IN UNKNOWN SPAIN

Evening Star, Issue 22261, 12 February 1936, Page 11

IN UNKNOWN SPAIN

ALONG FROM SAG UNTO We have been living in Palma, Marjoria, for six months, and felt that we deserved a holiday on the mainland. We accordingly crossed in the nightly mail ship to Barcelona, and there took return passage to Malaga in a Spanish coaster, writes H. E. Brimble, in the ‘ Cape Times.’ Either of two lines of coasters enables one to visit twice every Spanish port in the Mediterranean comfortably and cheaply, in about 16 days. These ships of 2,000-4,000 tons are oil driven, scrupulously clean—like all Spanish ships—and carry about 12 first-class passengers. The food, taken in fresh daily, is excellent, varied, and well choked, and wine ad lib is gratis. Large cabins are electrically warmed in winter, and beds are wider than in most British ships. The return first class fare, exclusive of meals, from Barcelona to Malaga is about £B. Three meals a day cost 8s 6d, hut this is entirely optional. It pa vs to be seasick sometimes. As the ship travels by night, and is in port during the day, meals may be taken in a cafe ashore. This excellent arrangement enables one to spend most of the day ashore without paying twice for meals. Leaving Barcelona at noon, we arrived the next morning at Sagunto, a tiny port with two iron foundries, church, school, pigs, fowls, and a few dejected gum trees. Normally, Sagunto’s sole but powerful attraction is an electric magnet which lifts 3cnvt of iron at a time, a most fascinating performance to watch. Heavy iron bars are lifted dangling by their ends and dropped into the ship. By extraordinary good fortune, however, we arrived pn the very day of the annual carnival. This glittering pageant consisted of three men dressed as-girls and three girls dressed as men circumambulating the plaza with guitar, mouth organ, and drum, raising much dust and even more enthusiasm. Confetti, scent squirts, and such like stimulants of frivolity _ on sale in the market booths promised still further delirious delights after nightfall. Reluctantly tearing ourselves away from the revels, we sought a conveyance to Saguntum some four miles inland. The village taxi was, it seemed, in the hands of the village blacksmith, but would be ready manana. This was not much use to us, as our ship sailed to Valencia in four hours’ time. We had been informed, however, by our steward—who had probably seen neither—that there were two regular buses to Saguntum; one “ an- elegant

horsebus,” the other “an up-to-date automobile.” The up-to-date autobus we discovered in a dusty desert off a side street, packed with passengers and produce, ready to start. It doubtless had been Senor Ford’s challenge to the world in £he year 1900, but was now slightly passe. ROOM FOR ONE. No bus or tram in Spain is ever full; room for one more passenger is always made, and it was for us—on the hospitable driver’s right knee. The bus bounded forward, and stopped dead, shooting us off our perch. ‘ Pardone, senor,” Said the driver politely as he alighted to make some delicate adjustment with hammer and spanner. This operation, from long practice, took but a few minutes, and we sprang forward again. The only organ of the bus still unfortunately retaining its pristine vigour was the horn, honked incessantly in our ears for no reason whatever, unless sheer joie de vivre, for the road was clear of living creatures, though not of boulders and chasms.

We rattled, lurched, quivered, and bumped! between vast orchards of apricot, peach, almond, citrus, and other fruit trees in the beautiful fertile Valencian plain, the garden of Spain. With one last triumphant blast we arrived at Saguntum. Here we all alighted and clustered round the driver to pay our ticket fares. Saguntum (now Murviedro), one of _ the best preserved and most interesting of Roman cities, was taken by the Carthaginians under Hannibal fn 219 b.c., and has apparently not been cleaned since.

The massive cyclopean citadel and amphitheatre stand apart on a steep hilltop, proudly overlooking fair Valencia' City some 15 miles south-west. Immense stone cisterns and baths showed the Romans’ fondness for water, which, failing rain, must have been carried up the hill by miles of slaves. Though the Romans wore acquainted with the simple hydrostatic law that water can be made to run uphill, they had no material for large pipes. Hence the number of aqueducts throughout their ancient empire. Loath to leave the glorious view and the grandeur _ that was Rome, but afraid of missing our passage, we hurried down the hill to the plaza. The “ up-to-date automobile ” was not np to time, but its hated rival, “ the elegant horse bus,” with fare id less, was taking in cargo and passengers. This two horse-power, eight hardseater saloon was rather dark inside, but by no means gloomy. Gaily-col-oured cigarette showcards, depicting flaunting, extravagant queens in amorous dalliance with dashing bullfighters had taken the place of the original glass windows, doubtless shattered on its maiden trip about the year 1800, The sumptuous equipage was drawn by two poor moth-eaten palfreys showing honourable soars of encounter with el toro in the Valencia bull ring, and sporting ragged sun-scorched straw hats and mouldy harness tied with string.

Observing a foreigner, the ownerdriver, with the innate Spanish courtesy, made room for us between himself and an ample senora suckling a damp baby. The bus was full—overfull —and due to start. Why did we linger? For the baby to finish his