Life: Idiotropic

Just south of Valencia lies Europe's largest freshwater lake, or at least it used to be.  I'm not sure if that claim by locals is figured off of the current lake size or what it used to be before much of it's circumference became home to the rice paddies that grow the regions paella rice.  Which ever the case may be, it's still an impressive lake and a different kind of way to spend your day while visiting Valencia.

Only 15 minutes from the city, it's an easy escape from the crowds and the noise.  The only crowds you'll see here are the birds.


I've been here before with the aid of my handy dandy GPS, but a wrong turn and a missed turn led me to the other side of the lake where there are no access points except by small fishing boat navigating the tiny canals and rice paddies.

My impeccable sense of direction led me in the right direction (of course), towards the lake through a maze of narrow dirt roads raised above the flooded rice paddies below.  The only problem with my sense of direction is that while we were absolutely going the right way to get to the lake, I didn't realize then that there was no way to actually connect to a main road or access the lake from that point.  So, with an empty tank of gas and fumes pulling us along, we really did enjoy a magical drive through the paddies enjoying the reflections of the traditional white triangular homes in the water and the dance of the great blue heron as they startled one by one and crossed in front of my van in flight to another paddy opposite.

I found myself at two dead-ends today, one forcing me to back track and the other causing an amusing "off road" moment when my van went Rambo and powered over a little hill between roads.  This mini adventure in route to our final destination taught me two things.  1) Getting lost in the rice paddies is a great idea, but only 2) if you are not out of gas.  Thankfully, I didn't have to learn the latter the hard way.


El Palmar is a tiny fishing village with rice paddies in one direction, the lake in another, and a wide canal on the other that leads to the sea just a couple kilometers away.  It was once filled with these quaint little homes called barracas.  Now just a few exist among the fields of rice and along the edges of the lake.




The only way to see the lake is by boat as there are no paths around it to walk.  A typical 45 minute boat ride will cost about 10 Euros/person.  We arrived in El Palmar and parked by a sign advertising "paseo en barca."  The gate was open, but we didn't see anyone, so we cautiously walked down the long narrow path from the street to the edge of the water looking around for any sign of someone working there.  As we arrived, so did the boat that belonged there.  The middle-aged man invited us on as a group of college aged girls got off and we began our tour of the lake making our way through lanes flanked by tall reeds and bamboo with birds nesting along the edges.  The heron here took off as they saw our boat giving us ample photo ops of birds in flight.




Though this is Europe's largest fresh water lake, it is certainly not the deepest.  At the deepest point, according to our guide, it's only a couple meters deep, but that is deep enough for the fish that live there.  Along the sides of the lake strung up on rows of posts lie these tubular nets made especially for catching sleek, black freshwater eels that are popular here.  Called anguilas,  you can find them at all the local restaurants and sold alive at local markets.

One of the small islands is marked off as a nature reserve providing homes to thousands of birds who apparently can read the signs because they are thicker there than anywhere else.  It's a great place to park the boat just on the edge and watch fuzzy headed ducks and other fowl with binoculars and a telephoto lens., but my favorite place is the quite among the reeds.  This is where our guide was quiet as well, just steering the boat and listening to the gentle hum of the motor and the distant call of birds.  The reeds rustled in the wind and we watched for the heron who are quickly becoming my favorite bird.




Puntillas are tiny whole squid battered and fried.  It may sound strange, but they are delicious and the batter covers them up enough that you aren't overly aware of each little hood and tentacle.  With or without lemon juice, these are my favorite local fish snack and would be a great movie snack - like popcorn shrimp. 

















A fishing village, if you're not catching the fish or cooking the fish, you're making nets or repairing boats.  El Palmar has character and is a beautiful place to spend the day and enjoy some quiet.  I think next time I'll bring the girls and may be even bring a paella on the boat with us for a lunch out on the lake!

Sunny Sundays are for lazy mornings, slow starts, and striking sunsets.  They are for a plan without a timeline.  It's a good thing.  So often my early morning push brings me home too early to see the evening lighting in the places I visit.  Our late start, coupled with the earlier sunset blessed us with a spectacular evening in Peñíscola.  I should sleep in more often.

I've hoped to return here ever since I left it the first time, but time is the all elusive with so many things to see and repeats are a luxury, so I had to wait until now when the sand is moist and doesn't squeak like it did before.


A strange view today.  We'd just missed two days of extreme biking events that took over the tiny streets of the old town and the hill getting to it.  Wooden ramps covered stairs and tires blocked poles and sharp corners making it a bit difficult just to get to the top of the hill where the castle stands.  Today we'd go in the castle.  Children up to age 12 are free.  Adults cost 3.50 which includes a souvenir post card.

Most of the castle rooms are sparsely furnished if at all, but they are good about putting up informative plaques on the walls in Spanish, Valenciano, German, and English so that you know a bit about where you're standing.  It's quite impressive actually.

It's hard to know when the original castle was built or what it must of looked like because of so many changes that have happened over the centuries.  King James the First rebuilt it after the conquest in 1234.  Since then, it's been the witness and catalyst of an incredible history here in this little town.  Declared the third papal see by Pope Pedro Luna who ended his life there, it was also the headquarters of King James himself, and the Order of the Templars from 1294.

This is one of two doorways built as part of the new facade between 1294 and 1307.  The other was destroyed during the Independence War.




The self-guided tour allows you to relax and even picnic in the many open spaces within the castle walls.  The roof itself is even spectacular with stairs leading all the way to the top.  So spectacular that my 9-year old reached the top first and exclaimed, "Holy Cow!"  The next one arrived at the top of the stairs and exclaimed the same thing.  Now it was a game.  Elise, the youngest, arrived last and we all waited for what we thought must come next.  She looked from side to side and exclaimed quite loudly, "Holy Duck!"


The forecast storm passed north of us both saving us from a good soaking and giving us a view of the streaks of grey in the distance and a rainbow that painted the entire village beneath it in stripes.

This is one of those seasonally touristy towns that serves up the most horrid food on earth for abominable prices and people smile though it because either the view is nice or they really think paella should taste that way.  It's pretty sad.  There are a couple good restaurants, but this is definitely a place to ask a local.  I've eaten average here and I wasn't going to eat average again.  In fact, we were heading back for dinner, but the kids were hungry, so we thought we'd stop at a local bar for a snack.  Blech.  Worst bar experience ever.  We ordered three items.  Two came and were barely palatable. The third was not what we'd ordered - at all.  And I'd spoken in both Spanish, English, and pointed to the picture.  The waiter was not apologetic nor sympathetic despite the big-eyed starving look from my 6-year old.  He explained that they were out of the baguettes and brought it on a croissant instead.  "But it's not even tuna!  We ordered tuna."  He looked confused.  I picked up the top crunchy overtoasted croissant and showed him the serrano ham and anemic tomatoes underneath.  He said he'd go get a tuna sandwich.  It never came.  No apologies. I went to pay.  They charged me for everything.  These are the stupid people that give places and countries a bad reputation.

The moon assuaged our post bar funk.


A full moon lingers briefly above the edge of the castle wall 
that Jaime built long ago after the Moorish fall.
Where Papa Luna spent his days and nights
and the Templars staged their fights.
The wars called just and holy though by means hardly so.
It was long ago.  
And now I must leave too soon.
A walk along the beach shooting the moon.
Digging my toes into the sand that's seen it all.

While walking across the bridge in Montanejos Friday, I talked to a lady from Madrid who told me how beautiful Oropesa is, so this morning, seeing that Oropesa really isn't that far from us, we took a drive about 40 minutes up the coast from Valencia to explore.

I saw it from the highway as we approached it and I almost didn't take the exit.  This is it?!!??  It's one tiny little hill with one very ruined old castle on top.  The traditional tangle of old sandwiched homes spills down the hill.  There are winding streets and narrow passageways.  It's all quite typical.

And surrounding this tiny oasis is just another sprawling town.  Sigh.

But I didn't want to drive aimlessly, so we stopped, found parking easily, and trudged up the hill to see whatever there was to see.

It's pretty, don't get me wrong, but here in Spain, there is so much amazing and spectacular, that this, frankly, is quite average.

In this old town there are plaques hanging from the lanterns with famous quotes from saints and authors.  These are unique and fun to find and try to translate.  This one is, roughly, "I live without living and in this way I hope that I die because I won't die."



We walked up to the top of the hill to the castle ruin from which there are nice views of the town and sea beyond.  In fact, from that point, I took more photos of the view that I have only a couple photos of the castle itself, but then, there wasn't much to photograph but pieces of crumbling rock walls.

They are proud though of this castle of Muslim origins.  "Due to its importance, it was conquered by distinguished historical figures like El Cid in 1090, and King James 1 in 1233 (after falling into the Almoravid's hands)."  It was rebuilt in the 14th C and armed in the 16th, but apparently it was "conquered" again because it's in shambles now.

I think it's funny to gage the importance of something by who tried to conquer it, though, now that I think of it, I suppose that's how it works in art, in business ideas, in dating, in war... probably a bit in everything.  We just don't think of it that way normally.

Anyway... that was the hill.  Short and sweet, cute and quaint, quotable and thought provoking...

And at the bottom was a park where we stopped to placate the kids who were bored with quaint castle topped hills and wanted to swing.  They were lucky because there's one of those amazing German backet style swings that swing so high the kids are upside down.  The park is also displaying the first prize sculpture winner of 2010 by Miguel Escobar called Mara'm, mira't, mira.  Fun to photograph.

The beach is where we had an average lunch and took a walk before the rains came.  The kids wanted to sit in the sand and draw.  I wanted to walk. We began the game of "Draw a picture, then run to mom, squat, and draw another one.  Repeat." It worked really well and between the three of them they filled the beach with Spongebob.



I found out later about this resort supposedly here which looks amazing... but somehow I don't think three children and today's weather would have supported it:  http://www.comunitatvalenciana.com/propuestas-de-viaje/castellon-costa-azahar-orpesa/oropesa-del-mar-salud-y-bienestar-en-oropesa-del-mar-0?id_pv=5808

Surprises happen here.  Though Spain's Constitution is younger than me, life has been going on here since before Christ's birth and so, as with any old country, little treasures just appear here and there without warning.  Today was one of those treasure hunts, a drive without a destination really... just an idea that turned out to be better than expected.

Santi is my informant.  He's the ever cheerful boy behind the counter at my favorite coffee shop, the enabler of my caffeine addiction and the pusher of all things sweet that I must try because it's something new.  He's also my local font of knowledge.  Santi knows things.  He told me about Albarracin and Navajas.  Then he told me about Montanejos.  So away we went today knowing that Santi woudn't steer us wrong.

The drive up the A-23 is easy until you exit.  My GPS tells us we're almost there, but between us and Montanejos is a up and down twisty turny stomach churning mess of a road though a gorgeous landscape.  The landscape makes the uneasy stomach worth it as do the little fountains on the side of the road like this one that are just there seemingly in the middle of nowhere where people can come and fill up their bottles and jugs with clean, fresh, ice cold water for free.

Montanejos is a small village known for the warm mineral springs that surround it.  A spa town, there is an abundance of senior tourists there partaking in the therapeutic/healing baths.  In fact, I walked into what was labeled as a tourist office to find a the staff behind the counter wearing white lab jackets and calling forth the "patients" from the waiting room to go have their treatments.  The "tourist" area was a tiny counter off on the side with brochures behind glass.

From some of the regal homes now sitting in disrepair, it is evident that the town once enjoyed a bit of prosperity.  I crossed the bridge over the clear shallow water  of the Mijares river to see a school of large fish swimming below.  They seemed tame and we wondered why no one was fishing for them.  Are they edible?  Are they protected?  I asked an older man who was crossing the bridge.

Well into his 80's, he didn't want to answer my questions, but did want to talk.  "My life is a mystery," he repeated several times telling me about his time in the War and his illness and his cure, how there used to be four big orchards on the hill and the city was wealthy once.  He even talked about his first bicycle and the first motor car in town.  But as much as I love to talk to locals and to learn, it was so hard to understand him.  It could have been his dialect or his slurred "old person" way of speaking, but I only got about 60% which was ok, but not enough.  Too many details lost.


This house was my favorite.  Three stories in front with a nice patio, an old lady swept it while her cat watched from below the table.  She had beautiful flowers growing from pots and a neat row of fruit trees growing along the path from her home to the street.  The back became four floors and overlooked the fields and the pretty río Mijares.

The old city center is the typical maze of tiny streets and sandwiched homes that is typical of old Spanish towns.  These creep up the hill as well and, also typical, small gangs of stray cats hang out at dead ends and street corners.  Five call this covered tractor home.

The bridge leading from the town to a path that leads up the mountain to an old castle ruin was built in 1803 over what was then the Montan river.  Now a dry bed, the bridge still stands connecting the two hills.  It's called the San Jose Bridge-Aquaduct because a small irrigation channel within takes water to the small pueblo of La Alqueria nearby.  Two ceramic panels in the center show paintings of the Virgen of the Dispossessed on one and San Jose on the other.

We crossed it considering briefly to continue up the hill to the castle, but the sign said that it was a 2 hour walk.  A nice couple from Madrid chatted a while.  They said it wasn't far, but the climb was very steep.  Neither of us continued.

Hunger isn't a problem in Spain if you're flexible.  People complain about the rigid hours and yes, it's true that restaurants don't open for lunch until 2:30, but if you're happy with some tapas or a sandwich, then you can eat nearly any time of day.  So, hungry, we sat at the bar at the hotel with a continual ebb and flow of senior citizens through the doors.  Good coffee and a great sandwich.  Cheap and good.  I don't remember what my sandwich was called, but it had steak, ham, and caramelized onions on it making it moist, flavorful, and delicious.  The perfect midday snack for me.

Thanks to Google Maps, I knew that there was something pretty somewhere around the town, but I didn't exactly know where.  Thankfully, I am now technologically armed with my iPhone so that even out in the middle of the Spanish nowhere I can get a fabulous map of exactly where I am and exactly where I am going.

We headed NW on the CV-20 towards a big lake, the Embalse de Arenos.

Just a short bit up the road we saw a place to pull off. This was the first of many and a lesson well learned that along this route, at least, if there is a small widening of the road where you can park, then park because there will be something amazing there even if it's not readily apparent.

There's a small green sign there that says "La Fuente de los Baños"with a scribble of graffiti over it.  A little trail leads down the hill and a small side on the side of it points to where Arab baths were in the 13th century.  At the bottom of the hill we saw the fountain, the rock walls, and a shallow pool of crystal clear aqua water.


A group of men swam and posed while a girl on the rocky beach took pictures.  A mid-70's man swam laps back while his wife read in the sun. 






It's November, but these waters come from a natural thermal spring that remains at 25 ºC all year.




Almost 150 years ago in 1863, these thermal waters were declared a public utility by a royal order.  It's not just a historic swimming hole.

The road elevates from here winding up the side of the mountain while the chasm below gets deeper.  There are no towns here, just dramatic views like this one just before a tunnel.  This is another little turnoff just after a dam where we saw nothing but the tunnel ahead and the tops of trees, but we stopped anyway, walked to the edge and saw this:  Dramatic rocky faces, tiny waterfalls, and an aqua stream.















 

Another dam a few miles ahead reveals the beautiful Emblase de Arenos, the lake created by a dam built here in 1977.  Though the dam is recent, the village beyond it isn't.  From here we could see the ruin of an old Arab castle on the hill and a sign nearby told us that the first civilizations here began between 225-205 B.C.

This village, Puebla de Arenoso, is the first in a string of quaint mountain villages strung along the tiny highway from here to the A-23.  Some of the villages are nothing more than a tight collection of houses clumped together on either side of the road.  Many homes look so run down that only a small kitchen light and a newer car in front give them away from my first assumption that they're abandoned ruins.  It's a different life here where people rely more on themselves growing what they need and using the elaborate water systems set up here centuries ago that deliver fresh cold spring water all year. 





We drove through Los Cantos, La Monzona, Caserto las Lucas and Los Ibanez Bajos as the road began to climb towards Olba.  Here we're going through a valley with picturesque towns creeping down the hill into the valley below, a little stream running through the center with tall aspen trees on either side whose golden leaves are floating on the wind like lost feathers.




In Olba we stopped to see the cemetery there, a typical Spanish cemetary encircled by a stone wall.  Inside are only walls of boxes carved with the name and date, inset on some with a photo and with others a vase for flowers fresh or plastic.  They're very clean and stark here in comparison to the old French cemeteries with the crumbling carved headstones from eons ago.

Just past Olba where the river Rubielos meets Mijares, is this dramatic view and a small turnout just past.  Here are two aquaducts, the older from the middle ages and the newer finished in 1905 and still functioning today to help transport water throughout the chain of villages in this valley.  A path leads behind it to a tiny little paradise, as tranquil as it is picturesque with clear reflective waters and this tiny "Fountain of Health" nearly hidden under a rocky overhang.











This herder has 300 goats with him and two dogs.  We chatted a bit while his goats grazed, then he moved to cross the street and let his dogs go to work.  It was a symphony of bleats and the clank of metal bells.  Undisciplined children are these hiding in bushes and eating everything in sight.  Even when I thought all the goats had gone by, the man made a curt sound to his dog who took off into the bushes and flushed out 10 more goats several with long strands of green vine hanging out of their mouth.

They aren't for milk which surprises me.  I've seen a lot more goat cheese than goat meat on the menus.  Not true for sheep who share equal billing on menus with their cheese.

The sheep were controlled by a couple with their two dogs, but they only watched us as we watched them and weren't available to chat.

Yet another great day worth repeating with more time... water, old villages, and farm animals!  You can't get much better than that.