May 12th, 2008 - Trujillo, tired old town

From Toledo, we continued our western trek across Spain and stopped for a while in the little 9,000 population town of Trujillo in the region of Extremadura. Perched on a hill - what else - about 1250 feet above sea level between the rivers Tagus and Guadiana, Trujillo is crowned by, guess what, its Moorish Castle built on Roman foundations. The origins of this little burg extend back 600 years BCE and of course ran the usual gamut of Celts, Romans, Goths and Moors before it was reconquered by the Christians in 1232.
Despite Trujillo’s early medieval presence, most surviving monuments are from the 15th and 16th centuries. Trujillo is associated with the birth place of the Spanish Conquistadors and several famous folk were born there or otherwise have been linked to its the history. Examples include Francisco Pizarro founder of Lima (Peru not Ohio) and conqueror of Peru; Garcia Paredes, the Sampson of Extremadura founded the city of Trujillo in Venezuela; Francisco de Orellana who discovered the Amazon; Nuflo de Chavez, founder of Santa Cruz in Bolivia and so on. The legacy of the Conquistadors is evidenced in the wealth of noble monuments and mansions in the city. The Plaza Mayor, the city's focal point, features an equestrian sculpture of Francisco Pizarro. See here for more pictures.

How to feel old without really trying

The first thing of course is to have offspring - these have a powerful tendency to age parents beyond their years without effort. Next, before you know it, grand-kids are beginning to sprout and one thinks back to those wizened old critters who, when we were still in knee pants, would visit and insist on doling out rib-crushing hugs and jelly-fish kisses. They were of course - GRAND PARENTS - and, for better or worse, we had morphed into just that! Even though, in our hearts, we were still lusty 28 year olds frozen in time at an age when everything worked as nature intended, a glance in a mirror told the daunting truth - we had become the current day wizened old critters.
After a little rationalization, things did not seem too bad, however. Grand kids have excellent petting zoo qualities - visit, indulge, leave - all without having to feed, clean or train. Better yet, grand kids have few reasons to hate grand parents and, from time to time, even show signs of friendliness. Not too bad, after all.
But wait, there's more! This morning at 9:07 AM EDT, great grand kid #1 was born. With three generations in attendance, mother Amber, grandmother Martine and great-grandmother Marian along with 14 hospital staff, the ranting bundle known as Henry Hall slithered into the world. Weighing in at more than 10-1/2 pounds and just shy of 2 feet tall, I was really happy that my role was limited to staying home in case the phone rang - another lucky escape!
Amazing how complex birthing has become from the days when our kids were born at home with intermittent visits by the family doctor and a midwife who were tending to as many as four other births in the same day.

World Wide Photo-Walk

Yesterday, there was a world wide photo-walk organized by a photographer and author by name of Scott Kelby. No big deal, just an opportunity for photo-freaks to get together and wander around town taking pictures, in more of a social humor than might ordinarily be expected from such folk. The walks were concluded by lunch at a local restaurant and pictures, worldwide, will be collected together for selection of the best.
More than 400 cities from 40 plus countries fielded a total in excess of 7,000 photographers, so many snaps must have been taken! With a limit of 50 to each group, larger cities fielded several groups and, hopefully a good time was had by all.
The Fort Wayne mob, shown here, numbered in the forties and, although the forecast rain did not spoil our parade, it was nevertheless oppressively hot and humid. The top picture is a statue of "Mad" Anthony Wayne, the military commander sent to neutralize the Indian threat in the early 19th century and the namesake of the city. With its list of attraction (The Zoo) there is nothing much of note in Fort Wayne but now you can click here to verify what you thought you knew all along.

May 11th, 2008 - Toledo (Spain, not Ohio)

From Segovia, we had intended visit Avila but Mother Nature was not being helpful - even bombarding us with snow during the climb back over the mountain. We decided therefore, to continue on to Toledo where at least there was a campground and we could regroup from there. The following day, my birthday, turned out to be a great improvement and we gladly cycled off to town.
Successively a Roman municipium, the capital of the Visigothic Kingdom, a fortress of the Emirate of Cordoba, an outpost of the Christian kingdoms fighting the Moors and, in the 16th century, the temporary seat of supreme power under Charles V, Toledo fairly hums with more than 2,000 years of history. El Greco hung out here for the second half of his life and lots of murder and mayhem kept the population on its toes between wars. See more pics here.

May 9th, 2008 - Super Segovia

From Chinchilla we drove to Madrid, the capital of Spain. The weather was foul when the day started and just got worse. Having tracked down the selected campsite and discovered it to be a barbed wire and weed protected space between a frenetically busy industrial park and a major freeway, we had lunch and left. As for Madrid, any glimpses we did get were marred by rain and were few and far between to boot. Madrid has embraced the European "Cut and Cover" urban highway management scheme wholeheartedly. Practically every through road has been dropped 20 feet or so below the surface, the "Cut" part, and then roofed over with structural concrete, the "Cover" part, to render the entire arterial system into a nerve-wracking high-speed subterranean warren. We sped north, glad to be leaving the metropolis.
To reach Segovia, about 45 miles north of Madrid, the 601 highway snakes over the Siete Picos (Siete Peaks) reaching about 8,000 feet before descending again into the Castilla Y Leon region. The cloud capped mountain was part of the view from the campsite. The following day brought a lucky 5 hour break in the weather when the rain slackened to showers and we jumped on the bikes and rode to town. See more Segovioa here.

May 7th, 2008 - Almansa and Chinchilla

From the Mediterranean coast we headed inland pronto - a little Spanish language there - to escape the frantic lifestyle of the claustrophobic Costas. There are only 1200 campsites in the whole of Spain and we were to learn that straying from the usual tourist tracks into the inland plains and mountains meant respecting this reality. This became apparent on the first night away from the coast.
After a relaxed drive into the hinterland we stopped for a while in Almansa, a small city built around the Castillo de Almansa, which was originally a key Islamic military enclave built to reinforce the northern frontier of Arab Spain. For more snaps around town, click here.
This area of Spain is known as Castille la Mancha, so called for the abundance of castles, and our objective after leaving Almansa was the town of Chinchilla de Monte Aragón. Located on a hill that overlooks the plains of La Mancha, the town of Chinchilla has a 15th century castle and a medieval historic quarter. With no campsite to be found, we overnighted in the parking lot of a truckers motel, nestled between numerous huge trucks. The following day, the weather caught up with us with steady rain that looked set for the day. Here is "the" picture we took before departing.

Spain and Spaniards

The Iberian peninsula, that southwestern lump of Europe that is home to Spain and Portugal, is now off our "must do" list. It is also off our "do it again" list.
From Montserrat we passed by Barcelona without pause, since we had visited there last winter and had no desire to return. Continuing down the Mediterranean coast we had intended to visit Valencia and possibly another town or two in the area. The more we saw of the area, the less we liked our plan and Valencia itself loomed as a large, traffic choked metropolis with scarcely a redeeming feature.
The entire eastern coastline in fact, is being progressively chewed up and just bristles with row after row of unprepossessing high-rise apartments and holiday homes. Construction was rife in every direction and, of course, in the last month or so, this entire industry in Spain has suffered a ruinous collapse.
Spain, the second largest country in Europe (France being the biggest) is about 2/3rd the size of Texas, with a population about twice that of Texas. Communication difficulties abound with the official recognition of five or six sub-languages in addition to basic Spanish, among them Arogonese, Asturian, Basque, Catalan, Castilian, Extremaduran and Galician. These are used regionally, many so embedded that bi-lingual road signs are used which can be quite confusing as you might imagine. Spain is also the "Land of No Left Turns". Previously, in both France and Italy, we had noticed an odd aggressiveness on the part of native road users. Same pattern with drivers in Spain and Portugal. Here is a point of view on this strange affectation.
All four of these nations were once significant world powers and all have faded almost to obscurity over the last couple of centuries. Failed by their politicians and kings, all have lost their overseas possessions and, more telling yet, have lost just about every armed conflict they have embarked on during the same period. With such an emasculated national psyche, citizens seek a revival of their downtrodden machismo through fiery driving.
Whether it's excessive speed, blowing by STOP signs, anti-social parking or simply scaring the bejeezers out of pedestrians, flouting authority via aggressive driving has in turn, invoked an imaginative new bevy of traffic control mechanisms.
Left turns are now on the endangered list and are illegal on almost all highways in Spain. "New Jersey" left turns, a right exit ramp that turns sharply to form a cross street, are provided at formerly busy left turns. Continuing to the next roundabout, executing a 180 degree turn and then driving back to complete the desired maneuver as a right turn is another common solution, complete with bi-lingual instructions. Many in-city roundabouts and intersections have also been "improved" into a form of rush-hour Russian Roulette in which nobody appears to understand the rules. More depressing yet are the draconian efforts to control speed in small towns. Miles of erstwhile broad, attractive streets suitable for two traffic lanes and a center turn lane have been restricted to two narrow tracks walled in by bollards and high curbs, just wide enough for commercial trucks and completely wasting the potential third lane. Speed along these tracks is further moderated by pedestrian crossings that are 9 inches or so higher than the rest of the road surface. Heidi has to negotiate these at 12 mph or less if her contents are to stay more or less in place.
With the pervasive liberal mindset that favors the progressive limiting of freedom until it is physically impossible to break the law, rather than simply enforcing existing laws, expect more of this silliness. Time to head for the hinterland.

May 5th, 2008 - A serrated mountain

Meandering south from Cordona it wasn't long before we began to get glimpses of a strange raggedy mountain range. The multi-talented co-pilot took a few pictures for later study. More miles, more raggedy mountain and more mystery. Finally, it dawned on us - the strange looking mountain was our target for the afternoon, the Montserrat Monastery - Montserrat = serrated mountain, duh!
One way or another, the monastery is quite a trip. Early writings suggest that activities began here around 880 CE and there are numerous rumors and fairy tales of lights, voices, and abundant miracles along with a black Madonna purportedly carved by the apostle Luke. When carbon dating indicated that the carved Madonna was produced around 1200, like the Shroud of Turin it suddenly became off limits to further study. All that aside, some reclusive stay-at-homes saw an opportunity to opt-out of worldly worries, form a monastery and profit from the ensuing stream of pilgrims. Hence was born the grotto, the monastery, a few shrines and finally the Montserrat basilica.
Over the following centuries, the monks have improved their cash-flow with the addition of a funicular railway, later augmented by a cable car, to increase the flow of punters to their restaurants and gift shops built around the monastery. Access by road is via a white knuckle, five mile drive, rising 4,000 feet around endless tree covered hairpin bends and terminating in a stiff parking fee at the top. Nice work if you can get it. See here for some of the views.

St Augustine, Florida

Having got most of the loose and broken items replaced or reattached to the new coach we bravely took off on the first leg of the shakedown tour. Curious, isn't it, that shakedown has such a sinister alternate meaning - hopefully this will not turn out to be an omen. First stop - St Augustine in northeast Florida.
On the north side of town there is, what may be, the oldest attraction in America perversely known as the Fountain of Youth. Supposedly, at this very spot, the Spaniard, Ponce de Leon, arrived in 1513 to claim possession for the Spanish King and La Florida was born. It was within the boundaries of the current park property that the oldest continuously occupied European settlement within the continental United States was formed - St. Augustine, or at least so it says in the promotional propaganda.
Anyway, we were little hesitant to shell out for some foul smelling sulfurous spring water and finally skipped the park altogether when we saw this fine lady sneaking out after sampling the Fountain of Youth. Just goes to show how deceptive these things can be.
With that settled, we wandered around town in the 95 degree heat, enjoying the awesome humidity and wishing we were dead. Overall, the city has done a pretty good job of tarting itself up for tourists - check it out and see what you think.

May 5th, 2008 - Spanish Paradors

Nothing to do with bull fights, not even another manifestation of the humble umbrella, Paradors are state owned and operated hotels. Founded in 1928, by order of King Alphonso XIII, there are currently 93 such establishments in a nationwide chain. From the beginning they were meant to provide upscale accommodations set at appropriate distance intervals around the country. The timing was perhaps a little inauspicious as the country was rapidly descending into religion fueled anarchy culminating in an exciting three year civil war in 1936. Even at that, Paradors probably provided great vantage points from which to watch the ravages as the country set about slaughtering its own with the generous, if furtive help, of the rest of Europe and the Russians.
But, why would anyone want to stay in a state owned hotel you might ask? Simple - the Paradors are medieval castles, Moorish fortresses, ancient monasteries, pleasing palaces and stately manor houses, all excellently spruced up with taxpayers money. Although one might suspect that the original scheme was simply a clever ruse to get these historic treasures off the governments budget, the plan does seem to be working with the system being both affordable and well used. The first one that we stumbled over was in Cardona shortly after we entered Spain and is a ninth century fortress - more numbing information here.

May 4th, 2008 - Andorra la Vella, Andorra

Andorra la Vella - Andorra the Old - is the capital of the co-principality of Andorra. Prior to the political liberation of this tiny nation in the 1990s, the capital city of Andorra la Vella was about it for Andorra. The rest of the country was sparsely populated and extremely rustic. The constitutional changes of 1993 galvanized the country, which has quickly become a vigorous player in tourism with 2 million visitors each year, a magnet for upscale duty free shoppers and a great place to live if you are in a burdensome tax bracket. Better yet, Andorra boasts the highest personal longevity of any country in the world, with an average life span of 83.5 years. Must be doing something right! See more pictures of this incongruous little burg right here.

May 4th, 2008, Over the top...

The smallest state in the USA is Rhode Island. At 1,045 square miles however, Rhode Island is more than 2-1/2 times the size of Andorra, a tiny landlocked country between France and Spain, high in the eastern Pyrenees. The population of Andorra in turn, is less than that of the Northern Mariana Islands and indigenous Andorrans apparently are a minority in their own country, being outnumbered by the Spanish, the French and even the English expatriates.
Folk lore has it, that Charlemagne granted a charter to the Andorran people in the 8th century, in return for their fighting against the Moors, who were trying to invade France from Spain. A skeptic might believe that the provision of a buffer zone against subsequent attacks might have been a more likely motive, but that might be cynical. Anyway, for the next brief 500 years, the ownership of Andorra followed the fortunes of various incestuous royal marriages and political intrigues finally degenerating to a point where hostilites were imminent. Thus it was, that in 1278 the conflict was resolved by sharing the principality between a Spanish bishop and a French count.
Amazingly, for the next 700 years, the 70,000 Andorrans were kept in relative serfdom by the Church in Spain and a French administration that generally had bigger fish to fry. All that changed however, with the development of the European Economic Union. Andorra finally threw off the medieval shackles of the external "princes" and joined the 20th century. Tourism now accounts for 80% of the gross national product and practically every money making enterprise in the country seems to have been built in the last fifteen years. Click here to see more. The annual gross national product of Andorra is now up to three days of Wal-mart sales.

May 3rd, 2008, Toulouse - what a treat

Neither of us were particularly looking forward to Toulouse. The campsite was not attractive, Toulouse is a BIG city - the fourth largest in France at 1.1 million people in the metro area - and surely, it would be all modern high rises in tune with Aerobus and the French Space Agency. In fact, we were almost looking for an excuse to give it a pass when, on a May Saturday morning, we found a parking spot in a residential area not too far from the old town. What fools we can be.
Toulouse, originating in Roman times, flourished throughout the middle ages but slowly sank into liberal apathy during the 18th and 19th centuries, becoming a backwater and completely missing the industrial revolution. In part, thanks to the ensuing absence of socio-economic baggage weighing on other post industrial northern European cities, and in part due to the thirty year father-son mayoral reign of the dynamic Baudis dynasty, Toulouse has consistently been the fastest growing metropolis in France since WWII. This year, 2008, the Socialists regained control of this, the only solvent large city in France, and will likely soon fix that!
Lots of gorgeous sights in the old town, click here for a sample.

May 2nd, 2008, Montauban

Montauban is a mid-sized city with a population a little over 50,000 and is the capital of the département of Tarn-et-Garonne in southwest France. In 1144 Montauban was situated on the river Tarn by the Count of Toulouse, 30 miles to the south, who had decided to create a bastide as a defense against both English and French royal power. Generally regarded as the first such bastide, Montauban became a model for the layout of other medieval new towns.
The city was significantly damaged during the Hundred Years War and again, during the 16th an 17th centuries when, as a principal bastion of Protestantism in southwest France, it found itself on the losing side in the Wars of Religion. Its fortunes have waxed and waned over the centuries and currently Montauban operates as an agricultural market with diversified industrial activities including electrical, aeronautical, lighting equipment, furniture, and food processing especially of dairy goods. Click here for some sights around town.

May 2nd, 2008 - Caussade, small town France

Weaving along the N20 toward our goal for the day we came to the small town of Caussade and promptly called timeout for lunch. Caussade is in the Tarn-et-Garonne department of the Midi-Pyrenees region - Midi-Pyrenees, that's exciting, there must be mountains in our future!
Caussade, with a population of just a few thousand, has a tiny old town which is being aggressively rebuilt, a tired old church, an historic house and that's about it. For a closer look, click here.

May 1st, 2008 - Cahors, the Wicked City

Cahors, along with Sodom, is vilified in Dantes Inferno as a wicked place. The Church had declared Cahors as a sinful place at the time of the religious wars, because bankers in the city were charging interest on loans - imagine that, a banker charging interest! In the Church's doctrine, all interest was usury and usury was a sin.
The Cahors area has been inhabited since Celtic times, when the easily defended udder shaped loop in the Lot river was first settled. Since its economic peak in the Middle Ages the city of 20,000 has slowly declined and today relies increasingly on tourism. Jacques Duèze was born in Cahors in 1249 and he went on to become Pope John XXII, one of the Avignon Popes. The city has a mediaeval quarter and a fortified bridge, the latter claimed to be one of the most photographed sites in France. Click here to see more.

Lazydays, Hazy days...

"Oh my, what a cutie!" I heard my little bride cry.
Sadly, she was not talking about this little fellah on the right, found lounging around in a Lazydays' waiting room. Rather, with laser-like focus, she was heading out into the swamp where she had espied her sparkly new coach. Today, ten days later, the coach load of parts shipped by Monaco has been more or less assembled into a working RV by the unhurried hands of the Lazydays blacksmiths. Such a fulfilling experience - a perfect manifestation of the monkeys and typewriters approach. Good job, one supposes, that not much else is going on. In the middle of last week, 75 technicians were laid off, the huge RV display area is all but deserted and Rally Park has probably 40 of the 300 plus spaces occupied. Tough times in Seffner City.
For more of this moving experience, click here.

Rocamadour - Fantasy Pilgrim Village

The weather, which thus far had been unseasonably cool with rain several times each day, had every indication of worsening. The frustrations of no Internet and nothing but foreign language radio stations, had reduced weather forecasting to the traditional wet finger in the air followed by a knowing nod. Based on this divination, we decided to leave the Loire valley, and skip both Poitiers and Limoge on our flight south. 200 miles later found us in Rocamadour with the weather little changed. So much for the occult!
If nothing else, Rocamadour in Occitan, a commune of southwestern France in the canton of Gramat, arrondissement of Gourdon, department of Lot, in the diocese of Cahors and the former province of Quercy, has a grand administrative title. That wasn't the half of it, however. Rocamadour is a tiny village of about 650 people that is part carved into and part attached to, an almost sheer 400 foot high cliff face overlooking the Alzou river, a tributary of the Dordogne. Since the 12th century this location has been the focus of religious attention and wishful thinking, including numerous alleged miracles elevating it to major pilgrim status and a stop on the way to that holy of holies, Santiago de Compostella in northern Spain.
The most significant structure in the village proper, is the pilgrimage church of Notre Dame containing the cult image of a wooden Black Madonna reputed to have been carved by Saint Amator himself. Notre Dame is the largest building in the picture at right while the church of Saint Michel, favored by the Benedictine community, is the smaller building to its left. Two other churches, St Sauveur and, beneath it, the subterranean St Amadour, are also built in close proximity. The chateau on top of the cliff was built in the middle ages to defend this religious hodge-podge. For those with a penchant for investing in the incredible, a visit to the Grotto of Miracles might be in order. Check the walking tour

Saumur - last stop on the Loire

Saumur is a mid-sized town - about 30,000 folk - and like Tours, the old town is built on a narrow strip of land between the Loire and, in this case, the Thouet rivers. There is a large island in the Loire at this point, which is heavily built up and is used by both of the town's bridges as a stepping stone across the river.
The town has a military background being home to the Cadre Noir, The National School of Horsemanship, the Officer School for Armored Forces and the Musee des Blindes, the largest collection of armored vehicles in the world. Saumur was also vigorously involved in the closing year of WWII in Europe and was the first recipient of the Tallboy Bomb, designed by the extraordinary engineer Barnes Wallis. Worth a quick look if you have any nerd blood in your veins whatsoever!
But, I digress. We didn't visit any of the above but instead, roamed around gaping at the chateau and other excellent edifices. To see more of Saumur, follow this link.

DANGER - Troglodytes!

Continuing our sojourn down the Loire valley with no particular agenda, we suddenly spied what looked like chimneys rising from the top of a cliff. "Aliens!", we cried, and promptly swerved off the road to investigate. Nothing so mundane – troglodytes, it turned out, were responsible for these curious features.

Troglodytes? n.

1. 1. A member of a fabulous or prehistoric race of people that lived in caves, dens, or holes.
   2. A person considered to be reclusive, reactionary, out of date, or brutish.
2. 1. An anthropoid ape, such as a gorilla or chimpanzee.
   2. An animal that lives underground, as an ant or a worm.

Upon further investigation, it appears that word troglodyte is quite broadly applied and is used to refer to anything, even people, that live underground. For centuries, troglodyte dwellers have cut caves into the limestone cliffs to produce secure, low cost and durable homes and then simply lived in them. The limestone walling the Loire valley in this region, known as tufa, is particularly suitable for this activity. Other uses of the caves include mushroom growing, wine storage and, latterly, some have been converted to restaurants and second homes. The group we visited produced wine and the wily proprietors promptly perpetrated a bait and switch routine and sold us a rather expensive bottle of the stuff. Cunning old troglodyte! For further revelations, click here.