In Salamanca, My Spanish Confession
La Dorada opens my eyes
I confess that in all my years of traveling, to over 60 countries, I have never once set foot in Spain. I think it is the only EU nation I’ve never visited. I’ve been cose to the border three or four times, but for some reason, just never made it to the land of tapas. Teresa (my beloved spouse) has only been to Spain briefly, on trips to Portugal, her native land.
Yesterday, we spent 24 hours in the country, driving from the south of France to Portugal, stopping for the night in Salamanca. The ride took us through the undulating green hills of Basque country and across the arid plains of Catalonia, past vast fields of shorn wheat, and swaths of land filled with the dried sunflowers that stood like withered corpse armies, row upon row, their black heads bent and heavy with seeds, as if waiting patiently to be decapitated. After two and a half months surrounded by the forests and fjords and waterfalls of Norway, it was strange for us to be a land so parched and dry.
We chose Salamanca as a stopover mainly because it was a mid-point on our route. I was utterly astounded at my ignorance of this historic, UNESCO World Heritage city — founded by Celts, conquered by Romans, Carthaginians (Hannibal and his elephants), Moors, and ultimately absorbed into modern Spain. The city itself was built layer upon layer through the centuries, like some archeological Smith Island cake.
To my further astonishment, I learned that Salamanca is home to the third- oldest continously-operating university in the world, founded in 1218, right behind Bologna and Oxford. It’s a university town to this day. Heading into the busy heart of the old city, we could feel the vibrant young energy breathing life into the ancient sandstone buildings. I think its because of this constant rejuvination by the students that the city seems able to absorb the flood of tourists without being overwhelmed and losing its soul. Yes, there are souvenir shops selling everything from Iberica ham to art knock offs of the city’s museums. But the cathedrals and buildings, so tall and solid, hold their own against the crowd. The present tourist boom could last a hundred years, and it would just be a blink of an eye for Salamanca.
We paused in front of the town’s twin cathedrals: the old one (built between the 12th and 14th Centuries), and the new one (built between 1513 and 1733). Yep, construction of the “new” one started 500 years ago. Teresa pointed out the famous finely chisled stone latticework the runs all the way up one outer wall of the Catedral Neuva. The stone was carved, she told me, to imitate the look of filigree silver. “If you look up close,” she told me, you can see animals in the stone leaves.” Indeed, we found a whole host of them— goat, a seal, a monkey on a chain.
The heart of Slamanca is the Mayor Square, which looks very much like Saint Mark’s in Venice, and is considered the baroque masterpiece of Spain. It’s three stories high above the 88 arches that run all around the square. Begun in 1729, it was completed in 1755. (The Catedral Neuva builders, a block away, must have been amazed at the speed)!
The square became the center of the city’s activities, used for religious processions, public executions and bullfights. The owners of the apartments on the upper floors used to rent out viewing space for these and other forms of public entertainment.
Like the rest of the old city, Mayor Square is built entirely with yellow-red sandstone, that seems to glow in the afternoon light. This glow is the reason Salamanca is known as La Dorada, “The Golden City.” Today the square is ringed with jewellery stories and ice cream parlors, with cafe tables spilling out onto the street. Bull’s blood has not been spilled there for some time, however, though the killing goes on to this day in an arena on the outskirts of Salamanca.
Though the golden city struck us as grand, even overwhelming in the midst of Spain’s empty interior, what captivated us most about Salamanca was the Lis House Museum of Art Nouveau and Art Deco. The house itself was the main feature of the museum, with floor to ceiling stained glass windows covered with vivid naturalistic forms — the mark of Art Nouveau.
One of the things that unites Art Nouveau and Art Deco (the more restrained movement that followed it) was the priniciple that practical household objects could also be works of art — tables, chairs, glasses, bannisters — all could be wrought with style and exquisite beauty. Lis House was simply bursting with such objects — jewellery, pottery, lamps, “Lalique” glasswork, ceramic figurines of opera characters and ballet dancers. The main hall itselft was an atrium topped with an Art Nouveau stained-glass ceiling depicting the cosmos. The vibrant, playful greens and blues, yellows and reds that filled the house stood out in stark contrast to the desert hues of the ancient sandstone city.
And then, in the morning, we were off on the road to Portugal. But feeling grateful to Salamanca. Thank you La Dorada. You have put Spain on the map for us.
