La Iruela - the Heart of Spain

---

A Temporary Settlement

After just over one year on the road, a temporary settlement was in order. It was not merely the packing and unpacking it was more the planning. I was tired of the planning - always looking for some place to stay, especially now that we were in expensive Europe. Whereas in Asia it was nice to find a good deal, in Europe everything was just so expensive, even hostels. So, I wanted to stop moving, and stop planning.

We arrived in the small town of La Iruela, in the Andalucian Mountains in Spain. As the tiny rental car chugged its way from Valencia, we headed into cold February weather. The closer we came to La Iruela, the more snow we saw on the ground. At first it was only on the hills and mountains in a distance, but then, on the fields, trees, and even road signs. I had flashbacks to Chile and glanced to my left to try to catch some of the fear in Eric’s eyes.

We did not choose La Iruela as much as it chose us. Family friends, Chris and Mercedes, own an olive oil boutique in New Jersey. While visiting their newest store in Long Branch, Chris offered his house in Spain to us anytime we wanted it. We knew nothing about the house other than its location near Cazorla, at the entrance of the largest national park in Spain - perfect for hiking. As our schedule cleared and we were heading into the tail end of the trip, I wanted to see what it would be like to live in a small town for awhile. I wanted to immerse myself in the local language and try to finally work on my Spanish. Knowing nothing about the town other than a few paragraphs in an email from Mercedes, we signed on for a cheap and peaceful end to our trip. We were not prepared, however, for the cold.

The directions from the internet were fairly appalling once we exited the highway, with multiple turns on various roads. Problem was we could not find road signs or the names of streets in any of the small towns. Immediately, we sought directions from one of the few gentlemen we saw on the street in the rainy late afternoon. He directed us to the road needed and told us just to continue on that road through the towns of Mogon, Santo Tome, Cazorla, and finally La Iruela, ‘directo, directo, directo.” The snow cleared as we made our way, which made us feel warmer, but it was raining as we headed up the mountain into Cazorla. The directo instructions became tougher as the road narrowed and snaked up the mountain with more curvy streets in various directions. We passed a funeral, consisting of a hearse leading a pack of walking mourners, and I realized in a small town such as this everyone probably knows the deceased. Cazorla has about 5,000 residents.

We stopped one more time for directions and were told to continue up the mountain at the end of the small town. We arrived in La Iruela just as a dense, gray fog blanketed the even smaller town, with about 900 residents. There are just a few roads, one leading into town, and this is where we found Antonio, Chris and Mercedes friend, and the caretaker of the house. Mercedes told us to look for Antonio’s house, on the main road, across from the main plaza and the public phone. His house was exactly as she said - across from the small main square.

My opportunity to practice my Spanish started immediately, because Antonio, like almost every other person in town, did not speak English. He pointed in the direction of the house just down the road. I walked beside him trying to understand his instructions and Eric drove up ahead with the car and the luggage. The house itself was charming. It was a narrow four story townhouse, just at the intersection of two roads. Complete with four bedrooms, two bathrooms, and an outdoor patio on the top floor, it was a lot of space we would not be using. We were warned to expect electric heating, a big house, and some cold in the mountains. Mercedes did not lie. Electric radiators dotted the rooms, and as much as Antonio put some of them on before we arrived the house was not heated by any sense. Antonio showed me the house and then jumped in the car with us to drive us around town. The tour did not last very long. After, we parked the car and had a coffee in the local cafeteria with Antonio before heading back to settle in.

After unpacking all the groceries we bought in Valencia (and all of the oranges we purchased) , we spent some time in the living area downing some cold red wine and fresh bread we picked up in town, still piping hot when purchased, with some cheese as our first real meal of the day, around 7pm. When we arrived in La Iruela the rain had deposited a thick white fog over the town and the valley and we could not see the view from the house. During our evening wine the fog lifted before sunset and we were able to see the view - simply stunning. Up the mountain to the right was a ruin of an old castle. Sloping down the mountain across our near view were the red and brown tiled roof tops of the neighboring houses, almost all of which were painted in white wash. Out in the distance were the mountains. In the far distance were snow capped mountains which could be seen on a clear day. In between were houses dotting a landscape covered in rows of olive trees. As much as Valencia was the heart of orange country, we were in olive country and the heart of the olive oil industry in Spain. We started to feel better about our situation, despite the cold.

While walking back from the cafeteria earlier that afternoon, we also saw a bar open. This, we thought, was a miracle. Driving through each of the towns from the main road we noticed one thing - cerrado. Everything was closed. I was hoping it was because of the time of day, afternoon siesta, and not the time of year. In La Iruela, each day, there was one cafeteria and one bar open in the center of the town - and that was it. We quickly became regulars at Bar La Duende, mostly for company and TV. And, this was the experience we were waiting for - tapas the traditional way. Our first night, we made our way to the bar for tapas. We each ordered a beer, for a miniscule €1.50, which was nothing compared to prices in Barcelona. After our beer arrived the bartender went to the kitchen and cooked up a free, hot tapa for each of us - generally a piece of sliced pork with a green grilled pepper on top. Other times it was pancetta and a pepper, a stuffed mussel, or grilled octopus. It became our dinner most nights. Our other regular stop became the cafeteria, where we would stop each day for café con leche. As we usually do, we quickly settled into our routine, and became creatures of habit.

Home Cooking and a Hot Table

One of our first days in town we stopped at the favorite restaurant of Antonio’s wife, Inma, La Finca Mercedes. We walked down the hill from town to explore, and saw there were two restaurants at the base of the hill. Neither was open for awhile, so we walked back up the hill to go back to the house for a bit. We walked back down the hill at a better time for lunch, closer to 2pm. We were lucky that this particular afternoon the sky cleared for just a bit and we had about three or four hours of somewhat sunny weather with no rain. It was gorgeous walking around the town and looking at the views over the valley below. It was a stunning landscape with rows of olive trees as far as the eye could see.
We arrived at La Finca Mercedes and were the first there for lunch and they offered us either a table in the dining room or in the bar area close to the window. We chose the simple table near the window thinking we did not need the fancy dining room all to ourselves. While the woman sat us at our table she plugged in what I thought was the electric heater. After a few minutes we felt some warmth but when I put my hand near the heater along the wall it was stone cold. We realized that the table we were sitting at was an electric table. When we looked under the table cloth there was a thick green blanket covering, and under that was a hot red electric heater in the base of the table. After freezing at the house and in the town we did not want to leave this spot. I placed my feet on the base of the table and wrapped the green blanket over my legs. The food made our stay even better.

We started with a trio of free appetizers including some pickled vegetables, roasted almonds, and a warm spread of chickpeas and chicken which we spread over warm fresh bread. At this point, I was not even hungry for our lunch. Eric ordered a potato and vegetable soup but was told, in Spanish, that today it would be potato and rice soup, which was no problem for him; he was just looking for warmth. What arrived, instead, were vegetables, rice, and seafood. Who knew? It was more like a jambalaya than a soup, and left Eric full. I ordered garlic soup, which had a poached egg and bacon in it. Basically, we learned whatever we ordered something else might come to the table beyond the description on the menu. This was not a restaurant for vegetarians, with random meats and seafood being added in. But, everything was tasty. We learned that the restaurant was family owned. Our server was the granddaughter, the hostess and bartender was the daughter, and grandma was cooking the food in the back. It was as though we were eating home cooked food in a restaurant. Our second course included Eric’s grilled pork stuffed with garlic and I had a roasted wild boar (of course). Both were served with sliced roasted potatoes and a large grilled green pepper. It was fantastic, but I think we threw them for a loop when we asked to bring the leftovers home. I just could not eat more than a few bites and it became a dinner for us a few days later. As we finished our wine and had giant espressos, the family brought us each a glass of homemade cinnamon liquor. I was spent. Needless to say, we did not eat dinner that night. And, we left the restaurant all toasty and warm from our table. It was one of our best days in La Iruela.

Sierras de Cazorla

Saturday was a beautiful day. When looking at the ten day forecast it was the only one in the area that was expected in the near future and everyone wanted to make the most of it. The night before Antonio invited us over for a “beer” which turned into a four hour long feast of various tapas and beer, wine, and cava with his wife, Inma, and her sister. Antonio also had a heated table, in which they scooped some coals from the fire. Again, genius. We were already in the habit of sleeping pretty late, but after our somewhat late night at Antonio’s, we set the alarm to meet Antonio and Inma for hot chocolate and churros at the local cafeteria. Antonio asked his friend to meet us too. His friend was born in Canada, but spends about nine months of the year in La Iruela growing olives. It was nice for Eric to have someone else besides me to speak English with even if only for coffee in the morning. I did not anticipate the level of isolation Eric would feel in the town - with no English TV stations, no internet, and no English speaking for a week, it was tough on him. But, he enjoyed the conversation at the cafeteria before we went off for our day to enjoy the good weather.

We drove with Antonio and Inma a few towns up the mountain closer to the National Park, to meet up with his family for a day in the mountains. We followed his brother’s SUV farther into the hills, around the curvy roads to a lookout over the park and the valley below. The scenery was stunning. We continued to another area where we parked the car without fully understanding what we were doing. We ended up on a 1.6 kilometer hike to another lookout, then to a waterfall and back along a circuit. The walk was not too bad, but was incredibly muddy, since it had rained every day for the prior week. I tried to step carefully, not wanting to destroy the only real pair of shoes I had with me on the trip.

After a few more stops for sights, we stopped, finally for a traditional lunch. There was a set menu for the three courses. Eric started with sweet grilled red peppers and fresh sliced bread. I had rin ran, a specialty of the area Antonio told me about. It was a puree of potatoes, vegetables, and a fish. I was nervous it would be too fishy, but it was creamy and delicious spread over the fresh bread. Eric and I each had a fantastic and tender roasted chicken with vegetables. The other option for the main course was pigs’ feet, or maybe pigs’ knuckles. I had always wanted to try pigs’ feet and here was my chance. Eric and I each tried some. The tender pork meat inside was great with a wonderful flavor, but the amount of fat surrounding the meat was a bit too much for me. But, I tried it. We finished with flan, café con leche, and herbal liquor. I was ready to explode. The total came to only €12 per person including beer. We quickly learned that with the expense of Europe and the poor performance of the dollar against the Euro we needed to know some locals who could pull us out of town for a great deal on a meal - we had the first experience with our friends in Lucca, and this meal was just as good and a great value.

After lunch we continued into the park for another view over a large lake before returning to town. Earlier we had told Antonio we would meet at the local bar for tapas for dinner, but after a late and lengthy three course lunch and an all day drive around the national park, Eric and I were exhausted. We called it a night.

---

Photos

Sunset View
From the house

Me and Eric
Enjoying the nice weather

With Antonio's Family
A trip to the mountains