Monday, June 28, 2010
Today began a short three day trip to Albacete, a town that holds a place on several "worst places to visit in Spain" lists. Really. I've seen the lists. It's there. In fact, when we first moved to Valencia and I told a lady that my husband would be working in Albacete, she said, "Albacete??!?!? Caca, Vete." I've heard that expression several times since. The translation is that in Albacete, you poo and leave, essentially.
It's not horrible, really. It's just a historically uninteresting city stuck in the the middle of Castilla La Mancha with nothing really much in its immediate vicinity. No beaches, mountains, lakes... What I've found with these sort of places is that where there is absence of something, people create it. The most "boring" towns are where you find your closest friendships. Here, it's where you find the best nightlife. And we're not really sure where they come from. But at 10 at night a trickle begins and by midnight the restaurants and tapas bars are overflowing with friends and families. Children play on the playgrounds in the summer to 1am and later. People are out laughing and smiling. It may not be a popular town with the Spanish as a whole, but the people who live here really live and enjoy their life.
It's a two hour drive to Albacete, but along this route are several castles and castle ruins sitting on top of hills beckoning to the curious. So today, I had the time and treated the drive as part of the trip making two stops along the way. It was actually really nice because the drive never really felt that long.
We stopped first in Montesa, not our original plan, but it was there, so I quickly swerved into the exit lane and there we were in this typical old Spanish village with the tiny streets and older homes all squished together climbing up the hill to the castle. Parking was easy, the streets were nearly empty, and we saw very few people on the road. Clearly, this isn't a "hot" tourist destination. There are small plaques here and there with English translations telling bits and pieces about the place. The funny thing was that most of the plaques talked about what was here, and not was is now. An old gate that was here... that was removed years ago with no evidence remaining. Seems like they were kind of reaching. But still, there is a castle on the hill and that's pretty cool.We walked a bit, saw no signs directing us to the castillo, so asked an old man who had come down the hill with a large bag of trash. He kindly walked back up the hill with his bag of trash so that he could point and better explain the best way for us to get there. It was very kind. We ended up on a little street that ended where the castle hill began. Two chairs and a couch sat outside, a second living room when the weather cools in evening. We heard people, inside, but saw no one. It seemed they'd scurried in when we rounded the corner.
The castle was closed, but beautiful enough to walk around with a nice cooling breeze on one side, but blistering hot on the other and they'd just recently mowed, but hadn't cleared it, so dry poky grasses kept stabbing our flip-flopped feet.
We walked down a different way, but still ended up on that same little street... this time as we approached, I heard a girl say (in Spanish, of course) that the "English" were coming back. We rounded the corner to go down the street. They were behind us. She said something, so I turned to see a large girl - probably 10-11 years old in a nightgown and sucking on a pacifier. The older woman with her shouted "vete, vete" quite sternly and I turned again, to hurry down the street with the girls taken a back a bit at her harshness. "Go away" is not something that I hear much here. People are usually nicer. But then, here I am in a tiny village walking down these little streets, taking pictures. I suppose if people walked through my neighborhood taking pictures, walking within feet of my windows and doors, I'd be a bit grouchy too.Hot and tired, we stopped in a little cafe/bar on the main drag. Several older men (mid 60's was young in this crowd) sat on bar stools at the bar. A few others sipped beer together at the smaller tables. A young man stood behind the counter sort of running the place. That was it. Men. We were a bit out of place. But it was fine. They girls each got a cold water and an ice cream. I ordered a coffee with ice and we all sat, and cooled down from the hike up the hill and down again.
The soccer game was just beginning as we were getting ready to leave. Several old men had come in since. We were still the only girls. One man stopped to chat. He asked if we were on vacation and if the girls were all mine (I get that question a lot here). He has a relative in California. (Every Spaniard, it seems, has a relative in the US.) He talked for about 15 minute before we left. It was nice. Everyone was friendly.
Got to the car. Couldn't find my iPhone. Went back to the cafe. Talked to another nice old man with a relative in Valencia, then left information on how to contact me if the iPhone was found. Returned to the car to find my phone under the seat. In 45 minutes we'd be in Chinchilla.
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