Merida and Caceres

The Zafra morning traffic woke us up around sevenish. No sign of the promised stormy weather. So, we packed up and headed for Merida and its famous Roman ruins. It was only about a 60km north, but by the time we had visited Mercadona, noon had come and gone. By this time the rain had arrived, alternating between a thin penetrating drizzle interrupted by the occasional deluge. The temperature had plummeted too, single figures and a biting northerly breeze. In the time it took to transfer the shopping from trolley to van, we were both soaked through and shivery.

Next glitch - the Merida aire listed in the Vicarious Books guide had been dismantled, it was still possible to park there for the day, but not overnight; furthermore, by Spanish standards, the rate of €1.10 per hour is actually pretty steep. Plan B. The car park was only a few hundred yards from the main archaeological area, so we decided to make a quick visit, then drive on to Caceres.

By this time the weather was so bad that as well as our cagoules, we donned gloves, and out came my Kray brothers memorial woolly bank-robber hat. What is it with the Turpies and Roman ruins? Both our visits to the Eternal City have been undertaken beneath umbrellas. Herculaneum: afterwards I had to wring-out socks and underpants! Now Merida's classical treasures, appreciated while some Olympian deity or other poured buckets of water on our heads. Who was the Roman god of water? Why have we pissed him off?

Anyway, the amphitheatre is interesting, and the information boards about the different types of gladiators instructive, but the theatre is a tour de force, better preserved than the one at Orange or Taomina, though in fairness, the setting, with Etna in the background has to give it the edge.

The main arena

scary fish man head gladiator

Gill in Roman ruin visiting costume

Now that's what I call show business...

Augustus founded the city, much of the public buildings were dedicated to the Imperial cult 

The €12.50 ticket you get for the Roman remains allows you entrance to a whole range of sites, we had headed off to see some mosaics and a Roman funerary site, but we were cold, and soaked through. Enough we decided and headed back to the van.

So, we headed towards Caceras, not before having to reverse out of a side street that had a 3 metre height restriction. We stopped off a Repsol garage just south of Caceres, we needed diesel, and the place sold Autogas, so we could replenish our LPG supply. It was still tipping it down. I could not get the LPG euro adaptor to connect. Gill fetched the attendant. He arrived clutching a big umbrella, gave the pump a bit of a whack, bingo! We had filled up in no time at all, for less than €8 euros. For all the chat on forums about problems with refillable LPG. We have had no problems in Spanish Repsol garages; in fact the attendants have been all too happy to help.

Soon we were safely ensconced in Camping Caceres on the edge of the city next to the football stadium, the rain still falling in sheets. El Tiempio forecast that it would not clear up until the next day, mid afternoon. It was dead right, we sat tight, then caught the bus at 3 o'clock into the city. Eventually the sun broke through and we had a pleasant, if chilly, wander through the ancient heart of Caceres. Like Carcassonne, it is an almost perfectly preserved walked city; unlike Carcassonne, it has not been 'improved' by Romantically inclined mid Nineteenth century restorers.

The old city leads straight off the central square

The Renaissance palaces and yellow stone reminded us of Volterra

but with Carcassonne-style ramparts

Guess what, this Plaza was called 'St. George'

Toiwards the end of the afternoon it became warm enough for a cafe stop, with the patio heaters on!

The main square from the top of a tower

Many storks (I gave him a euro and he stood on one leg specially....)

nesting precariously

As the rain cleared you could see the wide plain beyond Caceres, prooving Eliza Dolittle correct....

The old city a stunning place, but no one lives here any more, it is moribund, a relic, beautiful, inert - a fading ghost. Which is preferable, this empty shell or Carcassonne's Disneyfication?

Spring, Extramaduran style - 

"Beside the lake, beneath the (palm) trees"