Romance and history are no dreary forgotten relics of a distant past in Segovia. Its stunning architecture, delectable food and easy social life, make the Spanish bubble with endless streams of stories and happiness, GUSTAP and JEROO IRANI assure
The Roman aqueduct sprawled like a prehistoric dinosaur across the tawny landscape in Segovia in northern Spain; its 166 arches flared dramatically against a blue sky. The colossal 28m high aqueduct, comprising great slabs of granite, brought from the nearby mountains, was built (without mortar) by the Romans 2,000 years ago to bring river water from its source to the town.
As we entered Segovia (just a half-hour drive from Madrid), the towering aqueduct seemed to follow us watchfully. But, then suddenly, we were sucked into eddies of life that swirled around us in typical Spanish fashion. In Spain, life happens and unfolds like a Spanish novel and in this ravishing town, it trips like a Castillian dance... in a flurry of frilled skirts and choreographed movements.
All the balconies, terraces and streets were crammed with people who had come to witness a religious festival when the statue of Virgin Mary of Fuencisla is taken in procession from the cathedral (where it rests for nine days) back to her sanctuary on the outskirts of Segovia.
The town’s Catholic roots were on display as hymns soared on the air followed by the appearance of a resplendent bishop in heavy robes who gave a short speech and blessed the congregation. Young boys and girls clad in traditional swirling skirts, and jackets danced to sprightly tunes even as the crowd swayed to the music. Dads hoisted children on their shoulders, elderly couples got misty-eyed remembering their lost youth and young lovers held hands and re-affirmed their love. A group of elderly Spanish ladies, beauties in their youth, sported lacy tasselled shawls worn over long skirts. They danced in the wings, raven hair gleaming in the slanting sun which occasionally glinted off a gold tooth or two as they laughed.
later as the procession wound its away through the arches of the aqueduct, we climbed up to a terrace-like projection and gazed at a sea of red and ochre roofs rimmed by low mountains that encircle the town. The slate-topped turrets of the fortress-castle of Alcazar (which inspired Cinderella’s castle in California’s Disneyland), the 11th century city walls built with stones from a Roman cemetery and the flamboyant Gothic cathedral... everything in Segovia is monumental. Yes, no wonder this undiscovered gem is a World Heritage Site.
Yet Segovia is not a cold, lifeless museum town; there is something warm and bubbly about it — washing hung to dry from the balconies of 17th century buildings, convivial cafes where locals chatted over a coffee... Outside the fairy-tale stronghold of Alcazar, an itinerant musician strummed our senses with deeply romantic songs of love and longing that he plucked on his guitar. His rich seductive tenor rode the air with all the swagger of Spanish conquistadors who conquered distant lands, seeming to hover over the arid landscape pockmarked with scrub that stretched beyond the town...
The Gothic Alcazar was once the favourite resilience of the kings of Castille who ruled the region from Segovia. The 11th century Moorish citadel (which started life as a makeshift Arab stronghold) played an important role in Spain. Queen Isabella, the Catholic monarch was crowned here, signalling the virtual end of the Muslim Moors’ occupation of Spain.
Within the Alcazar, history lay entrapped and the ghosts of the past came alive to strut around as we walked through the grand rooms that were restored after a fire that raged in the 19th century. The bedrooms of kings and queens were separate for, in those times, royal marriages were not made in heaven but based on convenience and shifting alliances. Beds were small because royalty slept in a sitting position lest they died while asleep. Armours were heavy, weighing as much as 45 kg, and many adorned the Armoury Room, evocative of battles that raged incessantly in the old days.
The Alcazar resonated with royal secrets — Catholic monarchs Isabella and Ferdinand’s heir was their daughter called Juana the Mad. The young beauty was obsessed with her husband Philip the Handsome and prone to jealous outbursts as she was aware of his philandering ways. She often attacked his mistresses but when he died, she was heart-broken and even kept his decrepit coffin next to her so that she could talk to him! She was banished to a nunnery after the death of her mother and her story took many tragic twists and turns — her 17-year-old son, Charles I of Spain took over the reins of the kingdom but died under mysterious circumstances. His sole ambition as a monarch, it is said, was to be remembered for his parties! After the death of Charles I of Spain, his son, Philip II of Spain became King but by 1562, Segovia was forgotten and power had shifted to Madrid. It remained rich in history and nothing else, lamented our guide.
From the tower of the Alcazar, one can take in the expanses of green painted with a burst of yellow sunflowers that sprout in the town’s many gardens. Beyond the city walls, stretched a rust-coloured stubble landscape edged by the brown-rumpled ridges of low mountains.
When we emerged from the fortress-castle, the Spanish guitarist’s love songs still caressed the air, adding poignancy to the stories that we had heard within the Alcazar’s stone walls. We were soon navigating the tangle of spaghetti-thin streets, strolling past the city’s rich cache of Romanesque churches and grand Mudejar (a fusion of Islamic and Christian styles) mansions to explore the cathedral which soared like a hymn upwards to a blue sky. Built over several centuries, its interiors lay hushed, ornate and glowing in dappled sunlight that streamed through the stained glass. People prayed in quiet nooks and in chapels dedicated to various saints. The soft air seemed to resonate with a piety that would have delighted the Catholic monarchs, Isabella and Ferdinand who unleashed the Spanish Inquisition on non-believers and ordered Jews and Muslims to convert or leave the land!
Despite the past that hangs around like a skulking ghost, Segovia is a happy town which feeds the appetite of tourists with generous portions of its favourite roast suckling pig — fed only on mother’s milk for three weeks and a soup made of local flat white beans called judiones de la granja. We had something lighter in a cheery outdoor cafe and rounded it off with a heavenly local dessert called Ponche Segoviano with a marzipan base.
As dusk shrouded the lively Plaza
Mayor and music emanated from the sidewalk cafes, our guide told us one last poignant story that somehow captured Segovia’s romantic spirit.A lovely princess fell in love with a soldier who served in her father’s army. But her father, the king, wanted her to marry a prince from a neighbouring kingdom. She married her soldier secretly but the king found out about the clandestine nuptials and sent her husband to fight in a war where he died. When the princess heard the news of her lover’s death, she gave up the fight and died too. The king buried her outside the city walls but her spirit continued to haunt him — from her grave, she kept raising her hand with her sparkling wedding band adorning the ring finger. The father ordered more earth and mud to be poured on her burial ground but the hand would again emerge the next morning. After many months, the father gave up and stopped pouring earth on her burial spot. And the hand did not emerge again ever. But in its place rose a mountain that took the shape of a dead reclining woman. And even today it’s called Sierra de Mujer Muerta (Dead lady’s Mountain).
Yes, romance flows thick and fast in Segovia’s medieval veins. Ultimately, this lovely town is part spectacle; part living history.