Spanish Spring

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I love Spain in Spring.  The mild weather, with it’s cool breezes,
fresh air and warm sunny skies spread over the early part of the year
making everything seem somehow peaceful.  When the sun breaks through,
temperatures can reach the early 20′s, but storms can still sweep in to
drench the land with heavy rains and paint the sky with fierce flashes
of lightning.

This is the ideal time to explore the beautiful scenery of Spain,
fearing neither frostbite nor sunburn.  You can walk around comfortably
without being burdened down by ten layers, hats and boots, and don’t
have to stop every half hour to reapply your factor 40. 

A couple of weeks ago I ventured out with family to see some of the
local area where I have no moved to.  I love the fact that on most of
Spain’s coast you can travel from sea to mountains within an hour or
so.  And if you are brave enough to drive off the beaten track and
follow your nose through the windy, dusty roads there are always some
pleasant surprises to be had.

We drove up to the Natural Park of Sierra Espuña and spent some time
exploring the hills, towns and villages around Alhama de Murcia, Totana
and Pliego.  I am always surprised by the pine forests just a few miles
inland from where the coastal landscape is lush with tropical palm
trees.  These are one of my favorite things about Spain, as they are
always fragrant and green.

While driving through the area a wide statue on a hilltop caught our
eye, and we decided to stop and take a look.  Many mountain villages
have statues erected above them, where the effigy of the saint can look
over the village and protect it from harm.  This one was erected in
1958,  and I wondered how much it had managed to protect these
townspeople from the bloodshed of the communism of that era.

The statue’s location certainly offered us some stunning views of the valley and mountains around.

D and I tend to call these little remote villages ‘murdervilles’.  Now,
we have no reason for that (sorry, no Texas Chain Saw Massacre style
myth) other than the fact that the road into such places always seem to
be guarded by a mangy looking wild dog that barks at your car as you
pass and a little man who looks as old as the hills, with a cap, a
walking stick, and a look in his eye that makes it clear that they are
wary of strangers.

This little village was no difference, and as we were enjoying the view
from the statue, D noticed a group of the aforementioned men gathering
around our car where it was parked at the bottom of the hill.   We
found it momentarily funny, as these men studied our number plate and
peered through the windows as if they had never seen such a vehicle
before (just a rental Ford) but hilarity ended in a mad scramble down
the hill when we spied a tow truck appearing on the road.  As we
arrived the men dispersed and the tow truck seemed to have
coincidentally arrived to come to the rescue of an ancient three
wheeled van that seemed more rust than steel, but we drove off sharpish
anyway.

Even if you don’t find a convenient or safe place to park,  the drive
through Spanish wilderness is a treat in itself.  There are plenty of
wildflowers in Spain, and at this time of year purplish flowers bloom
in any low lying, flat area,  and the fields are full of lilac lakes. 
The white flowers of wild garlic dotted around the hillside give the
appearance of snowdrifts,  and although most of the trees in orchards
are bare and the rows upon rows of citrus trees are dormant,  here and
there a stray almond tree defies nature with a stunning display of soft
pink petals that peek out from it’s straggly branches.

All of Spain is steeped with centuries of history. You don’t need to
seek it out,  you are sure to stumble upon it anywhere you go.  We
visited an amazing old castle built upon the rock of a hilltop.  It is
humbling to walk around something so old,  something so lasting.  The
architecture and accomplishment involved in such a building are awe
inspiring, although any notion of nobility and honor were diminished by
the knowledge that this particular castle was built as a fortress home
for the ruling Lord of the area to protect him from townspeople
rebelling against his tyranical rule.  There is so much irony in how
something borne out of suffering and cruelty can be so beautiful and so
permanent.   That, for me, is one of the great riddles of Spain.