Posts Tagged With: travel

Here are some of my wife’s reflections on Spain

Being in Spain for a few months has shown me many aspects of this beautiful country.
In the north we travelled a bit around the area of Estella and Pamplona, and then to the west around Logrono and Burgos. The people seem friendly enough and there is a strong sense of community, but they’re reluctant to let you into their lives. A returning wave and a smile is the most you can expect.

But they are hardworking, and this is especially evident when you look at the countryside. Every available field is being cultivated. Much of it was with vineyards.
As we continued our trip, to the southwest and into Portugal, the landscape opened up to wide expanses of farmlands. But this was different. It was a harsh land, full of rocks and boulders. Every fence, every building, every road, was made from the rocks of the fields. It was dry country, yet it was productive. Cattle grazed between the boulders. And every so often we saw an ‘orchard’ of solar panels set out in neat rows. There were lots of sunflower crops ready for harvest too. This was a harsh environment but it was far from barren.

In the region of Extramadura we saw the best examples of how this country uses every resource to its maximum capacity. I have been told this region is extremely challenging. A rugged terrain, a hot, dry climate, and a people to match. Our first foray into Extramadura was the Valley of Cherries in the north. It was high in the hills, deep ravines, steep hillsides. But every inch was under the cultivation of cherries. The terraced land had rows and rows of cherry trees as far as you could see.
Further south we encountered the hundreds of olive groves, the vineyards, the cork trees, and the sheep and cattle. Near Zafra we saw fields of oak trees, and on a day’s excursion to the south of the town we saw so many of these trees we asked someone why. The famous Iberian jamon comes from pigs that feast on the acorns that fall from the trees every October.

As if there weren’t enough resources on the surface to avail themselves of, the Spanish also use the wind and the sun for electricity production. Centuries old windmills sit alongside new wind turbines on the ridges. And then today as we drove through the hills towards Córdoba we saw coal mines and cement production facilities.
It seems as if Spaniards have had thousands of years to learn how to get the most from their country, and it is equally true to say they are willing to embrace new technologies to continue doing this into the future.

(A post on Lisbon is still coming)

Extremadura. It sounds like a cooking term but it is actually a region of Spain sandwiched between Andalusia, Portugal, Castile La Mancha and Castile & León. It is the driest, most arid part of Spain but is flooded with history. Imagine north west Victoria/South Australia with Roman ruins. Many people from the area tried to escape the harshness of this place in the past and were part of the expeditionary armies of the C16&17th. Some brought back loot and fame.

This area is also know for the Iberian black pig which is let out when the acorns fall to the ground so they can munch on this fruit. Little do the pigs realise that this makes their pound of flesh all the more desirable. It becomes the most sought after, and therefore most expensive, jamon.

Roman ruins are widely spread throughout this area. Merida and Badajoz are well known for their ruins but further south a few kilometres outside the small town of Casas de Reina there is a vast Roman site that includes a theatre. For generations the locals knew it as the place of the ‘thick wall’ but were unaware what archeology lay underneath. Houses, shops, temple and other buildings have all been discovered at this spot.

The white towns with their squares are full of life – particularly after five pm when families come out. Children play and parents and grandparents natter over a drink and tapas.

Today was going to be the first day of our drive around Spain and Portugal. I had booked a hire car near the pension where we were staying. A short walk and we would be on our way. With confidence and masculine authority I led my trusting wife to the Avis office only to find it had changed hands and was no longer Avis. Made some calls with International Roaming flying through my credit. It is a couple of kms further down the road. I left trusting bride in a hotel lobby that was willing for her to sit there, and marched up the road. I felt as though I was walking clear of Burgos and the numbers on the buildings had disappeared. I looked down an alleyway and there at the end, 20 businesses away, was the Avis Budget office. Beautifully hidden and camouflaged in a way to keep customers on their toes.

They offered me an upgrade – ‘a cheebrid’. A what? ‘A cheebrid- electricity and gas.’ Oh, a hybrid I muttered to myself.

Papers signed, Keys handed over, and I started the car like any normal car and I drove off. Picked up patient bride with car starting normally and headed out of town. We then stopped in a picnic area to have lunch. It was time to go. Car wouldn’t start. Tried and tried again. Translated instrument panel Spanish into English. Nothing! Called RACE, the Royal Automobile Club of España. My mechanic friend turned up and informed me that once the battery is charged it doesn’t make broom, broom noises. Very sheepishly and exceptionally quietly, I drove away.

I am now in Segovia licking my wounds but my bride is very understanding.

Currently it is very warm at night. The one metre thick stone walls take a long time to cool down. In the morning they still contain a lot of heat. Sleeping through the night can be tough with the small open window letting in little air and lots of noise from the local bar and the neighbourhood dog chorus.

Bar Ilaria

The bar plays lots of awful music through to the early hours of the morning making falling asleep a mite difficult. This represents the contradictions in this village: Old houses, old church, lots of old people but touches of modernity. There are traditions that go back centuries accompanied by young people on quad bikes. There are crosses on houses next to the satellite dish.

Stirred into this whole mix is the daily conga line of pilgrims coming through.

The conga line of pilgrims

This morning around the breakfast table we had a lively discussion around cultures and how we perceive them. How come, in Spain, the fiestas are the same every year and children’s birthday parties always have the same cake and the same ritual?

What are the rituals we engage in that someone else from another culture would consider weird. I remember once at theological college a discussion about body odour occurred. One group of students had complained about the odour of another group. The other group replied that white people smelled “sour”. Even our olfactory function, it seems, has a cultural dimension!

Our world-views are shaped by so many different factors; culture, religion, experiences, family upbringing(was it ever ok to lick the bowls and plates in your family?) and numerous other factors. The first argument after my wife and I were married was who would put the rubbish out for collection. In my family my mother did it because dad’s business was very time consuming and my brother and I helped dad with it. In my wife’s family even though the mum did it, the myth was active that dad would have done it if he was still alive. And yes, I lost the argument.

So here we are in Spain with enough time to get a sense of how a small community ticks. If I transferred these people to Hamlyn Heights what would they say to each other in the privacy of their homes about these strange people in Geelong. Where is the bar? Where do they meet without a bar 100 metres from home? And no siesta! The climate is the same so why not? And, they eat so early!