Settling In, part 4

Another weekend adventure was a trip to Manzanares El Real, a town not far from Pozuelo that hadn’t made it into Fodor’s. But Mike had heard from a couple of people that there was a good castle there, so we looked it up in the Campsa guide and drove about thirty miles northwest, into the mountains.

We had another beautiful, clear day—we had had great luck with weather so far. The trip was easy, with even the small side roads well marked. On the Mercedes’ CD player was “The Iguanas,” the first release of a Tex-Mex-Cajun band Mike’s brother had given us about nine months before, but which we hadn’t listened to much. It was to become our theme music for family trips throughout Spain. About half the songs were sung in Spanish, and the band’s lineup included two saxophones, which gave it an unusual sound. We all laughed at the songs as we got to know them well. There was the opening one, about a guy with a bad hangover: “Late at night I do just as I please; early in the morning I’m down on my knees,” the lead singer sang. And the one that Julie used to scare Lisa, “¿Para donde vas?” (Where are you going?), which had a big pause in the middle, followed by Julie shouting in Lisa’s ear, “¿Para donde vas?” The giggles went on for fifteen minutes after that one.

So we tooled along through the barren Castilian countryside, with only the occasional scrubby tree emerging from the dry golden grass of the high plain. The sky was huge and blue and punctuated with a never-ending show of huge white clouds. The shadows’ edges were sharp-edged in the brilliant sun, as happens only in air that lacks moisture and dust. This was not the earthy, juicy atmosphere of Andalucía, in the south, which most people think of when they think of Spain. This was the sere, austere north central land of Don Quixote. What had struck me as brown and boring was starting to look good to me and to get inside me.

We got to the little town of Manzanares El Real, near the Sierra de La Pedriza, a part of the mountain range north of Madrid. We made our way over to the castle, which was at one edge of the town. All was quiet and shady there, and when we parked the car we walked over to the castle gates. The sign, in Spanish, said that the castle could be viewed only on a tour, and when we studied the schedule we learned that it would be about an hour till the next tour.

We walked through quiet residential streets till we came to a commercial block. “Would you guys like some ice cream?” Mike asked. “Yeah!” said both kids. We entered a little café. The blue and white “Camy” sign outside was already well known to Julie and Lisa. It meant that the café had a freezer with a dozen standard kinds of ice cream novelties in it: popsicles, ice cream bars, ice cream sandwiches. A special new favorite of theirs was the sorbets, which came in natural containers—that is, the lemon sorbet came in a hollowed-out lemon, and the orange in a hollowed-out orange, all frozen together as one package. “I want to try the coconut,” Julie said, eyes wide. There was a half of a coconut shell filled, presumably, with coconut sorbet.
“Can I have that, too?” Lisa asked. Mike paid for the treats, and we sat at an outside table while the kids ate.

After relaxing for a while we went back to the castle. The gates had been opened, and we entered the thick castle wall and walked up a stone path to the entrance. Mike bought our tickets and found out that we had a few minutes still to wait for the tour. “Let’s take a look around,” he said.

There were great rugged walls of tan stone, a good four feet thick at the base. There were narrow staircases leading up to the ramparts, and as we went up we saw slit windows that would allow archers to shoot at their attackers. “Can we go up on top of the wall?” Lisa asked. “I don’t know,” said Mike. “Let’s see.” There were more stairs leading up, so we climbed to the top and came out to a beautiful view of the valley below the castle. “This is how they build castles,” Mike told the kids. “You put them up high so it’s hard for your enemies to reach you, and you have a good view of anybody that might try to attack you.” The girls ran back and forth on top of the wall, looking in every direction.

Finally we came down and lined up for our tour. It was in Spanish, but the guide was not too fussy about keeping track of the group, so we were able to wander on our own. Much of the interior had been furnished with period antiques, and we saw suits of armor and massive chairs and tables. Dark, heavy tapestries lined some of the walls, adding a little warmth and color to the cold, pale stone.

After the tour we felt ready for more, so Mike checked the Campsa book again and decided we should see La Pedriza National Park, six miles away. There we found huge blocks of granite that looked as if they’d tumbled down a mountain to rest in a big pile. People were rock climbing in the pile, and we went up a little way, but it was too steep for us, so we went down to the base, where there was a little spring. Children were wading in the cool water while their parents watched, but Julie and Lisa were shy about joining in. We walked to the snack kiosk nearby and got them each a soft drink. By this time in our life in Spain Lisa had declared a permanent preference for Fanta Naranja (orange soda) and Julie for Fanta Limón (lemon soda), so they knew what to order. After a little rest we headed back home, with the Iguanas’ music accompanying us.