Letter from Asturias
by Ben Curtis
I wrote the article below 5 years ago, long before this blog was born, on another trip to Asturias. We are here again right now, and happy to report that nothing has changed. So, while we gather audio and photos to show you when we get back next week, I hope you enjoy this earlier “Letter from Asturias” as a taste of things to come:
If you take a walk along the beach at Gandia, a small Mediterranean resort town an hour to the south of Valencia, at nine o clock in the morning in July, a surprising sight awaits you. The entire front line, the ‘Primera Linea’, that long stretch of beach at the water’s edge, is already completely occupied by parasols and beach mats, yet there isn’t a soul to be seen. The canny Spanish holiday-maker stole down at dawn, marked out his territory, and went back to bed. The effect is rather eerie, and certainly frustrating for the despondent family that arrives half an hour too late: ‘Look Mama’, sighs a small boy, ‘the sea has all been reserved.’
And so it is for all the Spanish Mediterranean coast. The ‘Primera Linea’ has long since been reserved, marked out, built on and altogether gobbled up. The resort chain from Catalonia to Gibraltar is all but complete, with barely a missing link. In places it is mercifully low-rise and low-key, backed by orange groves and as distinctly Spanish as it was before the builders arrived. But in general the beaches are as packed and no less hectic than the Metro in Madrid, the sun is merciless and the humidity at night will make an insomniac of even the deepest of sleepers.
The sage Spanish traveller knows to head to the north coast instead. After a dip into the hot swarthy baths of the Med., a trip to Asturias brings immeasurable relief, like putting in some ear plugs and turning on the cold tap. Bordered by the more popular provinces of Galicia and Cantabria, and cut off from the centre of the country by the formidable Picos de Europa mountain range, Asturias has been all but forgotten, not a single ‘Apart-Hotel’ complex in sight.
Yet this is a land straight from the pages of a fairy tale. The mountains are so fierce and sit so close to the coast that you imagine them put there by some imaginative storyteller, who would have giants sliding down them each morning for a quick wash in the sea. The foothills behind the cliffs are so green, the cows that graze them so picture-perfect and the woodlands and vegetable patches so ornate, that one would hardly be surprised to stumble across Hansel and Gretel, or houses made of chocolate.
The people that inhabit this dreamy landscape are no less magical themselves. In the mountains, lottery sellers walk from village to distant village with strings of tickets around their necks, as eagerly as their city partners dart from bar to bar in busy urban streets. In tiny village fiestas they jump blindfold into a ring and tumble helplessly after squealing greasy piglets. Late one night in a roadside tavern I came across a drunk, elfish old man who filled the room with clouds of smoke from every long drag on his cigarette.
‘Still walking back to Ribadesella tonight then?’ the waitress teased him. This involved a journey of some thirty miles along the pitch-black coast. He filled the room with smoke again in reply. He could, he was saying, if he wanted, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he did.
The Asturians eat extraordinary bowls of rich bean and sausage stews, and drink cider for breakfast, lunch and supper, poured from earthy bottles held high above the head in one hand, into a glass held well below the waist in the other, eyes looking neither up nor down, but strictly dead ahead. Over the years they have shown ruthless powers of resistance. It is said that in the eighth century some thirty Asturians kept an army of 400,000 Moors out of their mountains, and as such this remained the only part of Spain not to fall under Moorish rule.
Now, it seems they feel under threat from a new invasion, just as numerous and no less alarming. ‘Presidents!’ snarled one waiter ominously, after he’d explained the dishes of the day. ‘They are coming from Madrid, presidents of enormous corporations, buying big houses. They have more money than you could imagine. More come every year, building their palaces on our land’. Could the unthinkable happen? Could Asturias fall prey to the worst excesses of the Mediterranean?
It’s doubtful. Even if the locals don’t send them packing then the weather will. A beach holiday in Asturias is a gamble that most Spaniards are not prepared to accept: for every day of sun, you may well have two of rain. But risk it, and you will lie on the most beautiful beaches in Spain.
Backed by Eucalyptus groves and cliffs carpeted in tropical greens, they are populated by foraging goats, peaceful locals, perhaps a stray Victorianesque English family playing cricket with driftwood, and silent nudists who take refuge behind a rocky outcrop down at the far end. The Cantabrian Sea is absolutely pure and invigoratingly cool, its waves endlessly ruffling the fine sand at the shore.
Back in Gandia, at six in the evening, many of the ‘Primera Linea’ sunbathing elite have retreated to their high-rise bunkers, as tanned as leather. A few elderly bathers flounder amongst the strips of plastic bag that somehow find their way into the tepid lifeless sea. It’s aerobics time and a large section of sand has been cordoned off for 200 teenagers who jump, sway and sweat this way and that, to the disco sounds of a monstrous sound-system that can be heard half a mile away. This is hellish and yet no-one seems to mind, the power of the sun it seems, having blinded their judgment. Long then, I quietly hope, may it continue to rain in Asturias.
Posted: July 26th, 2008 under Spain Travel.
Comments: 20
Comments
Comment from raytibbitts
Time: July 26, 2008, 10:11 am
I find humidity to be the thing that most keeps me from being able to sleep, and yet makes me feel the most tired. I do often have problems with insomnia in general, and warmer temperatures do tend to both help me to feel tired and sleepy, as well as fall asleep more quickly, but humidity… I can not stand it, it keeps me awake, no matter how worn out I am, and it makes me long for screen doors or air conditioning like a NASCAR driver longs for a right turn.
Comment from Edith
Time: July 26, 2008, 11:37 am
I hate crowds and noise too, which is why I don’t go to these seaside resorts even though I love sunny weather and beaches. There are simply too many people on this planet, and for some reason they have a tendency to flock together. * rolling eyes *
Comment from Colin
Time: July 26, 2008, 3:30 pm
“invigoratingly cool”. . . . Ben, You and your kindnesses. It’s cold enough it is off the coast of Galicia. Perhaps you were wearing a wet suit.
Comment from Colin
Time: July 26, 2008, 3:32 pm
Sorry . . . It’s cold enough to deprive a young male like you of his chances of paternity. Just as it is off the coast of Galicia.
Comment from Jonk
Time: July 26, 2008, 4:04 pm
The idea of travelling halfway around the world and finding eucalyptuses is one I can’t get my head around. Don’t get me wrong, I love them, but I just can’t picture it in Spain.
Comment from Bill
Time: July 26, 2008, 4:51 pm
I was told by a few Gallegos that the eucalyptuses were an unwelcome addition to the north since they tend to extract a lot of the water and nutrients from the surrounding soil, so nothing else can grow near them. I’ve also heard that a lot of the pines in the sierras to the north of Madrid were artficially introduced, and that they also play havok with the local plantlife since they cover the ground with their needles, thus also preventing other plants from growing nearby.
I’m not sure to what extent this is true, but I think the eucalyptus does look out of place in northern Spain, it just doesn’t seem to fit in.
Comment from jomik746
Time: July 26, 2008, 5:10 pm
How disappointed I was when I finished reading this post and realized that I wasn’t actually in Asturias!
Comment from raytibbitts
Time: July 26, 2008, 6:21 pm
I love eucalyptus trees, and I’m glad to have found them here in Spain, as well as back in California. Their smell always reminds me of the line of them that my uncles planted along the back property line where my parents still live.
It is true that not much can grow near them, and they grow so fast, shedding great amounts of aromatic debris, crushing and burying anything that tries. But, still I’m glad that Australia has shared them around the world. San Diego just wouldn’t be the same without Eucalyptus and Pepper trees.
I just remembered that I have been up to Asturias, a long time ago. By bus, up from Madrid, in August, through the Cantabrian Mountains. May it continue to rain in Asturias indeed.
The place that truly stands out in my memory, I think it was a valley called Covadonga. Our leader on our little tour told us a story that I’m sure Tolkien must have heard about, as it matched so closely the way I imagined the return of Gandalf in the Lord of the Rings.
Comment from Moscow
Time: July 26, 2008, 8:09 pm
Well, thanks for that. I am from Asturias me-self, Gijon to be precise. Always nice to hear such praise for one’s place of birth. You are a bit harsh on the Med, though. The Med is actually unique. There is no place on earth like the Mediterranean. The Atlantic is far less special. And Asturias has it’s downsides too. I should know.
Comment from Edith
Time: July 26, 2008, 9:04 pm
@ Jonk,
Eucalyptus trees are just one of many plant and animal species which have been introduced all over the world - the agaves and opuntia (nopal) cactuses in southern Spain are from Mexico originally.
Comment from Amberly
Time: July 27, 2008, 9:13 am
Ben, this is a really lovely piece of travel writing. I’m glad you pulled it out of the archives and posted!
Comment from ValenciaSon
Time: July 27, 2008, 3:14 pm
What a truly magical and idyllic place you describe Asturias as, Ben. I really enjoyed this piece. I look forward to anything else you share from this trip. Heck, I look forward to visiting Asturias one day! Pass the sidra.
Comment from Kevin Geraghty
Time: July 27, 2008, 10:19 pm
regarding eucalyptuses and pines in Asturias, none are native. The eucalyptuses in general are regarded as a plague on the landscape by naturalists, as they displace native forest, and their understories are sterile.
Pino albar (scots pine) is native in the Pyrenees and there is one small patch of allegedly authchthonous pino albar on the S slope of the Cantabrians near Redes, but for all practical purposes the only native conifer is the rare and interesting yew, taxus baccata.
I have seen douglas fir plantations in a number of spots in the mts. Douglas fir is native to the region where I live (Washington, USA) and it’s a fine species, but I really don’t like seeing it in Asturias.
Comment from Lenox
Time: July 27, 2008, 10:30 pm
I think the Med is a splendid sea. Keeps us warm in the winter and cool in the summer. But swim in it? Blimey, I don’t think so…
Comment from Ekayen
Time: July 28, 2008, 8:28 am
Asturias sounds like Spain’s equivalent to the US’s Oregon-Washington Coast. You can go south to California and avoid mild inconveniences like instant frostbite, but if you’re willing to take the constant clouds and the near-constant drizzle, you can have the whole place very nearly to yourself. Like in Asturias, there are touristy things to do, but most of them center around natural things, like thirty-story elevator rides down to see caves filled thousands of sea lions. Resorts are non-existent—luxury shouldn’t have to carry an umbrella. But because of that rain, the whole area is absolutely gorgeous. Right off the beaches, everything becomes suddenly green. Blackberry bushes have to be fended off of roadways and every tree has several layers of moss coating it. It is absolutely beautiful. However, I don’t think I could ever abide living there, in a state of constant semi-sogginess. I’ll probably always stay solidly inland, but within visiting distance.
Comment from parubin
Time: July 28, 2008, 5:28 pm
My family hails from Asturias, Cantabria and the Basque Country (along with Galicia this northern portion of Spain forms a unique entity of green valleys, high mountains and splendid unspoilt coast and beaches). The article is great but I have to agree on the dislike that people from the north have on eucalyptus trees, which are praised in this article. They are not originally from there and they were planted because they grow fast and provide cheap wood for industry. There have overtaken some fields that were previously filled with the autocnous tress : oaks, beech, cherry trees, ash trees and various kinds of pines.
Luckily enough some pressure put from nature conservation organizations in the last years have claimed that eucalyptus should not be planted anymore and should have to be gradually reduced for the trees that have always grown on Cantabrian and Asturian mountains and valleys.
Comment from Pol
Time: July 29, 2008, 2:43 am
Please, Ben, keep teaching me adjectives! ;o) I am just commenting so you know you’ve got scores of Spanish-speaking fans too. A Murcian here.
It is always comforting when a foreigner—I cannot properly call you a ‘foreigner’, I’m aware of that—acquaints his fellows with how varied Spanish regions are…
Comment from Katie
Time: July 29, 2008, 9:52 am
lovely writing! just back from a weekend there myself. the air is fresher and cooler and the coast much less marred than the med. and those fabes…!
Comment from Colin
Time: July 30, 2008, 10:29 am
Here in Galicia eucalyptus trees are also detested for their major role in feeding the forest fires. And for growing very much more quickly after them than the local trees [e. g. oaks] do. Which makes them very effective colonisers/invaders. They are known, by the way, as Tasmanian Oaks.
BTW - I’m not sure Australians should be proud of anything which originates in a place where they wiped out everything but the trees . . .
Comment from Jonk
Time: July 30, 2008, 1:40 pm
@ Colin, while I’m not sure how one could be proud of trees of any bark, I would like to know… to what are you referring? I found your comment confusing… what got wiped out?
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