Nuevo Castallar not quite Castellar de la Frontera

Zagan the motorhome is a tad confused. He thought he was parked up in the free aire at Castellar de la Frontera (N36.28332, W5.42168), but he’s actually in Nuevo Castellar, or just Castillar as it is now known – all will be explained shortly.

Zagan parked in the free aire next to the Municipal Swimming Pool restaurant and our lunch

Yesterday afternoon the small town of Benarraba shut down extra early, which was not great for us as we’d run out of bread – a big thank you to Mary who gave us a baguette. A convoy of cars cascaded their way down the road towards the town, seeking out impossible parking spaces on the narrow, steep streets. The smell of chicken and pork cooking wafted in the air as huge barbecues were fired up, and families gathered in their Sunday best – on a Saturday. It was the First Communion for a couple of local girls, and it looked like the whole town was there to celebrate.

The tiny alley streets were set out for some post ceremony parties, while us visiting motorhomers kept cool, sitting and chatting in the shade of the trees along the front of the aire. I’m not a religious person, but it was great to see everyone come together in their finery, and it just emphasised to me how religion is the backbone of these small communities.

A big photo of the girl of the day oversaw this soon-to-be-party

As the sun set behind the sierra and the air cooled, we were treated to a home cooked, spicy hot chilli from Mary. Once the fire in our mouths had been extinguished we wandered back into the town to take Charlie for a walk. The parties seemed to be undergoing a change-over, day time guests leaving as evening guests arrived? Or were people just doing the rounds as they would undoubtedly know all of the girls? Then we think we discovered the reason for the people leaving. The TV at the tiny bar we’d eaten tapas in the night before with Dave, Mary, Stuart and Jean (basically everyone stopping at the aire) had dramatically increased in size and the tables and chairs around it were filling up. Religion may play a strong part in people’s lives around here, but football looks like it is an even bigger draw.

Don’t be driving down here tonight

Real Madrid were playing Juventus in the final of the Champions League, in Cardiff. Soon there were no spare chairs in the little street, as the men folk slipped away from the Communion celebrations. We met up with Jean and sat to watch the crowd gather. With all the other bars in town closed, this was the place to be and it looked like the lady running the bar had drafted in everyone from her family to help out. Drinks and tapas were passed over heads as the chairs gathered closer to the screen. A sudden cheer, the crowd leapt up as one when Real Madrid scored the first goal of the night. An equally loud groan of exasperation followed when Juventus equalised.

At half time we were able to get to the bar to pay for our drinks (€1 a beer, served in ice-cold glasses) and slipped off back to the aire. By the time we got back the score was three-one to Real Madrid and as we we headed for bed the distant fire crackers let us know who had won.

This morning I headed out for a run. I really wasn’t feeling the love for it after a few drinks last night. However my running buddy Jules, who I ran with in Fes and Marrakech, was doing another half marathon today in Croatia, so I was out to support her.

It’s hilly here in the mountains

After a shower and servicing Zagan it was time to say goodbye and au revoir to our new friends, Dave, Jean and Mary and Stuart. Hopefully we’ll meet again somewhere soon, but we’ll always have happy memories of our time in Benarraba with them.

Jean is an inspiration. Currently living in this tiny van with his pooch Unca he plans to just keep on travelling forever.

Hitting the road we headed south to Castellar de la Frontera and parked up under the shade of a tree at the aire. A look around the town had us perplexed as it didn’t appear to be the village within a castle surrounded by the walls of a Moorish-Christian fortress that our guide book said it should be. The reason being that village’s inhabitants were moved to the aptly named Nuevo Castellar in 1971 which is where we were now parked. The town is about the same age as us and does have a feeling of being designed after the higgledy-pigglediness of the hill top towns.

The new church and new art in the new town

That’s the old town in the distance

We found a tiled sign showing us where the old town is, and as it’s seven kilometres away and the temperature is in the high twenties, we decided not to visit. According to the internet the derelict state of the village attracted a number of Germans who took over the empty houses and built temporary dwellings outside the walls. It now houses over three thousand people and is a bit of a hippy colony and tourist town.

Us at the bottom, the old town at the top

Instead of sightseeing we left the windows open on Zagan to keep Charlie cool and headed across the car park to the Municipal Swimming Pool restaurant for some lunch. If only swimming pools back home served food like this, I would be tempted to swim more. By the time we left, all seats outside were taken and more were being brought out as families gathered for a few Sunday afternoon drinks and tapas. My top tip for eating out in Spain – if it has cheeks on the menu, get them.

There is a square for Human Rights in the town

This afternoon, after a post lunch snooze, the maps came out again. The weather here is getting too hot for us (as Peter Kay would say ‘I like it hot….but not this hot’) and poor Charlie is spending all day under a wet towel to keep him cool. It looks like it is only going to get hotter over the next week, so it’s time to head north. We’re going to try and reach Cordoba before it hits 37°C on Wednesday, then drive for the Spanish north coast.

Ju x