20 September 2009

Albarracín

I expected metal-armored soldiers and petticoat-clad women to appear around each corner. I suppose a more accurate daydream would involve burka-wearing women and turbaned men, since Albarraín was one of the last Arabic hold-outs in Spain. Albarracín, a medieval Spanish town, was our school’s destination this weekend. Every building is made of stone, and to preserve the unique aesthetics of the city, gesso is the only adornment allowed on houses. The town is ideal for defense, surrounding by a small river on one side and large hills on the other. Enhancing the natural barriers is an incredible stone wall, a structure whose beauty seems to deny its purpose as a

tool for violence and war. The views of the city (only 1,200 people live there, but in negotiations a few hundred years ago, Albarracín secured the right to always be called a city) from the top of the wall are amazing.

We departed from Zaragoza at 8:30 on Friday morning and arrived at the hostel where we spent the night around 2 o’clock – lunchtime. We had stopped for a few hours at Teruel, another town rife with history and the capital of the province to the south of Zaragoza. Teruel has a lovely church and is famous for its mudéjar architecture.

Albarracín was the perfect spot for our short retreat, however. I loved the silence, a stark contrast to the city (I’m writing this at 11:20 on Saturday night, and the streets five stories below the windows are bustling and murmuring; they will until dawn). A particularly wonderful treat was our stop on Saturday on the way back north: we visited a forest with prehistoric rock paintings. However, rather than starring the art, for me the highlight of the very short hike through the sandstone-filled pine forest was its inspiration of memories of the lovely woods of Western Massachusetts and traversing them with classmates last spring. Another familiarity: people tap the trees in the area, although the sap is not used for sweet syrup but for paint thinner. Essential for artists. Detrimental to pancakes – but they don’t exist here, so it’s okay.

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