“Extremely Tough” is a rough translation of
Extremadura, the autonomous community in Spain through which Brad and I traveled this weekend. Extremadura is not a barren hard place as its name might suggest. Much of the area (directly north of Andalucía) undulates between hilly pastures populated with happy-looking livestock and lush mountains covered in graceful trees and cheerful wildflowers. Extremadura is not a big tourist destination and you’re hard-pressed to find anything bigger than villages . . . that’s why we went.
Fifty years ago,
Life Magazine did a piece on Extremadura. At that time, in the middle of the Franco regime, Extremadura was poor, with conditions bordering on third-world. If strangers entered a town, inhabitants would fearfully disappear into their houses. The descriptive photographs that showed up in
Life were deeply embarrassing to the Spanish government, and they began serious efforts to improve conditions in Extremadura. Today, inhabitants still look at you when you drive through the tiny farming villages, but only because they’re puzzled as to why you’re there.
We rented a car to explore Extremadura because many areas are practically inaccessible by bus or train. Driving through tranquil pasture land and over mountains was splendid. We were usually the only car on the road and we could stop whenever we wanted to take photos of cows, sheep or pigs grazing. (Call me a city girl, but roaming livestock and rolling hills delight me.)
Pigs eating bellotas, or acorns, under squatty Spanish oak trees. Acorn-fed black pigs like these become jamón ibérico – famous Spanish cured ham. These pigs are only raised in Extremadura and Andalucía.We spent one night in Trujillo, home of Francisco Pizarro. Pizarro sent back lots of his silver money once he’d made a mess in Peru, and built mansions for himself and his family members there. Not much has changed in Trujillo since then (500 years ago). Trujillo is very rocky and hilly; oddly, it reminded us very much of Siena in Tuscany. In a word, it’s understated.
Plaza Mayor, the center of town. The statue is of Pizarro.
Trujillo is also full of storks and swallows. Extremadura is known for its bird wildlife. In any city or town, you see dozens of large stork nests perched on top of the highest buildings. The tops of steeples are especially good real estate if you’re a stork.
A stork nest
After a drive from Trujillo, through the pastures, into the mountains, you’re in vulture country. Rare species of carrion-eating birds live in the national park,
Monfragüe, in northeast Extremadura. Spring is a wonderful time to visit Extremadura because it’s filled with blooming flora and baby animals – calves, lambs and piglets! (Baby vultures aren’t as cute so I didn’t really look for any.) Anyway, hiking in Parque Monfragüe was definitely on our itinerary.
We parked at the outpost near the park, bought a couple sandwiches and set off. We took the
Itenerario Verde, a trail lined with bright wildflowers that took us over streams, past fields and up a mountain for a view of the river and a 9th century Moorish castle on the opposite mountaintop. I was taught that picnicking on a rock in the middle of stream – without any sound of cars, machinery or people – is the nicest way you’ll ever dine. It's true. Throughout our day in Monfragüe, the phrase, “all creation proclaims God’s glory,” kept popping into my head.
After our hike, we drove our way down the mountains, through more pastures, over streams, up other mountains and arrived in the hamlet of Guadalupe. Guadalupe is nestled in the
Sierra Viejas, and a view from above shows you that the center of the town is dominated by the stone structures of the 14th century monastery and church and the 15th century hospital. The hospital has been turned into a state-run
Parador – a fancy old building of historic significance in an out-of-the-way place – and we spent the night there.
Guadalupe, with the monastery on the right and mountains in the background
Guadalupe is so beautiful. Brad noted that it could be an Alpine village because it is surrounded by high, lush mountains. When we arrived, we were a bit grungy from our hike and a bit road-weary from the mountainous drive, but we headed towards the monastery. Guadalupe is famous for the Virgin of Guadalupe, who lives at the Franciscan monastery. She is an authentic 13th century Black Madonna (painted black).
By the way, a Virgin by same name is extremely important to Mexican Catholics.
That Virgin of Guadalupe appeared to an indigenous Mexican. The shrine for her in Mexico City is behemoth and it was utterly packed when we visited it years ago. The Virgin in Extremadura, however, made her appearance before the one in Mexico.
View from the courtyard in the monastery
The last guided tour of the monastery had already left by the time we got there, but they allowed us to join up with the group. We were taken through a huge hall where the monks dress for mass – it’s filled with paintings by Zurbaran. Then to a circular room with a multitude of treasures on display. Everything in the room – from the intricate crown covered with diamonds, to the embroidered and beaded capes, to the massive Murano glass chandelier from Venice – was a gift to the Virgin. Our tour also went up to the choir loft in the back of the church – even though a wedding was taking place. We got up to the large loft just as the soloist, accompanied by a friar on the organ, began to sing
Panis Angelicus. Below, we could see the wedding guests receiving the sacrament.
At the end of the tour, our group was left in the care of a real Franciscan friar. He was to take us to see
the Virgin. He led us up a wide stairway to a fancy anteroom. He told us about the Baroque paintings and sculptures in the room – all of which depicted strong women from the Bible. He then led the group in reciting the
Hail Mary before he unlocked the doors to reveal the Virgin.
The Virgin was very striking because her small black face and hands are the only parts of her body that are visible. The rest of her was covered in a hot pink head covering and cape. Brad and I couldn’t get too close because the friar stood next to her and invited the group to kiss the Virgin’s cloak and pay her homage. I didn’t have any specific requests to ask of the Virgin, so I hung back.
Before our group had cleared out, the mother of the bride and the bride herself had come up to pay the Virgin their respects. The mother was wearing a lovely blue outfit and, in her hair, she had a comb covered in black lace that hung down her back. Worn with a black dress, this comb called a
mantilla is the mourning dress worn by women during Semana Santa. The mantilla is also worn at very formal occasions.
The mother of the bride leaving the church
A photo of the Virgin in one of her other outfitsWe watched the wedding guests disperse, and then walked around the monastery to have a drink at the bar inside. The atmosphere at the monastery was a bit too serious to really enjoy a glass of wine (the Jesuits are better than the Franciscans when it comes to having a drink and a good time.) To complete our evening, we dined at the Parador where we were staying. The food was unbelievably good. Brad had duck. I had pork with cheese sauce – every bit as decadent as it sounds. And we had cava to drink; it seemed that we should celebrate having such a wonderful time on our last excursion out of Sevilla.
As an added treat on our way back home, we drove through Miajadas, the self-proclaimed “European Tomato Capital.” We didn’t have time to sample any tomatoes, but we got a great view of the tomato water tower on our way out of town. Since I also come from a region where giant water towers are shaped like prized fruits, it was a special moment for me.
