The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1900-05-13
in DON QUIXOTE'S STEPS
THROUGH THE HEART OF SPAIN
OVER La MANCHA'S PLAIN.
The WindmilIs, the Wine shops, the
Inn, the WelI-AIl as Cervantcs De-
scribed Them-Olive Orchards.
,rrespondence of the Indianapolis Journal.


gone direct to Toledo. without change of
cars, by the regular line between Cordova
and Madrid, had not vagrant fancy led
US this roundabout way on the trail of
Don Quixote. Probably the orthodox tour
list would have visited Granada next after
the Caliph capital, as il is only a few
hours distant, in the southeastern corner of
the same province; but We decided to re-
serve that greatest show place for the last
tidbit of our desultory wanderings in
Spain, on the way back to the Mediterra-
mean coast.
Having left Cordova very early in the
morning, on a train that creeps slowly
through beautiful Andalusia towards the
dark Sierra Moreno, you feel 1.-THE joy of
living" as seldom before. Spanish trains
never do more than creep at a pace which
an active person might easily outrun on
his own two legs; but you bless their slow
ness when turning your back on southern
Spain. Nature is at her very best I'm spring
attire-birds singing, peoples and daisies
Haunting in the fields amid multitude of
other brilliant flowers, plantations of roses
filing the air with fragrance. and bios
soming creepers rioting on every house
wall and hedgerow. The dark, glossy
green and golden fruit of lemon and orange
orchards, alternate with the familiar foil
age of peach, pear and apple trees, now
past their blooming time; while here and
there a royal palm lifts its plumed head
high above all in truly regal pride. Cacu
and prickly pears, used everywhere as
fencing for fields and gardens. grow wild
in dense masses along the railway en-
bankments, overrun by gorgeous nastur-
tiums. All the country roads are guarded
by Spanish bayonets' bristlng with for
midable spikes, and gigantic aloes the high
ly decorative plant of Spain, with its base
of long. sword-like leaves, its tall. slender
trunk rising twenty or thirty feet, and its
broad candelabrum of crimson blooms
Green meadows and low hills are covered
with cork trees; and for miles the country
is clothed with olive groves. as with robes
OF monkish gray, gradually giving way to
isolated trees of aged and solemn aspect
Most of the olive orchards that cluster
around Cordova and from such a promi-
nent feature of southern Spain, very
ancient-many of them planted long be-
fore the pilgrim fathers sought America.
AGED OLIVE ORCHARD.
Everybody has heard of the monster olive
tree near Nice. which is said to be more
than a thousand years old, whose trunk is
twenty-three feet in circumference at the
height OF a mans head and whose yield in
its prime was five hundred pounds of oil
per annum! / have no doubt that its coun'
terpart could be found, many times over,
in Notwithstanding the inevitable exag-
geration of watering place tradition.
Each orchard has it's guard, who tends it
carefully the year around, occupying
grass-thatched hut under the trees in sum-
mer-time and a sort of burrow, or cave, in
winter.
During the harvest season a watch is
kept up all night, as well as by day; for
an expert thief-and there are many in
Spain-might easily strip an entire orchard
In a few hours. A single vigorous shake
dislodges every ripened berry from the
branches, which may be noiselessly loaded
into the panniers of waiting donkeys. AS
harvest time approaches, the olive trees
exchange their melancholy gray for bright
er garb. The ripening fruit varies in tint
from vivid green to gay red and lovely
puppies, while the willow leaf foliage, al
ways restless and quivering assumes a
tender, shimmering tint which can best be
described moonlight green, or greenish
silver-if you can imagine what such a
color might be. The crop is mainly har-
vested by the young women; and then the
sombre orchard is a picnic ground all day
long, for Spanish girls turn all their labors
into merry-making. The aged trunks form
an admirable background for the rainbow
hues of peasant costumes, and the air is
musical with snatches of song and the
tinkle of donkey-bells; while the overseer,
stretched on a grassy bank in the sun,
find double enjoyment in his interminable
cigarettes and the power of controlling the
drudgery of others.
Nearing the northern border of Andalu-
STA, you find the whole country covered
with vineyards, far as the eye can see.
This is the famous Val de Pinas region,
which gives its name to one of the best,
though commonest, wines of Spain. 1t is
richer in color than claret, with more body
and understandable resembling the
unfermented grape juice made in New Jer-
sey and extensively used throughout the
United States (much adulterated) for
communion purposes. Valde de Pinas is, of
course. fermented, but the natives always
mix water with it and rarely drink too
much, though wine-skin full, holding a
quart or more, costs only cents. Water
costs as much in most parts of Spain; but
the poorest peasant who cannot afford
water enough to wash his face in, buys II
to adulterate his wine Drunkenness is not
a Spanish vice. though in every peasants
bag the wine-skin keeps constant COM
pany with the garlic-pot.
THE WOMEN ON HAND.
AT every stopping place of the train,
female water-carriers, each with an Arab
alcarazza poised lightly on her head, APP
proach the car windows and deal out tepid
water TO ready customers at the moderate
price of a penny per gill. Innumerable
small villages, each EMPOWERED in green
are scattered along the Andalusian levels
Their only visible business appears to be
conducted exclusively by women, at OPEN
air restaurants, TO supply passing travellers
with drinks of fresh milk. Each restaurant
consists of rude bench. or table, set by
the wayside, a few mugs, and a goat, or
COW, tethered near-the tactical beverage
being always ION tap This borderland
soil is red as that of Virginia, and the grass
grows SO sparsely that the color of the
ground shows through, giving a sun
blighted look to the landscape. The farm
A..x-