A travel and lifestyle blog about Arizona, Spain, and everywhere in between.
The Ancient, Whitewashed Village of Carmona, Spain
Get link
Facebook
X
Pinterest
Email
Other Apps
In late October, I caught one of the last Ryanair flights of the season from Santiago de Compostela (where I’m living now) down to Sevilla, which is the capital of Andalucía—the southernmost region of Spain and my former home for a year. The last time I had been in the south was the early morning of June 1st, on my way north and west to begin the Camino de Santiago before heading back home to America. Thankfully, I was able to make my dream of returning to Andalucía come true this fall by flying down to Sevilla, where I got to hang out with Reina, one of my good American friends from Úbeda who is now living there.
While I was in town, she and I took a fun daytrip to Carmona, a small pueblo (village) about half an hour outside the city. When I first visited Sevilla back in April, my bus there stopped at Carmona’s bus station, and I was immediately hooked: a lovely, whitewashed village crowned with a huge, ancient stone castle. There was no question—I was going back, someday!
And go back I did—to Carmona, and to Andalucía. This town was the perfect place to return to the south because, for me, it reflects all the elements that make Andalucía the land I fell in love with in the first place.
It’s been 800 years since Christian Spaniards took the city of Qarmuna from the Moors, and over the centuries, Carmona became a typical Spanish village like any other in the country. However, despite the mosques turning into churches and Arabic giving way to Castilian, Carmona still has that Moorish charm to it like many places in Andalucía do.
The Church of Santa María, for example, was built on top of the main mosque shortly after the Reconquista passed through town, but the original ablutions courtyard—the Patio de los Naranjos—still remains, complete with fragrant orange trees and horseshoe arches.
Wandering through blindingly bright whitewashed streets reminded me much of Morocco and the narrow but pretty alleyways I strolled through (read: got lost in) in Chefchaouen. The names have changed and the houses now have balconies, but the medina-like maze of roads in the old town continues to enthrall.
Like any town in the south, Carmona offers simple yet savory dishes to try at its various bars and restaurants. Part of the reason I came here was because I had won a gift certificate from La Vida Es Bella via a giveaway that Cat of Sunshine and Siesta held this summer. I ended up choosing a meal voucher worth 50€ at Alcázar de la Reina, a 4-star hotel with a classy but unpretentious dining room. My friend (whose name happens to be Reina!) and I really enjoyed starting our dinner with a plate of sweet-and-savory berenjenas fritas (fried eggplants), half drizzled with honey and half left plain to dip in the cold tomato-y goodness that is salmorejo. Thanks for the contest, Cat!
Let’s be honest, there are some regions in Spain that are just a little ugly. I’m not going to name any names, but Andalucía is definitely in the “pretty” camp. Carmona’s Church of Santa María is a Sevilla cathedral in miniature, a beautiful Gothic sanctuary with tall, vertical, light-filled naves and intricate decorations on the ceiling. I loved the interplay between the purple light entering from the stained-glass clerestory windows and the warm illumination from lightbulbs below.
Andalucía in general, and the Guadalquivir river valley in particular, have a very strong connection with history that other parts of the country don’t exhibit nearly as strongly. The important Roman province of Baetica, which roughly corresponded with modern Andalucía, left us many cities that still are significant to today’s Spain: Cádiz, Sevilla, Córdoba, Málaga, etc., and Carmona was no exception. On the outskirts of town you can admire a gate that has continuously guarded the city since Roman times, the Córdoba Gate. Although it’s been spruced up in the past few centuries, Romans, Visigoths, Moors, and Spaniards have all passed through this entrance from the olive groves outside to the city within.
The town’s central alcázar or fortress dates back to Carthaginian times (pre-Roman) and has been used as a castle by that same succession of conquerors—Romans, Visigoths, Muslims, and Christians—up to the present day. It’s a lot of fun to crawl around the complex, see the distinction between older and newer stones (that are all probably four or five times older than America!), and enjoy the panoramic views of Carmona from the keep tower.
Have you ever been to Carmona before? What city is the epitome of your favorite Spanish region? Talk about it in the discussion below!
Galicia, located in Spain’s northwestern corner, is one of the country’s greatest regions. When I lived there from 2013 to 2015, I couldn’t get enough of the glorious, fresh food , the green, lush countryside, and the grand, granite architecture . But I could only take canned sardines with me back home, we’ve got enough humidity here in Texas, and sadly the oldest buildings in suburban Plano date back not to the 1070s but the 1970s. View this post on Instagram Okay, but really, y'all, where are the fairies??? This place has got some serious magic about it... // #flowers #spring #park #santiago #santiagodecompostela #galicia #spain #vsco #vscocam A post shared by Trevor Huxham (@trevorhuxham) on Mar 13, 2014 at 1:29pm PDT But what has stuck with me the most has been galego , the Galician language that I quickly picked up on after being immersed in it from day one at the elementary school I worked at. Clo
After Paris and the Bayeux Tapestry , the third thing I wanted to see while traveling in France was Mont-Saint-Michel , a towering monastery built on top of a mountainous island off the coast of Normandy. Before visiting, I really didn’t know much at all about the Mount except that it was only accessible when the tides were out…and that it looked just plain cool. During the visit, I ended up learning a bit about French history and why the Mount is such a big deal for the French people. Mont-Saint-Michel It was by sheer luck, though, that I was able to visit Mont-Saint-Michel at all (pronounced “mohn san mee-shehl” [mɔ̃ sɛ̃ mi.ʃɛl]). The very day I had chosen to visit Mont-Saint-Michel was the first day in weeks that the tourist bus was running between Saint-Malo (where my hostel was) and the Mount, with maybe one or two other runs more for December. I paid 20€ for the round-trip service but didn’t complain because this really freaky coincidence made the whole visit possible.
As you head down a curve of the busy San Pedro street, you catch your first view of the twin bell towers of the cathedral of Santiago de Compostela—and you catch your breath. Petite hatchbacks rattle across the cobblestone as your feet seem drawn farther down the path, although that might just be gravity pulling you downhill toward the old zone. You cinch up your backpack’s sternum strap for the final approach of this multiple-night pilgrimage. For not the first time on your Camino, you lose your sense of direction as you enter Santiago’s old town: granite flagstones at your feet, stone-and-graying-plaster houses on either side, and overcast skies above disorient you—yet your eyes eventually lock on to a spray-painted yellow arrow on the side of a building. Once you’re back on autopilot, you start to reflect on why you started this crazy, 70-mile-plus hike in the first place. Rúa de San Pedro, Santiago de Compostela Maybe you hiked from Sarria farther inland as a cheap and hea
