La Mancha (2004)

La Mancha (2004)[1] The year 2005 marks the 400-year anniversary of the publication of the first part of Don Quijote.[2] There are, as one might expect, many commemorative activities and celebrations afoot.[3] I’m not quite sure why—although I’ve always loved DQ-- but I fell into a sort of Quijote frenzy, and I decided to go with the flow and enter into the spirit of what was developing around me. I began with a book-buying orgy.[4] And when Blanca had several days off, I proposed that we head out again to explore the heart of Quijote territory.[5] December 4, Saturday. Before we left, we had a wedding to attend: two colleagues of Blanca´s from work, Esther and Juan Miguel. The event was in a church in Altea, a charming village—quintessentially Mediterranean, says Blanca--north of Alfás. This old part of town seems light-years away from the frightful tourist blight down at the beach.

After the ceremony, we headed to the Altea Hills Melia Hotel, which is part of a large “luxury” development that reminds one of Cancun. The presentation was classy: open bar, canapés, and multi-course luncheon, with unlimited excellent white and red wine. The Full Monty.

What should have been a convivial occasion was ruined for me by the ubiquitous tobacco smoke. On entering the hotel, many people lit up and kept lit up for, what seemed to me, hours on end. When we sat down at our assigned tables, three people opposite me and the whole table beside me started in. After 15 minutes I was feeling queasy, and my head was pounding. I felt panic, physical and social. Even when I went out for fresh air I was disgusted by the stink of my own clothes. After four hours I couldn’t take any more, and we said our goodbyes. The gas-chamber model of social interaction continues to be my main problem living in Spain. December 5, Sunday. We were on the road fairly early. The route goes north through Albacete, a rather nondescript provincial capital. The place is famous for its knives, and we enjoyed visiting the knife museum, which has specimens of every kind of cutting device one can imagine.

We walked around for a bit, stopping at the Cathedral and several bars along the way.

On route, we passed through Alcaraz, a small village with an attractive 17th-century plaza. About 3 kms outside of town, via a back road, we visited the charming Los Batanes.

Late in the afternoon, we arrived in Almagro, near Ciudad Real, where we had several strokes of good luck. The first was to find La Posada de Almagro (tel 926-26-12-01; 58€), an extremely attractive complex, built around a central courtyard, filled with rustic farm implements. We had great migas (fried bread crumbs with garlic) at bar San Cristóbal.

The Plaza Mayor of Almagro is very impressive. It’s a rectangular esplanade, flanked on two sides by a triple-decked 17th-century colonnade. At one end is the Ayuntamiento, and at the other is a statue of Diego de Almagro, the “conquistador” of Chile.

In the middle of one colonnade is the “Corral de las Comedias,” a restored 17th-century theatre, unique in Europe. Our second stroke of luck was that in two hours after we arrived there would be a presentation of 3 “Entremeses [short plays] Cervantinas” (“El Vizcaino Fingido,” “La Cueva de Salamanca,” “El Viejo Celoso”). We had a snack, bought some wine, and got in line at 7:00 in order to get good seats. We watched the plays, sipped our wine, and thoroughly enjoyed the experience.

After the theatre, we ate “gachas”—a flour-based emulsion with fried pork bits and garlic--at a spectacular-restaurant-bar next to the hotel. December 6, Monday. Alter breakfast in an open-air cafe facing the Plaza (“Meson Las Nieves”), we explored Almagro, which I would rate as one of the most attractive Spanish villages I´ve visited. This one is a “must see.”

Blanca did some serious shopping. The region is famous for its lace work, and she stocked up on presents for many friends. The baby bibs (for the expected grandchild and for Sophia Sousa) were especially cute. We also found a passable bookstore, where we bought several Quijotes, guidebooks, and maps.

We had a hearty lunch of migas and gachas and got on the road.

We arrived at El Toboso late in the afternoon. We drove around a bit, looking for “La Casa de La Torre.” The town is not as visually arresting as is Almagro, but it is tranquil in the extreme, and it exudes the requisite spirit. On many street corners there are plaques with quotations from the

Quijote. The houses are sparkling white. The church has a high tower, which is visible from much of the village. (“Con la Iglesia hemos dado . ..”).

Dulcinea del Toboso. Every knight, thinks Don Quijote, must have a lady, to whom he can dedicate his adventures and send his vanquished foes. Don Q´s is a village peasant named Aldonza Lorenzo, whom he selects for this high honor, although she hasn’t a clue as to what’s going on. El Toboso is the geographical epicenter of the Quijote, and Cervantes doesn’t hesitate to talk a lot about it, although he does not wish to recall the name of Don Quijote´s own village. (“En un lugar de la Mancha, de cuyo nombre no quiero accordarme . . .”(I.1).

“Casa de la Torre” (http://www.casadelatorre.com/; tel. 925-56-80-06))[6] The Casa de La Torre is a 14-room hospedería built in a restored 17th-century mansion. Each of its 14 guestrooms is decorated according to a different theme, and each has a name. Ours was “Artesonado” [“wooden ceiling”]. There are several libraries and sitting rooms, and a large salon for dining. The walls are lined with Quijote-related paintings, prints, and other memorabilia. Every detail—the abundant woodwork, the restored period furniture, the bed linen, the numerous antique objects and artefacts--reflects a loving perfectionism. The house took ten years to restore, although the quality of the result makes this slim figure hard to believe.

Isabel Fernández Morales. Don Quijote has a housekeeper: “Tenía en su casa una ama que pasaba de los cuarenta . . .” (I., 1). The real-life contemporary counterpart of Quijote´s “ama” is Isabel Fernández Morales. She´s a bit past fifty, short, with dark brown hair and an enchanting smile. (There´s an impressive portrait of her, done by her octogenarian uncle, in the main library.) She is consumed with Quijote and has dedicated her life to creating an atmosphere in which her guests can capture the spirit of the great knight. She invites you to enter a world that never was, but has always been: a fantasy world that enables the ¨real¨ one. Her guests are all ¨potential Quijotes.” Rare invitation!

Quijote´s ama was zealous in her attempt to burn her master´s books (I., 6). Isabel is even more zealous about preserving them. There´s a copy of the Quijote in every guest’s room, and there are shelves and bookcases scattered throughout the house with countless editions and related material.

Isabel´s passion for Cervantes is just one manifestation of her frenetic energy. She does virtually everything connected with the hotel: cleaning the rooms, shopping, cooking, serving, making reservations, doing embroidery, She also animates numerous cultural projects: meetings, conferences, lectures, readings; she battles an obtuse bureacracy in an effort to conserve and respect a rapidly disappearing heritage. She is in perpetual motion, in need of little sustenance apart from the nourishment provided by her all-consuming obsession.

The first night’s dinner—served at 9:15--was a delight. The main course was “Bacalao del Caballero.” We were sitting next to a bookcase, and we couldn’t resist getting up from time to time to pluck out volumes and bring them back to the table. Blanca´s favourite was a collection of Spanish proverbs, every one of which she knows.[7] I leafed through a number of guidebooks. Curiously there was, among the coffee-table editions and works of literature, a volume on etiquette. I wondered what a Spanish “authority” on good form has to say about smoking. I found the relevant section. Its only recommendation on the subject is that gentlemen who find themselves in the company of a woman who smokes and has forgotten her cigarettes should buy her two packs and not accept repayment. Take that for refinement! December 7, Tuesday. Breakfast was sumptuous. We were served by a friendly young Rumanian woman named Ana, who’d been in the Spain for two years. (Rumanians make up one of the largest immigrant communities.) She told us about her son, who had come here speaking only Rumanian and now, at the age of 5, speaks perfect Spanish. She said that she asked her son’s teacher not to praise him so effusively in front of the Spanish mothers, for fear of provoking their jealousy. The issue of immigration in Spain is as controversial as it is in the U.S.

We then went out to explore the village. The first stop was the Centro Cervantino. The museum features over 400 editions of the Quijote, in numerous languages (Basque, Chinese, Japanese, Korean, Polish, Russian), many donated and signed by important political and literary figures, including Franco, Strosssner, and Aznar. (Needless to say, George Bush did not contribute.) The next stop was the Casa Dulcinea, a 17-century house with period fittings, rustic farm implements etc. There was also a huge pigeon coop, whose smell has undoubtedly not changed in 400 years.

Across from the Casa Dulcinea is a wonderful shop called “La Aldaba” [“doorknocker”], which features antiques, books, prints, woodwork, pottery, etc. In the courtyard, there’s a set of armour (breastplate, arm greaves, shield, lance, and a “yelmo de Membrino” helmet) available for customers to put on and have their pictures taken. I couldn’t resist. Once armed, I noticed a young girl, perhaps 9 or 10, who was looking at me and giggling. I approached her and delivered—kneeling and addressing her as “my Dulcinea”--a Quijotesque harangue that I think traumatized her for life.

The owner of the shop is a delightful man named Paco Ramirez Fuentes, who took an indulgent attitude toward my antics with his clients. (Maybe his patience was helped along when he realized that Blanca was buying up half his store!)

Along with numerous other items (books, prints, statues, leather diaries, pots), we found several rustic lamps, which will be perfect for the stone wall in Alcántara. We persuaded Paco to extract 4 rusted nails from several old boards on which to hang them. We agreed that he would make us a coat rack, constructed from an antique wooden washing board. He showed us his workshop, where he makes and restores all manner of antiques, wickerwork, frames, and other ancient chotchkas.

Paco told us that he had a restored house nearby, and he offered to show it to us. When we got there we met his wife Mari Angeles, who didn’t seem to mind a bit that two complete strangers were going to take a tour of her house. Suffice it to say that the place is rather astonishing. In addition to its sheer spaciousness, the stone column on the first floor, the various pieces of expertly refurbished furniture, the most striking features are the thick rustic wooden beams and the “1620” carved on one of the stone walls.

When we got back from Paco´s, we sat down in one of the salons with Isabel and some wine and tapas. She told us about her life and her passion for Cervantes. Sadly, her story includes a recent break-up with her husband (he left her for a young Russian), who took the family house and gave it to his girlfriend. Isabel got the ¨Casa de la Torre,” which is still heavily mortgaged. She complained bitterly about the difficulty of making a go of it financially with her self-imposed constraints. She loathes mass tourism and wants only guests who will come for the cultural atmosphere and the experience of entering her particular fantasy. She laments the fact that this type of clientele is nowadays a rare commodity. She cringes at the idea of hordes of tour-bus barbarians tramping through her beloved dreamworld.

With great excitement in her eyes, she explained one of her current projects, and she asked for our collaboration. She is putting together her own edition of the Quijote, based on a unique concept. Each chapter will be copied out in longhand by a different Quijote lover, on parchment, in black ink with red initial capitals. The chapters will be in various languages. At the end of each, the copyist will write a short biographical account of him- or herself. The completed manuscript will be published in time for the 2005 celebrations. We enthusiastically accepted the offer to participate. Blanca will do Ch.17 in Valenciano, and I´ll do Ch.18 in English. The names of various friends who I thought might like to contribute jumped into my head: Frank, in Portuguese? Giulio, in Italian or Spanish? Manfred, in German? Ana, in Basque? We´ll see.

Isabel called me out into the hall and slipped me a piece of parchment, on which was written Quijote´s letter to Dulcinea.[8] “Don´t tell Blanca. Tonight when we go out for a walk, you’ll read it aloud. So study it!” O.K. During the next several hours, I furtively disappeared from time to time in order to familiarize myself with the text. I also sneaked my LED mini-light out of my bag and stashed it in my pocket.

When we went in to dinner, Isabel sat us at the same table with Mallorcans Bernat and Francisca, a couple in their 60´s. (They will do a chapter for Isabel in Mallorquin, a dialect of Catalán.) They were pleasant dinner companions. We talked about travelling and adventures. Isabel joined us for dessert and cava.

After dinner, we took a walk through the village with Isabel and the couple from Palma. At various points, Isabel read relevant passages from the Quijote.

As we passed the 17th-century Monasterio de las Trinitarias Recoletas, we heard singing: nuns at their nightly vigil.. Isabel suggested that we go in. She introduced us to the Mother Superior, a bubbly old lady, who described the operation. There are 9 nuns in residence, four from Madagascar. (The contrast between the Africans´ dark brown skin and their bright white habits made for an invidious comparison with the pasty-faced Spaniards.) In the center of the chapel lie the remains of the founder of the Order, which are said to be capable of working miracles. (It briefly crossed my mind to ask for a Harley, but I restrained myself.) We also met a very friendly and knowledgeable young man who was studying to be a priest. He later showed us some of the older Jewish and Moslem sections of town and provided a lively commentary.

When we got to the Casa de Dulcinea, Isabel gave me my cue, and I whipped out my parchment, my glasses, and my light. I dropped to my knee in front of Blanca and read Quijote´s letter. I think she was favourable impressed.

When we got back to the hotel, it was past 1:00. We took leave of Bernat and Fransisca, who would be leaving early for Madrd the next morning. I suggested that Isabel should get some sleep. December 8, Wednesday. We got up late and had a huge breakfast with Isabel. Then she took us on a further tour of the house, including the cavernous and mouldy cellar with a 17th century tinajon and a well. We packed up and got ready to leave. It was hard to say goodbye..[9]

On the way out of town, we stopped at Paco´s, where Blanca bought more stuff. We left by way of a dirt road, leading I knew not where. It turned out to be going in the wrong direction, but no matter. We came out near a hill with 5 beautifully preserved windmills. We got going back in the right direction and made it back to Polop in about 4 hours, including a lunch-stop for sepia, manchego cheese, and wine.

There are times when the gods of the road really come through for you. This trip was one of them. We came back energized, refreshed, our heads filled with images and fantasies. And that was--and always is--, after all, the point. [1] Castilla La Mancha is made up of the provinces of Toledo, Cuenca, Ciudad Real, Albacete, and Guadalajara.

[2] The first part, published in 1605 in Madrid by Juan de La Cuesta, was followed by Part II in 1615. A year earlier, a mysterious fraudulent “continuation” was published by a pseudonymous Francisico de Avellaneda. When Cervantes published Part II , he alludes to and forcefully criticizes the interloper.

[3] The government of Castilla-La Mancha has put together a great website: http://www.elquijote.com/. The Cervantes Project also has an extremely useful site, which includes a Quijote dictionary.

[4] I bought seven editions, including a beautiful volume illustrated by Dali, another by Doré, and several more popular versions. The most philologically serious of the recent spate is the two-volume “Instituto de Cervantes” edition, overseen by Franciso Rico. Rico also is the general editor of an IV Centenary edition, put out under the auspices of the Real Academia Española. A “luxury” leather-bound edition is on order.

[5] We had visited La Mancha several weeks before, when we went to Cuenca. We had stayed in El Toboso—in the Hostal Dulcinea--two years ago, when we were returning from Extremadura, but we arrived late on a Sunday afternoon, when everything was closed. One of the most interesting “Quijote” experiences from the past was the visit to the excellent museum, dedicated to DQ, in Guanajuato, Mexico.

[6] There is a fine description of the hotel and of Isabel in, Las Rutas del Quijote , by Antonio Aradillas (2004).

[7] Many traditional Spanish proverbs come from or are found in the Quijote. Sancho is a great source of proverbs. In Almagro, I bought Refranes, Dichos y Sentencias del Quijote, by J. Leyva, which I plan to study in depth in an attempt to garner favor with Blanca´s mom, a great aficionada of verbal folk wisdom.

[8] The text is from Ch.25 of Part I: “Soberana y alta señora: El ferido de punta de ausencia y el llagado de las telas del corazón, dulcísimo Dulcinea del Toboso, te envía la salud que él no tiene. Si tu hermosura me desprecia, si tu valor no es mi pro, si tus desdenes son en mi afincamiento, moguer que yo sea asaz de sufrido, mal podré sostenerme en esta cuita, que, además de ser fuerte, es muy duradera. Mi buen escudero Sancho te dará entera relación, ¡oh bella ingrata, amada enemiga mía! Del modo que por tu causa quedo: si gustares de acorrerme, tuyo soy; y si no, haz lo que te viniere en gusto; que con acabar mi vida habré satisfecho a tu crueldad y mi deseo. Tuyo hasta la muerte. El Caballero de la Triste Figura.”

[9] I wrote in Isabel´s guestbook: “En un lugar de La Mancha, cuyo nombre es El Toboso, en una venta que se llama ´La Casa de la Torre,´ con su brillante ama Isabel, hemos encontrado unas chispas del fuego eterno del espíritu universal de Cervantes y su magistral Don Quijote.¡Menudo experiencia!