) to Tangiers or Ceuta from Tarifa. We were very tempted to see Africa, but again – no passports and there was enough to see just in Andalucia. We contented ourselves with gazing across the sea when we got above Tarifa, the southern most point in Spain, and we thought we could see land on the other side. Past Tarifa, we turned a corner on the mountain highway and the scenery became surreal. Acres and acres of wind turbines spinning in that strong wind, hundreds of white fans along the ridges of the hills. It was so startling, and there was no place on that two-lane highway to stop and take a photo from the most dramatic viewpoints.

We were prepared to make a few stops on the way to Cadiz, and I voted for Baelo Claudio, the site of a 2nd century Roman town named after the Emperor Claudius. By now the N340 is somewhat inland, and we exited onto a smaller road that took us past pasture land, wildflowers, and glimpses of blue water between hills. There were a few cars parked here and there on the side of the road with people foraging – mushrooms, berries, escargot, wild asparagus, who knows? The road passed a settlement or two – they were too small to be called towns – and then opened up to a beautiful stretch of white sand beach. There were a couple of small restaurants there for the beach goers, and there were not many of them at all, and an enormous dirt parking lot beside the fenced area protecting the archaeological site. As we drove towards the lot, a very solemn portly old man in a straw hat waved us in, indicating where we could park. Since there were only five cars, I’m not sure we needed any help, but he took his role seriously and so we did as well. After making sure we were satisfied with the spot, he settled back onto his folding chair, with his moped and radio beside him.

The ticket booth was really just a wooden shack, and had we been EU citizens the entrance fee would have been free. But for two Euros apiece we saw one of the highlights of our trip. It was just my kind of place. There is much that is wonderful about Baelo Claudio. First of all, the location. Set in a bay that slopes uphill, with a view of that beautiful beach, protected at one end by a huge sand dune. The patrons of the Roman theatre would have faced the ocean during performances, what a backdrop. Second of all, it was not built over. Baelo Claudio existed because of its anchovy industry and so it was down here by the sea. The stone pits of the fish factory are still there. Some speculate that it wasn’t anchovy that made the town wealthy, but a fish sauce called garum, and no one knows the exact recipe for this. After a huge earthquake in the 7th C, the town was abandoned and forgotten, nothing was ever built on top of the ruins. So the site is by itself, not in the centre of a modern city, with modern stores and houses interspersing monuments. Thirdly, it is the scale of the place, a small town where you can walk the Decamanus (East-West main street) and the Cardo (North-South main street), and all the streets in-between, laid out in the standard Roman urban layout but on a scale that allows you to see it all and understand it all. It is the archetype of Roman town planning, and nowhere else on the Iberian peninsula is there such a perfect and complete example (according to the brochure anyway). Even if it isn’t the most perfect, the site is so spectacular that it is certainly unique.

The forum, temple, theatre, baths and many other public buildings have been excavated. Higher up the hill are remains of a watchtower and the sewage system, once connected by aqueduct to a water supply. One of the wonderful things they have done here is to plant wildflowers over the areas that have not yet been excavated, so that instead of dirt and gravel in the empty sections, there are gazanias, convovulus, lupins and other flowers planted inside low perimeter hedges of clipped rosemary.

It was now approaching lunch time, and Geoff was keen to see one of the famous pueblos blancos, or white villages, of Andalucia, so we checked the map and guidebook and decided to try Vejer de la Frontera (pronounced Beher). The white villages are perched on hills, with remains of walls and gates that are testimony to the ongoing invasions and political changes that dominate the history of this region. There are limestone outcroppings that simply and steeply jut out of a field, that is the typical geology of the place. For this reason perhaps, the villages were whitewashed with lime; now they are probably just painted white, but the traditional white lives on.

Vejer is extremely picturesque, pretty much everything was closed on a Sunday including the castle, the walls, and the churches. But we strolled the stone streets of the old quarter and peeked into courtyards that were paved with terracotta tiles, full of potted flowers. Geoff has some lovely shots of whitewashed buildings covered with fuschia-coloured bougainvillea, the blooms so dense that leaves are not even visible. Geraniums were everywhere, in every shade of red, pink, and orange, obviously thriving in that hot dry climate. The main plaza in Vejer is Plaze Espana, just gorgeous, a fountain in the center of fantastically whimsical design, a centerpiece all of wrought iron, with big green ceramic frogs circling it from the bottom of the fountain spitting up at the centerpiece. The fountain pool was decorated with green and yellow glazed tiles, and the plaza itself was of a granite so highly polished you could have killed yourself on it had it been wet.

The main plaza was noisy with cars trying to find parking. Vejer is supposed to be one of the prettiest of the white villages, and lots of other people had read Michelin. We decided to find a quieter street. We headed uphill from the plaza, climbed some steps, and found some tables and chairs set up on a stone terrace in the shade of some 14th century city walls (although a plaque on the arch of the gate insisted that it was 11th C). The restaurant kitchen and bar were actually across the street, just a tiny place with a bar and two tables. Despite the narrowness of the cobbled street, cars and motorcycles zoomed by at full volume and full speed. It seemed as though our waiter was risking his life each time he crossed the road to serve us. We had a simple meal of omelettes, salad and cold cuts, the olives and bread complimentary of course, and it was just perfect. On to Cadiz!

Cadiz is on a spit of sand, and spit is not exactly the right word. It’s on a long, long peninsula of sand. We drove by remains of city walls, industrial areas, and closer to the city, a very crowded beach on the ocean side of the spit. Then finally into Cadiz itself to see if we could find any evidence of the Phoenicians that founded the city in 1100 BC. Geoff was particularly interested in Cadiz because it is the oldest port city in Europe.

Unfortunately, the city was disappointing on a Sunday. Not only was everything closed, including the cathedral, the churches, the museums and the Teatro Romano, but what there is of historical Cadiz is mostly Baroque or neo-Classical. There is some Mudejar architecture (work of 13th-14th C Muslims still living in Christian Spain) around, but by now it was hot, we were tired, so after walking around and having a cold drink in the plaza beside the cathedral, we circumnavigated the city by car and headed out.

We decided to take an inland route to pass through Medina Sidonia. This was another lovely spot much coveted by invaders (Phoenicians, Romans, Visigoths, Moors, Christians) and the seventh duke of Medina Sidonia was the unlucky fellow who led the Spanish Armada. Well, everything was closed. We hadn’t figured out the timing of this touring business in Spain yet. We missed the morning shift and we missed the afternoon shift for the monuments. We also kept driving around past the same streets while following tourist signs, and then walking around, following the brown tourist signs to monuments (Arco de la Pastora, officina turismo, Roman baths) and not seeing anything before we finally figured out that “Ruta del something or other” meant a scenic route, not necessarily directions to get somewhere the quickest way. We got to the tourism office and the baths just as they closed, hiked up to see a Moorish gate with horseshoe arch and pillars of Phoenician origin, had a look at the main plaza (Plaza Espana!) and the town hall, and headed for home because I was so tired.

We took the A7 home because I could not bear to think of all those roundabouts in Marbella and all the coastal cities. The highway system is an experience anyway, with 130 kph speed signs that seem to mean the minimum speed. Geoff discovered that to signal is to show weakness, and that if everyone very decisively just changes lanes, that there is no need to signal anyway. We decided to just have some fruit and bread at the condo instead of going out to eat.

Baelo Claudio by the sea

 

[Janie]

Ojen, Alora, the Garganta del Chorro​

Monday

We decided to head for Antequera via Marbella and loop back down to Malaga , but to be flexible and make stops along the way where things seemed interesting.

Our first stop was the little town of Ojen, no more than 20 minutes away in the hills north of Marbella and the N340. It was on the way, and we had lots of time, so why not? This little town turned out to be a favourite spot that we returned to for many reasons. The location was lovely, the winding road had a view point just a couple of kilometres away from the town with a view of the white houses cascading down the slope and into the valley, all planted with orange groves and olive trees. The little church was small, and the main feature was an artesanado ceiling (marquetry ceiling with raised outlines in the shape of stars). The simple single-nave interior was really charming but we found the life-size Madonna Dolorosas displayed around the walls rather tacky and disconcerting. They really looked like store mannequins dressed up in Madonna regalia. The exterior walls of the church were whitewashed, covered with espaliered lemon trees and lined with wrought iron benches. An old man saw us admiring the trees and he came over to explain that the trees were “citron” and showed us the wires. Perhaps he was the gardener!

We strolled through a bit of the town, which was not at all old, but the homes were still built in the traditional style, with enclosed courtyards and iron gates. Some homes had no courtyards, but were behind small lushly planted patio gardens with low walls that faced the street. We heard some English being spoken and there behind a low stone wall and iron grates, were two elderly English women in sun hats working in front of easels, while being instructed by a leathery lean Scotsman. We had a look at the local liquor store and bought some fino sherry and some balsamic vinegar, on the recommendation of the store clerk, an amazingly beautiful young woman. She was pregnant, that may have been part of her modest and serene beauty, and I thought that she was a better model for a Madonna than any of the store mannequins we had seen so far.

According to Michelin, the market town of Alhaurin el Grande was worth a look, with a Moorish gateway and some unusual chapels. Plus, it was in the middle of the Sierra de Mijas, a rich agricultural valley that had been fought over by the Phoenicians, the Romans, the Visigoths and so on. The rural scenery was just still green, only just beginning to get that wilted summer look and the wheat fields and olive groves were sprinkled with wildflowers – red poppies, wild pink geraniums, oleander in white, pink and red, Queen Anne’s lace, yarrow. We stopped to look at interesting bridges that were roadway on the top level and aqueduct on the lower level. It made you wonder if the bridges followed the line of the original Roman aqueducts since this had been agricultural land since it was settled. Alhaurin el Grande is another hill top town and when we arrived it was in a state of construction. The lower, newer areas of the town were one big construction zone. To add to the traffic snarls, the town was getting ready for a feria the following week, and there were trucks and ladders and men putting up banners, lights and decorations while cars slowly oozed around them. It was so frustrating we just drove past the sights and headed back out, down the hill and took the road to see El Chorro.

But not that long after, we spotted a truly dramatic castle standing on its own on top of a rocky cliff. There was a town below it, but the town itself was only on one side of the hill because the cliff below the castle walls was too steep for building. And so the castle perched at the top of the steep cliff, its outlines unspoiled by the sprawl of homes, looking like the archetype of the medieval castle. We decided to drive into the town, find the tourism office, and get a free map. We are now getting clear on the concept and virtues of the tourism offices. Every town we went to had very helpful tourism offices with very good free maps. We didn’t even know the name of the town until we got our free map. It was called Alora and the castle is known simply as “el Castillo Arabe”, built in the 9th and 10th centuries on top of the remains of Phoenician and Roman …well, you get the idea. We drove up very small steep streets that didn’t look as though they would ever get us to the top, and eventually ended up at a wide open, stone-paved parking area overlooking the valley. The walls of the Castillo were hung with tile plaques in Spanish describing the history of the site. The watch tower with a pointed horseshoe arch and the walls are all that remain of the Moorish structure. In 1484 the Catholic Monarchs Ferdinand and Isabella had a small parish church built inside the walls of the castle, and the bell tower and chapel are still there.

But what was truly bizarre about this place is that it is now a modern cemetery. The entire courtyard area of the Castillo is filled with mausoleums. There were family mausoleums shaped like houses and general use mausoleums that were just aisles of walls containing niches for urns, grave markers and little vases. Many of the vases were filled with fabric or plastic flowers and this, as much as anything else, ruined the atmosphere of the fortress. On the other hand – this is life, or death, and the fortress had unused space so that the families of Alora could bury their dead close by. Shrug.

By now we were hungry and thirsty, and just wanted a quick bite. So we took the main street out of Alora and found a sandwich shop across from a gas station just at the edge of town. The sign advertised cream teas, but we could deal with it. The staff were all British, and we settled on tuna salads. The owner of the establishment, a slightly heavier version of Rob Feenie (local celebrity chef in Vancouver) served us outside, and we had a very pleasant conversation. He had sold up his high stress business in the UK and was originally looking for a place on the coast, but decided that it would hardly be relaxing at the height of the holiday season. So they looked inland, and Alora is only 45 minutes from the airport, much less expensive than the Costa del Sol, with enough ex-pats and tourists to make the business worthwhile. He moved to Alora with his wife and 12-year old daughter, who attends the local school and who now speaks Spanish like a native. He was obviously happy with the move. Then he found out that we were Canadian, and the next person out to chat to us was his Canadian waitress – originally from Prince George, BC of all places, but had been in the UK for the last dozen years. We told her how horrible Alhaurin el Grande had been, and she said “yes, it’s known as Little England now, all the Brits who can’t afford the coast have moved there, that’s why all the construction.”

Now back on the road to Parque Nacional de El Torcal and the Garganta del Chorro. This is described as one of the natural wonders of Spain, and it was really dramatic. The geology is all limestone, and this is a limestone gorge on the Guadalhorce river that is so narrow (30 ft), steep and high (almost 600 ft) that there is a hydroelectric dam at the bottom. There is also a ridiculous catwalk clinging to the rock face that takes you to a bridge that traverses the two sides of the gorge. Michelin warns that the catwalk and bridge are so flimsy now that people regularly kill themselves, so we gave it a miss and just took photos.

Then we went on a futile drive to find the Bobastro ruins, the remains of the last stronghold of the Mozarabs. There are ruins of walls of the Alcazar, caves and a 10C church carved out of the rock. We absolutely could not find it even though we did spot a rusty sign that said “Bobastro”. But we did end up driving to the top of the mountain to look down on the reservoir that sits above the Parque de Ardales and to get views of the landscape.

By now we were running late, and zoomed our way to Antequera. The approach to Antequera is wonderful, the city walls and church towers make it look medieval. We parked on the roadside to take a photo, then continued our way through the town as quickly as possible, and back onto the highway.

We decided to have dinner in Ojen that night, at La Caldera, and what a wonderful time that was! Again, even though it was past 9 pm, we were the first diners at the restaurant. The place looked very plain from the outside, but inside it was delightful and so was the waitress. We started out with the traditional gazpacho, and then I had paella made with rabbit instead of chicken. Geoff had the rest of the rabbit in a stew, and everyone thoroughly enjoyed the meal. At the end of the meal, the waitress served us shot glasses of a non-alcoholic digestif of some apple extract. Then she came out with the entire bottle, giggling again, to pour us seconds. We drove back to the condo giggling.

The charming village of Ojen

 

[Janie]

More Malaga​

Tuesday

Our friends from the US had arrived, so we got them acclimitized by doing a quick visit to Malaga. We drove straight to Malaga to climb around the Castillo Gibralfaro to get some views and an orientation of the area. The 14th C Moorish walls have been repaired, and there is a small museum inside. This was once a small fortified city connected to the Alcazaba, and you can still see the foundations of kitchen gardens. We walked the ramparts as far as we could. The views of the Mediterranean coast, the Alcazaba below, and the city itself were just wonderful.

Then down to the town for lunch in a truly strange little café in the cathedral district with dark walls, funky 60’s décor, plastered with movie posters. We went to see the Alcazaba again, and the cathedral again. No problem seeing them again.

Back at the condo, I made hotel reservations for Seville and Granada. After the third attempt to book a hotel in Seville and finding the hotels full, it dawned on us that there was some major soccer tournament going on in Seville on the day before we were planning to be there. But we still managed to find hotels that were on the recommended list of our guidebooks, and both were smack in the historical part of the cities. The high point of this effort came when the hotel keeper on the other side, listening to my attempts to speak Spanish said in a very weary and patient voice “Let us speak English. It will go quicker.”

In the evening, we parked at our favourite parking lot in Marbella and went looking for the Plaza de Naranjos again, and this time we found it. The square is lined with orange trees and dining tables, surrounded by historic buildings, now turned into shops, and the streets that radiate away from the square are all filled with shops. Clothing, shoes, arts and crafts, shoes, jewellery, shoes, souvenirs, shoes, restaurants, tapas bars, shoes. The old Marbella city walls are actually just off the plaza, only a small section is left and there are shops built against them. This was a very crowded area, but every wall seems to be covered with climbing geraniums, bougainvillea and the occasional jasmine. The swallows and swifts must have found it to be a good food spot too, they were constantly swarming and swooping above the plaza.

I had a craving for the broad bean and ham dish, so we went again to Fuego Lengo where I ordered the beans to start. Geoff had a rack of baby lamb and the bones were so tiny the lamb must have been just barely weaned. We found out that when they say “baby lamb” in Spain, they really do mean baby lamb.

Cathedral in Malaga

 

[Janie]

Antequera, Washington Irving pops up, Pre-Historic Spain​

Wednesday

Destination for the day was Antequera, with as many other spots as we could get in on the way back. Another beautiful cloudless day of driving through rural Spain, climbing up the hills away from the coast and it’s starting to feel like a road trip, with frozen water bottles in the back, maps and guidebooks being pulled out at points of possible interest. Again, we are enchanted by the approach to Antequera.

This was the city known as Anticaria, the “old town”, to the Romans, already old when they arrived. It is now apparently one of the architectural showpieces of the region, lots of 16th – 18th C mansions. Our first challenge was to find parking and then the tourism office to score some maps. The tourism office is on the plaza of San Sebastian, across the street from the Colegiata de San Sebastian, which was closing as we went in there. The tourism office also gave us the invaluable information that we could use the washrooms in any restaurant without being a customer, all the locals do it.

(And here I must digress and say that except for one place in Granada, every single washroom in Andalucia was spotless and had toilet paper. They may have been small, but whether they were in gas stations, at archaeological sites, in restaurants or museums, they were all as clean as or cleaner than you would find in a North American airport. After Shanghai, which had some disgusting facilities, I will never again take clean public facilities for granted)

Antequera is a perfect town for a walking tour. Every corner, every flight of steps down a cobbled street of the old city center is a delight. We first went to the plaza behind the tourism office where the municipal museum is located. There is a huge equestrian statue there, and the Convent of Santa Catalina de Siena is across the plaza from the museum. We peeked in the convent and there were novices practicing music, so we didn’t want to wander in like rude tourists and went to the museum instead.

The sun was now very hot and high overhead, and we were very dismayed to see the doors of the museum closed. Here however, with memories of Italy, we looked around the entrance until we spotted a small handwritten sign. “Guided Tours. Please ring bell.” So we rang the bell and sure enough, the gate opened and we stepped into the courtyard of the Palacio de Najera, a 17th C mansion. Now it contains artifacts from Roman times including the wonderful Ephebus of Antequerra, a 1st C bronze statue of a naked boy about five feet tall, whose hands are holding some object, perhaps a tray, that is now gone. He was found in a field by a farmer who plowed over him, and is truly beautiful. The curator took us through the rest of the mansion, which is apparently still a residence, and filled with religious paintings and artefacts of the type that non-Catholics would find mystifying because they border on idolatry, which Christianity is not supposed to condone.

Processions during holy days are a very big thing, and one of the eight brotherhoods in Antequera had their procession gear stored and on display at the museum while their own parish church was undergoing renovation. Procession gear ranged from heavily trimmed robes to silverware (crosses, incense burners, platters) to representations of the Madonna Dolorosa with crystal tears rolling down her cheeks. The litter that carries their main Madonna is carried by 60 men. Some of the robes are made with pieces of fabric from the battle flags of the Moorish troops that were defeated during the Reconquista. It was gear that we would never get to see unless we were there for a holy week procession, and we would never see it all so close up.

We then walked uphill towards the Castillo, which was closed, so all we could see were the walls from the outside. But first we stopped at a small plaza containing the Portichuelo Chapel, a small Mudejar-style church (also closed) with a porch above the entrance that sheltered a mural of the Madonna. Beside it was the church of Santa Maria de Jesus and the streets behind the plaza looked over the walls of the fortress. We followed the street down and met up with a crowd of schoolchildren on the way up. They all said “hello, hello” in English and after a word from their teacher, stood aside giggling to let us pass.

We passed a row of houses that faced the supporting walls of the terraced street above, and the residents had filled the street with pots and pots of flowers and small trees. Some were in clay pots, some were in old oil cans, but it was a riot of colour and they had turned the narrow space into a courtyard, and even the rusty old cans looked just right.

Finally, we entered the Plaza des Escribanos via the Arco de los Gigantes, or the Gate of the Giants. This is truly huge, and built using chunks of Roman-era masonry. The plaza itself contains the Colegiata (college) of Santa Maria la Mayor, and looking down from the walls that contain the plaza, there are wonderful views of the surrounding areas as well as the Roman baths below the Colegiata. I walked up the street to the right of the college, between the college and the walls, to see if there was a way to climb up, but decided against it.

Since there was so much that was closed, we decided just to have lunch somewhere. We descended back down to the town, making sure to peek into every open doorway. The lunch spot we picked had omelettes and salad going, and that’s what we had while watching their TV with fascination, some outdoors fishing show. Just as fascinating was the restaurants collection of plastic containers behind the bar that seemed to hold cheeses or chunks of something marinating in olive oil. There was a mad scientist-Frankenstein feel to the whole place, but it was air conditioned.

NOTE: at the tourism office, we found distinctly designed brochures called “Ruta de Washington Irving”, providing a route that followed his travels in Spain. They are evidently capitalizing on Irving’s association with Andalucia. There were two other Ruta brochures, the Nasrid route and the Caliphate route. All through our highway travels, we would see signs in the same design, declaring that we were on the “Ruta de Washington Irving,” which always struck us as extremely funny because Washington Irving is such an anglo-saxon American name, and to have it stuck beside “Ruta de” seemed so incongurous.

Outside Antequera were the Menga and Viera dolmens. The dolmens are just outside Antequera in a park-like area. As we headed following the signs on the trail, a stout old man in the regulation light-blue shirt of the cultural patrimony department beckoned to us, waving his pen and clipboard. It turned out that he was taking a survey of the nationalities of the people visiting the site, and also had the keys to the gates of one of the dolmens and so we followed. His little dog, something like a small spaniel with a curly tail, frisked ahead of us but sat quietly at the entrance to the dolmen (no perros allowed inside).

The dolmens are Neolithic, and the Menga dolmen is the oldest, about 4,500 BC. The chambers were made from upright slabs of stone that form an area about 70 feet deep, filled with earth. Then they were covered with flat stones that spanned the upright slabs, a kind of square arch. Then the earth was dug out of the chamber, and a mound of earth was heaped on top and the dolmens were ready for use as burial chambers. The dolmens make you wonder about a lot of things. I thought dolmens were like menhirs, large upright stones slightly pointy at the top, but these were almost exactly like the barrows in England, West Kennet Long Barrow et al near Avebury. This really gave us an appetite to see the Cueva de las Piletas for more Neolithic relics.

As an aside, we really didn’t do much shopping despite the many, many shoe stores. Clothing was either very expensive or else of mediocre quality. You could do better for the same money in the US or Canada. Plus, there didn’t seem to be anything in the stores that season that wasn’t floral, with a flounce, ruffled, embroidered or all of the above. Or maybe ruffles have just never gone out of style in Spain. We did more shopping in Farmacias for sunscreen products.

Courtyard of museum in Antequera once a mansion

 

[Janie]

Seville, Italica, and parking​

Thursday

Destination: Seville. We set out fairly early at 8:00 am, and stopped for coffee and gas in a little nowhere place in the mountains. By now we had learned that there is no such thing as take out coffee in paper cups in Spain. You sit down and drink your coffee like a civilized person. The tiny gas station served coffee, so we ordered lattes in our best Spanish, not expecting much. I mean, there were fresh eggs in a basket for sale. The young man fired up his espresso machine, laid out small glass cups and plates ceremoniously on the counter, spoons perfectly aligned. Pulling out a carton of milk, he pours a thin stream of milk into each coffee cup from a height of about 18 inches to 12 inches to froth the milk, then puts the whole thing into the microwave for a few seconds to warm up the coffee again. It was great coffee. We thanked him and he said in English “Lavazza coffee. From Italy. Better than Spanish coffee”. So much for our attempts at Spanish.

We are finding that the Spanish have no hang-ups about alcohol and driving. The gas stations sell beer and wine. The truck stops sell beer and wine. The vending machines at the gas stations sell beer. That was a bit of a cultural difference that made us feel prudish, North American and terribly politically correct.

Our first stop was Italica, which is actually about nine kilometers outside Seville, but it was still morning and we could not check into our hotel yet, so why not? Italica is an archaeological site, and was once a more important city than Hispalis (the Roman name for Seville). The emperors Hadrian and Trajan were from Italica. The theory is that the river silted up and so the port activity moved to Seville and Italica declined. The town of Santiponce is now built over various parts of old Italica, but the remains are just fascinating.

Our timing was really good, as we pulled in to park across from the site, several tour buses were just leaving. There is enough of the amphitheatre, Teatro Romano, to imagine what it must have been like. It’s not as impressive as the amphitheaters of Arles or Nimes or Orange, the marble and stone facings have been taken away and what’s left is the building rubble. But the pits in the center of the arena are still there, and you can still see the tiers of seating. This arena once held 25,000 people.

The other highlight of the site was what must have been the high end residential area of Italica. The foundations are still visible, and some of the original mosaic floors are there, with bird and marine motifs, and really decorative geometric themes. As much as anything else, the layout of the streets was interesting, the curb stones were largely intact, and they had planted cypresses along some of the avenues to emphasize the neat, angular design of Roman urban planning. It was very hot now, and we had lunch under the shade of grape vines and matting of an outdoor restaurant across the road from the site. Then back into our Ford Focus and into the madness of Seville.

Between the one-way system and the haphazard street signage, we circled the main attractions of Seville several times. We kept passing signs to hotels that I tried to book us into, but no where was there a sign for the Hostel Goya. Geoff finally parked the car about a block from our hotel, and told me to find the hotel on foot. Which we did, and the concierge/doorkeeper showed us a public parking lot where we could leave the car and that was that. We unloaded the luggage, brought it to the hotel, and Geoff drove off to find the parking lot.

The only reasonable thing to do after this was to sit down and have a few cold drinks, and have a relaxing wander through the area. The Hostel Goya is located in the quieter section of the Calle Mateo Gago, which is one of the lively streets of the Santa Cruz/Catedral district. It was a short three-minute walk from our hotel to the Seville Cathedral and the Real Alcazar, but first we sat at an outdoor café for some sangria, cold beer and guidebook perusal. Then we strolled to gape at the Giralda and Cathedral. It’s huge, and it has every architectural style. Moorish, gothic, renaissance, baroque, it’s all there. The cathedral also had sidewalks outside littered with the drunken bodies of soccer fans from the UK. The plaza Virgen de los Reyes is bordered by the cathedral, the Palacio Arcobispal, the Convento de la Encarnacion and joins up with the plaza del Triunfo which is in front of the Real Alcazar and a number of other beautiful public buildings.

We had a quick look inside the cathedral, the non-paying entrance, and then went strolling down the Sierpes, the main shopping street of Seville. More shoes and lots of people-watching, Geoff was really taken by the beautiful women. I would say the security guard at the Zara store didn’t mind either, having to scan all the customers going in and out.

On the way back we met up with a couple of groups of schoolchildren carrying crosses and a small platform – they were practicing processions!

The Goya has a funny entrance, a narrow corridor where our doorkeeper/concierge sat behind a counter. This corridor opens out to a lobby area that obviously used to be an open central courtyard, but which has now been glassed in with skylights. The skylight is kept open if it’s not raining, and there is a cloth canopy that can be pulled over the glass when the day is really hot. We could see this clearly because Geoff and I took the fourth floor rooms (no elevator) and could see the wires strong across the roof for the canopy.

For dinner, we went exploring and we passed by a sign pointing to the Hotel Las Casas de la Juderia, so we went to see what it looked like. After seeing the Jewish quarter in Girona, I was very curious to see this hotel, a converted ducal mansion. It was just beautiful with a courtyard restaurant, so we sat down in a beautiful setting of deep yellow walls, balcony windows looking down, potted geraniums hanging from the windows. We strolled back to the hotel at 11 pm and the dinner crowd was just getting lively in the streets. But we were determined to get to the Real Alcazar good and early the next day to beat the tourist traffic and to sightsee until we dropped.

Mosaic floor of a Roman villa in Italica

 

[Janie]

Seville, the Real Alcazar, Worlds Most Expensive G&T and Star Wars​

Friday

First thing we did was to find an open café for breakfast, and we found that the Bar Giralda on our street, the Calle Mateo Gago, was serving croissants, coffee and juice. Then I glanced at my guide book to find that the bar was a featured spot, due to the fact that the vaults and arches of the restaurant used to be part of some Moorish baths.

There we stood at the Puerte del Leon of the Real Alcazar, waiting for the ticket gate to open. This was our first experience of a major Moorish palace and we were in awe of the delicate plasterwork decoration, the arches, the water features. These palaces are ongoing construction projects that take centuries, depending on what the king in power wants to do. The first section of the Real Alcazar was built in the 10th C and the parts that remain include 12C Almohad, 13C Gothic, Mudejar, and Baroque. It is a mixture of military and royal palace and the unexpected thing is that there are vast gardens within the walls of the Alcazar. Also unexpected were the beautiful tiles and tapestry in the Carlos V section of the palace, of New World jungle themes, brightly coloured still and vicious in their depiction of nature and conquest.

The main façade of the Palacio Pedro I is considered the purest, most beautiful example of Mudejar architecture, and it is interesting to see this synthesis of Muslim and Christian Gothic architecture and decoration. In the Patio de las Munecas, Leslie and I looked around for a pair of doll’s heads decorating one of the pillars. These are the dolls that give the patio its name, and apparently if you can find the heads, you’ll be lucky, and so we found them!

Geoff and I bought extra tickets to view the royal residence, the official residence of the royal family when they are in Seville (but I”ll bet the Alfonso XIII hotel is more comfortable). It was worth it just to be able to look down into the courtyards from the apartments above, and to see the view of the cathedral. I also found the private chapel of Isabel the Catholic Queen very interesting, because there is no sculpture or painting in the chapel, it is an altarpiece entirely made of polychrome tiles decorated with a scene of the Virgin.

The crowds at the Real Alcazar were pretty heavy, but what can you do? At least the heat and dryness ensures that the plasterwork doesn’t deteriorate as quickly; however it’s also pretty obvious that the Alcazar is a non-stop restoration project, it’s been under constant repair since the 19th century.

We then went to see the Cathedral, which is huge. Supposedly it is the third largest in the world and the largest in terms of floor space. There are chapels galore, and a truly unbelievable monument to Columbus. His coffin is carried by four larger than life pallbearers representing the provinces of Castile, Leon, Navarre and Aragon. The poor guy doesn’t even get a quiet niche somewhere in a crypt or a cemetery, he’s up in mid-air like a Holy Week processional saint. Anyhow, there is a lot of debate over whether or not these are his bones anyway.

We dutifully made our rounds of all the chapels and altars, and noted that there are double organs in this cathedral. We are beginning to see that this is a very Spanish thing to have the double organs. Concerto for Two Organs. Theme from Deliverance.

Our next destination was the archaeological museum. By this time we were getting wilted and insisted on hopping in a taxi. The driver insisted that the museum was closed, but he was wrong. The museum was unexpectedly good in that it contained Roman artifacts from Italica, the really good stuff that they didn’t want to leave outdoors. There were some excellent murals that would have been centerpieces of any North American museum, and rooms containing the Tartessian treasure and relics of the Iberian Turdetanian people, neither of which we had ever heard of anywhere. One detail we found intriguing – lucite boxes containing small dishes of scented ointments. They were reverse-engineered from materials found in archaeological sites, reproduction perfumes. What an idea to be able to sniff the scents of the past!

And then we discovered the ice cream vending machines, conveniently located under the shade of the front porch of the museum, beside some big comfortable wooden benches. The machine delivered a cardboard canister, which you opened and it contained a wrapped ice cream cone or popsicle and also a packaged napkin.

Since the museum was at one end of the Parque Maria Luisa, we decided to walk through the park, which was leafy and shady, and hopefully cooler than being out on the paved city streets. But it was still very hot, about 36C. The parkland was given to the city by the Duchess Maria Luisa back in 1893 and a lot of it was used for the 1929 World’s Fair. We admired from the outside the Museo de Artes y Costumbres Populaires, built in the Mudejar style for the 1929 World’s Fair. We cut over to have a look at the Plaza de Espana, built in 1929 for the World’s Fair. It’s a semi-circular building that surrounds a D-shaped canal, with ornamental bridges joining the plaza inside the D to the terraces of the palace. The palace itself is in a Mudejar style, and was used in the Star Wars I movie, the scene where the submarine pops up to Naboo. It was really beautiful, despite how the description reads. It is now extremely hot and our feet are extremely tired, so we crossed the Avenida de Maria Luisa, walking past the University that was previously the national Tobacco Factory whose female workers were the inspiration for Carmen, and the Palacio San Telmo, the former marine university. We flopped into the lobby bar of the Alfonso XIII hotel, also built in 1929 for the Worlds Fair and ordered the world’s most expensive gin and tonics, but they were worth it. We pretty much gave up on touring at this point because of the heat, and headed back to the hotel.

On the way back, we passed by an arcade of stores that seemed very quiet, with interesting arches, so we went in. There we found a convent store that sold pastries and sweets made by nuns, and small (expensive) embroidered baby clothes. We bought some cookies then I poked around in an antique store and looked at 18th C tiles. I also spotted a bullfighting handbill with the name “John Fulton” on it, and of course this was interesting because Fulton was the American bullfighter that James Michener befriended (book: Iberia), and who made his living as an artist so that he could fund his bullfighting career. It turned out that the owner of the store knew Fulton, his father had also been a bullfighter. And so we haggled a bit, and I bought some tiles and the handbill. In the meantime outside the antique store, Geoff was chatting to a man who told him that John Fulton used to babysit him and his brother, they were friends of the family.

We had dinner at a tapas bar, an ORGANIC tapas bar no less. Fended off some gypsies, and people-watched.

Fountain in Real Alcazar gardens

 

[Janie]

Seville, Bullrings, Carmona, Discalced Nuns and Birds​

Saturday

In the morning, we had breakfast at our usual spot, and then walked down to the Maestranza, the great bullring of Seville. Geoff was particularly intrigued by this aspect of Spanish culture, the fact that in Spain you will see bullfights reviewed under the Arts section of the newspaper and not the sports. We got a tour of the bull ring, and the facilities underneath, including a full surgery and a chapel, and a museum.

Then we strolled along the river to the Torre del Oro, formerly one of a pair of watchtowers on opposite sides of the Guadalquivir river. The defenders of the city would pull a heavy iron chain between the two towers to keep out enemy ships. It is now a maritime museum and clearly they honor their maritime achievements.

Then back to get the luggage and the car. There was a section of the underground parking wall that was glassed in, to show that during excavation, they had found part of a Jewish cemetery.

We took a route that would get us to Malaga via Carmona and Osuna. First we stopped at the site of the Roman necropolis outside Carmona. It dates from the first century and has more than 300 tombs, all underground, with cremation kilns. There are wooden steps that allow you to climb down to view some of the larger tomb complexes and there was one truly huge mausoleum, the Tomb of Servillia, or the family of Servillia. This was pretty much an underground villa complete with columns and murals, and you can still see traces of colour on the walls. There is a small museum of artifacts from the necropolis. Then on to Carmona itself.

We parked underground in the new town and on the way up the stairs noticed that a section of the wall was glassed in (again) to show that during excavation they had found Roman remains. Anyway, we walked up to the old part of the town to the Puerta de Seville, the double-arched Moorish gate to the city walls, which are massively thick, and which include vestiges of Carthaginian walls. By now we were starving and popped into a small restaurant. Those of us facing the window got to watch a wedding party go by in full regalia of hats and matching footwear. Then we watched the Spanish equivalent of American Idol or some such music program on the TV above the bar.

We went exploring, but a lot of stuff was closed. We went looking for churches and had to content ourselves with wandering around looking at exteriors. We spotted a storks nest on top of a church tower. We pulled out binoculars and watched the stork feeding the little birds.

Then we walked towards the old Roman fortress. This was rebuilt by the Almovarid Moors, extended by Pedro I into a palace in the 13th C. Apparently Ferdinand and Isabel used to stay here too. Now it is a parador, a high end hotel. We entered past a wall covered in blooming honeysuckle, and under an arched gate. Only sections of the wall and some towers remain. The parade ground is now the parking lot for the parador. It was just beautiful, with a swimming pool on the lower terraces and stunning views. Carmona also has a Relais and Chateau hotel, which hints that it’s a popular spot for the well-heeled. We picked up brochures at the parador, living in hope.

Then on to Osuna, mainly because Michelin describes the Monasterio de la Encarnacion as being a “convent of discalced nuns” and we didn’t know what that meant. Disgruntled perhaps? Calcium deficient? Turns out it means “unshod”. And also, they were supposed to make and sell delicious biscuits and pastries.

(** A note here on “de la Encarnacion”. This refers to the conquest of the Christians over the Moors, and so many of the churches and Santa Marias are of la Encarnacion.) The convent is just below the Colegiata and chapel of the Dukes of Osuna, and we walked down to stand at the door of the convent with some Spanish tourists. They had rung the bell, but no one answered, and so we gave up and tried the Colegiata. Here we got ready to buy tickets from a woman sitting by the door, but when she found out we just wanted to see the church and not the convent, she waved us in. The church contains some paintings by Jose Ribera, of religious nature but more naturalistic than the overly-emotional or vacantly saintly paintings we had seen so much of, and it was a refreshing change. The Dukes of Osuna are buried in a crypt below the pantheon ducal. Apparently one of the more recent dukes squandered the family fortune and when he died, the family buried him elsewhere.

It was now approaching evening, and we made one more stop to the bird sanctuary and lake of Fuente de Piedra. This is where the African flamingos make their stop in Europe, and although we had missed the main flocks there were still enough flamingos to make the trip worthwhile. We also saw egrets, sandpipers, and some very strange beetles. At the learning centre, we learned that “zorro” is the Spanish word for fox, which answered a lot of questions of a different sort.

We were feeling like we had seen too much and could no longer appreciate the sights anymore, so we made for home, and ordered take-out pizza. This we had on the patio, and then tried to decode another European cultural event on TV, the Eurovision contest.

Moorish windows and tiles above a cafe in Carmona

 

[Janie]

Cueva de la Pileta, Ronda and more bullrings​

Sunday

Help me Ronda, help, help me Ronda.

This was the day trip to Ronda, with a strategic stop first at the Cueva de la Pileta, in order to hit their opening hours. We are finally learning about the morning and afternoon shift method of touring. Driving to the caves took us through fabulous scenery of rocky hills and gorges, with tantalizing glimpses of bridges and aqueducts of unidentifiable era. It was very dramatic in places with wedges of limestone abruptly standing out of pasture land. The parking lot to the cave was only large enough for about a dozen cars and you still had to climb a ways up a steep trail to get to the opening of the cave. We went inside the cave and paid our admission, and when there were about 25 people gathered, the guide handed out lanterns and we followed.

What an amazing place. The caves themselves were wonderful, interesting formations and vertical ridges of rock that reverberated to different notes when tapped. We walked by pools of water, glints of crystals in the stalactites and stalagmites, chambers of more than 30 feet in height. Then we saw some cave paintings. Most of the paintings and certainly the best of them are in galleries not open to the public. But I was quite content with what we saw. There were arrows, horses and bulls drawn in outline, a huge fish like a sole, a seal, deer, symbols that no one could interpret, except to say that perhaps they had been for keeping track of dates or crops, or they were fertility symbols. 25,000 to 4,000 years old. Some of them looked like sketches by Picasso. It was awesome and humbling to see evidence of our origins from a thousand generations ago. The caves are still the private property of the farming family who own the land, although the site is a National Treasure.

Ronda is another town perfect for touring on foot. We parked on the new town side of the Puente Nuevo bridge and had lunch on the patio of the parador, overlooking the bridge and river valley. The valley is so steep that it is almost a gorge, and the bridge is amazingly high. It was built in the late 18th century and according to the guide book, it was built twice because the first time the bridge collapsed almost immediately. Then the second time, the architect fell to his death while inspecting the bridge. Oh dear.

We decided the best thing to do would be to circumnavigate the old town, as most of the noteworthy structures seemed to be on the edges of the town. Although there were some very interesting buildings, it was Ronda’s location that made it special. Every so often you could catch a glimpse of the valley below, and remember that Ronda was almost impossible to invade. We walked along the old city walls, and then down to the town hall and the church of Santa Maria la Major. There was also a sign for Santa Maria la Auxilliara which we took to mean the “back up saint”. A stand in for the major Santa Maria, or the patron saint of computer disaster recovery?

At some point you have to break down and go into a MacDonald’s but I only did this to buy a coffee with a scoop of ice cream. This is apparently a very traditional Spanish summer drink, and I certainly enjoyed it. Then we snooped around a bakery, and I bought some peanut brittle, which turned out to be almond brittle with chunks of whole almonds, which explained the price.

Geoff wanted to see the bullring at Ronda, so he and I went in. The Ronda and Seville schools of bullfighting are rivals, with Ronda promoting the austere style and Seville the flamboyant style. Ronda’s bullring is considered the birthplace of modern bullfighting, and all the monuments seem to honor bullfighters. The Museo Taureo there was more interesting than the one in Seville – and they also had a suit of lights belonging to John Fulton. Now I’m almost tempted to go see a bullfight, something that is so brutal but which defines the Spanish identity.

Back at the condo, we just had fruit, bread and cheese, and prepared to get up early the next day for our trip to Granada.

City walls of Ronda, the less traveled side

 

[Janie]

Granada and the Alhambra, finally​

Monday

“Give him alms woman, for there is no greater pain in life than being blind in Granada” – inscribed on a wall of the Alhambra

We had booked for one night in Granada, and set out early from the condo. Our strategy was to make for the Alhambra to ensure that we could pick up our 2 pm entrance tickets. All the guide books and the telephone sales people made dire, veiled warnings about what happened to people who missed the 2 pm time slot. We made only one stop for a morning coffee at a truck stop, and set off on the highway through more agricultural land and soon we could see the snows of the Sierra Nevadas. With only one false loop we made it to the grounds of the Alhambra, parked, got our tickets and then had lunch at one of the many tacky touristy restaurants for a truly bad lunch. The restaurant was home to semi-feral cats who sat politely beside the tables waiting for food to fall. It turns out that we came up the less scenic but more convenient route. It’s possible to ascend to the Alhambra through twisty narrow residential streets and we did this on the way down.

Finally, the 2 pm shift started and we practically galloped our way to the Nasrid Palace. The Alhambra is more beautiful than one can imagine, not just for the decoration of the ceilings, walls and columns but for the symmetry and serenity of its proportions. It is such a large place that the crowds disperse a bit after the first few rooms, and the palace manages to retain a serene beauty. The ornamentation, despite being more intricate, does not wound the senses the way too much Baroque does (and Spanish Baroque is more “exuberant” than most). The fineness of the plaster carving causes the effect to be more texture than pattern, rather like lacework. I’ve always liked cloisters and here the Moorish style of courtyards enclosed by rooms has been enhanced with water features and gorgeous decoration. The Courtyard of the Lions was my favorite, all those slender columns evocative of palm trees in an oasis, like a grove of columns. And of course I was transported by the stories of Washington Irving and the romanticized life of the Nasrid kings.

The Alhambra is huge, its walls once protected an entire fortress-city with market gardens as well as the palace. The gardens of the Generalife were a surprise, and almost the most wonderful part of the day. An avenue of cypress hedges formed a grid with intersecting paths, and at each intersection were fountains or benches. The cypress hedges were at least 12 feet high and formed green rooms with arched openings cut into the hedge; these were like a suite of palace rooms, each one containing roses or a small fountain, or some stone benches. Along one part of the avenue was a long rectangular fountain, and in every direction were squares of flowerbeds of rose bushes, larkspur, bougainvillea, marguerite daisies, canna and lilies. We were a bit past the prime of the gardens, but it was still wonderful enough that when I got to a corner where I couldn’t see other tourists, I felt like the princess in the gardens of an enchanted castle. From the highest terrace of the Generalife gardens we were able to see the classic Alhambra view, which I never knew until now was taken from above it, from the Generalife.

We take water engineering for granted, but before the Nasrids, the only irrigation was channeling and flooding via aqueducts. The builders of the Alhambra used a reservoir above the city and used natural water pressure to drive the fountains, while redirecting the flow and pressure so subtly to the pools that they are of a constant level and the balance of flow and escape are always the same.

The fortress is enormous and the views of the city and the Sierra Nevadas are spectacular. We kept trying to guess where our hotel was located, since we knew it was right in the middle of the old town, beside the Darro river. Geoff was gratified to find that the refreshment kiosk sold beer as well as ice cream and soft drinks.

We spent about four hours in the entire Alhambra and shopped in the souvenir store. There were so many books to choose from! The shops were located in a low building that once must have had some official function because the same delicate ornamentation was on the walls, but they were not maintained at all apart from signs asking you to not touch or photograph the walls. We were really, really footsore by the end of the day but it was worth it.

As usual, finding our hotel was an adventure in itself, but by now we had a different attitude. We got as close as we could without anyone losing their temper and then walked. There was a street we needed to get on, but the entrance to it was blocked off by low metal posts with round caps on them, like mushrooms. As we circled back to this intersection for the umpteenth time, the car ahead of us drove up to the mushrooms, put a key card into the machine by the curb and the mushrooms sank into the pavement. Geoff wasted no time and followed him through. That got us to where we needed to be, and we parked in front of a church located on a flight of steps above the hotel. The Palacio Santa Ines sent a porter to the top of the steps to get our luggage and whisk away our car to some unidentified parking lot, and that was the end of our worries about where to park.

This hotel was very interesting. It’s a 16th C Mudejar mansion that was extensively restored. The mansion consisted of rooms looking into two courtyards. One courtyard is now the reception area, and the walls are covered in a partially restored fresco, uncovered during the restoration. The hotel itself is located on the Cuesta (slope) Santa Ines, which is one of the tiny streets leading down to the Calle Darro beside the Darro river. This was just a tiny trickle of water. The Calle Darro is very narrow and very historic. One side is a wall separating the street from the river below and the other side is lined with restaurants. We flung ourselves against the walls of the shops whenever a car came through. The locals just barely nudged over a bit to make room for the car and kept walking. Even their dogs looked very unfazed. At one end is the Plaza Nueva, with the Mudejar style church of Santa Ana and the town hall facing the square.

We went for a stroll before dinner. We looked at some clothing, but did not buy anything (again). There is a huge statue of Isabella handing Columbus his charter (or is that his funding) and once again, you are reminded of the wealth he gave Spain access to, and how significant a decision Isabel made. I’m sure it exceeded even her wildest dreams. And I’m sure the patrons who Columbus approached and who turned him down were gnawing their fingernails with regret. We found a plaza, the Plaza Bib-Rambla which looked like a good place for dinner and in fact we did dine there that night – and nearly froze since the evenings in Granada were a lot colder than elsewhere. We also found the Corral del Carbon and put that on the list of places to visit the next day.

The pomegranate is the symbol of Granada, and there are pomegranate fruit designs everywhere in the city: on parking barricades, on street lamps, on walls, fountains.

Intricate plasterwork inside the Alhambra

 

[Janie]

Granada and Isabelline Gothic​

Tuesday

We had to pick a few places to see before bolting back to Malaga. We went to the 16th c Cathedral and the Capilla Real. The exterior is very ornamented, decorated in a style called “Isabelline Gothic” which seems to involve spires with stone ornaments reminiscent of brussels sprouts. The Cathedral is just enormous but very bright. They had removed the canvases by Alonso Cano from their niches, restored them and hung them in the arches of the aisles. These were beautiful, and even more remarkable when you realize that Cano was also an architect and sculptor. Outside the cathedral under a magnolia tree in the plaza is a very dashing bust of Cano.

The Capilla Real, royal chapel, has a small museum containing art and personal belongings of Ferdinand and Isabella. All religious art and pretty grim too. There are many schools of thought on Isabella, some of whom are of the opinion that she was a vicious, narrow-minded religious fanatic and that if she and her hubby didn’t exactly decree the Inquisition, created the social and religious structure that encouraged it to happen, and turned a blind eye. There are four marble tomb figures lying in the chapel, the Catholic Monarchs and their daughter Juana la Loca (the mad) and her husband who died young, Felipe el Hermoso (the handsome). There is some debate over whether or not she was really mad or just imprisoned on that excuse for political reasons. If she didn’t start out mad, I’m sure that after 40 years she was at least a bit screwed up. The bodies of the monarchs are actually in a small crypt beneath the marble figures, lined up in simple lead coffins.

Then we went to see the Corral del Carbon, a 14th C Nasrid commercial building that was the coal exchange at one time. The façade is still wonderfully ornate and the interior is now inhabited by the tourism bureau and a few stores. I bought travel guides published by the Andalucian tourism board at a bookstore inside the courtyard. We then made our way back to the Calle Darro to see the Moorish baths. These 11th C baths are some of the best preserved in Spain, with geometrical shaped openings in the roof that let in light. The arches are supported by pillars of various ages: Roman, caliphate, Visigoth. It was quite beautiful, stripped bare of ornamentation with just the bones of the structure left.

Finally, a light lunch at one of the tourist traps of the Plaza Nueva and we put our luggage in the car (brought back from an unidentified parking lot by our porter), and we made for Malaga. For dinner we decided to go to Ojen, since Geoff wanted to try an evening/twilight photo.

Capilla Real with spires decorated in brussels sprouts - Isabelline Gothic

 

[Janie]

Shopping for a Chandelier​

Wednesday

Took our US friends to the airport. Then we decided to take it easy and go into Malaga for a little lunch and shopping. We had a tapas lunch and then we wandered around El Cortes Ingles, not shopping at all because the merchandise was so expensive I could only bear to buy some soaps and colognes.

This being our last night, we went into Marbella for dinner. I suggested a restaurant where we had eaten tapas before, and we sat there not wanting our holiday to end. There was a chandelier behind the table and I said to Geoff “We are not chandelier kind of people but if we had to get one, that would be the one”. It was forged iron, hung with large crystals and crystal fruit - grapes and pears in yellow, green and purple. Very whimsical and yet a serious chandelier. It makes you smile. It's exuberant. And he looked at it and said “I love it. Let’s shop for one tomorrow before our flight and make that our mission.” I really didn’t think we would find one, and this gave us a fun goal for the time before leaving for the airport, so I agreed.

Thursday

To make a long story short, we found a lighting store at the La Caňada mall on the A7 highway west of Marbella. There was a chandelier there that was close enough to the one in the restaurant and we bought it. We also found that the real supermarkets where the locals shop are much better than the ones near our condo, which have a bad selection of fresh fruit and veggies. The supermarket at the mall was like a Superstore or a WalMart, and the food selection was superb. The seafood counter was particularly interesting with all sorts of shellfish. All the labels were in Spanish with the latin name of the seafood underneath. There were also legs and chunks of local ham, at prices one-tenth of what we would pay at a deli here. Next time .... I was so tempted. We really need to buy a place in Spain.

A lasting memory of Andalusia - the Alhambra viewed from the gardens