A young German girl´s journey across Andalusia in 1955
![[Img #83828]](http://el7set.es/upload/images/11_2021/7493_98268642_1645718688926133_5836360329012969472_n.jpg)
After three wonderful and interesting months spent in Madrid, thanks to a students´exchange, on november 20th I left my nice “adoptive family“, as I still wanted to visit Andalusia, before returning to Germany.
The “express“ to Córdoba left punctually at 23 o´clock. At one o´clock, when all passengers had left, I made myself comfortable, protecting myself against the cold that was entering from everywhere, by both a woollen and a pyjama jacket.
In Córdoba we arrived 1 ½ hours late. After having asked in the nearby tourist office for a cheap accomodation, I went to “La Pensión Central“ with its lovely patio, full of plants and flowers. It was especially those wonderful patios with their fountains, plants, flowers and wrought iron bars which I got very fond of. I also was impressed by the Mezquita and its great many pillars, and by the broad avenues, full of pubs, cafeterias and restaurants. There was another thing that impressed me too .... the cleanliness of the town. Did I have Madrid in mind?
The train to Sevilla arrived 1½ hours late. After sitting in the “standing“ train for another hour, we finally left, arriving at Sevilla 3 hours late, after a pleasant journey with nice conversations and somebody offering saussages, bread and ham.
In Sevilla I spent some money hiring a porter, many of whom then crowded the stations´platforms and who very often collaborated with boarding houses. Just imagine my heavy suitcase, full of clothes for a 4 months´stay! We girls still didn´t wear trousers or the practical jeans, and, to top it all, the suitcases didn´t have any rollers!
After a little stroll across the famous Santa Cruz quarter, my young porter led me to
“La Gloria“, which offered rooms, a bathroom, showers and “all comforts“.
In the mornings I took some churros for breakfast, and wondered about the women leaving their houses with curlers in their hair and in padded dressing gowns.
In Sevilla I visited everything that had to be visited, except the Giralda, the famous cathedral´s tower. Climbing up wasn´t allowed to singles – they might have killed themselves jumping down – or to couples without company. There were no groups of tourists or girls I could have joined, and joining groups of men, a girl alone, that would not have been allowed either. Lots of years later, on one of the Alcossebre pensioners´trips, I was able to climb up the Giralda, on comfortable ramps which had replaced the old stairs.
It was in Sevilla when I learnt that orange isn´t the same as orange. One day, when crossing the cathedral´s Patio de los Naranjos, I saw some wonderful oranges lying on the floor. “What a gorgeous dessert for my frugal meals“ I thought. I soon realized that I was quite mistaken as to “gorgeous“. What did I know about decorative orange trees!
From Sevilla I went, by train, to Jerez de la Frontera where I slept in a tiny room in the old quarter with cobbled streets and small white houses. I visited the oldest and most famous sherry bodega of Pedro Domenech, where, after much tasting finos, amontillados, manzanillas and olorosos, I fight against the increasing intoxication by eating pieces of white bread. I also went to the nearby Cádiz – the train needed two hours for 50 kms!
In Jerez I took the bus to Ronda, I had been recommended by my “adoptive parents“ who both were from Málaga. During the journey there was a little stop at the foot of Arcos de la Frontera, a little old town, built on a big rock, which I would have liked to visit. I couldn´t imagine that lots of years later I was even able to stroll twice across this picturesque and enchanting town, thanks to the trips organized by the Alcossebre Pensioners.
In Ronda I found accomodation in “La Andalucía“, whose owners invited me, in the already cool evenings, to sit around the “mesa camilla“, the round table, covered by a thick blanket you pull up to your waist, while the brazier, installed in the lower part of the table, warms you.
Ronda fascinated me from the very beginning. I strolled across all the quarters, the upper and the lower ones, I admired the “Tajo“ from the New Bridge and climbed down, I passed by elderly women, clad in black clothes, covered by long woollen, fringed shawls, I saw men sitting in front of the pubs and I bumped into lots of crowds of dirty children, imagines I would see all over my trip across Andalusia.
One day, when sitting on a small wall, watching three elderly women with their pitchers, four soldiers, accompanied by two young women, arrived from the nearby military sanatorium. After much whispering and staring at me, they finally dared to speak to me. After a nice chat they asked me to make some photos. After sending them from Germany I got some nice letters I keep as a treasure. Encarna writes, also in the name of her friend Lina, “.... we too will send one (photo), so you´ll have some Andalusian girls and you would miss Ronda less. ....We know your father is a doctor, so you have a future. I don´t know if you realized that Ronda is nice but very poor.“
Orthography according to Andalusian pronouncing.
Gabriel is a fan of fun and amusement: “....outside Andalusia there are some entertainments, never like in Andalusia, the beautiful one, the rose of the whole world, where we have got the joy other regions want to catch a bit, with the people trying to take our customs, but the gracefulness of Spain is in Andalucía.“
Finally arrived the unforgettable train trip to Málaga. The train left at 5 o´clock in the morning. The platform was crowded with people and luggage, that´s why I became afraid of not getting any seat. But when the train left, the platform was nearly as full as before, by people who just wanted to accompany their beloved ones before undertaking such a long trip. The coach wasn´t empty either: it was crowded by passengers, suitcases, parcels, cases, bags and even cages with hens. After one hour my back was hurting, due to the hard wooden 3rd class bench, but you soon forgot all pain, thanks to the great atmosphere that was growing according to the bota´s, the leathern wine bottle´s going round. Unfortunately I couldn´t take part, as I was afraid of spoiling my dress. By the way, it wasn´t just a funny trip, it was a “thriller trip“ too, as the train sometimes nearly touched some rocks or was nearly hanging over a cliff.To top it all, a door suddenly opened, and only after much time somebody dared to close it
In Málaga I was waited for by a brother of my “adoptive mother“, who had booked a room in “Casa Curro“ and who would invite me sometimes, as well as one of his friends, to tapas with oysters, clams and chanquetes, accompanied by chatos, small glasses of sherry. Sometimes there was lunch or dinner at a restaurant, a nice interruption of my frugal meals, based on tins of sardines or tuna. Just a few times I ordered some baby squids in their own ink.
One morning I took the bus to Torremolinos which was still a quarter of Málaga. I crossed the humble fishermen village and went to the nearby lonely beach to have a swim in the somewhat rough sea, which to leave I had my difficulties afterwards. That´s the reason of my wave trauma.
In Granada, where I went by train, I found accomodation near the station, in the “Gran Pensión de los Cármenes“,,from where i started my visits to monuments and quarters: to the cathedral and the Capilla Real where the Catholic Kings are burried, to the Cartuja, the Alhambra and the Generalife, to the romantic Albaicín, the oldest quarter of Granada with its cobbled streets and white houses, and with the spectacular view on the Alhambra, lying on the opposite mountain. Last but not the least, to Sacromonte, the gipsy and flamenco quarter, placed on a mountan perforated by lots and lots of caves. It was a very dirty and poor quarter, where women and children followed you, asking for a “small present“, nothing to do with today´s Sacromonte, dedicated to tourism and gipsy and flamenco art.
And that´s the end of my historic trip across Andalusia in 1955.
After three wonderful and interesting months spent in Madrid, thanks to a students´exchange, on november 20th I left my nice “adoptive family“, as I still wanted to visit Andalusia, before returning to Germany.
The “express“ to Córdoba left punctually at 23 o´clock. At one o´clock, when all passengers had left, I made myself comfortable, protecting myself against the cold that was entering from everywhere, by both a woollen and a pyjama jacket.
In Córdoba we arrived 1 ½ hours late. After having asked in the nearby tourist office for a cheap accomodation, I went to “La Pensión Central“ with its lovely patio, full of plants and flowers. It was especially those wonderful patios with their fountains, plants, flowers and wrought iron bars which I got very fond of. I also was impressed by the Mezquita and its great many pillars, and by the broad avenues, full of pubs, cafeterias and restaurants. There was another thing that impressed me too .... the cleanliness of the town. Did I have Madrid in mind?
The train to Sevilla arrived 1½ hours late. After sitting in the “standing“ train for another hour, we finally left, arriving at Sevilla 3 hours late, after a pleasant journey with nice conversations and somebody offering saussages, bread and ham.
In Sevilla I spent some money hiring a porter, many of whom then crowded the stations´platforms and who very often collaborated with boarding houses. Just imagine my heavy suitcase, full of clothes for a 4 months´stay! We girls still didn´t wear trousers or the practical jeans, and, to top it all, the suitcases didn´t have any rollers!
After a little stroll across the famous Santa Cruz quarter, my young porter led me to
“La Gloria“, which offered rooms, a bathroom, showers and “all comforts“.
In the mornings I took some churros for breakfast, and wondered about the women leaving their houses with curlers in their hair and in padded dressing gowns.
In Sevilla I visited everything that had to be visited, except the Giralda, the famous cathedral´s tower. Climbing up wasn´t allowed to singles – they might have killed themselves jumping down – or to couples without company. There were no groups of tourists or girls I could have joined, and joining groups of men, a girl alone, that would not have been allowed either. Lots of years later, on one of the Alcossebre pensioners´trips, I was able to climb up the Giralda, on comfortable ramps which had replaced the old stairs.
It was in Sevilla when I learnt that orange isn´t the same as orange. One day, when crossing the cathedral´s Patio de los Naranjos, I saw some wonderful oranges lying on the floor. “What a gorgeous dessert for my frugal meals“ I thought. I soon realized that I was quite mistaken as to “gorgeous“. What did I know about decorative orange trees!
From Sevilla I went, by train, to Jerez de la Frontera where I slept in a tiny room in the old quarter with cobbled streets and small white houses. I visited the oldest and most famous sherry bodega of Pedro Domenech, where, after much tasting finos, amontillados, manzanillas and olorosos, I fight against the increasing intoxication by eating pieces of white bread. I also went to the nearby Cádiz – the train needed two hours for 50 kms!
In Jerez I took the bus to Ronda, I had been recommended by my “adoptive parents“ who both were from Málaga. During the journey there was a little stop at the foot of Arcos de la Frontera, a little old town, built on a big rock, which I would have liked to visit. I couldn´t imagine that lots of years later I was even able to stroll twice across this picturesque and enchanting town, thanks to the trips organized by the Alcossebre Pensioners.
In Ronda I found accomodation in “La Andalucía“, whose owners invited me, in the already cool evenings, to sit around the “mesa camilla“, the round table, covered by a thick blanket you pull up to your waist, while the brazier, installed in the lower part of the table, warms you.
Ronda fascinated me from the very beginning. I strolled across all the quarters, the upper and the lower ones, I admired the “Tajo“ from the New Bridge and climbed down, I passed by elderly women, clad in black clothes, covered by long woollen, fringed shawls, I saw men sitting in front of the pubs and I bumped into lots of crowds of dirty children, imagines I would see all over my trip across Andalusia.
One day, when sitting on a small wall, watching three elderly women with their pitchers, four soldiers, accompanied by two young women, arrived from the nearby military sanatorium. After much whispering and staring at me, they finally dared to speak to me. After a nice chat they asked me to make some photos. After sending them from Germany I got some nice letters I keep as a treasure. Encarna writes, also in the name of her friend Lina, “.... we too will send one (photo), so you´ll have some Andalusian girls and you would miss Ronda less. ....We know your father is a doctor, so you have a future. I don´t know if you realized that Ronda is nice but very poor.“
Orthography according to Andalusian pronouncing.
Gabriel is a fan of fun and amusement: “....outside Andalusia there are some entertainments, never like in Andalusia, the beautiful one, the rose of the whole world, where we have got the joy other regions want to catch a bit, with the people trying to take our customs, but the gracefulness of Spain is in Andalucía.“
Finally arrived the unforgettable train trip to Málaga. The train left at 5 o´clock in the morning. The platform was crowded with people and luggage, that´s why I became afraid of not getting any seat. But when the train left, the platform was nearly as full as before, by people who just wanted to accompany their beloved ones before undertaking such a long trip. The coach wasn´t empty either: it was crowded by passengers, suitcases, parcels, cases, bags and even cages with hens. After one hour my back was hurting, due to the hard wooden 3rd class bench, but you soon forgot all pain, thanks to the great atmosphere that was growing according to the bota´s, the leathern wine bottle´s going round. Unfortunately I couldn´t take part, as I was afraid of spoiling my dress. By the way, it wasn´t just a funny trip, it was a “thriller trip“ too, as the train sometimes nearly touched some rocks or was nearly hanging over a cliff.To top it all, a door suddenly opened, and only after much time somebody dared to close it
In Málaga I was waited for by a brother of my “adoptive mother“, who had booked a room in “Casa Curro“ and who would invite me sometimes, as well as one of his friends, to tapas with oysters, clams and chanquetes, accompanied by chatos, small glasses of sherry. Sometimes there was lunch or dinner at a restaurant, a nice interruption of my frugal meals, based on tins of sardines or tuna. Just a few times I ordered some baby squids in their own ink.
One morning I took the bus to Torremolinos which was still a quarter of Málaga. I crossed the humble fishermen village and went to the nearby lonely beach to have a swim in the somewhat rough sea, which to leave I had my difficulties afterwards. That´s the reason of my wave trauma.
In Granada, where I went by train, I found accomodation near the station, in the “Gran Pensión de los Cármenes“,,from where i started my visits to monuments and quarters: to the cathedral and the Capilla Real where the Catholic Kings are burried, to the Cartuja, the Alhambra and the Generalife, to the romantic Albaicín, the oldest quarter of Granada with its cobbled streets and white houses, and with the spectacular view on the Alhambra, lying on the opposite mountain. Last but not the least, to Sacromonte, the gipsy and flamenco quarter, placed on a mountan perforated by lots and lots of caves. It was a very dirty and poor quarter, where women and children followed you, asking for a “small present“, nothing to do with today´s Sacromonte, dedicated to tourism and gipsy and flamenco art.
And that´s the end of my historic trip across Andalusia in 1955.
