Aragón

I know, I know.  Just start, and don't apologize.  I suppose this will be an occasional rather than a regular series, but I cannot imagine this will grieve anyone with the questionable judgment to follow it.   As this might otherwise be an awkwardly long account, I think I'll post Part One this week, and work on the exciting conclusion for next week.


We are in the midst of Andalusian summer.  Daily temperatures are well into the 90's, and we are promised hotter days ahead, before a cool down to the balmy 80's later this week. We manage by use of strategic use of fans, moving to the cooler parts parts of the house when possible, parsimonious use of air conditioning, and liberal use of the backyard pool.  Although I'm sure it'll be a bother for the 8 month of the year it's not in use, on a sweltering dog day afternoon in lat summer it is a god send. Jack has started school, and the poor fellow is now up with me at 0530 - tough on a teenager - to get his first class started at 0700.  He's bearing up well after the first week anyway.


The house is approaching some semblance of order, although the combination of heat, limited storage and recovery from a long vacation and the start of school have slowed us down a little.  It is to that vacation I wish to turn now, to bring you along on a little travelogue of our trip to Aragón.

The Province of Aragón.  It's not all red, though.

Why Aragón when the wonders of Andalucia lie unexplored all around us?  Well, neophytes that we are, we had heard that the summers hereabouts were hot and filled with tourists (oddly like San Diego).  We decided to pick a less well known part of Spain in the north of the country to see if escaping either were possible.  We briefly considered the northern coast, but vague plans for a future walk along the northern route of the Camino de Santiago pushed us a bit further south in our planning.  Aragón seemed to promise a wealth of historical and artistic sites of interest, as well as the Pyrenees by way of natural splendor so, otherwise unencumbered by actual facts, off we went.  In the event we were right about historic, artistic and natural wonders and wrong about the crowds and weather - although I suppose that Andalucia was worse...

It's a duck! It's a train!  It's El Pato!

We started at the train station in El Puerto de Santa Maria.  We had unknowingly hit a peak time for taxis - as it turns out, at 0700 on a Saturday morning many vacationing Spanish youth are headed back home by cab after a night's revelries. Our calls to the cab company had not been answered and it was only by random chance that, walking to a deserted taxi stand 3 blocks from our house, we spotted a vacant cab headed the wrong way on the other side of the road and managed to flag him down.  Once at the train station we could relax a little bit.  We had booked passage on the high speed train to Zaragoza, and shortly after 0830 the oddly shaped  Spanish-built Talgo train pulled into the station.  As I learn from Wikipedia, this one was the Talgo 350, nicknamed by the Spanish "Pato" - meaning "duck" on account of its beak.  The beak is designed to reduce noise caused by air resistance at high speeds, and as we watched the Andalucian countryside roll smoothly by at 250 km/h, it seemed to be doing its job marvelously. 

In about 3 hours we had climbed out of the coastal lowlands and ascended to the Meseta, the central plateau in the middle of which Madrid is located.  We changed trains at Madrid's bustling Atocha station, and were whisked along north and east to the ancient city of Zaragoza, the capital of Aragón.  The trip took about 6 1/2 hours - around 3 hours less than driving (with considerably less fatigue to the traveller).  We picked up our rental car near the station, and headed into town.

Zaragoza and the Ebro river

I could spend pages describing the city of Zaragoza, but I'll try to winnow it down.  The city is an ancient one, established by Caesar Augustus on the site of an old Iberian settlement around 25 B.C.E., and named after himself: Caesar Augusta. The modern name is merely the sound "Caesar Augusta" makes after it said by many people with different mother tongues, over 2 millennia.  caeSAR AuGUStA.  I had stupidly not made that connection until I visited the city, and still think it is cool to think about.  All those years of sloppy pronunciation...Anyway, like most major cities in Spain it was by turns Iberian, Roman, Visigothic, Moorish, and Christian.  The Romans and the Moors left their imprint, but Zaragoza is probably most well known to the Spanish as the home of the Basilica of Nuestra Señora del Pilar (pictured above). 

 Here,  legendarily, the Virgin appeared to a discouraged St. James, gave him column of jasper,  and encouraged him to continue his proselytizing efforts in Spain.  That he is now Spain's patron saint should tell you all you need to know about his subsequent success.  Interestingly, the feast day of Our Lady of the Pillar coincides with the date of Columbus's discovery of the New World (October 12th), and El Pilar is in some sense the patroness of all the Hispanic peoples worldwide. The cathedral now standing on the site is a lovely baroque construction dating from the 17th century, with commanding views of the city and countryside from atop its spires.  In the huge Plaza below the enormous Fuente de Hispanidad - a modern sculpted fountain depicting Central and South America cascades, burbles and gushes impressively.

Zaragoza sunset

We spent two days in Zaragoza.  We definitely didn't escape the heat or crowds, but by virtue of getting up a wee bit earlier in the morning than many of our Spanish fellow travelers seemed to be inclined to do we did get a chance to explore the extensive Roman ruins with their excellent accompanying museums, to spend a hot afternoon in the cool vastness of La Seo  ( Catedral del Salvador) - a glorious mix of Romanesque, Gothic, Mudejar, Renaissance and Baroque architecture with a stunning collection of 15th-18th century tapestries located in the attached Museo de Tapices located in the former chapter house. 


We spent another sultry afternoon at the Aljaferia palace on the outskirts of the old city.  The palace was the home of the Moorish rulers of Zaragoza and reached its apogee in the 11th century as the home of the Banu Hud  dynasty.  After its conquest in 1118 it was at various times the home of the Aragonese kings,  of Ferdinand and Isabella, and of the Spanish Inquisition.  Most romatically, one its towers is the site where the events of Verdi's Il Trovatore are set (Count Luna was real, but alas his son Manrico was not, and history appears silent on the existence of Leonore).  The castle is a lovely blend of late Spanish Islamic architecture, with later Renaissance fortifications and has been extensively restored.  It now serves as the Cortes of Aragon - the region's governing body. 

The road to the Abbey of Veruela

I'm a sucker for a nice cloister

Much more could be said of Zaragoza, but after two days,  we piled into the rental car - a Ford Fiesta that reeked of old cigarette smoke - and headed first west and then north.  The western detour was to visit the old Cistercian Monastery of Veruela, nestled into the valley of Vera de Moncayo.  As with most such venerable sites in Spain, this lovely spot has been through many owners, remodels and restorations, but it preserves a lovely interior cloister,  an impressive gothic chapel and a general air of restful antiquity that was refreshing after the urban bustle of Zaragoza.  We then turned almost due north, for a trip through the Cinco Villas en route to the little town of Sos del Rey Catolico.  The Five Villages were so designated when they came to aid of King Felipe V during a the War of the Spanish Succession (1701-1714), and are a set of picturesque little communities in a variety of different settings scattered along the border with Navarre, on the approach to the foothills of the Pyrenees.

The town of Uncastillo

The road took us through the tiny town of Uncastillo, which does indeed have one castle perched atop its central promontory.  We had arrived on the afternoon of the Feast Day of the Assumption, and as far as we could tell every inhabitant of the town was gathered in the small central square at the confluence of the several winding roads that descended among the houses piled around the hill at the feet of the ruined castle.  After a bit of hesitant inquiry about where lunch might be had we were directed up the nearest of the roads to the delightful (and appropriately named) Restaurante Uncastello.  The service was warm, friendly and not put off by our terrible Spanish.  After a two hour Almuerzo we piled back in the car to complete our journey to Sos.

Sos del Rey Católico

The chief claim to fame of Sos del Rey Católico (hereafter simply "Sos"), is its status as the birthplace of Ferdinand of Aragón - husband to Isabelle and half of THE 15th century power couple.  To call their legacy complicated is to gravely understate the case, but they are still objects of respect here.  Sos is a typical Aragonese hilltop town, with a crumbling castle atop and narrow cobbled streets winding past mansions and courtyards of honey colored sandstone.  The house of El Rey's birth, La Casa Palacio Sada, is now the home of the local tourism office and a museum of the Aragonese monarchy.  We wandered the streets through a gentle summer rain and finally settled into our quarters at the Parador Sos del Rey Católico.  This is a fine exemplar of the Spanish Paradors - luxurious hotels founded by the Spanish government often in adapted castles, monasteries and other monumental buildings.  The setting here was a particularly lovely one, with panoramic views across the rooftops of the town and over the hills and valleys to the east.  We breakfasted the next morning at the hotel, spent an hour or so exploring the lovely Romanesque church of San Esteban, which preserves as a special treat a wonderful lower chapel, reached by a narrow circular stair from the main nave, and containing 14th century frescoes whose vibrant colors seemed undimmed by 800 turbulent years since the paint was first applied to plaster.  An amazing spot that we had all to ourselves in the quiet of the morning.

The cloister of San Juan de la Pena.



We next loaded up the Fiesta and set out to the east.  After a couple of hours of winding our way through forests and past lakes - tracing in reverse one of the routes of the Camino de Santiago - we made our way to the Monasterio de San Juan de la Pena.  This is one of the oldest and most important monasteries in Aragon (no mean claim!).  It sits under an enormous cliff, facing east toward the Central Pyrenees.  The ancient under-chapel around 920 AD, features  Mozarabic elements, the section above that holds a pantheon where the remains of the early kings of Aragon slumber away the long centuries, and tucked into a declivity in cliff face above that is a wonderful 12th century cloister  whose capitals, carved with lively depictions of biblical scene have to be one of my favorite sights of the trip.   It is an amazing spot - into the mountain, surrounded by a lush pine forest, and contemplatively regarding the cloud covered mountains eastward across the valley.  It was to those mountains we were headed next, and perhaps I'll stop there and get to the second part of the trip in a day or so.

The Pyrenees beckon....