Mérida, 12 March
I woke up to overcast skies in Mérida, so I took my time getting ready for the day, in hopes that it would clear. By 9:30, it was obvious that I was in for a gray day, so I headed across Plaza de España to get some breakfast. I sat at a table outside of La Catedral, a café on the plaza, and waited for a server. I got the usual tostada con tomate, café con leche, and the zumo de naranja that I sometimes add to make it a trio. It made for a good start to the morning, and I added a second cup of the coffee before leaving.
My adventure today would primarily consist of ancient history; the city was founded by the Romans in 25 BC, and was one of the most important cities in this area of the Empire. What is left behind is evidence of the status of Mérida more than two millennia ago. After taking a wrong turn, and unexpectedly visiting the long, narrow Parque López de Ayala, I got back on track, and entered the tourist office. Here I bought my combinado ticket, which would let me visit several sites in the city for one price.
The first is the Anfiteatro Romano, the Roman Amphitheater. Much of the amphitheater, which was dug into the earth, is in ruins, but what remains is impressive. I stood in one of the entrances, and looked down into the elliptical arena, imagining what it must have sounded like when the stone bleachers were filled with fifteen thousand spectators. In the middle of the arena is the pit, where animals were held until they were needed for the next event. I made my way around the top of the bleachers, those that still existw are in fact at ground level, in a clockwise direction, stopping to take photos, then following the stairs down, then across a row of seats, then back up again.
The western end of the amphitheater is in better shape, and the entrance hallways are still there. I walked in and out of a couple of the low arched corridors, and again tried to imagine the thrill of attending a spectacle there; trudging through the dark entry, then stepping out into the concourse, blinded while your eyes adjust to the bright sun, your ears ringing with the sounds of thousands of voices. It must have been overwhelming, especially if it was your first visit.
Along one of the corridors were life sized images of the different types of gladiators, their purpose, and descriptions of their clothing and weapons. I turned left out of this hallway into one of the chambers where the gladiators would wait their turn. The ceiling here was low, and angled even lower down to the arch that the would emerge from. As I stepped out into the arena, it occurred to me that this was a very awkward way to enter into battle, and certainly gave the advantage to an opponent who was already out on the grounds.
As I stood there contemplating the way things might have been, I was constantly taken out of the moment by large tour groups pushing past. Hurriedly walking from one point to another, stopping for a few moments while the guide explained something, then filing on to the next spot. For the first time since the trip began, I felt conspicuous. The other places I had visited, despite being an outsider, I felt like I was part of a living community. Here, I felt I was part of some big display, a tourist in a tourist zoo. I did my best to shake the feeling, but the number of people brushing past, or stopping to stand directly in front of me made it difficult. I would patiently wait for them to move on, as it never took long, then examine something a little closer, or take a photograph.
When I had completed my circuit of the amphitheater, I walked through a series of brick arches which led to the Teatro Romano, the Roman Theater. When I stepped out of the entrance, I was mesmerized. In front of the semi-circular seating was a huge stage, at least and a hundred feet wide, and about twenty feet deep. At the back of the stage were two levels of columns, more than three dozen of them, with intricately carved capitals. Between some of them stood statues, which I later learned are reproductions, but were appropriate, and helped set the scene. At each end of the horseshoe of seats were special areas for benefactors, and their names can still be faintly read where they had been carved into the granite.
There were fewer tourists here, and I made my way down to the stage, then walked along it until I came to the towering door that led from the backstage area out to the stage. Again, I imagined standing here, waiting to perform, and seeing the masses crowded together in the tiers that sloped upward out of view. It’s a feeling that is still experienced today, as the theater is still used for the Festival de Mérida, the oldest classical theater festival in Spain, which was begun in the 1930s.
I wandered back and forth around the theater for a while, taking photos, and sitting for a while in one of the higher seats, to get a better feel for what it must have been like to attend a play here when Mérida was still a young city.
After leaving the theater, I looked around a small site of still active excavation, before heading to the exit of the complex. It was interesting to see the slow careful way in which they dig into the soil in very specific places. It must be nerve-wracking at times, trying not to destroy the very things you are trying to preserve.
When I left, the Museo Nacional de Arte Romano was before me. I contemplated whether to go in or not, but ultimately decided not to. after having walked in history at the anfiteatro and teatro, and the places I still had to come, I felt the original sites were a better experience than a museum. If I had another day here, perhaps I would have changed my mind and visited, but I don’t regret my decision.
My next stop was about ten minutes away, and having spent nearly three hours in the complex, I was quite thirsty, so I stopped into a small mercado and bought a Coke and a water to drink on the way. I put the water into one of the pockets of my camera bag, and drank the Coke as I walked. About a block later, I came upon an older lady complaining loudly about her drunk and lazy husband to no one in particular. As I passed, she asked me what I thought, with a laugh, I agreed, then quickly continued down the street.
My destination was really a two for one, for the second time today. First was Plaza de Toros, where I stopped to take some photos of the beautiful white, gold, and red building. I found the design of the building very interesting, with traditional arches over the doorways on the ground floor, then moorish style arches on the first floor, and the upper most windows had only a slight curve at the top. From noon to midnight a Mercado Gastronómico, housed in the building, and in this instance I do regret not going in, but I was excited for the second part of this pairing of sites.
Just across the street is Casa del Mitreo, the remains of a large Roman house. I was very interested to see more typical things from that time after seeing the large monuments. I showed the man in the booth my ticket, and he waved me inside. Within the gate is the excavated home, you view it by following a raised steel platform around the edges. Every so often is a sign that has information in English, French, Spanish, and German. Almost immediately, I got stuck behind a tour group, this was a much different group than the types I had encountered earlier. The guide was going on at length about every tiny detail, and handing around diagrams and photos; photos of things that were mere feet from where we were standing. After stopping at two of the signs, I really just wanted to get ahead of them, so that I could continue at my own pace, but hat was easier said than done. It took a number of times saying perdón and ¿puedo pasar? before they moved enough for me to squeeze past them.
When I had passed, I stopped at the next information board, and glanced at it as I looked at what was below me. The house itself is very large with a number of different rooms; partial walls and columns still exist, and you can see where there was at one time an interior courtyard. The thing that most struck me was a mosaic on the floor and how well it was preserved two thousand years later. Much of the middle is obscured, but it depicts sunrise and sunset as well as the oceans, earth, and heavens. The colors are simply fantastic, as is the artistry that created it. In the lower right corner, next to the script Oceanvs, is what appears to be the likeness of Neptune, god of the sea. The detail is magnificent, and I caught myself looking at it for so long that the tour group nearly caught up to me!
As I moved on to the next area, I read the sign describing the small subterranean rooms that were in front of me. The rooms were used in the summer months where their small size and underground location kept them cooler. They seemed less ornate, and I don’t know if that was by choice, or because the ornamental features had been lost to time. After reading the sign, I thought I’d look at again, in Spanish, to see how much I could understand. When I shifted my eyes to the next column, I was confused; this paragraph was in English too, and it said the same thing. I glanced back, trying to figure out why they were the same. I did this a couple more times, until I realized that the first time that I had read it, I had read the Spanish version; my brain just couldn’t reconcile that it had understood it so well, that it tricked me into thinking it was in English.
I made a couple more stops around the edges of the excavated home, before taking a metal ramp down to ground level. In addition to the house at this site, there is a funerary, which is located at the end of a long, tree lined, gravel path. As a light rain began to fall, I made my way towards the two small buildings that I could see. There are two stone crypts here, as well as examples of carved stone caskets. There are also large glass enclosed display cases, in each one are a number of things that had been excavated from the site. The most interesting to me was a collection of ancient medical implements. The patina of the tools suggested that copper was, at least in part, a component of the devices.
Once I had looked at all the displays, I returned to the casa, where I completed the circuit around the house, stopping for a bit to marvel at a mural on one of the walls that had survived so long, and trying to make out the images that the information sign told me were there. As hard as I tried, looking at it with and without my glasses, squinting my eyes, and even turning my head sideways, I could not see the designs.
When I left Casa del Mitreo, I walked back past Plaza de Toros, and continued down the street in the general direction of my hotel. I stopped to take photos along the way, mostly of street scenes, but they just didn’t speak to me quite the way they had in the other places I had visited. As I continued on, I was able to help someone with directions to Plaza de Toros, and then I spotted the location where I’d have a small afternoon meal.
I took a seat of the terraza of Bar Salas, in Plaza Santo Domingo, it was fairly busy, and shortly after I sat down, a group of eight women arrived and took the tables next to mine. When the sever finally got a moment, she came over to me, and I ordered a water, a cerveza, and migas extremeñas.While I waited, I sat back, and looked around. To my left was the street I had just come down, and the nondescript restaurant was in front of me. Continuing clockwise, was Calle John Lennon, just behind the group of women, whose laughter and animated conversations, echoing off the surrounding buildings, made the plaza spring to life. I’m usually not a fan of loud groups, but here, in this place, it seemed right; overwhelming joy and happiness. Hearing them joke and tease each other made me smile. Finally, behind me were the ruins of an old church.
When the waitress came back, I turned my attention from my surroundings to the food in front of me. The migas extremeñas were excellent, with bits of ham, and topped with a fried egg. While I had been waiting, I had also been looking at the dessert choices, written in chalk near the door to the restaurant, and when the waitress returned, I already knew what I wanted; tarta de casera arándano, cheesecake topped with blueberries. It was incredible; sweet and creamy, with a blueberry sauce, and four tart berries served with it, one on top and three in whipped cream on the side. It was so good, that I had to force myself to eat it slowly, savoring each bite.
When I had finished the café con leche that I had ordered with my dessert, I paid the bill, and was about to leave when I realized the waitress had only given me change for a ten, when I had paid with a twenty. I went inside, and explained; she was very apologetic and immediately gave me the rest. Before leaving, I went back to the table and left an extra couple of one euro coins behind.
Having taken care of that, I still stayed near the plaza for a bit longer taking photographs. My first subject was the crumbling church that I had mentioned earlier; I love the detail in deterioration, but often wonder how a place came to be like this. Sometimes I’m able to get answers, other times I’m not. This was a case of having to leave it to my imagination. After capturing several images of the church, I next turned my attention to the street sign for Calle John Lennon; there was no way, as a Beatles fan, that I could stand here and not take a picture of it.
When I had finished indulging the music fan in me, I decided to head to the main shopping district to see what I could buy, it had been, after all, a couple of days since I’d bought anything. I mainly stuck to window shopping; looking at shoes, electronics, and jewelry; quickly bypassing the shops carrying low quality items from overseas, and pausing a little longer at a few clothing stores. I particularly liked the styles that I saw in one on the corner of Calle Santa Eulalia and Calle Alonso Zamora Vicente, called HIMM. I stepped into the brightly lit store, and the man at the counter greeted me quickly, before going back to helping the customers he was with. I began looking at the shirts, and really liked some of the designs they had. I took one off the shelf, and checked the label, and what I saw made me happy; Hecho en España, Made in Spain. The sizes were a little confusing to me, they were numbered 1 through 8, I could tell that they got larger as the numbers increased, but was unsure, of how they related to the sizes I’m accustomed to. I could tell that the first two I had taken down were much too small for me, but I did find on that I liked in a 6, which appeared to be somewhere between medium and large. I brought it to the counter, and waited while the man there finished helping the mother and teen son who ad been there when I walked in. The boy seemed to be preparing for a big event of some sort, he was getting an entirely new outfit from shoes, all the way to a jacket.
When they had paid, and collected their numerous packages, he motioned me forward, and I asked to try the shirt on. He took it from me, looked at the collar, looked at me, then to the collar again, then back to me again before saying, “no, no, no, siete“, and motioned to my shoulders. It shocked me that he was able to quickly look at me and determine that my shoulders are slightly wider than normal, which often makes buying shirts difficult. He walked back to the shelf where I had found the shirt, rummaged through a few of them, before pulling out a 7. I asked if I could try it on, and he said “por supuesto”, of course, and began removing the pins from the shirt. When the last pin was out, he handed it back to me, and pointed to one of the two changing rooms around the corner. The shirt fit very well, a little looser in places than I had hoped, but I was sure that after washing it would shrink a bit. I paid for the shirt, then headed back to the hotel to drop it off before continuing with my exploration.
From the hotel it was just a short walk to the Alcazaba. Again, I showed my ticket to a man inside the booth at the entrance, and he waved me through. After passing through the two gates that I had seen the night before, I was inside. The mostly empty area inside was immense, and I stopped for a moment to take it all in. Within the walls there were olive trees, a small building directly in front of me, a large area of excavated ruins, and a building that was much newer than the rest of the structure.
I first headed to the small building, it was made of stone and about five meters wide. The doorway had heavy rectangular columns with carvings on each side. I entered the dark interior, and discovered a sloping passageway to my right. I followed it to the bottom, where I estimated that I was six or seven meters below ground. Here there was a small aquamarine pool filled with carp, illuminated by a shaft of light from above. I would learn later that this was an aljibe, or cistern. There is an underground tunnel that leads to the river, which keeps it filled. It was quite beautiful and serene, and I waited here for a while, taking photographs and enjoying the silence.
Back on the surface, I climbed to the top of the little building. From here I could see the spot where the light had entered the chamber, and was amazed by the distance that I had traveled underground at least thirty meters. The building had, at times in its history, been a minaret where the Muslim call to prayer was performed, and also a Christian chapel. This is very common in Spain, you will often find buildings erected by one culture, repurposed to fit the needs of another. Both of those structures are now gone, leaving a flat observation area, which once served as the floor of those structures.
I descended from the top, and began a slow walk around the ruins that stood below. There were walls of varying heights, age, and construction, and again, I was drawn to the multi-colored stones that they were made with. I took a number of photos as I made my way around the raised metal walkway. Near the completion of my revolution, the metal ended, and I was on a stone path; here I was able to get very close to those walls, and stopped to take some photographs of the detail.
Beyond the ruins is a building more than four hundred years younger the everything else here. Built in the thirteenth century, the former convent now is the seat of the council of the Comunidad de Extremadura. Arranged not far from that addition were a number of displays of items that had been found here; a large stone olive press, with a sign showing how it worked, Roman columns, some of which had rude comments in Latin carved into them, and many remnants of other stone construction debris.
When I was done meandering through these artifacts, I took another set of stairs to the top of the wall. This was the section of wall that I had been able to see from across the river the previous night. I was quite high up, and the walkway fairly narrow, but the view was amazing. I was able to see the entire complex, as well as the river, and Puente Romano. I took even more photographs from here, before going back down the stairs. Once I was on the ground, I looked at the time, and realized I had spent nearly two hours wandering around here, and decided it was time to go.
On my way back to the hotel, I photographed a few windows and doors that I encountered, then continued to my room, where I took a well deserved nap after a busy day of adventures.
When I awoke, it was dark, and there was a light rain falling. Dinner was next on the agenda, and I decided to leave most of my camera gear behind, only bringing the camera itself, and one lens. I left the hotel, and crossed the busy Plaza de España, headed to the nearby restaurant that I had chosen for this night; Mesón El Lebrel.
I found it with no problem, and when I entered, it was empty except for an old man doing a crossword at the bar. The place was small, with six or seven tables, and had a very traditional, family feel to it. After a few minutes, a woman came out from the kitchen, ducked through an opening under the bar, greeted me, and showed me to a table. I chose a seat that would let me see nearly the whole place at once, ordered a vermut, and began looking at the menu. Despite already knowing what I wanted, I took the time to read the all of their offerings, in case there was something that would change my mind. When I had looked at everything, I went with my original choice; conejo de campo; wild rabbit. When the woman returned with some bread, I placed my order, she nodded, then yelled back to the kitchen; a voice from the back replied that they did, in fact, have some. She scribbled a few things in her order book, then hurried back to the kitchen.
While I waited, another older gentleman came in, and sat at a table on the other side of the room. The man with the crossword got up from the bar, poured him a cerveza, and joined him at his table. The tow began chatting, and occasionally one would point to the crossword, and another clue would be filled in.
My meal arrived, and it looked wonderful. The half rabbit was served alongside golden fries with salt flakes sprinkled over them. I had never had rabbit before, and was unsure what to expect. The meat was tender and juicy, but there were a lot of bones to avoid. Unfortunately, I missed one, and a small sliver got caught in my throat. I started choking a bit, and being in the times of COVID, I didn’t want to cough too loudly, but through a number of smaller coughs into my napkin, and a good deal of throat clearing, I was able to dislodge it. Nobody seemed to have noticed my slight issue, and I was able to finish my meal without further incident.
As I had been seated at my table, I was able to see not only the restaurant, but out the front door as well, and the intensity of the rain had been steadily increasing while I had been there. I could see young people passing by some without a care in the world, and others trying in various ways to protect themselves from the rain. By the time I had finished my coffee and paid, the rain had turned to a deluge. I stepped out of the restaurant, took a left turn, and walked with a purpose down Calle John Lennon, back to the hotel. I took advantage of the cover of shop awnings, and the arcade in front of the restaurant that I had visited the night before to get back to the hotel without getting drenched.
When I arrived, I carefully packed everything up, except for the wet clothes, the toiletries that I’d be needing in the morning, the next day’s clothes, then went to bed. Tomorrow would be a day with a lot of driving, and I wanted to be well rested.
To see all of the photos from this day, click here: https://flic.kr/s/aHBqjzMyFd
