… with diverse modern uses

the Convento San Marcos functioned as a monastery until “excloisteration” in 1837; it subsequently went through numerous uses from the mundane to the sinister before becoming a museum and hotel. among the mundane uses: a high school, a veterinary college and stud farm, a Jesuit residence home, military offices, and military barracks.

in the 1870s the government proposed leveling the building to provide space for alternative projects but the plan was fortunately scuppered. this building is one of the few pre-modern buildings that still stands outside the city walls; after walking between all the period buildings that line the warren-like streets within the walls of the city, it’s rather remarkable to emerge onto the wider avenues beyond, packed with bland 20th century construction. there are certainly unique architectural sites outside the walls and their overpowering modernity provided a peculiar contrast to the site of the Plaza San Marcos but mostly it was blocks of flats and the characterless but functional facades of any modern city.

on the more sinister end of uses, the Convento San Marcos served as a prison — both during its time as  a monastery and after it fell under government control. during the mid-17th century, the politician and and poet, Francisco de Quevedo found himself an unwitting occupant of the basement dungeons of the monastery. he’d allegedly written a satire against the king but his true “crime” stemmed from engendering the enmity of the prime minister of the time, the Count Duke of Olivares. because of his (honorary) membership in the Order of Santiago, Quevedo was permitted to serve his sentence in the Order’s headquarters, rather than in a civil penitentiary. while imprisonment did nothing for his physical health, during the four years he spent at San Marcos Quevedo wrote three of his most notable philosophical works (Life of Saint Paul, Providence of God, and  Constancy and Patience of Saint Job). upon his release, he retired to another monastery, where he died two years later (in 1645).

while certainly no easy punishment for Quevedo in the 17th century, the unwilling guests of the 20th century had an even harsher experience within the walls of the ex-monastery. during the Spanish Civil War, the building served as a concentration camp for republican prisoners and other opponents of the Franco regime. between 1936 and 1940, the prisoner population reached some 6,700 men while a further 15,000 filtered through on their way to other prison camps elsewhere. numerous executions took place within the grounds and it became a symbol of repression in León and throughout Spain. when we visited, they had an exhibit in the cloisters featuring remembrances from those who’d been imprisoned in the monastery during the Franco regime. harrowing stuff.

the building was given over to the Parador chain in 1964 for conversion into a luxury hotel and museum (housed in the church and cloisters). the church houses an array of art collected from around the area, as well sculptures designed and crafted at the time of the church’s construction. numerous famous and royal guests have stayed at the Parador, including the King and Queen of Spain, who first visited in 1970 while still Prince and Princess, as well as Latin American presidents, Nobel winners and others.

the city of Burgos

no matter how long it takes to get into Burgos on foot, it is an significant city — both for its connection to El Cid (about which more later) and as the historical capital of Castilla.

earliest settlement of the area overlooking the confluence of Arlanzón River tributaries dates from the Romans. once they left the village plodded along without much excitement the small county of Castilla seceded from León following devastation by Moorish invaders in the early 10th century. thereafter, the heads of León, Aragón, and Navarra fought almost constantly to control the comparatively small buffer state — Burgos proving paramount of the territorial prizes. previous posts have discussed various wars of succession aiming at control over Castilla and/or León; suffice it to say that fortunes for Burgos and Castilla took a tumultuous course.

in addition to its pivotal location on the Camino at the Arlanzón River, trade routes from the Bay of Biscay also passed through here on their way south towards Madrid and Southern Spain. the merchant class that found themselves in Burgos grew into an impressive oligarchy that consolidated considerable political power in the 13th century, using their wealth to bolster the fortunes of various monarchs by providing mounted fighters. by the 14th century, it grew increasingly cosmopolitan, hosting merchants from as far away as London and Bruges. various neighborhoods claimed Castillian, Basque, Aragonese, Frankish, and Moorish inhabitants. the Jewish population, while thriving at one time, was decimated in anti-Semitic riots of the late 14th century. in modern times, Burgos endured battles during the Napoleonic Peninsular and later Carlist wars, as well as serving as the seat of Franco’s Nationalist government. the presence of Franco spurred economic growth of the 20th century as it established textile factories to replace those under Republican control in the east.

the city is known for it’s remarkably preserved old town, as well as the incredible cathedral at the center of it all. as some of you have seen, we snagged a room with a view of the cathedral for our lodging though, because of nice long soaks in the tub and a splendid nap, we didn’t make it out to investigate the cathedral prior to evening mass … which means we only got to enjoy the exterior. but more on that to come …

Roman bridge at Cirauqui

crossing the Roman bridge

the hike between Puente la Reina and Estella was challenging — the temperature reached 26 degrees Celsius by the time we reached our destination and we had trouble finding lunch and a place to refill water during the day. we also learned what the sun can do to the back of a pair of legs if given motive and opportunity.

the name of this town — Cirauqui — means “nest of vipers” in the Basque language, alluding either to the snakes found among the rocks on this steep hill or bandits that roamed the hills nearby. the town grew in three stages beginning in the 9th century, and some of the nicer manor houses remain with familial crests above central doorways throughout town. one of the more interesting monuments in the town is the Civil War monument, which only lists victims on the Nationalist side (fighting for Francisco Franco). while many towns removed the ubiquitous monuments after Franco’s death, loyalty to the Falange movement that brought him to power remained strong in Navarra and in some places these memorials remain.

as the title of this post also alludes to, we climbed over a Roman bridge just outside of Cirauqui. while much of the Camino follows old an old Roman road, the path down the hill leaving Cirauqui and over this bridge are the best-preserved of the entire route, by far. granted, some of the paving stones were repaired or replaced during the Middle Ages, but the essence remains — and besides, a bridge from the Middle Ages is still a sight more impressive than anything I walk over on a daily basis. as our cultural guide explains, the method for constructing our modern roadbeds doesn’t differ much from those used by the Romans. a shallow trench is dug and filled with a layer of gravel, tamped down, bordered by large, vertically-set blocks, and filled in with closely-fit paving stones. it’s interesting to think that the workers digging out, marking off, filling in and paving over Trumpy Road near our house are following in the footsteps of the people (probably local slaves) that built this road and bridge thousands of miles and years away.

an “early Gothic” bridge that dates from “only” the medieval era