my travels: Jaen 14th October

We left Granada this morning, headed for Jaen about 100 kms north east. Jo was up front with me so she could enjoy the view, Hilary and Diana were chatting in the back, non-stop. It was nice for Hilary to have someone sharing the journey with her, it occurred to me she usually does it alone, while we have a companion. Jo was able to get quite a few photos of the scenery as we ground our way past hectares and hectares of olive groves. I can’t remember the exact figure but we were on the motorway and at least 60kms of the journey we had horizon to horizon of patch-work quilt fields of olives. They are planted as if the view for tourists is important, small squares with different patterns, always lines I think but sometimes diagonal and sometimes side to side rather than up and down, also when there is a hill to be taken into the formula more interesting patterns emerge. I wonder if it is a hangover from Moorish times with the Islamic tiling effect.

At one point the olives stopped and an almost desert scene appeared on the horizon. I think they were probably clearing the land for more olives, but the effect against the bright blue sky was the look of towering dunes. Unfortunately Jo has her photos so I can’t share the drive-by pictures with you, but it is a rare treat to be able to get any pictures of the scenery we drive through.

We stopped for a coffee about 20kms from Jaen, a truck-stopish, café in the middle of nowhere from memory, it was a bit like something from a wild-western I remember, but maybe I have become a romantic in my travels.

We drove the last few kms to Jaen, I was sure there was a camping spot nearby but we were unable to find anything as we drove into town. We weren’t exactly sure how to negotiate the area, we had a map courtesy of the mad lady at Almeria but it was of the centre of town and so you had to find your way there before you could follow the map. We did try one route in but the streets were so narrow and cars parked so close together that at times it felt as though we might become wedged, Pooh Bear style, neither able to go forward or back. Happily we managed to squeeze our way through, everyone’s wing mirrors intact and headed back to a parking area on the outskirts of town that looked as though we could park there for the day. They were setting up for a circus it seemed, at first glance we thought it was actually a campervan park there were so many campervans and caravans parked side by side, but then we realised there was a circus there, it seemed relatively permanent but the signs on the lamp-posts throughout the town seemed to imply it was just a short and temporary occurrence.

We parked the truck in the shade of a large awning and headed off to “do Jaen”. We found some interesting buildings, the council building was very pretty, unfortunately we couldn’t get right in to see the whole complex, but we managed a small poke around. The cathedral was closed for the middle of the day, as were many of the other buildings and sights as the man from the tourist information office told us when we found him and asked.

Street scenes of Jaen

We did have a walk around narrow streets and got a feel for the town, before heading down to the archaeological museum which was one of the few things open at that time (two o’clockish). The museum was actually quite good, with artefacts from the ages, (old rocks and pots) but I was quite tired and felt a bit artefacted out. Di had the good sense to go upstairs to the belle arts (Art Gallery/fine arts section ) and returned with tales of very good art works, but even with her recommendation I couldn’t muster the energy to climb the flight of stairs to go and see for myself.

There was a very friendly and helpful woman at the counter who we asked questions of, even though she like many of her country folk said she didn’t speak English, between us, with her speaking a lot more English than I speak Spanish, we managed to understand each other sufficiently well to continue with our adventure. We enquired about how to get to the castle, the man from the information centre had said there was a bus, but we were not sure where it left from. The lady told us at the roundabout outside and up the road a bit, but then later came and found us and said it would be much better to catch a taxi as there were four of us, and taxis are pretty cheap in Spain. So we took her advice and went looking for a taxi. Of course we couldn’t find one so when I saw two nicely dressed (very smart looking) policemen directing traffic, I went and asked where I might find a taxi to get to the castle. Unfortunately we didn’t manage to get a photo, but Jo, Hilary and Diana will attest to the fact, both these young men SALUTED ME! And said, “Ma’am” as they did so. I was quite tickled!!!!! We couldn’t find the taxi stand that was pointed out to me however, but we did manage to flag down a passing taxi (I think that is illegal in Spain, but we are still free, so that’s OK) which deposited us at the top of the hill where the castle is (and a very flash hotel which is now housed in part of it). I can’t remember what the taxi cost, but it was in the vicinity of 7 euros which is not a lot more than a bus would have been had there been one. It turned out there isn’t a bus to the Castle, it stops about 2 kms down the road at about 300 vertical metres below where we wanted to be, and it was stinky hot, so thankfully the woman at the museum had given us great advice.

The castle, an old Moorish one, had a stunning position, high up on a hill/mountain overlooking the town and plains around Jaen. From the top we could see for miles over town and country-side, worth it for the vistas as the bloke at tourist information had said. In fact the castle itself was not a tourist site, as I said it had been taken over by a large hotel, so the purpose of a visit to the castle is really for the views.

We got the hotel staff to call us a taxi to take us back to the truck, I can’t remember the time by now, but it was late afternoon and we were all pretty tired after extensive sight-seeing in Granada earlier in the week. The young tattoo covered man who was our taxi driver for our downward journey was lovely. He took us on a very rapid route, including a shortcut which nearly cost him his diff which scraped on the hump of a sharp corner as he negotiated us through the narrow back streets of Jaen. He deposited us back at our truck, which was sitting happily (but now in the bright sunshine) in the car-park where we had left it, and where we had seen it on high zoom through the camera from the castle a bit earlier.

We had dinner in the truck and decided that the car park was a good enough place to stay for the night. Little did we know. We had failed to look at our photos of the carpark I had taken from the castle. Had we done so (which I only did three days later) we may have seen the giant sign in the background which said “Maxi Dance”. Not only was there a circus setting up, there was a dance party. Of course being Spain nothing happened much until we were well in bed, covers drawn up ready to sleep. Then the beat started, I think two weeks later it is still embedded in my tympanic membranes and cerebella. The whole car-park filled up with party goers and the music/beat continued virtually rocking the truck, until 5 am when the silence reigned at last. It was a night to remember (for us, I’m not sure if the party goers will have much memory of it at all). I didn’t actually mention the car-park did I. It was like something from Las Vegas at the beginning of the night with pink, green and other bright neon lights surrounding it making it look as Hilary described it, like a birthday cake. By the next morning however, when the scores of cleaners arrived with brooms, green and orange overalls, and large water trucks to begin the clean-up it looked more like the desolate party zone that it was. We didn’t stay long, but headed off to Cordoba, heads thumping to the beat of the night.