The Art of Slow Travel

The past two weeks found us traipsing around Spain’s Extremadura region. If you haven't heard of it, don't feel bad; I hadn't either, until Ed suggested we go there. It runs west from Madrid to Spain's border with Portugal. It is perhaps Spain's least-visited region and English is rarely spoken. It is for that very reason that we liked it. It felt like we were traveling back in time to experience the Roman Empire, the Moorish conquest, and Spain's Golden Age.

Extremadura is a remote area, filled with dramatic mountains, miles upon miles of olive and oak trees, grazing black pigs, road-crossing sheep, and Roman, Visigoth and Arab ruins set amongst medieval towns. 

It is the perfect place to practice “Slow Travel.” Like the Slow Food movement, it requires one to slip into the pace of the local culture…. You know: Purros (fat churros) and hot chocolate for breakfast, long walks in the old towns, perhaps a stop at a museum or a UNESCO site, breaks for people-watching and a café con leche in the town square, late lunches followed by siestas, before heading out for an evening stroll and tapas – hours past our usual dinner hour (and sometimes past my usual bedtime!).

We are learning the art of Slow Travel from the best: We were with our son, Jack, and his girlfriend, Kasia, for the first part of the trip and then just Jack for the middle part. They are expert Slow Travelers, knowing how to focus on things that locals do everyday and experiences that leave a lasting imprint upon your heart.  

Jack and Kasia share the mindset that the quality of travel experience is more important than the quantity of experiences. I watch them being completely present in the moment, not racing to the next must-see tourist attraction or constantly posting on Instagram. They choose to stroll the winding path through the town’s park rather than the shortcut through busy streets. They seek out a bar serving only local sherries, whose interior has not changed since the days of the Spanish Civil War when Hemingway hung out there. They find flamenco dancers performing in an intimate old arched room for us to enjoy, along with a glass of sangria, and they lead us to a small, quiet museum with beautiful paintings by a single artist. They understand that Slow Travel emphasizes connection to local people, cultures, food and music. 

S

Ed and I were on our own for the last five days of the trip and, in an effort to adopt Jack and Kasia’s outlook, we found we could be comfortable leaving whole days and nights with nothing planned (including where to stay) and seeing where it leads us.…

So here is what we found:

• We basically ate and drank our way through the region. If you love to eat, Extramadura is the place to be. The local food is excellent (unless you are a vegetarian!).  While the whole of Spain is known for its ham, this region produces some of the best: Jamón Ibérico de Bellota, ham from the acorn-eating black Ibérico pig, melt-in-your mouth slices of dark-red cured meat. When unsure of what to order, we simply asked our waiter for a recommendation — and we were always delighted with the selection.

• We lost ourselves in the Spain of the past. We explored Roman ruins that rival even a trip to Italy. In Mérida alone, we wandered the UNESCO World Heritage sites of the Roman Amphitheater and Theatre, the Temple of Diana, and the National Museum of Roman Art. In Guadaloupe, we were guided through the 14th century Royal Monastery of Saint Mary of Guadalupe, marveling at the cloister's art and vestments. I was especially starstruck with the room full of illuminated manuscripts: Huge books hand-lettered with detailed borders and illustrations. 

• We sat a spell. We found that the place to head upon arrival in any town is the Plaza Mayor. We'd sit with a café con leche or beer and watch the world go by. 

• We were blessed. We peeked into the attached church of Our Lady of Guadaloupe Monastery on a Sunday morning and ended up staying for the entire mass, (in Spanish!). Turns out, it is the very same church where Columbus gave thanks upon his return from the New World. 

• We talked to locals (well, actually, Ed talked; I listened, uncomprehendingly). Despite less than perfect Spanish, he engaged in conversations with shop clerks, waiters, hotel receptionists, young pilgrims. His attempts at conversation were well-received (sometimes comically) and helped us feel connected to the local people.

• We learned that one doesn’t have to see it all. We tell ourselves that there is "always a next time." Seven years ago we fell in love with the Portuguese mountain town of Marvão, but could only stay for an afternoon. We vowed to come back -- and we did on this trip, spending the night within its medieval walls and enjoying a lovely lunch and late-night dinner. 

So, if we didn’t see every museum, climb every castle tower, stand in awe at every cathedral, it was okay. We will come back another time. But for this time, we tried to savor every moment, oh so slowly.

Highlights

Madrid

Room Mate Alba Hotel

Devour Spain: Food tour of Madrid

Cardamomo Flamenco: live flamenco show

Sorolla Museum: showing paintings by Joaquin Sorolla, set in his former family home

La Venencia: 1930's-era bar serving only sherries

El Corte Inglés: lovely roof-top bar to watch the sunset

Avila

Chuchi Pasteles: Pastry shop known for its yemas, made of only egg yolks, granulated sugar and water with a confectioners' sugar coating.  

Salamanca

NH Collection Salamanca Palacio de Castellanos (Hotel)

El Mesón de Gonzalo (Restaurant)

Cáceres 

Airbnb: Plaza Mayor 35

Oquendo: excellent tapas

El Figón de Eustaquio: a traditional Spanish restaurant.

Mérida (day trip)

Roman ruins (World Heritage Site) Roman Theatre, Amphitheatre, and The Temple of Diana

National Museum of Roman Art

Museum of Visigothic Art

Sybarit Gastroshop: alfresco dining (for our 37th wedding anniversary)

Marvão

Dom Dinis (Hotel)

Restaurante Varanda do Alentejo

Guadeloupe

Hotel: Parador Guadalupe

Restaurante Parador Guadalupe

Guadalupe Jorda Restaurante

Restaurante Posada del Rincón 

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And for memory sake, here are few more pictures to help us remember our time Slow Traveling together.

The Giving Trees

 Once there was a tree who loved a little boy. Every day the boy would come to the tree to eat her apples, swing from her branches, or slide down her trunk… and the tree was happy.

– Shel Silverstein, from The Giving Tree

Since moving to Farm Dover a dozen years ago, Ed and I have planted over 1000 trees. Trees of all kinds: Mostly native and all sizes (from those we grew from an acorn to those delivered in 20-gallon pots); trees that will fruit or flower or produce nuts, or just pretty leaves; trees that the birds will be happy to build nests in and eat the seeds from; trees that are good for climbing and trees that are good for sitting under.

The trees of Farm Dover fall mostly under Ed's domain. He is the one who checks on them most often, clearing away weeds and vines before adding a layer of mulch, sprinkling a scoop of fertilizer, or fastening a wire fence around the base to protect them from rabbits or deer. When first planted, he is the one who takes the watering job most seriously, heading out with buckets of water for weeks at a time to make sure new trees are adjusting well and getting plenty of water. He is the one to prune broken branches or straighten a misshapen trunk. 

Unlike Shel Silverstein's The Giving Tree, I like to think that we have a symbiotic relationship with our trees – a give, as well as a take. 

This week, the trees are in the giving mode. 

Today, Ed and I headed out to check on the half dozen chestnut trees that grow along our drive and in the field behind the orchard. 

From one tree we gathered a bucketful of spiky burrs that had just split, revealing one, sometimes two, shiny chestnuts. Warning: gloves needed! The burrs on the other chestnut trees are still green and tightly closed. I'll refrigerate the ones we harvested today until the others pop open and then we will roast them on an open fire and eat them hot, or boil them and turn them into a silky soup. 

Daily I check the ripening pawpaws on trees that we planted five or six years ago. Once, they have turned from rock solid to having a bit of give, I pick them, before the opossums or raccoons get to them. Once they have softened, I'll turn them into ice cream or cheesecake or just slice them open and eat them cold, straight from the refrigerator. 

Grandchild Hazel was here two weekends ago and we took a stroll down the path just past my Girl Cave, where four hazelnut trees (shaggy bushes) grow. We picked all that we could reach of the husky jackets, each containing three or four hazelnuts. We let them dry for a couple days before popping them out of their jackets. I'll crack them as I need them for recipes as they will last in their shells for several months. 

There are walnuts and hickories (and someday pecans) to pick; mulberries, wild plums, apples, pears and peaches (occasionally) from our orchard to munch on; redbud flowers and magnolia blooms to add to salads; spruce tips to turn into ice cream; juniper, elder, sassafras, sumac and spice berries to flavor drinks, and maple and walnut trees to tap for syrup. The trees seem happy to share their bounty. We, in return, are grateful –– and happy to return the love by taking good care of them.