THE LITTLE VILLAGE OF IDANHA-A-VELHA WITH ITS MIGHTY PAST

The peaceful little village of Idanha-a-Velha in Portugal some 40KMS East of Alcantara on the Spanish border and 150kms from Finca al-manzil, has an illustrious past.

It was founded by the Romans and surrounded by an impressively solid stone defensive wall which still exists today. Then it was the Episcopal see under the Visigoths in the VI century before sinking back into obscurity following the Moorish invasion in the VIII century.

It is said to have been the birthplace of a Visigoth king with its own bishops at the cathedral which was restored at the beginning of the 16th century but thankfully still preserves inscribed and sculpted Roman stones.  One of them dating from 16 B.C. links this Roman town of Igeditanos to Extremadura, it reads "Quintus Iallius, a citizen from Emerita Augusta (Mérida) has willingly given a sundial to Igeditanos"

In the Visigoth era, under the name of "Egitânea", the village witnessed a golden age, it became a diocese in 599 and was also gold coin mint. Nowadays all that is left are the ruins of the baptistry, the bishop's palace and the sé (cathedral).  

It seems so odd, all that former Roman and Visigoth grandeur existing in this sleepy little village with maybe 20 inhabitants today.  The ghostly aire is emphasized by a rambling dilapidated 20th century mansion owned by the Marrocos family, it looks as if it has been deserted for years and years, slowly decaying, chunks of stonework fallen and intricate woodwork rotting away. Apparently the family owned thousands of hectares of farmland in the area and evidently had to run away to Brazil at the time of the revolution in 1974 when the workers, in truth merely serfs, took over large estates all over Portugal. A little square in front of the eerie rural palace is dominated by a mulberry tree, obviously the local gossip place where we found out about the history of the mansion whilst indulging in a good old gossip. Aparently the mansion has been acquired by the local council and there are plans for renovation and conversion into a museum of local enthnology, I do hope this will happen.

From Largo de Amoreira (Mulberry tree square) a passage way leads to the Lagar de Vares, an ancient olive oil mill, an interesting part of the industrial archaeology of the area. This recently renovated space shows a first room with two great pressing bars and a boiler; in the next room you can see the olive oil storage tank and the milling place

 

Around a few more bends in the narrow streets we come to the the Templar Tower , a military building from the 13th century which was erected on the podium of the Roman forum from the 1st century, it seems that on this spot was a Roman temple, possibly devoted to Venus. From the tower there is an exceptional view of the whole village, the spa area becomes obvious and the outline of a vast structure inside the forum to the South.

We walk back through the Roman stones and a little way along the top of the massive 745 metre long Roman wall that surrounds the village, then down to the area outside the walls where a beautiful little chapel sits guarded by the dove of the holy spirit.

 

PURPLE HAZE - VIPER'S BUGLOSS IN OUR BARN MEADOW

MORE SPRING FLOWERS ON THE FINCA

HOOP-PETTICOAT DAFFODIL - Narcissus bulbocodium . These sprung up overnight after yet more rain

THE FEAST OF SAN BLAS 3RD FEBRUARY

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Today is the fiesta of San Blas in Montanchez. Starting from the Ermita de San Blas the procession makes its way to the Plaza de España and then back to the ermita. The girls, of all ages, are dressed in typical folkloric costumes, colourful apliquéd woollen skirts, heavily embroidered shawls, white stockings and black shoes. They carry trays of various cakes and sweets on their heads and kept up a lively step in tune with the band. Many of the crowd wear a red ribbon tied around their necks in honour of San Blas the protector of all throat related afflictions.

San Blas was a doctor and bishop living in Sebaste (Armenia), in the 3rd and 4th centuries. In his striving for perfection he took refuge in a cave near the summit of Mount Argeo. A victim of the generalized persecution of Christians, he acquired his unusual patron-saint status on his way to prison, when he healed a boy who was in agony with a fish bone stuck in his throat. San Blas is often shown with the instruments of his martyrdom, iron combs. The similarity of these instruments of torture to wool combs led to his adoption as the patron saint of wool combers in particular, and the wool trade in general. He may also be depicted with crossed candles. Such crossed candles are used for the blessing of throats on the feast day of Blas which falls on the day after candlemass. The red ribbon may relate to the beheading which ended his torture in 316.

NEVER ON A SUNDAY?

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Sunday is not the ideal day for an excursion but somehow old rhythms kick in and it's often on a Sunday that we get that "let's go" feeling. My objection to Sundays is because of something lacking in the hustle and bustle of town and village life....i.e. no shops open! Anywhere else it would mean lots of other people with the "let's go" feeling but here in Extremadura that doesn't really apply.........as you can see in the photos, it's just us, empty roads and hardly a soul around.

We were off to Alcantára and then across the border into Portugal and the newly created Parque Internacional de Tejo/Tajo, a nature reserve covering an area on the border between Spain and Portugal which is divided by the river Tejo in Portuguese and Tajo in Spanish. This was going to be a quick day long excursion but we vow to go again for at least 2 or 3 days to visit all the fantastic medieval villages on the Portuguese side of the border in this area. Our first stop was Alcantára for a coffee at the marvellous Hotel Hospedería Conventual de Alcántara which was the XV century Convento de San Bartolomé, a Franciscan monastery. The order gave up the convent, it fell into a semi-ruinous state then part of it was used as a flour mill in the early XX century. It is a unique entrance, after passing through the traditional austere portal into the convent one is confronted with the towering structure of the flour mill ascending through 3 floors, beautifully restored with shiny brass, intricate mechanisms and creaky wooden staircases. The rest of the convent has been preserved but not restored in its original atmosphere except maybe for the simplicity, quite modern if not exactly edgy. We crossed the eternally impressive bridge of Alcantára, named by the Moors, Kantara-Ass-Saif, meaning "Bridge of the Sword" because a golden Roman sword was found buried in part of the bridge during restoration. The present structure has the original 1st century Roman foundations but has certainly been knocked about a bit since then, not least by the French army in the Peninsula war. Certainly the present impression is of massive stone solidity, much of the ruined Roman masonry was used in the restoration, it's the most marvellous feeling to walk or drive over the huge stone slabs passing by a Roman temple at the entrance, no doubt built for libations to the gods before crossing over the yawning chasm below, nowadays the view up river if rather overwhelmed by the monstrous wall of the new dam.

Soon after the bridge is the border with Portugal, we chose to cross near the village of Salvaterra do Extremo which has a beautiful situation above the river Ergas with a great view across the gorge to the Peñafiel castle seemingly teetering on the edge of a high cliff, flocks of griffon vultures nesting in the towers and the cliff face. Such a sleepy little village surrounded by olive groves and stone walls. No one around except for a few anachronisms, widows in deepest black shuffling towards the very pretty cemetery, maybe for a chat with their dearly departed or just to have a gossip and enjoy the marvellous view down to the river valley.

We continued on our way in a loop back towards the bridge at Alcantára. On the way we clambered down to take a closer look at the water mill by the Puente de Segura. This is also a marvellous Roman bridge from the 1st century, it now marks the border between Spain and Portugal. The mill is down a track on the Portuguese side and is accessed over a small wooden bridge. After all the rain we have had recently the river Ergas was in full flow, dramatically crashing over the weir beyond the mill pond. The mill is a ruin but interesting to see the remains of mill stones and the various mechanisms still surviving under the domed roof : built in this way to withstand the times when it would be completely submerged by swirling water.

Over the bridge and back to Spain, just before Alcantára we made a detour to the village of Estorninos which means Starlings in Spanish. Seemingly deserted, this is the end of the road nowadays but in the centuries after the re-conquest when the Ruta de Santiago saw a constant throng of pilgrims this was the first stop after crossing the bridge at Alcantára, the church is dedicated to San Tiago, it has a curious bell tower separated from the nave. As we were retracing our route we noticed a sign for a megalithic menhir on a rough camino, El menhir del Cabezo, which of course was irresistible, especially as they are so rare in Extremadura, in fact there are none south of the Tajo.

There was no indication of distance but the sun was still shining and Roxy needed a walk so off we went. Just at the beginning of the track was a ruined humilladero which is a small chapel for praying on the route of a pilgrimage; with its domed roof it reminded me of marabouts which are scattered all over Morocco in honour of various sidis or saints. Nearly an hour later we were still walking hopefully in the right direction, the signs were few and far between, a simple white and yellow slash here and there. We were climbing all the time, not surprising as menhirs are usually on higher ground. Finally we found it in a boring stretch of country which had recently been a eucalyptus plantation. In fact they say that's how the menhir became horizontal rather than proudly erect, some disturbance from machines used to plant the trees. I hope it will be re-erected at some point, it would be quite imposing at 4.60m x 1.10m. There are curious circles and spirals inscribed, maybe sun signs. So many theories about menhirs; objects pertaining to astronomy, fertility rites, funereal rites, territory demarcations? While we were taking silly photos with suitable menhir poses we were joined by whole band of lovely horses, obviously left to their own devices in this wild and lonely place. They were a bit like Haflingers, with beautiful blond manes and tails, certainly strong work horses. It was well worth the walk through pretty countryside crossing and re-crossing streams with some vast views. Dusk was falling fast so time to head home. It only takes an hour to reach this area

from Finca al-manzil, a delightful route via Garrovillas and Caceres to Alcántara.

SIERRA NEVADA...IN EXTREMADURA

Quite a drama yesterday afternoon when snow began to fall gently, it rapidly developed into a snowstorm with driving flurries of snow being blown about by a strong wind. This continued for 4 hours and by dusk the whole sierra was covered in about 20cms of packed snow. This is the most we have experienced in Montanchez since we came to live here 6 years ago. Quite beautiful and didn't create any difficulties as it was almost all melted this morning except for deep pockets higher up in the sierra. The roads to Montanchez were cut off for a few hours but all back to normal today with kids enjoying the unusual white slippery stuff.

 

A Short trip to a very small Monastery

It's getting chilly so our long walks tend to be transformed into a drive in the car and a short walk with some central point of interest and a few things to see along the way. Last weekend it was a trip to Ciudad Rodrigo, about 180kms from Montanchez nearly on the border with Portugal. Yet another siege and battle scene from the Peninsula wars, famed for its extensive and complete defensive wall encircling the whole town. After turning off the autovia de la plata at Canaveral we headed west towards Portugal. We have been this way several times on the way to the pottery at Torrejoncillo where we bought our large clay oven. This time we took a little detour at the sign for Monasterio de Palancar. A pretty rural camino wound through green fields to the village of Palancar tucked away in a fold of the hills. Just a little outside the village is the monastery built on a hill with wide views down to the valley. I had read that this was the smallest monastery in the world..........depends what constitutes a monastery I suppose, it certainly didn't look small from the outside but apparently this first view is mostly the "iglesia nueva" which was built 300 years after the first foundation in 1557 . We had time to look around the charming damp garden before one of the designated times of entry, quite a gruff warning not to ring the bell at any other times.  The door creaked open at 12.15 to reveal a small bent figure in the brown habit of the Franciscan order, this was brother Basilico who seemed to be quite alert if not agile considering his 86 years.

He gave us the tour and a fluent spiel about the quirks and curiosities of the place. From the iglesia nuevo built in the 18th century with a soaring vaulted ceiling of exposed bricks and plain whitewashed walls we walked through a passage way to the attractive cloisters built in the 19th century, a courtyard with pots of ferns and jasmine had a protective wire net against nesting birds....ummm I am sure St. Francis would not have approved. The "smallest monastery" became evident, in the middle of the much later buildings. 

The original area of the monastery founded by San Pedro de Alcantara was based on an existing building next to the Fuente de Pedrosa, a spring of famed healing qualities which also nurtured a particularly fertile fig tree, the fruit doled out by the brothers to pilgrims in search of cures. In a mere 30 x 28 feet was a Lilliputian world including a chapel adorned with gleaming intricate mosaics added in the 1950s depictingangels, S.Pedro and his faithful follower S. Teresa de Avila.

A tiny courtyard open to the sky with a tank to collect rainwater, a few cells only just big enough for a very small person to stretch out, a kitchen which was really just a primitive open fire in the corner, a refectory, the monks ate their frugal meals in a kneeling position from bare stone ledges..........and the smallest space in the whole area was a 1m2 cubby hole under the crude stairs,here San Pedro crouched on a stone block with his head resting on a wooden pole for only 1 1/2 hours sleep every night and was observed to sometimes levitate during particularly ecstatic moments. 

Apparently he only ate every 3 days, never meat, fish or eggs, went barefoot all year and wore a metal vest under his habit which had been driven with nails leaving sharp barbs on the inside...........no wonder he couldn't sleep!

While brother Basilico was recounting all this we were bending almost double to get through the tiny doors and shivering in the damp cold, Manfred and I looked at each other and I am sorry to say our wordless comment was 'what a weirdo!' In his earlier life he had been attracted to the austerity of the Franciscans but deeming the order not rigorous enough he was the author of the ‘Constitutions of the Stricter Observants’ an even more severe code of conduct. Not surprisingly there was a general outcry and San Pedro was forced to search for a place where he could follow his stringent rules in peace. He found it in Portugal on the Arrabida peninsula, a very beautiful setting for a group of hermitages and monastic buildings built on a remote and inaccessible part of the coast. These can still be seen today and were featured in Manolo Oliveira’s film, ‘O Convento’. After several years in Portugal he returned to Spain, led a solitary existence for 2 years and then decided to walk to Rome, bare foot of course, to ask permission from the pope Julius III to establish some poor convents in Extremadura under his guidance and code of conduct. Pedrosa and Plasencia are still in existence as buildings but it seems the ‘stricter observations’ are long gone. Brother Basilico looked cosy in his woolly socks and sandals and the newer part of the monastery looked clean, spacious and probably warm for the 8 remaining brothers. San Pedro de Alcàntara is the patron saint of Extremadura and is greatly esteemed as can be observed at his statue in the Plaza de Santa Maria in Caceres, the statue is gaunt, austere, bronze with a dull patina ….except the bony feet which have been kissed and stroked to a bright gleaming gold.

MONTANCHEZ CASTLE- AUTUMN SUNSET

An 800 year old Encina (Holm Oak)

The Encina la Terrona is a huge Holm oak tree a little distance from the village of Zarza de Montanchez. Last week we set off from Zarza on a country lane passing by the giant tree and continuing for another 5 kms along the old droving track until the village of Salvatierra de Santiago an ancient stop on the way to Santiago de Compostella. A very interesting village with many old houses including a medieval hostal. You can see the route on this link in Spanish

http://es.wikiloc.com/wikiloc/view.do?&id=273464

It was an easy walk, almost completey flat wandering through the rural landscape past some iberic pig farms with plump black pigs in 3 sizes from squealing piglets to huge barrage balloons. The walk followed the line of a sheltered part of the sierra with some impressive birds of prey riding the thermals far above.

We arrived in Salvatierra de Santiago in time for a well deserved rest and drink at our favourite bar which was originally a tiny cinema in times gone by, now a cosy place with a wood burning stove in winter and an atmospheric shady courtyard in summer. We were disappointed to find the courtyard bare of tables and chairs despite the warm temperature, just the somewhat sombre aspidisderas sulking in their pots and the wonderous wisteria entwined with an old vine woven into an almost solid canopy above.

However, the very friendly owner arranged a table and chairs just for us and we spent a happy hour with tapas and beer to sustain us for the return walk to Zarza which makes a round trip of about 11kms

 

We took a wrong turning on the way back and had to cut across some fields with peacefully grazing cows. That's the problem with such flat land, not many landmarks to go by except the distant view of a church tower now and then.

Altogether a pleasant walk but not sensational, walking in the high sierra is much preferable although more challenging.

A walk to commemorate the Battle of Arroyomolinos 28th October 1811

Today is the 198th anniversary of the battle of Arroyomolinos which was fought in the morning of 28th October 1811 during a wild storm. Fortunately for us the weather was perfect this morning, sunny and warm and not a desperate French hussar in sight as we set off for the walk which follows the path taken by Spanish guerrilla fighters hoping to cut off the retreat of General Girard and what was left of his force after the total rout of the battle. In fact they were not successful and General Girard although wounded managed to escape over a low saddle in the sierra, with him were a mere 400 troops out of his original force of 3000. He left behind a scene of confusion and disaster, many French troops in desperate panic tried to escape directly up the impossibly steep slopes of the sierra disgarding their horses and armour on the way, they were either swiftly dispatched by the guerrillas or rounded up by the British force under General Hill and captured as prisoners of war to be sent back via Lisbon to the specially built prisons in England for the duration of the war.


General Girard must surely have been in deepest despondency that morning. The day had started badly for him. His breakfast was rudely interrupted by the sudden and totally unexpected attack on Arroyomolinos heralded by the 71st Highlanders charging pell mell and shouting their rousing rendition of the old Jacobite air "Johnny Cope, are ye rising yet?"
The fighting was fierce and bloody with close combat over the walls of the village gardens and several cavalry charges. The brilliant tactics of General Hill left no road out of the village uncovered. The French were in a trap with no way to go except due east: to the north was the Sierra de Montanchez, a long chain of steep hills while to the west and the south were the British on the exits to Merida and Trujillo. By moving quickly and abandoning all their wagons, horses, cannons and armour the French nearly escaped when their column was hit by the lead units of Wilson's Brigade (the light companies of the 1/28th, 1/34th, and the 1/39th Regiments) coming from the south. The three companies hit the first battalion in the flank and succeeded in slowing down the rest of the column until the rest of the British and Portuguese could come up. Girard, seeing there was no escape, ordered his men not to stop and fight, but to attempt to move cross-country and to climb the high hills. He and about 400 men succeeded by scrambling over the only low part of the sierra, however the rest of the column was penned in and forced to lay down their arms. The battle was lost ingloriously and the French loses were horrendous. Of the six infantry battalions and three cavalry regiments engaged, about 1,000 men were killed or wounded. In addition to these casualties, another 1300 men and 30 officers were made prisoners. Most of the casualties were among the infantry, who lost about 80% of their combatents. Additionally, General Bron, the commander of the Cavalry, the Prince of Aremberg, commander of the 27th Chasseurs, and Colonel André, the chief-of-staff of the 5th Corps were all taken as prisoners. Girard lost all his baggage, guns, 6 caissons of ammunition, and the 5,000 dollars tax levied on the town of Caceres. British losses were less than 80 men killed and wounded. General Girard was subsequently relieved by Marshal Soult and returned to France in disgrace.

As you can see the path winds its way high up on the slopes of the sierra with amazing views down on to the flat plains of olive groves, on that long ago morning probably still shrouded with the heavy mist that decended after the storm, at least blotting out the carnage below. We walked to the point where the guerrillas must have been able to observe Girard's desperate band disappearing over the low dip in the sierra, they assumed that they would be stopped by a convoy on the road below but in fact this did not happen and the survivors must have had a desperate few days until they could join up with the French forces of Druet several days later.

We turned back and took another path that leads along a track high above the watermill gorge of arroyomolinos with wonderful views down on to the mills rather than the usual route of walking past them. We came out above the path that leads to Montanchez where there are several more mills and a stand of enormous chestnut trees which may have been slender saplings 198 years ago.

From this point we then took the usual route down the gorge back to Arroyomolinos. The river was running in some parts and looked quite clean and clear, it must have been quite different on that fateful day. Many of the French must have tried to escape up the gorge, maybe trying to take shelter in the mills but they didn't get far before they were overtaken by the merciless guerrillas and barbarously slaughtered, the river ran red that day.

Ice From the sky

The storm on the morning of 17th September was quite amazing. The finca was battered by huge hailstones for at least 15 minutes........................

Then a stupendous thunder storm with torrential rain. Soon there were rivers flowing down the mountain carrying earth and fallen leaves down to our bottom wall. The drainage holes had become blocked up over the last year so the mud accumulated rapidly, it gradually seeped away but the debris left covered half the wall. The hailstone stayed on the ground looking pristinely beautiful for several hours. Quite bizarre considering we were sweltering last week. The sierra now looks very washed, wonderful to see the dark earth and mossy rocks after months of parched dusty earth. Unfortunately the swimming pool was inundated with muddy water, swimming weather is nearly over now but we will have to drain the pool, clean out the mud and refill, this has never happened before, a bit of a bore but almost worth the trouble to have experienced all the drama of the storm and the refreshing of the earth, hopefully there will be grass shoots coming up very soon and we shall once again have a green glow over the finca.