Churches and Birds--So Much to Love

As tourists, it's hard for us to go inside the buildings we so admire from the outside. We are outside people. 

But we ducked into a few cathedrals on our pilgrimage to Spain, and were richly rewarded. 

Cold, drafty, echoey and awe-inspiring,  Santa Maria Mayor, Trujillo's great cathedral, with original paintings stacked up as high as you could see. It was likely built atop a mosque around the 13th century, which in turn had been built atop a Visigoth temple (5th-8th century).  My head is spinning, how's yours? It's that antiquity thing...I have no way to comprehend it. 

The ribbed vault was added in the 16th century, so I'm guessing the paintings are from the 1500's, too.

The paintings are by Fernando Gallego, and they're set in incredibly ornate gilded wood frames. I can't even imagine how this stuff survives the centuries without burning down, but it does, and that's just one thing to be grateful for. The level and meticulousness of curation of these treasures is staggering. It was this cathedral whose tower we climbed in the previous post. Our Air BnB host, Carlos, works at the cathedral, and it was he who heard our voices in the empty street, stuck his head out its great wooden doors, and told us to come in and take a look at the cathedral, on the house! 

We climbed the tower, as chronicled in the previous post, and wandered little roads on the outskirts of the village.

Evening came too soon, and the Christmas lights illuminated the narrow streets, so beautifully cobbled and shining with rain. 

We peeked in the windows of a museum, where there were myriad old tools and vessels. Who even knows how old they are? Recalibrating...

Spain does nativities up right. We saw some really beautiful nativities, including depictions of the entire town of Bethlehem and its outskirts. Setting these dioramas up in churches seems to be a holiday thing, and people were bringing their kids to see them. 

This scene of Bethlehem covered probably the size of a couple pool tables. It was amazing. 

I'm cheating a bit--this one was in the walled city of Caceres.  But you get the idea. Fabulous. The figures were maybe 7" tall.

Having steeped ourselves in the true meaning of Christmas, we did a little frippery around the edges.

This Trujillo bakery, family owned since 1939 (antiquity I can get behind), was the bomb-diggity. We made a little box of goodies to take back to the apartment. Yum! It was so nice to have homemade stuff when we were so far from home. Cookies. That's the thing when you're traveling!

We found a bulk-food store with the most beautiful teas and beans. We bought some exotic rooibos which I am enjoying right now.

Oh these BEANS!! Grown in Asturias, a province (state?) Phoebe has recently visited. That hospital-green color!! I can't stand it. It's too beautiful. My bathroom is painted this shade, only darker. I may borrow this color for another room.

I suspect this "espagueti" (these espaguetis?) has (have)  been colored with squid ink. Can't imagine what else they'd use. I understand that squid ink can stain your teeth and turn your poop black. It's got a rich briny flavor. I'd like to try it! Always up for an experiment, especially one that requires Science Chimpy follow-up.

My kind of shop. Textures and colors and photo ops galore!

The next morning, we headed to Monfragüe National Park, about a half hour from Trujillo. On the outskirts of town, we spotted a colorful flock of Eurasian goldfinches, a bird I had been dying to get a look at. Well, this was all the look we got. They were in constant motion and spooky as hell. We chased them until we realized we were never going to see them sitting still. If you click on the photo you'll see one's red face mask in the lower right corner. I was so hoping for a good shot of one.  On to the park!

We hadn't gotten far when we spotted an enormous bird circling alone in the leaden sky. I am so thankful we jumped out of the car and gave it a really good look. 

Try as I might, I couldn't pick up any color on the head or body other than black. The wedge-shaped tail seemed like a good mark, as did the perfectly flat wing profile. 

Of course, my field guide was inaccessible. I was talking a mile a minute to myself, winging the ID.

"Kids, I do believe this is our first black vulture." (Not in the least the same thing as our New World black vulture Coragyps atratus, the Eurasian black vulture Aegypius monachus is Europe's largest raptorial bird. Its range in Europe is virtually limited to Extremadura in Spain, with a couple of Mediterranean sites. Then it occurs much farther east. It is rare, very rare, dwindled in Europe to perhaps 1,000 pairs, all of them in Extremadura. They don't nest until they're 6, if that tells you anything. Black vultures do life slowly. This would be the only one we would see. Bird every bird. 

What an honor, what a privilege to see a black vulture, especially on such a crummy day for soaring! We quickly learned to look hard at every single bird we saw, because birds were scarce and each one was going to be a lifer for all of us.

Here are those famous Iberian hogs, grazing and looking for acorns beneath cork oaks. And to the left are a couple of cranes. Europe got there first, so they named their crane Crane. No modifier. Just Crane. Grus grus. 
To our disappointment, the cranes were terribly wary and began walking off as soon as our car stopped. This was a theme throughout our Spanish visit. The birds of Extremadura operate on an entirely different approachability scale than do the birds of the New World.
I was glad I brought my scope, for what fleeting looks we got at the cranes. I suspected that these birds, from cranes down to the tiniest songbirds, have been hunted, hunted long and hunted hard, to behave the way they do. The Mediterranean flight corridor is the cruelest of all. People, especially in Malta and Gozo, are still shooting, netting and trapping wild birds to eat, and they should have stopped that horrible nonsense centuries ago. Yet their government supports it, with a "legal limit" of 16,000 rare and protected migratory birds to be killed every year. It's absolutely hideous. You can learn more and help stop it with BirdLife Malta here. 

Perhaps the most common raptor we observed was the gloriously beautiful red kite. Again, it was very difficult to get close enough to get a decent shot, but every once in awhile one would pop up over our car and I'd fire quickly out the window.

One of the famous black fighting bulls for which Extremadura is known. Such a classic outline. We saw some, but not as many as I'd been led to expect. Most of the cattle we saw were cream-colored or brown, and seemed to be raised for meat.

If you look closely, you'll see some griffon vultures sailing over the cork-oak dotted landscape. They are fed on cow carcasses at certain places, which certainly helps keep them healthy, and around.

It was griffon vultures who gave us our biggest birding thrill, after the lone black vulture. At last, a bird that didn't seem to mind being looked at. I don't know what immunity from persecution griffons enjoy, but they were tolerant of my camera and our admiring eyes, and for that I'm grateful. What cool birds. Huge birds. Fairy-tale birds. Vultures have taken an enormous hit, from habitat loss; from poisoning in India (eating cow carcasses contaminated with the arthritis painkiller Diclofenac); and poisoning and shooting in Africa (poachers kill them so they don't betray the location of carcasses). I'm so glad these beautiful, majestic vultures seem to be thriving in Monfragüe National Park. More on them next post!

Trujillo, Together

Say it True-Hee-Oh and you've got it, the pronunciation of this utterly charming, quirky, marvelously ancient pueblo in Extremadura, in south central Spain. Much as we loved Mérida, Trujillo knocked us dead, and we were blessed to spend three nights there, making it our base for exploration in Monfragüe National Park, nicely nearby. 

If a town can be cozy, Trujillo is, with high beautiful stone walls everywhere, which cartwheel down to a beautiful square, such that you feel you're in a series of long gorgeous rooms and hallways in a giant house as you explore your way around. Our Air BnB host advised us to park on a comparatively wide city street rather than try to get our car up to our accomodations, and we figured out why that was on the last day, when I had the bright idea to take the car up to grab our luggage, and we very nearly got it stuck trying to turn around when we realized the B. C. era passageway ahead wasn't going to accomodate a subcompact car! 

Imagine yourself in a car, in this...along with Mystery Clink Stew, another nope moment

Aaaack!! Phoebe was at the wheel, and it was one of many times when she gladly ceded her seat to Mama, who has a bit more experience parallel parking and getting out of jams without panicking or despairing. It was the least I could do, as she drove 99% of the trip all by herself, with Liam and me simply enjoying the passing view.

The first afternoon in Trujillo, we stuck to shanks' mare, walking all over the place, and up toward the cathedral on the hill. There's always a cathedral, looking down on everything.

Up and up we climbed, to the top of the town, to the top of a tower.

Soon we could see the beautiful cypress trees tossing in the wind. 

And the red tile rooves of Trujillo were spread before us.

That's a 13th century Moorish fortress to the left, but we didn't make it inside. Next time.

When we finally reached the top, three lil' guys were there to lament our triumph. C'mon guys. Put on a happy face! I had to wonder about the significance of their expressions. What's the deal here? Martyrs? Clueless, once again. Then again, Trujillo is the birthplace of Pizarro, who famously visited the Conquistador thing on the Inca Empire. There's a huge equestrian monument to him in the town square.  Perhaps the stone carver was Inca? You can take my natural history info to the bank, usually, but beware my speculations on human history. They are antic and unreliable.

Liam was so energized by the brisk cold wind and the climb and the fabulousness of this little town that he dropped and gave us ten. I saw a side of our boy that doesn't come out when he's all cuddled up at his drawing table with a cup of hot tea and a scented candle. There's a beast inside, and I love it!

Giving scale to the columnar cypresses, which were just huge. I believe them to be Italian cypress, Cupressus sempervirens. They have biggish globular cones, and they provide the perfect vertical counterpoint to the stone walls and buildings. 

We just had to wonder about this building, which seems to have slumped a bit as it aged over the centuries. Or was it built with a rocky muffin top? Probably so, and probably for good reason. Sort of a Flintstones efffect. 

Ain't no movin' that boulder, so let's just work around it.

I think my favorite times were when we were on foot, just going wherever curiosity led us. 

The concrete beneath our feet had tile incorporated in it. I would have loved to bring that fragment home,  and bent down to pick it up, but it was set in mortar! Such beauty everywhere, such a melange of colors and textures and surfaces and materials! It was in everything we saw, and all of it so ancient. It was humbling to feel so very recent.

Everywhere, the beautiful net-veined leaves of milk thistle were waiting for spring. The flowers will be bright fuchsia pink. Milk thistle is said to aid liver function, and do all sorts of good things. A partial list, gleaned from the Web. Sounds like I better get me some! 

Fatty Liver 

Lowers Cholesterol

Reduces menopausal symptoms Improves digestion 

Decrease varicose veins

Inflammatory bowel disorders

Psoriasis

Weakened immune system

Adrenal disorders

Mushroom poisoning

Allergic and inflammatory reactions

You name it, this stuff fixes it. Git you some today! (JZ)

It's also called Our Lady's Thistle. When Mary was feeding Jesus, some milk dribbled onto the ground and this fabulous plant sprang up. Or so they say over in Extremadura. I can tell you that never happened to me once. My kids were vacuum cleaners.

We came upon a fenced yard with a dog whose breed I thought I recognized as a Mastin de Extremadura. We were to see lots of these dogs on farms and in the countryside. I was fascinated by them, but they wanted nothing to do with me, being protective and stand-offish with those they don't know. They're big, strong, good looking dogs, bred for guarding sheep and homesteads.

We found The Scream in an old wooden shutter. This is the kind of shot their dad would have taken. Somebody has to take up the banner! Here's to you, BT3! You live on in these goofballs. 

On we walked, and the cobbled road came to the edge of town, and all Extremadura rolled out before us. How I wished for a spot of sun, but the brooding skies fit, too, and it was all so beautiful.

I am given to buying outerwear for my kids in the Eddie Bauer warehouse, and I've only recently put it together that the stuff, especially the women's clothing, that winds up there is often a bit outre in color. I kept finding myself framing Phoebe out of my shots because my artist's eye found her purple shell jarring. My fault, but I got a great deal on it! Take off that damned raincoat, Phoebs, get up on the wall with your brother, and give me your best Irish colleen! Truly, they could be anywhere in Europe in this shot, but it looks like Wuthering Heights. And I am a rich mama. 

We ended the day with a late lunch in a tiny restaurant with a real character as a proprietor. Iberian pork was the main course, pretty much all that was on the menu, and it was delicious. We tried to order beef but he told us we needed to order the pork because it was so much better. Spain is a very porky place. Also a potatoey place. It is not very lettucey. I'm glad to be back home, grazing on lettuce from the tower room ranch. But I kinda miss the Iberian pork now! We also got Migas, a regional dish that as far as I could tell is leftover bread crumbs tossed in chorizo grease.

Spain is famous for its food, especially tapas, which are the original small plates. The restaurants serve lunch until about 4:30 in the afternoon. They then close, and re-open for dinner at 8:30 PM. As in, they open for biz at Normal Zick Bedtime. All I can say to that is Ack. And how is anyone supposed to sleep with a bellyful of rich porkiness consumed around 10 pm? Our hack, engineered by our Helpful Ginger Travel Elf, was to sleep in, eat a late breakfast/brunch around 10 am, and tough it out until "lunch" around 4:30-5 pm, which actually served as dinner. That made for some mighty short days, but it worked well with our jetlag, as peninsular Spain is 5 hours ahead of Ohio. There's a hack for everything. And we were hackin' our way through Extremadura, as Christmas bore down on us.