Near Segovia, Castilla y Leon - SPAIN
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 By 10am we ascended into the wonders of Segovia, so richly endowed with Roman ruins, medieval castles/architecture, cathedral churches, and some of the most interesting monuments, all surrounded by a lively city. Although the rain poured it did not mar the day and added a mysterious atmosphere of fog and intrigue that plagued the streets.
The Romans came here in the 1st century and built it up to a site of
importance. Their greatest legacy is the aqueduct whose stone blocks still
stand complete without mortar and stretch 2km of the original 15km built.
Sadly pollution is gnawing into its stones as great wafts of diesel spurt out
of trucks and cars that career around the roundabout near its arches. It's a
striking landmark and hopefully they'll move the road in time to save it. I
assume that once one stone falls out of place the once imposing structure
will fall like dominoes.
We began a walking tour of the medieval city after collecting some information from the tourist office. The first walk began along "Royal Street", a pedestrian zone that takes in the delightful cobblestoned streets full of busy shoppers in furs and coats going about their usual business of the day. The surrounding architecture is loaded with intricate carvings and interesting designs and one such piece is a 15th century mansion whose remarkable facade is studded with granite pyramids. Presumably to warn off intruders. Further along opened up the marvels of Plaza de Medina del Campo, a Romanesque-mudejar masterpiece (with many Arabic elements) including a central statue, church with a baroque spire and a 14th century fortified tower. Before arriving in the grand space of Plaza Mayor we followed a maze of cobbled streets, passing a medieval Royal Jail and a former Jewish Synagogue. The Plaza was centred by a pagoda which afforded fine views across the square towards the cathedral and a barrage of shops and restaurants. We had coffee at the bar of one fine establishment, embellished with wooden decorations and all the charm that exudes the wealth of women who filled its interior.
The flamboyant Gothic style of the Cathedral offered a warm welcome as we
stepped out into the rain and made a bee-line towards its entrance, dodging
an assorted group of aged individuals selling lace on the square. Its
magnificent construction began in the 16th century and took advantage of the
remains of the old cathedral destroyed by fire. The interior is a vast
expanse lit by the light that passes through the intricate stained glass
windows on its walls, and with a powerful selection of classical music
pervading its hidden corners. As we wandered around the nave an atmosphere of
calm rolled over and you begin take in its bewitching treasures with an eye
for detail. Somehow even the most simple chapel became a great work of art
and indeed it was a blessing to be able to take in the intricate finery that
we've spent so many months looking at.
After passing more churches, small garden squares, fine arrays of cannons and the lingering members of the army out on excursion we came to the gates of the Alcazar. This fortress sits on a rocky ledge above the confluence of the Eresma and Clamores rivers and affords the finest views across the land. Its interior is nothing short of spectacular, containing royal apartments, halls, an armoury and chapel. Large tapestries and stained glass windows adorn some of its walls, whilst the countryside can be viewed through Arabic arches. Among my favourites was the ceiling in the form of an inverted ship and in the "Gran Sala de la Galera", another superb ceiling frieze of 52 carved statues of Spain's monarchs, in wood and painted with all the colours of the rainbow. Lastly the tour took us through a military museum and up the 80m "Torre de Juan II", whose views are amongst the finest in the City. It was like a breath of fresh air to look out upon the surrounding landscape devoid of the piles of litter that often surround some of the countries most revered monuments. Why are some countries always 20 years behind the times? By 2020 they'll wonder why they didn't begin to look after the countryside years ago. When a community begins to think of itself as a whole rather than individually it then will begin to prosper and the long forgotten days of selfishness will be over. Often we'll see a beautiful interior of a house marred by the grotty tiles, road and rubbish that surrounds its entrance. All it takes is a little more consideration of others and Spain will prosper.
Anyway, this marked the end of our first tour and we made our way back
through the drizzling rain to Plaza Mayor and began our second walk. As
lunchtime approached the streets became bare and the wonderful bliss of
silence echoed through the lane-ways. The walk took us past the Los Caballeros
Quarter throughout a myriad of churches (often of Arabic style), plazas
surrounded by the mansions of wealthy nobles (usually with their crest carved
above the doorway) and the delightful homes of many local residents.
Segovia had that lovely lived-in feel about it and it has become our favourite place in Spain so far. As the cold afternoon blew in we returned to the car and began to peel off the layers of warmth, so reminiscent of winters spent in Britain. The temperature on a lamp-post outside read 6 degrees Celsius and hopefully only due to the fact that we're on a high plateau. It's time to hit the Med and roll on the summer we've so eagerly awaited.
Our last plan for the day was to head south, via the Monasterio de San
Lorenzo (in El Escorial) and on to our final destination, Madrid. We took the
fast route across the plains instead of over the mountains and in the
lingering light before sunset made our way into the monastery's interior.
This is yet another monastery built by a battle vow that Fillip the second
ordered. In fact it was so nice and well placed that a grand palace and Royal
Mausoleum was built adjoining the site. The Basillica's vast interior and
sombre atmosphere was taken in first, whilst outside in the courtyard
blustering winds from the eye of a storm pushed visitors to and fro. We then
passed through a metal detector, reminiscent of the size of ones in airports,
and were veraciously forced to place all items along the belt. In usual
Iberian fashion just after the metal detector of the gods lay a cloak room.
One wonders what the point of the whole exercise was if they were not
allowing baggage to be taken in anyway.
Passed the Basillica lies a huge cloister where rooms spurt off in a maze of directions. Housed in these were an Architecture museum (in Spanish of course), an art museum containing Italian, Spanish and Flemish art, whilst up stairs lies the Palace of Fillip the Second. Its furnishings contain the best that money can buy, an assortment of fine paintings, carved wooden doorways, a feast of fabrics, a collection of maps and outstanding views through the arches of many windows over the lush and fertile countryside far from the problems of the capital. Its piece du resistance is a Royal Mausoleum in the basement of the Palace and from floor to ceiling it's graced with various colours of marble. It hasn't aged a day and its stairway leads you to an octagonal room stacked with the corpses (in marble coffins of course) of past monarchs. Adjoining this ostentatious room is the Mausoleum for Royal infants and children, complete with marbled carousel to stack the bodies in (apparently it was built to hold 60 children!). A rather morbid reminder that so many infants did not survive their first years of life. Although it was almost as though they were castaways thrown into the bowels of the Palace and were never spoken of again. We ascended into the monastery's chapter house that now has become the home to many a masterpiece. Rubens, Breughel (who I favour for his depictions of medieval peasants, complete with cut throats, men throwing up and wenches flaunting their wares in the street), El Greco, Titian and Tintoretto. The drive south occurred in darkness of early evening and we wound our way down bald mountains, passing sprawling towns and finally to the sparkling lights of outer Madrid. We spent the night in a campsite at Canillejas at the end of the green line metro and in the early hours after midnight watched the campsite bar come alive with loud music and all the ruffians that the local district could provide. The sound of "Come on Eileen" feels rather odd when it blasts through the pub's window into the ladies toilets at 2am, whilst I'm standing there in a vast porcelain expanse in a pair of tights and thongs (the Australian lingo for flip flops) way beyond my size. Goodnight from the party capital of Madrid. |
