La Alberca
The village of La Alberca is nestled in the northern slopes of la Sierra de Francia, close to the border with Portugal. This terrain is called the Dehesa, a remnant of the original forests that once covered Europe.
The La Alberca that Ruth and I experienced back in the 1960's was a primitive place: the roads reflected the ravages of time, cobble stones were loose or missing in the plaza mayor with its simple granite cross. The traditional houses surrounding the square were made of granite, stone and wooden beams, many with three floors, each with a different function. A "burro" or two wandered through the square when we were there, and then there was a privileged pig who trotted the alleyways of the village.
I learned that each year on June 13th, the feast day of Santo Antonio, the villagers dedicated one piglet to their favorite saint, and released it into the streets to wander where it may. The pig was nurtured by all until the next January when it was sacrificed at the matanza.
As you can imagine, it did not take much effort for Ruth and me to imagine ourselves in medieval times, hundreds of years in the past. But before we romanticized too much, we realized that the rustic touches of their local way of life were not the choice of the villagers, or to entertain tourists, they were the result of poverty (...).
That La Alberca was a living functioning town when we visited was a tribute to the resilience of the Spanish people. I found it beautifully expressed by the villagers who, despite their hard life, took time to adorn with flowers the large wooden balconies of their ancient houses.
When Ruth and I returned to La Alberca 10 years later, in the 1970's, we could see the first hints of what prosperity could bring. There in the town plaza we saw piles of new cobblestones, with workmen artfully laying them, one by one, by hand. The aura of the town was one of optimism a time of rebuilding. The town had been declared a National Heritage site, and tourism was beginning to bring a new face to the town.
With my sons Tim and Jonathan, I returned to La Alberca in 2005.
I decided to return to the old Plaza Mayor, to see what had happened to it over the ensuing years since my first visit. I found that the cobblestones were neatly laid out and in good repair. The 12th Century granite cross was still at the center. Tourists were mingling with the townspeople at the local cafes. The houses flanking the square were beautifully restored. There were no animals sheltered on the ground floor of the dwellings.
"This is quite a change", I thought to myself. Then, at that moment, I saw a priest, with two altar boys piously making their way across the ancient plaza to the parish church, behind a raised processional cross. As the three disappeared from sight, a mule meandered by. On his back was a bundle of golden straw. It could have been hundreds of years ago.
Much has transpired since the Civil War of 1936, nevertheless when I see family working together for generations, the rural way of life, the Church to me this is the essence of traditional Spain. I feel no regrets. The traditional Spain we have loved in the past is alive and well in our modern times.
Don Harris
The Heart of Spain
<a href="http://www.blog.tienda.com"
La Alberca
The village of La Alberca is nestled in the northern slopes of la Sierra de Francia, close to the border with Portugal. This terrain is called the Dehesa, a remnant of the original forests that once covered Europe.
The La Alberca that Ruth and I experienced back in the 1960's was a primitive place: the roads reflected the ravages of time, cobble stones were loose or missing in the plaza mayor with its simple granite cross. The traditional houses surrounding the square were made of granite, stone and wooden beams, many with three floors, each with a different function. A "burro" or two wandered through the square when we were there, and then there was a privileged pig who trotted the alleyways of the village.
I learned that each year on June 13th, the feast day of Santo Antonio, the villagers dedicated one piglet to their favorite saint, and released it into the streets to wander where it may. The pig was nurtured by all until the next January when it was sacrificed at the matanza.
As you can imagine, it did not take much effort for Ruth and me to imagine ourselves in medieval times, hundreds of years in the past. But before we romanticized too much, we realized that the rustic touches of their local way of life were not the choice of the villagers, or to entertain tourists, they were the result of poverty (...).
That La Alberca was a living functioning town when we visited was a tribute to the resilience of the Spanish people. I found it beautifully expressed by the villagers who, despite their hard life, took time to adorn with flowers the large wooden balconies of their ancient houses.
When Ruth and I returned to La Alberca 10 years later, in the 1970's, we could see the first hints of what prosperity could bring. There in the town plaza we saw piles of new cobblestones, with workmen artfully laying them, one by one, by hand. The aura of the town was one of optimism a time of rebuilding. The town had been declared a National Heritage site, and tourism was beginning to bring a new face to the town.
With my sons Tim and Jonathan, I returned to La Alberca in 2005.
I decided to return to the old Plaza Mayor, to see what had happened to it over the ensuing years since my first visit. I found that the cobblestones were neatly laid out and in good repair. The 12th Century granite cross was still at the center. Tourists were mingling with the townspeople at the local cafes. The houses flanking the square were beautifully restored. There were no animals sheltered on the ground floor of the dwellings.
"This is quite a change", I thought to myself. Then, at that moment, I saw a priest, with two altar boys piously making their way across the ancient plaza to the parish church, behind a raised processional cross. As the three disappeared from sight, a mule meandered by. On his back was a bundle of golden straw. It could have been hundreds of years ago.
Much has transpired since the Civil War of 1936, nevertheless when I see family working together for generations, the rural way of life, the Church to me this is the essence of traditional Spain. I feel no regrets. The traditional Spain we have loved in the past is alive and well in our modern times.
Don Harris
The Heart of Spain
<a href="http://www.blog.tienda.com"