Angers - The Apocalypse Tapestry

I have not read Deuteronomy... the last book in the Bible... for many years... so jumped at the chance to see the Apocalypse Tapestry... that goes into specifics as to what will happen upon the second coming. I know some ladies get quite excited at the thought of a second coming... but many of you think it's all talk and little action.

History always gives perspective. In 1375, Louis I, Duke of Anjou, commissioned milliners to produce the tapestry... and it took 7 years to produce... everyone was pleased with the speed of production. The tapestry is 100 meters long and stands 4.5 meters high. Those of you experienced at cross-stitch can make an estimate of the number of stitches in the work. My guess is that quite a few maidens went blind in its construction. The work has deteriorated over its 638 year life... some squares have gone missing... the miracle is that so much of the work remains. The court painter... Jean de Bruges, drew scenes upon the base cloth... and the sewers took it from there. The drawings drew heavily on works of art already decorating churches throughout the country... but de Bruges drew faces and analogies into scenes that gave recognition to the power-brokers of his day. The 100 year war between France and England was raging during the time the tapestry was produced... so scenes of famine and pestilence get good visibility. Interestingly, some scenes show Englishmen (e.g the Black Prince) fighting along side the French troops in God's army. You should be warned, the depictions of heaven are not that alluring... looking like a medieval city sitting on a rocky outcrop... no evidence of NBN connection... not a Starbucks in site... let alone cricket stadiums... I just hope these omissions were just carelessness on the part of the weavers.

There are scholars who say that Deuteronomy should not have been included in the bible... its style is so extreme compared to most of the other New Testament books. But the Apocalypse Tapestry tries to take all the psychedelic nonsense literally... showing the devil lining up his supporters to print 66 on their foreheads while on the other side of the street, God has led up his supporters to imprint the Roman crucifix (letter 'T') on their heads. But, of course, you know your scriptures... and know that everything ended up OK... with God welcoming St Peter to step across the river into the kingdom of heaven... no pearly gates... Deuteronomy doesn't give' pearly gates' a big wrap.

The Apocalypse Tapestry presents us with a unique opportunity to get into the minds of medieval man... what did he believe... what did he aspire to achieve... what did he look like. When you are next touring France, place this venue on your 'must do' list... if you haven't already seen this unique piece of art.

Michelangelo - Leonardo - Dogfight - Who was the Best?

Michelangelo and Leonardo da Vinci are two of the world's all-time champions of Art. We are all underwhelmed by dogfights... state-of-origin football... Android v Apple... Coke v Pepsi. But this artistic dogfight is serious... it's getting up there with the Holden v Ford fracas.

The queues of people crowding around the Mona Lisa in Le Louvre turns art appreciation into a joke. The amount charged for a glimpse of the Sistine Chapel in Rome makes financial planning a nightmare. The people have spoken... the best two artists are Michelangelo and Leonardo. But who is best? Read on to find out.

Today, we visited Amboise... another beautiful French village... on the Loire River... to see where Leonardo spent the last 3 years of his life... he died at age 67. Michelangelo died at the at age 90 years in Rome... and spent most of his declining years in Florence... his place of birth.

Neither artist ever married... Michelangelo had one torrid love affair and one platonic attachment... Leonardo at age 24 was charged... but not convicted... with sodomy... this was a convenient bit of treachery used frequently in politics in the 16th century. Perhaps there was no conviction because a co-defendant was related to the powerful Medici family.

Michelangelo had a passion for sculpture... with marble... and only painted or mucked around with military commissions when those in power forced him. Leonardo suffered attention deficit... and looked for excuses to change his commissions before they were completed. Michelangelo was the crusty old codger... usually fighting with someone over something. Leonardo was urbane... the life of any party... always willing to show some of the interesting things he was thinking about... up to a point... he wrote his notes in code... mirror reverse ... just in case someone was looking over his shoulder.... or perhaps because he was left handed and that was easier.

Both men worked alone... nearly all the time... and didn't build the art factories that other leading artists of the day employed to churn out works under their brand. There are marvellous stories of Michelangelo inventing a hat that held a candle so that he could paint the Sistine Chapel roof through the darkness of night.

Leonardo tended to encourage his patrons to specify projects that extended engineering and metallurgical limits of the day... brass castings bigger than ever before... competing frescos in oils... he was an inventor first and foremost... and an artist as his second love. Michelangelo was an artist... full stop. If his patron started to specify how the work of art was to look... or the materials from which it was built... he would walk out of the room... often leaving Popes and Princes nonplussed... they had no experience of their wishes being ignored... but his rudeness only seemed to increase the demand for his services.

Michelangelo and Leonardo were not good friends. In Michelangelo's mind, Leonardo did not honour his promises to patrons... didn't produce enough good work to be taken seriously... was a bit of a 'smarty'. Leonardo had plenty of admirers and didn't work at forming a relationship with the 'workaholic' Michelangelo.

In my humble opinion, Michelangelo won the artistic dogfight... but history has treated Leonardo with more reverence... because he advanced the 'scientific method' with living examples. Unlike many scholars of his time, he did not accept conventional wisdom... he questioned it... criticised it... extended technical and philosophical skills beyond those existing. While Michelangelo had competing artists, Leonardo had no contemporary who churned out new ideas... improved current machinery... questioned so many underlying values in his society.

In his declining years, Leonardo was given an estate to use as his own... on condition that the property owner was allowed to sit and talk to him. This is the property we visited today and the owner was the King of France.

Fontevraud Abbey - Richard the Lionheart (and his mother)

Today, we visited Fontevraud Abbey... an important centre of French history... I started to write a blog to convey some of the drama generated by previous inhabitants... but then remembered that my good friend Barry had composed some views on the very same topic. We have been plagiarising Glynn and Barry... showing no shame... we worked up courage to embark on our one year excursion only after Glynn and Barry had shown it wasn't so hard... we copied their travel formula... not moving at too fast a pace... we are covering similar territory. With such a history of plagiarism, there is no reputation to protect... why not present Barry's account of Fontevraud Abbey. I would have copied his photos as well... except technical difficulties intervened.

This is what Barry had to say:

Near Angers, we also visited Fontevraud Abbey, a 12th century abbey of both nuns and monks (the blokes were kept in a far corner of the estate, probably to keep up an appearance of propriety), and governed by an abbess, usually from a noble and wealthy family. After the Revolution it became a prison (like Mont Saint Michael) and used as such until 1963. It has a wonderful smoke house, for cold smoking the trout from the Loire, their staple diet.
 
Of most interest though  is that its abbey church houses the tombs of 4 Plantagenets – King Henry II of England, his wife Eleanor of Aquitaine, their son Richard the Lionheart and his wife Isabelle of Angouleme.
 
Let’s take Richard the First (Lionheart) first, that’s him on the right below… (see photo)
 
-          Despite the Robin Hood story, he only spent 6 months in England
-          Spoke no English at all
-          Revolted (with his brothers) against Henry II, his father
-          Probably murdered his father Henry II a couple of days after getting Daddy to name him as successor
-          Taxed the English until they bled, to fund his Holy land follies, and pay his ransom... imprisoned by a brother-in-law (this is true!)
-          Very little success in Palestine really
-          Murdered thousands of people with his great rival, France’s King Phillip II (trying to buy the Pope off, he did make 2 public confessions to sodomy)
-          May have been bisexual, but the only evidence of that were reports of him “taking women by force” (i.e. rape) – produced no legal heirs. Died married, but did not see his wife for the last 8 years of his life
 
Now for Mummy – Eleanor of Aquitaine
 
Now doesn’t she look lovely there in death? (See photo below.) Just as  you would expect an Abbess to be, peaceful, calm and in prayerful mode. Hmmmm…….
 
The Facts
-          In about 1146 she married Louis VII of France, by whom she had 2 daughters but no son (important)
-          In 1152 she either bribed or blackmailed the Pope into granting an annulment on the grounds that Louis was her 4th cousin
-          The same year she married a 3rd cousin – Henry II of England; they had 8 kids (including Richard and Bad King John)
-          In 1171 or thereabouts she got her 3 sons, including Richard, to revolt against her husband Henry (not successfully)
-          In 1173 or thereabouts, Henry captured and imprisoned her until his death 15 years later (when he was beaten in battle, imprisoned and probably murdered by Richard)
-          She was probably involved in the Popish difficulties Henry had with Thomas a’Becket, which led to Tom’s murder (in the cathedral)
-         In 1200, at the age of 77, she was taken prisoner by somebody somewhere, ransomed back, then decided it was time to retire
-          In 1200 she had herself made Abbess of Fontevraud, where she died in 1204.
 
GOOD LORD, WHO WERE THESE PEOPLE?
 
Au’voir
Barry et Glynnis

Great writing Barry.... bringing history to life.
My sympathies lie with Robin Hood. He played the obfuscation game with the Sherrif of Nottingham... all in the hope of staying alive until the return of Richard the Lionheart... who, in reality, was a CAD... he wasn't even an Englishman.. how could you trust a guy who killed his father and wouldn't visit his wife..... even on mother's day.

Oradour-sur- Glane - be careful naming your town

We shouldn't make light of this town's misfortune... 642 townsfolk were slaughtered... 193 of them being children. This was the largest massacre committed by SS German troops in France in World War II... by a division short on officers... on 10th June 1944... just days following D-day landings at Normandy. But poor old Oradour-sur-Glane was not the intended target at all... it just had the misfortune to have a name sounding similar to the real target.

Here is the story as verified by an investigation of the massacre in 1953. Early on the morning of 10 June 1944, the SS command was told by troops in the Vichy Regime's support troops that an SS officer was being held by the Resistance in Oradour-sur-Vayres, a nearby village.

Immediately, an error-prone SS commander ordered his battalion to seal off Oradour-sur-Glane... a township having nothing to do with the capture of the SS commander... and miles away from the town listed in the battle orders... Oradour-sur-Vayres. This mistake could be put down to "who cares?" type of mistake... the battalion had just returned from the eastern front where massacaring of Russian villages was a daily event. The mistake may have meant little to the SS commander... but the townsfolk of Oradour-sur-Glane were none too pleased.

Our relaxed SS commander had one more surprise up his sleeve... his battle orders were to capture the mayor and demand that he deliver to the commander 30 citizens to act as hostages pending release of the captured SS commander. Clearly, these orders were impractical... who was the mayor... how long would be take to round up the hostages... why wouldn't he organise a raid by resistance fighters? The priority was to get the troops positioned to block progress of the Russians and the D-day Allied troops. Just kill the lot of them... just like when retreating from Russia... they'd get the message clearly enough.

The commander ordered all the townspeople... and anyone who happened to be in or near the town... to assemble in the village square, ostensibly to have their identity papers examined. The clean sweep managed to apprehended six people who did not live there but had the misfortune to be riding their bikes through the village when the Germans arrived.

All the women and children were locked in the church while the village was looted. Meanwhile, the men were led to six barns and sheds where machine guns were already in place.

According to the account of a survivor, the soldiers began shooting at them, aiming for their legs so that they would die slowly. Once the victims were no longer able to move, the soldiers covered the bodies with fuel and set the barns on fire. Only six men escaped; one of them was later seen walking down a road heading for the cemetery and was shot dead. In all, 190 men perished.

The soldiers proceeded to the church and placed an incendiary device there. After it was ignited, women and children tried to escape through the doors and windows of the church, but they were met with machine-gun fire. A total of 247 women and 193 children died in the carnage. A group of about twenty villagers had fled Oradour-sur-Glane as soon as the soldiers had appeared. That night, the village was partially razed. Burned out cars and buildings still litter the remains of the original village.

Many of the soldiers participating in the massacre met their own deaths just weeks later in action against advancing Allied troop. Trials have bought to justice the surviving SS commanders responsible for the massacre... the last trial against a former Waffen-SS member taking place in 1983... who was in charge of 45 soldiers. He was one of several war criminals charged with giving orders to shoot 20 men in a garage. Barth was sentenced to life imprisonment, released from prison in the reunified Germany in 1997, and died in August 2007.

After the war, General Charles de Gaulle decided the village should never be rebuilt, but would remain a memorial to the cruelty of the Nazi occupation.

We found walking through the abandoned town an eerie experience. The street-scape was authentic 1944... the town felt as if it had been evacuated quickly... the grim episode shows how heartless humans can be when conditioned through years living in a cruel culture.

Dordogne - Hypnotic Beauty

We have spent the most of the last two days rolling along the lanes and byways in the Dordogne... experiencing some of France's most beautiful countryside.

There is an accumulative hypnotic effect... the longer you linger, the more hypnotic the beauty... the greener the grass... the more languid the cows... the higher the cliffs... the more 'Disneyland' the chateaux... the cooler the breeze... the windier the river... the friendlier the locals... the tastier the food... the older the medieval streets... the more moss-clad the churches... the more colourful the chrysanthemums... the more 'vistamatic' the panoramas... the wobblier the haystacks... the more defiant the geese... the more stately the horses... the more dank the shaded valleys... the more sparkling the sunshine... the gurgling of the brooks... the more hunched the old folk walking the village lanes... the windier the hill climbs... the narrower the country bridges... the cleaner the villages... the shorter the flight of steps... the brisker the walks through the villages...

... the hypnotic effect is all-encompassing.

So, what did we see today? I can't tell you... all I can say is that it felt good... I recommend the experience.

Rouffignac Cave - Same but Different

Yesterday, we were so thrilled by our exposure to Cro-Magnon art at Lascaux that we lined up today for more cave paintings, this time at Rouffignac... still part of the beautiful Dordogne region. Today's paintings can't claim to be the gallery of the professionals... just a mixture of line drawings... part chiselled into the gallery wall... part painted with magnesium oxide. Today's paintings were done 3,000 years after Lascaux... Cro-Magnon people were living at the mouth of the cave... still living off Reindeer... animals that never received recognition inside the art galleries.

The cave system at Rouffignac is extensive... over 8 klms on three levels. The crazy feature of Rouffignac art is that the drawings do not start until over 1 klm into the cave. While Lascaux art featured the horse, Rouffignac art gives centre stage to the hairy mammoth... a rare subject in other Palaeolithic galleries... in fact, about a third of all mammoth representations are in Rouffignac. Why Rouffignac prehistoric artists chose the mammoth is even more surprising... because mammoth bones are rarely found in South-Western France. This obviously adds mystery to the cave’s ornamentation.

The quality of the art was not as good as Lascaux... you could see where mistakes had been made and where attempts were made to make corrections. The artists crowded the gallery where the cave at the top level ceases... each artist seeking bragging rights as to having the drawing most deep within the cave... the quality at the end of the gallery fell away somewhat. There was one sequence of ten mammoths that were choreographed into a larger scene... but generally, each figure seemed to stand alone.

Another feature is evidence of bears using the cave... claw markings on the walls... and numerous inundations of 'nests'. Bears, also, were going over 1km into the cave to give birth to their young... it may have been warmer... perhaps safer... to travel that far in. The cave bears ceased using the cave long before Cro-Magnon people came along.

As we rode the train 1km to the start of the galleries, we imagined the tension felt by young Cro-Magnon boys undergoing initiation rights (if indeed they did this)... many generations after the painting had been completed... imagined the young boys stumbling through the dark... being shown scratchings on the walls made by monsters unknown... falling into bear nests... passing cathedrals over 15 meters high... and squeezing through openings difficult to pass... seeing this all through the light of burning sticks... pretty scary stuff. When their tensions had exhausted them... the young boys would be shown drawings handed down from their dreamtime... mysterious giant mammoths... hair falling from shoulders down to the ground. The witch-doctors would certainly have their attention at this point. Such excitement... the soft life hanging around mummy could not compete with a trip to the back of the cave.

The area around Rouffignac has provided many of the Cro-Magnon skeletons upon which scientific conclusions of their build and culture have been based. The Basque people of France and Spain claim to be direct descendants of the Cro-Magnon people... good luck, if you want to prove them wrong.

This part of the world is so pretty... to also have the area with unique paleological history seems excessive in terms of an equitable distribution of blessings.

Lascaux II - Stories told in Cave Paintings

Along the way to our change in camp from Périgueux to Souillac, we stopped off at Lascaux to look at cave paintings... by Cro-Magnon (very early homosapian people)... competed some 17,000 years ago... just the blink of an eye in the Palaeolithic time frame.

Our aboriginal artists (including the Bradshaw masterpieces) hark back to times twice as early as the paintings at Lascaux. Both were completed by very early homosapians... Lascaux credits its works to Cro-Magnon people... Australia has yet to sort out the lineage of the first aboriginals to reach our shores. Australian aboriginal art can be traced through the ages to current time... Cro-Magnon art did not continue much after the galleries at Lascaux were completed.
Lascaux art was performed using rock pigments... with no charcoal... so carbon dating had to be obtained from associated items... sheep fat used to fasten the scaffolding in the galleries... not as reliable dating technique as that used in Australian rock art... where charcoal was used as a painting material.

Cro-Magnon people were reportedly 'brutes'... built for tough fighting... and leaving skeletons sporting multiple fractures in limbs and cranium to evidence their violence. I think it remarkable that such' brutes' could have produced art of such technical quality. Perhaps, like some of our most current 'brutes', they are misunderstood.

We did not see the original galleries... the crowds in the 1950's warmed the cave to such an extent that new fungi and mosses grew that were spoiling the paintings. Over a 7 year period, the folks of Lascaux built a replica... reproducing exactly the dimensions, placement and artist techniques of the original galleries. Our viewing of the replica site was only with a guided tour... and delivered very, very well... our guide knew his topic and retained his enthusiasm for what the community had to offer.

Every 'ology' imaginable has analysed the paintings and theorised as to their purpose and message... right down to locating each dot and mapping it against the heavenly stars in early Palaeolithic times. Animals have been grouped... the ice-age animals are separated from the 'Mediterranean' animals. Animals to be feared (bears, cave lions, etc) are shown as shadows behind more revered animals. The cave contains nearly 2,000 figures, representing three main categories: animals... human figures (very few... and very primitive).. and abstract signs. The paintings contain no images of the surrounding landscape or the vegetation of the time. While most of the major images have been painted onto the walls using mineral pigments, some designs have also been incised into the stone. Many images are too faint to discern, and others have deteriorated entirely.

The Lascaux gallery is devoted primarily to horses... 364 of the paintings are of horses... and horses are used to guide your gaze from one painting to another... on one side of the gallery, horses face in one direction... and face the opposite direction on the other side of the gallery. There are a few different breeds of horses.. all grouped in painting clusters. The biggest drawings were of bulls... often in outline only and placed on top of other drawings. The drawings causing most discussion were... a unicorn... and an upside-down horse.
Nearly all the animals have been identified to be living in the area 17,000 years ago.

The technique to obtain clear edges to curved parts of drawings has been traced back to using the shape of the curve made by spreading the thumb and the pointer-finger of the hand. These galleries were not for Joe Blow who wanted to while away a few hours doodling... these galleries were reserved for the professional artists in the tribe. There are no mistakes in the drawings... no rub-outs and start again. You learned your skill in other caves... and if you made the grade, you could start painting in this gallery... down the back where no one would see. The layout of the whole cave was orchestrated to convey a message... its entrance was 'guarded' by this mythical unicorn... intended to scare the living daylights out of the young boys entering for the first time... culminating at the far end of the cave in a kaleidoscope of animals racing towards you.

If you want a genuine artistic experience, forget Le Louvre ... forget Picasso's museum... forget the Tate... go to Lascaux and see what Cro-Magnon has to offer.

Bordeaux - France and the Slave Trade

Today, we took a 1.5 hour train ride from Périgueux to Bordeaux to see a city that has a huge area under UNESCO Heritage Listing. Bordeaux is classified "City of Art and History". The city is home to 362 monuments historiques (only Paris has more in France) with some buildings dating back to Roman times. Bordeaux has been inscribed on UNESCO World Heritage List as "an outstanding urban and architectural ensemble". For your education, Bordeaux is France's ninth largest city with a population of 240,000.

Alain Juppé was mayor of Bordeaux from 1995-97... and set in motion an ambitious renovation of the city centre... that led to UN recognition. He cleared areas to make plazas... he redesigned inner city transport system... he stream-cleaned hundreds of monuments... and created many pedestrian malls. Bordeaux grew from being a 'don't go' city on the tourist map... to being one of France's fastest growing tourist destinations. The city's clean-up is continuing to this day. We loved the feel of the place... its history is presented in a fashion that shows much care and planning.

For us, the surprise of the day was the museum rooms dealing with France's role in the Slave Trade. Bordeaux could easily have tried to sweep the unflattering Slave trade chapter of its history under the carpet. After all, the Muslims started it... and in the European league, France was always a second division player. Bordeaux was France's second-largest slave port in those times, sending out about 500 ships to ply the slave trade. During the slave period, Bordeaux accumulated a number of African-France citizens. Eventually (in 2009), some from that community demanded greater recognition be given to this undesirable period... asking for street names honouring leading slave traders to be changed... and erection of a monument acknowledging the past. Our renovation hero, Alain Juppé, thought that was going too far... you can't humiliate a family just because they sold a few slaves... goodness me... where will it all end.

After Alain Juppé's period as mayor, the next administration gave the slave descendants a better hearing... and organised a display of the history in the archaeological museum. We found this section of the museum very interesting... the statistics were horrifying... the life stories emotional. During our visit we saw a few African-France citizens having difficulty coping with the emotional side of their visit. The numbers of enslaved people were staggering... statistics are unreliable... somewhere between 9 million and 20 million Africans were taken into slavery... the wide disparity between 9 and 20 million could reflect, in part, the number of deaths during the voyage. We saw a statement that the number of slaves the French transported to the French West Indies was 13,000 per annum... but their reputation today suffers because they were involved.

Anyway, good on Bordeaux for facing up to its past... and acknowledging the wrong done to the ancestors of their African-France citizens.

Périgueux - the Darndest things you find in Churches

Our last stop in Spain was just outside of Vitoria... a struggling city that looks like being lapped in the economic race. Driving in, the area surrounding the city centre had some large residential developments... giving an air of prosperity. However, peripheral growth has been achieved at the cost of letting the centre decay... particularly in the areas where we walked in search of cathedrals and monuments. The town bosts two cathedrals... hinting at better days gone by... but there are fewer sadder sights than seeing grass growing on the steps leading to the central cathedral's front door.

On our explore of the old city, we came across a large church (possibly a defrocked Basilica) crumbling in a quiet corner of a colourless decaying part of town. As we passed, we saw a side door open... and took the opportunity to step inside one of the few buildings that was open. We pushed the door open and surprised a couple of middle aged men... looking guilty and smelling like they had been smoking substances unknown. "May we have a look?", we inquired. They shrugged and walk further into the church... no lights were on... very dark... medieval. (Perhaps cathedral owners should consider allowing modern tourists to see their buildings the way medieval pilgrims, worshippers and sinners saw these monumental structures... by candlelight... very few candles. The wondrous sculptures peering out of the gloom would put the fear of God into those poor sods... much more than what we experienced... flood-lit areas full of colour and majesty.) As our eyes adjusted to the dark, we saw the back part of the church had been cleared and standing in the space was an assortment of sculptures and icons.

What first caught our eye was the largest of the statues... appearing to be of two men in an intimate embrace... a kiss. My thought was that we had stumbled upon props for the town's annual mardi gras festival... the big sculpture was surrounded by a choir of chubby cherubs... rosy cheeks... wings aflutter... it had a distinct 'camp' feel to it... not that I am an expert. We pulled out our cameras and took a couple of shots before we realised that 6-months of painstaking carving was done to tell the story of the betrayal of Christ by Judas, which occurred in the Garden of Gethsemane after the Last Supper, and lead directly to the arrest of Jesus by Roman troops. I had no idea 'the kiss' was such a passionate encounter!

Our two hosts started walking towards the door. We both thought the setting was ideal for a mugging... with us as victims... so we beat a hasty retreat... quick enough to reach the door before our hosts. The photo below captures a little of the weirdness of the church interior.

Today, we drove from Périgueux to the picturesque village of Brantôme... headland of the Dordogne region... beautiful green valleys (even in late autumn)... rolling hills... and some of the richest agricultural land in France. This wholesome region is not the place you expect to encounter 'weird'.

Apparently, this region suffered attacks from Scandinavian armies in the 9th and 10th century... suffering that did not go down well with the local church.

On our stroll around Brantôme, we found an open door at the central church. Its main claim to fame is that the bell tower is the oldest standing amongst churches in France... something to be proud of! We entered the church and found it in a state of disrepair. There was next to no decoration by way of statues, altar pieces, religious icons, etc. The one remaining statue is shown below... graphically portraying a Scandinavian about to slaughter a poor defenceless mother and child. This depiction of an event that occurred over 1,000 years ago remains the enduring message of this church community... never forget... never forgive! Perhaps, church leaders with a broader perspective would have preferred the community to leave other (more Christian) messages... like, pay your taxes on time... avoid paedophilia... don't scare people.

France - Its Type 2 Diabetes is not the Worst Around

Take a guess... do you think us rugged Aussies are healthier than those fancy-prancy Frenchmen? Us, with our sunburned country and sweeping plains... compared to the French... loitering around art galleries... eating desserts lashed with cream. Us, being (ex) tennis champions... (ex) cricket champions... (ex) swimming champions... compared to the French... (current) cycling champions... (current) soccer champions.

Slowly, the world is getting its act together in providing comparative measures of health between countries. Lots of countries are now doing population samples for the amount of glucose we carry around in our blood stream. Glucose is elevated by eating more sugar and sweet fruits... but importantly, is even more impacted by the amount of food from grain (particularly wheat) we eat.

Population statistics show dependable correlations between the level of glucose in your blood and a whole range of health issues. Of course diabetes is the most obvious... but cardiovascular health is closely correlated... and surprisingly, mental health also is closely linked. Invariably, there is more than one cause for any illness afflicting our complicated bodies... but trying to find manageable ways to improve community health... through economic measures... and with a minimum of side effects. Sugar and wheat are putting their hands up for the roles of 'prime villains'.

How do the two countries compare? France has 5% of its population suffering from diabetes... while Australia has 5.5%. France consumes a wider range of diet... sure, they eat a lot of meat fats and diary products... but polyunsaturated fats are generally good for you. Australians have fallen into the trap of eating too much junk food... and junk food is usually consumed within two slabs of bread... and it's the bread that is 'the villain'... the short-cut to diabetes type 2.

Both countries have about 50% of its population with blood sugar at safe levels... but that means half of us are walking around with blood sugar levels just pleading to be allowed to suffer from type 2 diabetes... asking to increase the levels of inflammation in our arteries... and inflammation of our body's organs... including the brain.

If it's any consolation, Spain has 6.9% of its population suffering from type 2 diabetes... while USA comes in at a whopping rate in excess of 10%.

Diabetes is a disease of junk-food societies... we just can't eat what we want.

Here endeth the second lesson.

Southern Europe - Smoking Madness

Either Southern Europe is in for one hell-of-a gigantic health bill or Australians have been taken for a ride... being mislead on the risks of smoking tobacco... it has to be one of the other. Having wandered around the plazas of Italy and Spain, the incidence of smokers amongst middle aged citizens looks to be about 50%... no scientific measurement... just a rough guess. Ladies over the age of 60 years don't seem to smoke... the young kids seem to light up at the school gate.

The anti-smoking messages are hard to find... nothing much on TV... or in the news papers. The packets seem to carry a small text that warns that smoking is a health hazard... nothing pictorial... just small text. The cost of a packet of 20 cigarettes is €3-€4... even the beggars can afford their smoking habits. Vending machines can be found on most street corners.

As you know Australia offers a completely different smoking environment. People have become so conditioned by anti-smoking messages that they walk away from people when they light up a cigarette... smokers feel ostracised... made to stand out on the street to support their habit... and pay through the nose ($17 per packet) for the privilege. Retailers have to keep supplies away from public view.

I was interested to see comparative rates of smoking/lung cancer between Australia and southern European countries... so I searched the internet. The most recent reliable data is from 2008 (5 years old)... it seems to take ages to collect world-wide figures... Australian smoking rates have reduced significantly since then... I suspect rates in southern Europe have not.

In 2008, Australia had rates of lung cancer for men of 19 per 100,000... and deaths at a rate of 12 per 100,000. The equivalent rates for Spain were about 50 (lung cancer cases) and 42 (lung cancer deaths) per 100,000 of the population....much,  much higher than the corresponding rates for Australia. You can see the annual changes in these rates in the graph shown below.

You'd reckon the governments would be doing forward financial projections of the costs to treat citizens with their current smoking habit... it is going to cost a fortune to treat future cases. Why governments are not taxing the product... limiting its visibility and providing more graphic warnings is hard to understand.

Health costs within the European Union are already staggering. I couldn't find an annual cost for lung cancer treatments... but the costs for all cancers combined in 2009 is calculated to be €129 billion... a huge cost that includes the cost of sick leave... lost opportunity costs from future work... and costs incurred by families in providing care. At a guess, the share contributed by lung cancer could be in the range of 25% to33%.

In a wide ranging paper published in Lancet Oncology, the team from the University of Oxford and King's College London provided other estimates on costs associated with cardiovascular diseases, including high blood pressure and stroke (€169 billion a year)... and dementia (€189 billion a year)... in just 15 countries in Western Europe.

Those of you familiar with the role carbohydrates and gluten play in both cardiovascular and dementia diseases... would be alarmed to see the number of patisseries crowding the plazas of southern Europe... and the row upon row of wheat based products and sugar based products occupying the supermarket shelves.

In Australia, we've made a great start in having governments prepared to act against smoking risks. Now we citizens have the job of persuading them to act on the bigger risks posed by over consumption of carbohydrates (wheat products) and sugars in causing epidemics... of both cardiovascular and dementia diseases.

(Here endeth the first lesson.)

Segovia - Change of Season

This has come as a bit of a surprise to us. We thought perfect weather came as a complementary extra for us supporting the European economy with our Australian tourist dollars. We had noticed no gradual chilling of the winds... yes, the sun was raising later... pitch black at 8 AM... but the adjustment of sleeping in a little longer was no great hardship. The leaves on the trees were stating to turn a golden yellow... not a cause for complaint... it brightened up the photos.

Yesterday morning was our panic point. As usual, we asked Mr Google what weather lay ahead for the day... "Maximum of 19°" was his reply. "What happened to the 30° you have been providing up to now?", we wanted to know. "No", said Mr Google, "19° is your lot for today... and the rest of the week... take it or leave it." We know some of our friends in London would gladly settle for 19°... they're already freezing over there. Also, some of you in Sydney would probably like a couple of cold days... while you got your bushfires under control.

The social habits in the Plaza changed immediately. Last week, on the hotter days, the Plaza would be deserted from 5-8 PM. Then, families and couples would come out of their apartments to promenade for an hour followed by drinks or a meal in the. At 11 PM, there wouldn't be a spare seat in the restaurants... small towns like Segovia (where we are now) would have a cosmopolitan feel... more Paris than 'gay Paree'.

But, yesterday, habits changed in an instant... the promenaders did not show up. The older couples stayed at home... the younger couples went straight to the pub. The village appeared to be deserted by 5 PM... as if General Franco had risen from the grave... and signed an enforceable evacuation order. The old city reclaimed its medieval persona... tired of the frivolous banter of scatterbrained tourists... ready to impose some discipline into the modern village... to remind its citizens of how these villages were created... only the hardy survive. Our photos from now on all have to be in black-and-white... showing autumn leaves windswept into piles in dark dank corners... showing beggars... and old ladies carrying loads of fallen twigs and branches.

Our European holiday is fast drawing to a close... only four weeks remaining before we proceed to London. We progressed through to mid-October with very warm weather... we have been remarkably fortunate.

El Escorial - Booking for Panteón of Kings

Note to self : Check availability of booking an internment spot in the Panteón of Kings at the Monasterio de San Lorenzo el Real.

This Panteón is a nice place to be buried... 22 successive Monachs of Spain have come to this conclusion... and I agree. With such large numbers, the availability of free shelves is limited... very limited. There are only two left and the parents of the current Monach are in the 'putrefying room' awaiting the set period (25 years) before being allowed into the Panteón proper. But the availability of further shelves is sure to be extended... Carlos and Sophia are not going to allow themselves to be the first to face the "No room at the Inn" sign... they could start to turf out some of the old folk... they wouldn't mind. In this democratic international age, it would be appropriate for Spain to allow an Australian commoner a place as well. Anyway, no harm in asking.

Why is the Panteón such an attractive burial site? Well, The walls of polished Toledo marble are ornamented in gold-plated bronze. All of the wood used in El Escorial comes from the ancient forests of Sagua La Grande, on the so-called Golden Coast of Cuba. Some 700,000 people each year trudge down the flight of stairs to stare at the 22 interred royals... you would never be lacking for attention. The ambiance is regal... the decorations are to die for... and the company is excellent... lots of blue blood... dried by now after going through the putrefying room.

For my descendants making the arrangements... please take care... there is an adjoining Panteón for princes... who died before taking the throne. This is a waste of time... they even allowed illegitimate children of Kings to be buried there... this is not for me... I'd much prefer Northern Suburbs Crematorium... thank you very much. They don't have the polished Toledo marble ornamented in gold-plated bronze... and forget about the wood from the Gold Coast of Cuban... just give me a brick in North Ryde.

Ávila - home of Saint Teresa

Imagine you are General Franco... all the dirty business of the civil war is behind you... only the dirty business of staying in power awaits. You are feeling pretty good... haven't had to organise any massacres for a couple of weeks... the royals have fled overseas... the church has turned a blind eye to your excesses... Spain is heading in the direction of your choosing.

So, when you (as Franco) go to bed at night, what homely nick-nack would you want on the table beside your bed... a photo of the wife and kiddies... perhaps the trophy you won last year for the most improved handicap from the golf club... perhaps your smart phone so that you can check emails in the middle of the night??? Not if you were General Franco. He kept beside his bed a special relic of Saint Teresa... a ring she wore to signify her marriage to the church... and the sawn-off finger that bore the ring. Knowing that's beside you would help get you a good night's sleep.

So who is Saint Teresa? Everyone in this town knows the answer to that question. She was born in Ávila... when aged 7, she tried to run away from home to become a martyr amongst the Moors... later, joined the convent... spent 20 unremarkable years in the Carmelite order... and then saw an apparition of Christ that changed her life. This apparition told her that the life of luxury enjoyed by all clergy in the prosperous 16th century may not accurately replicate the life of Jesus... she made a nuisance of herself to such an extent that in 1567, she was given permission to establish new houses of Carmelites that followed her standards of piety and self-sacrifice... she made long journeys through nearly all the provinces of Spain... and became something of a celebrity.

She was not the most liked person amongst the clergy. These funny ideas of self-sacrifice continued. She wanted clerics to have pillows made of wood... do away with sandals and walk bare-footed... take up the felt dress and never be seen in robes with Gold trim... purple capes... a golden staff. In fact, young Teresa wanted to take all the fun out of being a priest!

When she started converting some of the monks to her way of thinking, the heirachy started to take action. Some of the monks were imprisoned... legal action was taken to close some of the houses. Teresa lost her celebrity status... no doubt replaced by some other religious fashion.
However 60 years after her death, she was canonised and become famous... at least in Ávila.

With this background, you can understand why General Franco wanted her shrivelled finger bearing a ring decorating his bed-side table.

Mérida - Breakthrough in Anatomical Research

Most of us spend a lifetime searching for that "Uh Ha" moment when a new perspective on an old problem makes everything crystal clear. Some people call this their "Road to Damascus" experience... some call it their "why didn't I think of this before" experience.

My infatuation with all things Roman has led me to wonder how such an advanced civilisation could fall victim to the Visigoths who along with the Vandals were one of the most uncivilised tribes 'scurging' Europe at the end of the 1st century AD. I have read many commentators say things like "Romans didn't have a good nose for intrigue"..." Romans couldn't smell the corruption in which they lived "..." Romans couldn't see the nose in front of their face ". In the past, I had taken such statements as euphemisms... general criticism.

Today we are in Mérida... a village offering the best collection of Roman artefacts in Spain... perhaps in the world... and it's here I had my "Uh Ha" moment. We had just walked the Roman bridge... the longest bridge built by the Romans (why they chose Mérida for such a feat is beyond me)... and we had just completed our visit to the Visigoths museum.

(Can I digress here for a moment. I am the first to lay the boot into the Visigoths... they occupied 200 years of European history and contributed nothing! Nothing! Well, almost nothing... because in the Mérida Visigoth museum was a tablet with writing... dating back to 607 AD. But the lettering and words were recognisable to us English readers... unlike the Roman script shown alongside. These 'bogan' buffoons developed/borrowed the English script very early on... perhaps those of us of English decent may have to acknowledge a branch in the family tree that includes the Visigoths... perhaps they are not 'bogans' after all.)

Our next visit was to the Mérida archaeological museum... and I was ruminating the cause of the fall of the great Roman Empire. My "Uh Ha" moment struck me in the reception area... perhaps the euphemisms about smells and seeing noses should be taken literally... PERHAPS ROMANS DID NOT HAVE NOSES!

I was in the perfect spot to conduct research... I walked through this magnificent museum counting the number of faces of status that had noses and those that did not. I quickly realised I was onto something big... my walk broke into a jog... then into a sprint... the excitement of discovery was exhilarating... over 90% of the statutes depicted faces without noses. You could imagine a couple of sculptors getting lazy and saying, "This looks OK without a nose"... but a 90% no-nose ratio is too significant to attribute to lazy sculptors. In analysing my statistics, it was clear that the proportion of Romans with noses increased over time... many more of the sculptures from 100 AD had noses compared to 100 BC. It would seem that Romans started to grow noses during the time of their empire... they just didn't grow them fast enough to avert the Visigoths onslaught.

Just as we were leaving the museum, I noticed another startling coincidence. The attendants with yellow fingers coughed a lot. We all know that coughing is associated with lung cancer. Perhaps yellow fingers cause lung cancer. After I submit my thesis on Roman noses and get my degree, I might investigate yellow finger disease.

Seville - Alcázar - Periods of Racial Harmony

Yesterday, our visit to Seville Cathedral provided illustrations of opulence on an outrageous scale... wasting of wealth in the face of a poor population... the church showing little regard for its Christian principles.

As you know, conquistadors returning from a holiday of rape and pillage in the Americas... were required to provide the church with one-third of the loot... one-third for the king... and keep one-third for themselves. Today, we visited Alcázar... the oldest Royal Palace in Europe still in use by the monarchy... expecting to see similar illustrations of wanton indulgence... but found a story that was unexpected.

Alcázar was built on a site initially developed by the Romans... used by the Visigoths (but not changed in any material way) and let to run into ruin... and then cleared by the Moors for the site of their mosque. Alcázar is a royal palace originally built as a Moorish fort. No other Muslim building in Spain has been so well preserved. When the catholic kings regained control in 1247, its embattled enclosure became the dwelling of Ferdinand I, and was rebuilt by Peter of Castile (Peter I) (1353–64), who employed Granadans and Muslim subjects of his own (mudejares) as its architects. The rebuild was faithful to retaining the beauty of the preceding structure.

Our surprise was the cooperation that the catholic kings sought and received from Muslims and Jews in the 14th century. Just over 100 years later, Ferdinand and Isabella found it necessary to expel or decapitate these same people because of their heretic beliefs.

Peter I, on the other hand, found them more trustworthy than the members of his court. In Alcázar, he had secret escape routes built because his mother (amongst others) was attempting to organise his early demise.
One of the principal features of the Alcázar is the Hall of Ambassadors where Christopher Columbus signed his contacts with Ferdinand and Isabella.

Peter I has gone down in history as 'Peter the Cruel'... because he executed a couple of his court who had been undertaking a bit of Racial Cleansing... slaughtering Jews and Arabs in their principality. How cruel is that? The peasants loved him... the nobility thought of him as a traitor to their cause.

Subsequent catholic kings were also sensitive in expanding Alcázar in a manner sensitive to its Islamic origins. Charles V, who made such a hash-job in extending Alhambra (in Granada) added a floor to Alcázar... and did a great job. This area contains accommodation used by the current royals when staying in Seville.

Islamic gardens surround the Palace... and still reflect their Islamist origins.

There is so much in Seville... in our humble opinion, topping the attractions offered by either Córdoba or Granada... a big statement, I know.

Seville - Awash with Gold

Australia has had its share of 'goldrushes'... and we've seen cities designed and built on the assumption that gold would continue to flow through their streets forever. Seville has been the richest gold town the world has ever known. When Columbus stepped on his boat in the river in Seville, he changed this town forever.

Columbus was certainly motivated by the search for gold: his diary mentions gold 114 times and God 26 times. He traded for a little gold on Hispaniola, and the inhabitants traded diseases with his crew and cargo (syphilis for swine fever, apparently) but overall he and his royal sponsors were disappointed in the financial proceeds of his first voyage. It had cost 2 million maravedis, and the proceeds were worth only a few thousand.

However from 1503 - 1530, Columbus and his followers were able to loot and repatriate one tonne of gold per year. Even at this early date, the Spanish monarchy was embarking on an ambitious and expensive foreign policy, sustainable only with the expectation that it would be financed by gold from the New World. King Ferdinand quickly became desperate for more: "Get gold, humanely if you can; but at all hazards, get gold!" he wrote to the New World colonists on July 25, 1511. This was to be the theme of the Spanish monarchy for centuries.

The flow started to accelerate when Peru came on-stream in 1531. The gold and silver landing in Seville from Peru (only) are estimated to be:

Year  GOLD (tonnes) SILVER (t)

1531 0.5(gold) 0.2(silver)

1532 0.5 (gold) 0.1 ( silver)

1533 5.6 (gold) 11.5 ( silver)

1534 3.5 (gold) 56.5 ( silver)

1535 1.6(gold) 27.2 (silver)

Overall, the volume must have been three times the volume coming from Peru. At a price of US$1500 per troy ounce on 12 April 2013, one tonne of gold has a current value of approximately US$48.2 million. Seville, in 1530 had a population of 150,000... 50% greater than Madrid's at that time. The general rule of thumb for sharing the gold revenue was:

:-) one-third for the crown
:-) one-third for the church
:-) one- third for the conquistadores

All that wealth sloshing around a relatively small town must have caused economic havoc.
We saw clear signs of silly spending when we visited Seville Cathedral. According to local oral tradition, the members of the cathedral chapter said: "Let us build a church so beautiful and so great that those who see it built will think we were mad". Construction began in 1402 and continued until 1506. The clergy of the parish gave half their stipends to pay for architects, artists, stained glass artisans, masons, carvers, craftsman and labourers and other expenses.

Our tour had 40 points of interest... each one being a chapel or altar of some kind... each one having unique works of art lavished with marble statues and gilded gold.
How many chapels does Virgin Mary need in one building? If you ask me, Mary gets a pretty good run from the Catholic Church. Now she did suffer labour pain in giving birth to Jesus... but one of two other ladies have experienced similar pain over the years. She did not perform any miracles... none of her sermons was recorded. She claims to be without sin... but this story of immaculate conception rings a little thin. Joseph claims to be innocent of any hanky-panky... but what about all the other lads about Nazareth at the time?
Personally, I'd like to see a few less millions spent on deifying Mary, and a couple given over to lifting the profile of Joseph.

Enough ranting for today.

Cómpeta - A Strange Awakening

Our accommodation in Cómpeta is located just off the town square... and facing onto that square is the village church. Cómpeta is a white village... every building is painted white... with one exception... the village church. It stands proud showing the brown brick of which it is built. It has recently been renovated... under the supervision of a remarkable priest... appointed for that purpose. (At the completion of the church renovation, the town was so impressed with his efforts that he was invited to drop his priestly robes and take up the mayoral chains... he agreed... creating history in mayoral politics.)

The mayor has used his magic touch to complete a number of projects for the village. The villagers are bewildered... they thought process must be preceded by corruption... and yet, the remarkable lapsed priest has remained saintly... even when handling the village 'kitty' of money.

The bells on the village church cease ringing at 10 PM... and ring in the next morning at 8:00 AM. These days, it is still pitch-black at 8. We have been arising at 8, and getting to the square at 9 to do our emails before breakfast. At 9 the square is deserted... the restaurant owners are putting out their chairs, putting up the umbrellas... making the coffee.

Today, is a public holiday (a long-weekend) to celebrate 'Hispanic Day'. Nearly all Spanish speaking nations of the world have some type of celebration on the 12th October each year. This day, in 1492, Christopher Columbus sighted land in the Americas. (To his dying day, he still claimed that he had discovered India... despite the Portuguese showing accurate calculations of the circumference of the world to demonstrate Columbus only managed to travel one quarter the distance needed to reach India.) Celebrations of Hispanic Day have religious aspects.

At 7:30 AM this morning, we were in slumber, awaiting the bell chimes at 8. Out of the total quiet came the faint tones of medieval chanting. Perhaps it was a dream... but the slow resonating sound grew louder. With 'Gregorian' slowness and repetition, the sound echoed through the narrow streets... haunting in its medieval powers. The chanting choir passed under our window... but by the time we were fully awake and opened the window, the procession had reached the church. We didn't get to see the choir... but I would like to imagine them in heavy flannel robes... dark brown in colour... stooped and unsmiling... shuffling along the cobble stones in a zombie gait.

Medieval magic hung in the air... until the young lad left home to go to work at 7:50 AM (as he had done each day)... revved his motorbike... and raced down the lane. No more medieval magic for today... the sun was lighting the sky... looking for new excitement... the church bells announced its new arrival... the world was back to normal.

Surrey Walking Ladies as they race to the top

Today is our last to share with seven ladies from Surrey... sharing walks, meals drinks... everything... no, no... not everything. On our last day, Jacqui sang the traditional British song 'Jerusalem' high on a cliff overlooking the valleys of Andalusia... the valleys resounded with her strong rich voice. At lunchtime, Carol prepared some limericks that recounted some of the more amusing moments and characters we met on our walk. For dinner tonight, I have prepared a song to the music of 'Surrey with the fringe on the Top'. It has taken so much time (I am not a songwriter) that it will be repeated for the blog today. Tomorrow, we'll head over to Seville... where we'll resume our usual format.

Here are the words of the song (apologies to Rogders and Hammerstein). 

Today, we're on the trail again - yippee
Seven ladies longing to be free
They will climb the ridge of rock forever higher
Gods lift them up so they can see the sea

Dogs and goats and sheep better scurry
'Cause Surrey ladies walk in a hurry
Surrey ladies walk in a hurry to the mountain top.
Watch the wind sway heads of the grasses
High stepping ladies attract lots of glances
Views down the valley so pretty as we pass'm that our eyes will pop.

The wind'll whistle as they trudge along
The donkey'll bray in the clover
The river will ripple out a whispered song
And whisper over and over

Don't you wish it would go on forever
Don't you wish it would go on forever
Don't you wish it would go on forever
So it never stops
Surrey Walking Ladies as they race to the top.

Cathy's lead so great she's amissin'
Peter frets... trail signs are amissin'
Can't keep up his hip needs afixin... hear that slow clip clop
Surrey Walking Ladies as they race to the top.

Jacqui listens... no birds asingin
Birds await a clear voice beginin
Jacqui's Jerusalem has valleys aringin'... with her voice tip-top
Surrey Walking Ladies as they race to the top.

Ruth's stretched muscles... already atwitchin
Waiting for the climbin beginnin
Let's get goin' the day is a fleetin ... at a fast tick - tock
Surrey Walking Ladies as they race to the top.

Dark and gloomy are the deep valleys
Brightens up with smiles from our Sally
A smile that likely makes you atarry... it is dazzling hot
Surrey Walking Ladies as they race to the top.

Talkin' talkin' goes on and on
Talkin' from the rise of the sun
Jackie's Ear-aid always adjustin'... but it stays switched off
Surrey Walking Ladies as they race to the top.

Margaret's dress keeps standards upliftin'
Market scarves she's always afixin'
Colours a matching, new combos amixin ... fashion never stop
Surrey Walking Ladies as they race to the top.

Carol cares how we're all agoin'
Quietly watching so things are aflowin'
Good vibes each day she's been astowin' and it never stops
Surrey Walking Ladies as they race to the top.

Don't you wish it would go on forever
Don't you wish it would go on forever
Don't you wish it would go on forever
So it never stops
Surrey Walking Ladies as they race to the top.

Cómpeta - Evidence of the Moorish Agricultural Revolution

One reason the Moors (Arabs, Berbers and other North African tribes) had such a long period of rule in southern Spain rests on their bringing tremendous benefits to the Iberian people through improvements to agriculture.

The new plant species introduced by the Moors are an impressive list. It's generally agreed they introduced coffee... not the nice stuff from southern Africa (and grown in Brazil.) .. but the thick bitter variety of northern Africa... that plant alone would be enough for me to submit to a foreign ruler. Imagine life where your morning 'cuppa' was some boiled up suet pudding. No! You'd hold out until you could squeeze a cup of fresh Orange juice... but hang on... the Moors introduced that plant as well. Any clear thinking Iberian would be begging the Moors to invade to gain access to these new flavours.

But there's more... after a day of toiling in the field, your typical Iberian peasant really enjoyed a cup of wine. The Iberians had wine since Roman days... and with a cast-iron stomach... you could drink a glass. In rural areas, wine was used mostly for removing bacteria from drinking water. But when the Moors invaded, they brought with them new varieties of grape and better techniques of fermentation... capable of producing wine that tastes like the 'vino' of today. Now the clear thinking Iberian peasant should have been prepared to fund the costs of the invasion.

Let's mention one more addition the Moors made to the larder of the Iberian peasant... this addition coming by way of Sicily. This larder item is no less than spaghetti. Arabs introduced new varieties of wheat and new grinding equipment that first led to lasagne... and then sliced in strips to make spaghetti. These techniques spread through Europe and found a willing market in Iberia.

As the diet changed to adopt the delights from north Africa, Iberians would have given up some of their traditional diet. In our wanderings around the hills of Andalusia, we seemed to be walking through a perpetual herb garden. Parsely, sage, rosemary and thyme is just the start of it. Iberia would have improved the flavour of imported goods... and these improvements would have found their way throughout Europe.

It is not surprising that the Moors did not meet desperate resistance from Iberian tribes. Image the encounters. After an afternoon of fighting, the Moors would suggest a negotiated peace. The Iberian Kings would be invited to the enemy's battle tents... sat down to a cup of Orange juice, followed by a cup of coffee... a plate of steaming pasta followed up with a glass of refreshing sweet wine. The Iberian kings would quickly form the opinion that if they could live like the Moors, they would be prepared to forgo some sovereignty rights.

The biggest gift of all came when the Moors organised irrigation systems across the Iberian fields. The Moors invaded Iberia because their supplies of water in North Africa were proving to be unreliable... the mini-iceage benefited north Africa with more rain... but the subsequent warming returned north Africa to an arid region. The Moors came to Iberia with skills in dry climate cultivation. They implemented those skills with great success in Iberia.

In our walls around Cómpeta's hills we saw many channels dug across the hillsides to collect the run off water into reservoirs. These reservoirs fed irrigation canals further down the hill. The canals we saw were initially dug by the Moors (or under their supervision)... and repaired by subsequent civilisations. (We also saw bridges built by Romans and Moors to link Andalusia with the big centres like Granada... in later years, to support transportation of unprocessed silk.)

Today, we travelled to a mountain village ( Comeras) set up by the Moors to educate the future emirs... firstly in the details of their religion and laws... but also in agriculture and science. The focus on learning in Moorish society contrasts with the civilisation preceding them (Visigoths) and the one that followed (Catholic Kings).

Our guide on yesterday's walk was emphasising that Spain, under Ferdinand and Isabella, missed a golden opportunity to use the immense wealth from the Americas and the intellectual leadership of the Moors to become the world's first industrialised nation. Instead, Spain choose to use its advantages to fight lots of wars and prosecute lots of people.

Oh well... we all make mistakes.

Cómpeta - The World's Best Toasts

At dinner last night, we were noticing that Spanish do not engage in elaborate gestures with their toasts. There is a perfunctory 'saluté'... a small raising of the glass... and that's it... it's all over. The ladies walking group have lived as expatriates in many parts of the world and provided reliable information on various ways of toasting.

I was recommending the Australian male version of the toast which involves (in order of importance):

:-) making sure the glass is full... right to the top

:-) avoid all eye contact

:-) when the toast 'proposer' has said his/her piece... join in the chorus of, "yea... whatever"

:-) in the act of raising the glass for the toast... continue raising until the glass contacts the lips... and in as few mouthfuls as possible... empty the glass

The English ladies would not support this style as the universal standard to be taken up by the EU or the UN. They mumbled criticisms that mentioned 'uncouth' and 'lacking sincerity'.

One of the ladies is married to a Swedish gentleman... and she explained the ritual of the Swedish court on formal occasions. It goes something like this.

:-) The process commences with the host proposing a toast to the guest of honour seated on the right. The only person who drinks the toast is the host. Next, the host proposes to the guest next to the guest of honour... and both the host and the guest of honour drink. The rules allow guests to drink only after they have been toasted.

:-) The process of making the toast requires concentration and precise eye-hand coordination. The toast proposer and the guest being toasted must maintain eye contact while the toast is proposed. All supporters of the toast (i.e. those who have already been toasted) will make eye contact with the person being toasted. All will raise their glasses to eye level... maintaining eye contact with the person being toasted. They will take a sip of wine... maintaining eye contact with the person being toasted. They will then lower their glasses to the level of the third button on their shirt/blouse... maintaining eye contact with the person being toasted.

Everyone of our hiking group were most impressed... how courteous... how gracious... how civilised. Johnny... our friend from Northumberland... a man of practical thinking... wanted to know if the number of guests at state occasions ever numbered more than one hundred... and wanted to know if any of them went home thirsty. I supported Johnny's concerns and predicted such a toasting regime would send the wine industry broke. It may survive in Sweden... they don't have a wine industry to support... but Australia would never stand for it.

Our concerns didn't count for much with the walking group ladies. Their minds were on romance... chivalry... exaggerated manners. They gave little credit for a toasting system that is efficient and likely to allow Jack to think he is as good as his master. I don't hold out high hope for the Australian toasting system gaining universal adoption.

Cómpeta - An Investment Opportunity of a Lifetime

The hosts at Spanish Steps (Peter and Sue) are at an age ready for retirement. Each morning, Peter meets us down in the square and gives us a reminder of the days activities. (Sue does the administration... we don't see a lot of Sue... except at dinner.) Peter is our guide each day... climbing up and down the mountain ridges... rain... hail... or shine. He has had cartilage removed from knees (rugby injuries) has suffered painful joints from time to time... but his love of the mountains produces the adrenalin to keep him going... jumping mountain streams... picking the alpine flowers... tasting the figs overhanging the walking trails.

I am giving you all this detail because word has leaked out that Peter and Sue are now looking for a buyer for the business. If you are seeking a change in your life style... if you are feeling your daily routine is becoming a little passé... a little predictable... a little 'hollow' on the meaningful stakes ... this could be a chance of a lifetime. For a percentage of the sales price, I am prepared to arrange an introduction so that you can purchase this business.

The benefits you can gain from investing in this gold mine will change your life... making it as rich as the Spanish culture on which the business is based.

:-) You could rid yourself of flab... lift your eyes to see the important things in life... get you to question those life long beliefs that now seem to be wearing thin.

:-) You could replace your existing friendship group with an endless stream of entertaining British tourists... spiced with Australian troublemakers... and an endless stream of tales tall but true.

:-) You will become the major economic force within Cómpeta. Spanish Steps isn't on the front line of the tourist industry. Cómpeta doesn't have a large hotel... or a train station... let alone a cathedral or Roman ruins of a Moorish old city. Spanish Steps has next to no competition in town. When Peter escorts his dozen customers into the pizza each evening, his selection of restaurant is a major economic event for the village. If you were to purchase Spanish Steps, you would never have to buy a restaurant meal in Cómpeta again. You would be the most popular person in Cómpeta... people would laugh at your jokes... remember your birthday... really like you.

:-) You can split your time between Spain and other parts of Europe. Spanish Steps is open only when you want it open. You have no staff. When you want to watch Wimbledon... simply refuse bookings for that fortnight. When numbers drop off in cooler months... close the doors and head for the tropics.

:-) You can't afford to buy this end-to-end tourist business? Not at all... this business is yours for the asking. You know that the Spanish economy is struggling... coming to grips with the Global Financial Crisis. Property prices are dirt cheap. The price of businesses all include a suitable component of 'negative' goodwill. Spain has ridden rougher financial crises than the current cycle. It will bounce back. Buy now at the bottom of the cycle and I guarantee prices will rise.

But like all unbelievable bargains, you must act immediately. On our walk today, we were accompanied by Jim and fiancé , Lex. Jim was the very first customer of Spanish Steps... some 20 years ago. He was the one who helped Peter discover many of the old walking trails. He is looking at a sea-change in his life... taking on the responsibility of marriage... leaving aside project management work in Middle East ... finding a way to split his time between London and Spain.

Jim is not behaving like an eager buyer... he's smart. But every so often today, glancing over to his direction, I could see the wheels in his mind ticking over. He's interested... all right! Lex came back to the house after the walk today... and took photos of all the rooms in the house.

But do not despair... if you act quickly, I can get you a track with the inside running... I think I know the sweet spot in Peter's psychic. I want let you into my little secret just yet... but for as little as 10% of the purchase price, I can get you the keys to paradise. Don't delay... talk to your financial planner today.