Emma Blake dares say...
Saturday, 8 September 2007
Many in Spain believe that it was the city of Teruel, rather
than Verona, that actually provided the inspiration for Shakespeare’s Romeo and
Juliet. It’s not hard to see why. Straddling the N-234 between Valencia and
Guadalajara, not only does this ancient town have its own pair of star-crossed
mediaeval lovers in Isabel de Segura and Juan Diego de Marcilla (who, arriving
back from war in 1170 and finding her married, broke into her bridal bower and
promptly dropped dead on the floor at her feet), with its winding cobbled
streets and tall houses almost touching overhead, the whole place feels just a
breath away from the middle ages. Four moorish towers dot the perimeter like
massive green-tiled table-legs, and the architecture of the jumbled streets and
squares takes you from Islamic, through sumptuous baroque, to the most
astonishing Art Deco complete with glorious wrought iron streetlights.I was stabled at the 3-star Reina Cristina hotel between the bus station on the Paseo del Óvalo and the Calle El Salvador. My room was comfortably the right side of adequate, despite the daily battle of wits with Housekeeping; - every time I left my room light and aired with billowing nets at the window, I would return to find it pitch black and roasting, the heavy blackout curtain back in place, and all lights and appliances returned to fry-the-planet setting. Still, at €55 a night (approximately £37), it wasn’t worth getting steamed up about.
We skipped breakfast at the Cristina in favour of the delightful El Mudayyan cafe in the Calle Nueva next door, where we could get fresh coffee and just-baked croissants for a third of the price. Turned out that the El Mudayyan was actually a hotel as well, a hidden gem much favoured by domestic tourists and kept something of a secret.
There was actually no need for a bus or even a taxi to find anything, as the town is wonderfully walkable. Everything is within ten or fifteen minutes maximum, and even that’s dawdling tourist style. Go straight up calle El Salvador, under the massive C14th tower (which may be climbed if one feels the need), and you’ll find yourself in the Plaza Torico where the cheerful bars provide plenty of grandstand seats for people-watching, and the shops range from high fashion to haberdashery and knick-knacks. Turn right, and you’re in the Plaza de los Amantes, with the Church of San Pedro and the Mausoleum Museum. Turn left and you will find the cathedral and a square full of pigeons, like a bijoux St Mark’s.
The main museums were the Mausoleum de Los Amantes (attached to which is the church of San Pedro, nicknamed the “Sistine Chapel of Mudéjar Art”), and the Cathedral, where there were two floors worth of religious art and relics, the richness of which were simply mindblowing if a little disturbing. Everything was worth examination. Stepping away from an extraordinary ivory crucifix, I turned to find my companions huddled around a particularly lovely old door that actually just belonged to the old convent in which the collection was housed, and probably just led through to someone’s office.
The mausoleum was light and airy and not remotely the sort of crypt I expected complete with creaking doors, echoes or cobwebs. There was a maturity and simplicity to the presentation that concentrated the mind on the matter placed so sparingly before one. I had read the story of the Lovers of Teruel as I packed for my trip, but nothing prepared me for the beauty of their final resting place. Poetic marble effigies lie on top of their caskets, the heads inclined towards one another, and the exquisitely carved hands reaching across the divide between the tombs, almost touching, but not quite, to symbolise the love denied them in life. Sculpted by Juan de Ávalos, the caskets are made with latticework panels through which the amantes’ preserved mummies are clearly visible. 837 years after their deaths, they lie united in the wonder of the faces pressed to the glass all around them.
In true poetic sequence, we were then led into the church of San Pedro, with its astounding vaulted ceiling and incredible carved wood altarpiece, kneeling at which I felt impelled to say a prayer for their souls. We declined the proffered climb up the bell tower claiming knees, and stepped instead into the brilliant sunshine of the square in search of a coffee.
Aside from Los Amantes, Teruel is also famed for its jamón (cured ham), with proud legs displayed like Broadway chorus lines in almost every coffee shop window, and a festival devoted to the delicacy every September. As a vegetarian, I could only take their word for its superior sabor, but sipping my cortado surrounded by them, I could still laugh at the Spanish humour that claims making jamón is not cruel because a pig can still live a happy life on only three legs...
Albarracín
Leaving Teruel and heading further north towards Madrid and Zaragoza, a fun day-trip on the A-1512 took us to the totally unspoilt and astonishing town of Albarracín. The mountain appears to be literally wearing Albarracín as a shawl; tall woodframed houses squish together as a river gurgles in the valley below, and the old fortress walls stretch out and up across the top of the horizon like the Great Wall of China. The intrepid have the option of climbing these walls, but I opted instead for a workout trudging up the mountain and discovering the narrow streets. Even way up here, the plaza was set for a bull-run, stacked seating loomed on all four sides, giggling children suspended underneath jabbing at each other with plastic swords, the scent of cow dung tingled in the hazy air, and flags everywhere. One got the sense a bull was likely to hurtle out of an alley any second, so I wimped off into a craft shop to ponder the extraordinary and unique green ceramics that are as abundant as jamón in this region. We were too early for the Cathedral which did not open until 1pm, but we had a good look around the ancient presbytery adjoining, the Palacio Episcopal, or Museo Diocesano de Albarracín. The usual religious art and reliquaries however shared space with some extraordinary old musical instruments, and a wonderful little room had a remarkable trompe l’oeil of faux doors and grilles from behind which priests appeared to be peering. It was a bit Father Ted to tell the truth, and I couldn’t help but chuckle, whether or not that was what the artist intended, it was hard to say.
From 1170 up until 1379 Albarracín was an independent Christian kingdom, and in 1172, it was declared a diocese. However earlier civilisations also left their footprint on the narrow streets. It was in fact the Ibn Razin Berbers who gave the town its name and built the castle up above. One can see that much has been lovingly restored, and necessary but tasteful new houses built that have been kept in character. For this, Albarracín owes a debt to the Fundación Santa Maria. We all do.
©Emma Blake 2007
Information and links:
The Fiesta de Los Amantes takes place every February, when the last hours of Isabel and Juan Diego are presented as a play, and the townspeople dress in mediaeval costume, take love potions, and fall at each other’s feet.
Fundación Amantes de Teruel – 978 618 398
Oficina Municipal de Turismo
Plaza Amantes – 44001 Teruel – 978 600 081
www.tierrasdefrontera.com
www.elmudayyan.com
Directions:
Valencia to Teruel and on to Albarracín:
From Valencia, Teruel lies on the N-234
For Albarracín, take N-234 headed towards Zaragoza, and then the A-1512 through Gea de Albarracín to Albarracín.
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