DAY 6 Thursday 6 September 2018
A warm evening to explore the town after dark. Neighbours sit out in the streets and children play in the Town Square.
I met up with a couple from Bath, an artist and her photographer partner for coffee in town in the morning and swapped stories. They have been coming here for 4 years and are renting a house around the corner in the Old Jewish Quarter. I inadvertently chose a cake which I thought was made of almonds, but was actually called ‘Pork-Fat Cake’ - delicious, but not remotely vegetarian. I’m hanging loose about eating meat in Spain… it’s bound to happen!
On my way home I see that the fish shop is open and buy three baby cod; there’s something jewel-like about them with fine red markings on the face.
Then over the road to the bakers; it’s late and there’s not much left - just a few round flat loaves. In the back is the wood-burning oven with its long paddle. The baker is a young man who tells me that he follows his father and grandfather and that the oven is more than 200 years old. He puts in a piece of paper to reignite the fire... the kindness of strangers.
I return home with a loaf and fishes for lunch.
The wood burning oven is more than 200 years old.
After lunch I go up to the studio; some more prints of the Kindness of Strangers; tomatoes from Helma’s garden and a jar of unrefined honey- the best ever; it still retains the aroma of the beeswax. I add some bridges to the Turia flood print.
Then when it’s cooler I walk to the River - it’s evening and there is a family swimming in the pool. A fine medieval bridge ‘Puenta del Realillo’ crosses the Rio del Chelva and a sign posts to Ermita de San Cristobal and Fuente de Berra up the hill; more places to explore.
The Medieval Bridge spans a lush rock strewn valley with bamboo, reeds and willow herb.
I walk home in the dark. The Plaza Mayor feels cavernous, but filled with chatter and activity. Children ride bikes around the fountain and light floods from the old people’s home in the corner of the square which is buzzing. I enjoy the stark shadows thrown across the streets by the wall-lamps and the chasms of deep blue night-sky visible between the tiled roofs.
The plaza in the Arab Quarter is deserted; my street is a tiny alley off to the right.