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The Ancient, Whitewashed Village of Carmona, Spain
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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!
If you’re like me, you’ve probably learned Spanish as it’s spoken throughout Latin America. Now, I know there is no one single standard Latin American accent, but there are a few things I’ve noticed when listening to Spaniards speak that distinguish them from Spanish speakers in, for example, Nicaragua or Argentina. Since living here for the greater part of a year, I’ve both consciously resisted and unconsciously picked up on many features of the typical Spanish accent. After thinking about it for a while, I’ve decided there are around five characteristics that most distinguish the Spanish of Spain from the Spanish of the Americas. These five sounds, when spoken in the Castilian way, will bring you much closer to sounding native.
1) Pronounce C before E & I and Z like TH
In the Americas you’ll hear the words ciudad (“city”), cereza (“cherry”), and zorro (“fox”) pronounced as “see-oo-DAHD” [sjuˈðað], “say-RAY-sah” [seˈɾe.sa], and “SOE-rroe” [ˈso.ro]. However, in Spain, you’ll pick …
This week I’ll be going into my third week in Spanish classrooms, but even in that short amount of time I’ve picked up on the words the kiddos use to get the attention of me or the teacher I’m helping.
1) profe
Pronounced “PROE-fay” [ˈpɾo.fe], this is a shortening of the Spanish word profesor or profesora, which looks like our word “professor” but means both university professor and teacher in any grade.
2) seño
Pronounced “SAY-nyoe” [ˈse.ɲo], this is a shortening of the Spanish words señorita (“Miss”) or señora (“Mrs.”). Two syllables are always easier to say than three or four!
3) maestro
Pronounced “mah-AYS-troe” [maˈes.tɾo], this word (and the accompanying female form maestra) means “teacher,” plain and simple.
4) teacher
In Spain, they learn British English in schools, so they pronounce the word “teacher” as “TEE-chuh” [ˈti.tʃə]. Sometimes they do attempt the American pronunciation, but it comes out more like “TEE-chahrr” [ˈti.tʃar].
Read my Galician crash course here to get up to speed in the language. Galician is a Romance language (i.e., from Latin) spoken by about 3 million people in Spain’s northwestern region of Galicia. Although it’s most closely related to Portuguese—which is spoken south of the border—it shares many similarities with Castilian Spanish, including sounds and spelling.
If you’re planning on spending any time traveling or living in this unique corner of Spain, or walking the Camino de Santiago pilgrimage route that ends here, even a tiny knowledge of Galician will help you get around and navigate menus, maps, etc. If you happen to speak Spanish, you’re already 80% of the way to understanding Galician, and I’m serious! Getting a grasp on the grammatical and phonological differences will turbo boost you up to 90%.
To whet your appetite (both literally and linguistically), here’s a little selection from the Galician Wikipedia’s article on empanada, or meat pie:
Unha empanada é unha preparación cu…
