Luxembourg & kniddelen

The Grand Duchy of Luxembourg was the next substantial stop on the north bound run - Janine and I spent a day on the motorway, running between Chamonix and there, and although we enjoyed the countryside views, there just isn't that much you can say about the junk food that is the lot of the long distance driver.  It is an amazingly verdant area - there are very few towns or villages visible in the southern side so you approach through fields and countrysides. Luxembourg itself is a deceptive mix of old and modern, until you get near to the centre, and get a sudden glimpse of the river gorge that runs right through the centre of it. 

The heart of the old town is based around 'Lucinburhulic' the original fortress, started in 963. Over time  it was grown and morphed, eventually ending up as a Napoleonic style fortification built on and through the cliff face, albeit mostly dismantled as a result of the Treaty of London in 1867. The internal 'casements' are however still there, and have been pressed into service in numerous ways since then. In WWII the population of Luxembourg sheltered in them from the bombings, and the remains of the 'sand loos' are still visible, complete with reminder to take your sand with you into the loo. The stench of humanity in such a confined space must have been pretty unpleasant. Other parts of the casement have been made into telephony and electrical hub rooms, and still others are the gold vaults of the national bank of Luxembourg - sadly we were not allowed to tour that part of the casements! Some of the original guns have survived, and one is still standing guard in solitary splendour, whilst the others have been removed to the central museum for preservation, away from the damp mizzle that lines the tunnels.

Luxembourg is also home to the largest stone bridge in Europe - it's quite imposing, reaching as it is across the breadth of the valley. Our guide blithely informed us that as a part of the plans to modernise the city, the bridge is soon to be completely dismantled, strengthened, and since they've got it down and in pieces, widened, and replaced back up 'exactly' as it was before.

In the heart of the city, you find the Cathedral - an interesting architectural experience for a religious building of such prominence, as it is predominantly 1920s and 1930s built. There is also, for some unknown reason, just outside the Duke's palace, a large herd of blue plastic sheep. A somewhat sheepish attendant tried really hard to persuade me that it was bringing world  peace, goodwill and an end to hunger.............it just reminded me why I have little patience with a lot of modern art.

Lunch was an exploration of Luxembourg cuisine - I decided to go for Kniddelen with bacon and cream. Kniddelen are essentially dumplings, and whilst it was a very flavoursome dish and I'd recommend it for a winters day, it sat rather heavily during the rest of our trogging around town!

Coastal run....or is that Castle run?

From Andalucia, I went back up the Mediterranean coast - cutting across country to Lorca and on to Murcia. My initial night stop was at Velez-Blanco ( not to be mixed up with Velez-Rojo) where I tried to find the local campsite. I've had a few interesting experiences in Spain with campsites - the Barcelona campsite which should be condemned, coz if it could be fucked up, it was; the mid country campsite which had closed down.......and sure enough this was another. Arriving fairly late - the Spanish dont stop play till gone midnight, I finally found the junction off down a steep hillside outside the village. It appeared to be in the middle of a nature reserve/park with very few buildings.....and those with doors creaking gently in the breeze and no signs of life. When I realised the camping sign led down a 1 in 4 dirt track downhill, in the dark, I decided that perhaps the lovely moon, and the fact that I had Creedence Clearwater Revival playing Bad Moon Rising was a subtle hint, and that this was not somewhere I wanted to stop!

Lorca - where I eventually overnighted  - is a lovely town with a huge castle on the hill above. It also has a very bemused Peugeot garage, where I turned up, a little concerned that the squeaking of my brakes might mean that I had worn out the brake pads. After some shuffling of vehicles to get the 'van into the garage, the chaps gathered around with torches and had a little discussion whilst looking closely at my wheels. The leader then decided it was probably best to do a test drive.....and after getting in the vehicle the wrong side at first, headed off down the road and tried his best emergency brake manoeuvre. He rapidly decided this was a *bad* idea as the contents of the cupboards came hurtling towards him, but also decided he knew what the issue was! Apparently, when it's hot and sticky the 'dust' from the pads collects up, and eventually creates an unpleasant squeal - something I'd not noticed in the rest of Europe, as it had rained pretty much everywhere else, and washed said dust away. Still, a few squirts of WD40 or some such equivalent and I was on my way to Murcia  - arriving just in time for a divine tapas lunch (with the most awesome mushroom and asparagus scramble dish) in a small bar.

More trucking up the coast .....Valencia and north. There are hundreds of castles in this area of Spain, and I couldnt stop at even a 10th of them - and since, after a while, pictures of castle walls all start to blend into one, I'll spare you the pain. I highly recommend it as a holiday trip though!

When is a church not a church?

From Merida to Cordoba is a long run with a sweeping curve around the outside of Seville. I decided to give Seville a miss, since hard experience has taught me that parking the 'van in big cities is anything but easy, and I've been there before. The run out of Extremadura was quite hilly, which caused a few issues with the heat of the engine. Whilst normally, she runs at about the midway mark, having to climb the slightest incline at anything faster than 40mph meant a disturbing balancing act on the edge of sliding into the red on the engine heat gauge.  That said, the cork oaks were still very prevalent, with occasional swathes of grain land, and more tropical palms appearing the further south you went and the sunset on arrival into Cordoba was gorgeous

In Cordoba itself, there is one major thing to see : the Cathedral and former Great Mosque of Córdoba, in ecclesiastical terms the Catedral de Nuestra Señora de la Asunción (English: Cathedral of Our Lady of the Assumption), and known by the inhabitants of Córdoba as the Mezquita-Catedral (Mosque–Cathedral), is today a World Heritage Site and the cathedral of the Diocese of Córdoba. It is a surreal experience, in that the building feels nothing like a church and everything like a mosque - except for the entrance, which felt like a hindu temple! And no matter how much Christian iconography there is, the 'sense' of the building is just different. I spent ages trying to capture the sweeping arches and the sense of cool low roofed calm expanse and I think I may just have succeeded. Offset that against the busy high ceiling Christian section, and perhaps the juxtaposition will appear as strange as it felt.

There remains a few areas of highly decorative islamic art which I could stand and gaze at for hours - it's impossible to really bring out the beauty and the impact of the work on a photograph.

A lot of the marble columns have graffitti on them - an area of study for a number of scholars, as they date back into the islamic kingdom. Wonder when these two little chaps appeared?

The Mosque is situated in little winding pedestrianised streets full of white washed buildings all catering fanatically to the tourist trade. It's the old Jewish quarter, and as further north, the Spanish seem determined to bring out their Sephardic history despite having done their best to exterminate them! Wandering along the streets, just past the 'alley of flowers'  - a little passage full of floral baskets - you come across a statue of Maimonides the philosopher , a famous - Jewish - son of Cordoba, and the Sephardi Museum and old Synagogue has a substantial history to impart.

 By now, I was pretty hungry, and more importantly, thirsty! It was *hot* and I hunted for a suitable
 location to enjoy lunch at. I ended up in a delightful traditional courtyard building, with a particularly helpful Spanish waitress who could assure me that there was very limited alcohol in their sangria ( down to the specific gravity measurement - I was impressed once I worked out the spanish! ) and that I'd be fine driving later that evening. Lunch was Andalucian gazpacho, artichokes with ham, chorizo in wine and cardoons in an almond sauce. The last was a definite must try - it's a known favourite of the Victorians, in hundreds of my cook books and almost impossible to lay hands on in England.

The streets were full of buildings that were open to the public either on a free or a very cheap basis to visit : this building was a Moorish bath house, that is now used as a Flamenco house of an evening. The cool stone arched roof worked really well, and I wish very much I'd been staying on long enough to come and watch a performance. From there to a uniquely cluttered junk shop - part museum, part gallery and pretty much entirely price tagged up, it is one of the oldest Andalusian courtyard houses in the quarter. I believe the only item which didnt have a price tag was the mosaic in the basement!

Outside the jewish quarter are the old walls, the fort and the roman ruins. Sadly I fell foul of visiting on a closed day, so other than the Mosque the majority of the tourist sites that were nationally run were closed and only visible from the outside. Never mind, means I have to go back again soon!

In famous footsteps

First stop of the day today was Talavera La Reina. It is the site of a major battle on 27–28 July 1809 between Sir Arthur Wellesley ( later Viscount Wellington of Talavera), his Spanish allies vs the French led by Bonaparte. Although its a later period of history than I usually am a fan of, the Bernard Cromwell's Sharpe series, charting the course of the Napoleonic wars across Portugal and Spain, and the charismatic soldier turned officer Rifleman brings it to life in a way that just makes me want to see the real places. Of course there is always the TV series too  - sadly, no Sean Bean in evidence .......


That said, Talavera just wasn't that exciting - the French seem to have made a point of destroying everything they could, so other than seeing the surrounding countryside, there just isn't that much left. It did make me realise one thing though : the wars were only fought during the summer seasons, the uniforms of the time were made of woollen clothe - and Talavera is *HOT*. And its not even July yet! The heat and the drenched with sweat clothing and presumably strong smells just doesn't come across in the books. Makes me think of Sean in a whole new ( and much less attractive ) light.....

It had a pretty church , but basically, time to trog on out of the Province of Toledo, and over into Extremadura. There's this child's habit of mistranslating words in other languages - and Extremadura just calls for that - it's either  'extra wood', or 'extremely hard' - both of which are incredibly apt. There is a lot of cork oak grown here, and as you drive though, the country changes from semi-barren wheat plains to hilly cork oak plantations and in a fair number of totally unagriculturally viable places, sun farms!

There are many beautiful castles, and I just didn't get enough time to visit them all : sights like this one from the motorway were very common!

Pigs, piglets, dizzy heights and sparrows

[health warning re later food pictures for rabid vegetarians]

 I pitched up in Segovia last night, and decided I couldn't actually be bothered to move out of range of the van - instead I pitched up the camping chairs, dug out a stale loaf of bread and set to work engendering a battle royale in the local sparrow community. Nearly 3 hours flew by just watching the males disputing bread rights, and a number of the poor female sparrows being royally conned by their beloved fledglings - who mostly were larger than their mothers, and came up begging desperately, waited till Mama fed them, then grabbed not only the nicely prepared morsel, but also the whole hunk of bread and flew away rapidly to a remote spot to gorge. Some decided stealth attacks were the best way to evade notice - flying in under the van, grabbing the bread, and retreating fast in reverse. Needless to say, I'm surrounded by a lot of hopeful sparrows as I write this. And I'm down two baguettes and most of a plastic loaf.

As with Toledo, the old city of Segovia and its Aqueduct were declared World Heritage by UNESCO. Within the environment of the old city, there is a rich diversity of historic buildings both civil and religious, both Catholic and Judaic. Although unlike Toledo, Segovia is not built on a steep hill, I decided to learn my lesson re driving in old Spanish cities - or at least, re parking - and decided to try and find the local bus service from the campsite to the town centre. Given my indoctrination in the Spanish speed of life, by the time I reached there, and wandered around for a while, it was clearly lunchtime! 

I decided to blow my food budget for the next 3 days ( it's bread and cheese for me from now on!) on lunch at an Asador  and have "cochinillo" or roast piglet, a local speciality. Having sussed out the menus, I chose this restaurant due to the overwhelming number of spaniards, many of whom were clearly locals, all having lunch there, by comparison to the tourist cafes in the Plaza Mayor. It offered a 'tasting menu' which worked out the same price as a starter and a roast pork main, so I decided to be a 'Piglet' and have my one meal of the day at lunchtime. (Please note : my trainer will be proud of me.....calories *early*)

They didn't have a table available immediately so they sat me in the bar, and gave me some free tapas to stave off the pangs of hunger - tortilla, bread, and something very fishy. Eating this was a *bad* idea as will shortly become clear. 

As the menu picture is probably too small to read, I'll summarise just how much I managed to snarf in one 3.5 hour sitting.....and the pictures will speak for themselves

• a local cheese with salad, oil & vinegar & fresh bread
• local potato croquettes made with cheese & jamon iberico and served with chips
• tempura seasonal vegetables
• gazpacho with accompanying trimmings
• Roast pig
• Apple jelly with whipped cream & white chocolate
• Coffee, local wine and water.

Now, I guess it becomes clear where the pig and piglet appear :D

 I have to admit that I've always been told its a good idea to walk a little after a good meal, so with some serious trepidation, I levered a now *very* rotund me up out of my comfy dining chair and headed off . First stop was the Segovia Cathedral which is the last Gothic cathedral built in Spain. It is considered the masterpiece of Basque-Castilian Gothic and is known as "The Lady of Cathedrals."As with all Roman Catholic churchs it was highly adorned but in a much more restrained ( in RC terms of course) than the Toledano cathedral. The cloisters were a wonderful oasis of calm in the middle of a relatively busy city centre. The one jarring note for me, was the grey granite carved entrance in a sharp modernistic style which was completely out of kilter with the rest of the warm amber and flowing gothic style of the building.

From the cathedral on to the Alcazar, the royal palace located on top of a rock between the rivers Eresma and Clamores. It was documented for the first time in 1122. It was one of the favorite residences of the kings of Castile, built in the transition from Romanesque to Gothic and Mudéjar decor highlighting its ample rooms. It was from here that Isabella the Catholic set off in procession to be crowned Queen of Castile in the main square. For a moment or two , I wondered if I'd headed back into France and not realised it, so strong are the similarities with the Loire castles. The castle is filled with gorgeous stained glass windows, something I have a real passion for, and it was great to see them with non-religous scenes.

The other amazing element was the complexity of decoration on the ceilings. It is not something we do very much in the current time, with our white styrofoam tiles or plain white ceilings. I guess people spent a lot of time walking around craning their necks upwards historically, and it's certainly a good way of showing how stonkingly rich you are. I did wonder though, how many kings and queens suffered from indigestion with this array of ancestors staring down at them in the dining room!

 The castle also had a comprehensive display of weaponry as it was converted into a college for Artillery in the 1800s. Perhaps I wasn't the only tourist to be reminded of the phrase 'its not how big it is, it's what you do with it' on seeing the two canons in the right hand image?

 Having finished the tour of the castle with a climb of 152 steps to the top of the Torre San Juan, I was rewarded with a breathtaking view of the local stork population & the obligatory human graffitti collection. I decided that having reached these heights, on return to ground zero I deserved a long cool mocha frappucino to restore myself with, prior to a pleasant amble back to the aqueduct and a return to the 'van. One surprise inhabitant on the way back - this iron bull.