Snippets from Spain

Chasing Illusion in Cervantes’ Home Town

Earlier this week, I rode a bus for forty-five minutes from Madrid to the town of Alcalá de Henares. I got off at the stop closest to the birthplace of Miguel de Cervantes, one of the world’s greatest writers in the Spanish language, a premier novelist, and author of Don Quixote. The book, published in 1605, has been called the first modern novel. It’s even been named the best book ever written. Although Cervantes scribed his masterpiece over 400 years ago, maybe some particle of him still lingered in the air at his childhood home. I looked for something to rub off on me before my meeting later that afternoon with David, a Spanish website designer. We were going to put the finishing touches on my author page.

Miguel de Cervantes, his creation Don Quixote, and me

Cervantes was born around September 29, 1547 in a house close to what’s now the historic center of town. The only visible remnant of the author there was his father’s pharmacy. Rodrigo Cervantes mixed medicines, pulled teeth, let blood, and trimmed beards in this room. Historians recreated the remainder of the building as a 16th century home for a wealthy family. Cervantes and his siblings grew up poor and, a few years after Cervantes was born, the family moved to Cordoba in the southern region of Andalucia. Tinged with disappointment, I turned to leave, walking past the home’s original well, to find another dose of Cervantes.

Pharmacy where Cervantes' father practiced; only original wall of the house painted to resemble a tapestry. Wealthy people used tapestries to retain the heat. Poor people painted the walls. Family well.

Ambling from his house to cross the town plaza, I found the University of Alcalá, founded by Cardinal Cisneros in 1499. Cisneros had a grand plan for his university. He built colleges and residence halls. Hospitals, printing shops, and other establishments surrounded the university. These complementary services enabled the university to become one of the most prestigious in the sciences, language, and literature. The founders created Civitas Dei, a City of God, to bring together the citizens of the town, academics, and religious orders to share education and knowledge. The institution remained one of the best in the country for hundreds of years and became the prototype for universities in Europe and the Americas.

Passing through the town square Plaza de Cervantes

Surely, I could absorb some of this as I stepped into the courtyard of one of the academic buildings. Had water been running from the fountain, I would have drunk it.

I needed to find something else that would leave an imprint of Cervantes on me. Disappointed and no more inspired or knowledgeable in my writing efforts, I ambled along a stone-paved street lined by college buildings erected in the Middle Ages. I was meeting David in twenty minutes. Time was running out.

I passed by the brick façade of the College of San Geronimo which, in 1929, was turned into students’ quarters. A red and white sign caught my eye. I stopped. The sign said that Federico Garcia Lorca and other authors of the Generation of ′27 came to this building from Madrid by train. Generación del 27 included influential and avant-garde Spanish poets, writers, and artists between 1923 and 1927. Garcia Lorca, after attending Columbia University in New York and the University of Granada in Spain, became a poet, playwright, and theater director. A few years after hanging out in Alcalá de Henares, General Franco’s forces, at the beginning of the Spanish Civil War in 1936, assassinated Garcia Lorca, presumably for being gay and socialist. Surrealist artist Salvador Dalí also hung out with this group. Luis Buñuel, considered one of the greatest filmmakers of all time and known for his avant-garde surrealism, also participated.

Generación del 27 members didn’t come to the students’ quarters to write. They came to enjoy “migas con chocolate,” a dish made of stale bread crumbs mixed with chocolate and eaten for breakfast or dessert. This was a variation on a traditional dish of toasted breadcrumbs with diced meats and vegetables.

Migas con chocolate didn’t tempt my appetite but I’d eat pretty much anything to write like those guys.

Migas con chocolate

An oxidized brass plaque on the wall of this same building read “Paradores de Turismo desde 1928.” Things were looking up. Paradors are castles, monasteries, convents, fortresses, manor houses, and palaces that have been converted to elegant and luxurious hotels. Unlike hotels, they are a tribute to Spain’s architectural and cultural history. I peeked into the restaurant to see satiated and smiling tourists lifting wine goblets filled with albariño and scooping the last bites of flan from the plate.  

Medieval college becomes a parador; the restaurant and patio

Surely a few nights in this parador with my head full of whispers from these illustrious writers savoring migas con chocolate and Cervantes’ boyhood words would inspire my writing efforts. Gourmet meals would send their wisdom down my throat for my system to absorb.

Back on the street, I needed to dismount from Rocinante as illusions of grandeur swelled my thoughts wandering this literary town. I picked up my pace to meet David. We finished my author website. I didn’t uncover any traces of Cervantes or the Generación del 27 imbedded in it.

Mural of Cervantes; David and me working hard

A more practical idea is to book a room at the parador for a writing retreat. I can concentrate on my works instead of waiting for insight from others. As Garcia Lorca said, “Inspiration is not about having it or not having it. It is about seeking it.”