Cycle races

 The neighbouring town of Sabiñánigo hosts a massive and very important road cycle race called La Quebrantahuesos every year. Around 10,000 cyclists, both amateurs and professionals take part. They start in Sabñánigo and ride up the Aragón valley past Jaca, up to the Somport mountain pass and down into France. They go back into Spain via the Pourtalet mountain pass and return to Sabiñánigo. The race lasts a day and is spectacular and well-known. For that day life in that town is complicated, but it's a day, a Saturday at that and you can plan round it; make sure if you need to travel you get your timing right so you don't coincide with the closures.

Ok. That was on 20th June this year. 

Last week, the final complete week in June there were fiestas in Jaca, so we thought we'd go for a stroll in Sabiñánigo. Little did we know....

It turned out that the town was completely possessed by the cyclists. 

I'm not joking. Pretty well everything given over to them, the main street, accesses, you couldn't cross the road, queues of traffic-we were stopped on the motorway in full sun for half an hour with neither warnings nor explanations. Even the narrow pavements where we were walking had people cycling on them.

Apparently there has been praise for the organisation of the races; that will be from the perspective of those taking part in the competition. 

From the perspective of the people who live and work in the town, or had to drive round or past it; those who live in surrounding villages, already inconvenienced by everlasting roadworks, it was unmitigated chaos and inconvenience. Unannounced stoppages and blockages on main roads and even the motorway, bus journeys delayed; medical appointments missed. High street shops losing business due to inaccessibility. That's the impression I got from comments on social media.

The town surely benefits from big sporting events.but do the people of the locality actually receive any benefit or do they just have to put up with it?

Puente la Reina-Gares

 Puente la Reina, also called Gares is about ninety minutes away from Jaca by road. The Orfeon  Jacetano had been invited there by a local group.

First, we stopped at the little church of Santa Maria de Eunate, a charming XII century octagonal building.

Then on to Puente la Reina in Navarra; we have a little Puente la Reina in Aragón, but the one in Navarra is much prettier. 

Lovely bridge, three architecturally interesting churches and very nice food! 

After dinner, the church, practice and change, a fair amount of waiting-it's so hot these days that you need to be indooors most of the time!

So we sang our concert, seemed to be well received. Later an English member of the host choir was very emphatic that they had liked the concert very much; that's always good to hear!

At that point, we still hadn't finished, because our hosts treated us to a buffet supper in a cellar!

Home at the speed of light!

Park run

 On Sunday 14th June I did my first park run. It was in the Big Park in Zaragoza, now named for the late local politician and folk singer Labordeta. 

This was a charity race, against cancer: you pay a fee in advance, they give you a t-shirt and a bib with a chip and what's left goes to the cause. I think there were about 900 participants, but I'm not sure.

It's been really hot so it's just as well the race started (on time) at 9 in the morning. The runners with a chance of winning start at the front, and those who don't start further back. Unlike some other races I've done, those running didn't have to fight their way through walkers and pushchairs.

The winner got there in about half the time I took!

One of these should be mine, only I didn't wait for the presentation!It was a struggle, but it was fun, and although I went on my own, it's pretty sociable.

I came second in my category, Master D 

This is a screenshot of the results that came from my chip.

Once you cross the finish line someone hands you a goody-bag with water, isotonic and some food. I drank the isotonic and went home. It really was a well-organised event and very enjoyable.

We'll always have Paris

 It had been eleven years since our last trip to Paris. That time we flew from Zaragoza to Beauvais airport, and it rained quite a lot. 

At the beginning of this August we flew from Manises, Valencia, to Orly. Flight, fine. Arrival, good. Transit to Paris, Orly airport disappointed us. It's only 13 kms from the centre of Paris but there were no trains available because the lines were under repair. There was no information about that until we had followed all the signs to where twe were supposed to take the train. The buses were, naturally, overloaded. So we got a taxi. Easy, and not too expensive for 4 people travelling together.

Our hotel

From the dome of the Sacre Coeur

Trocadero

There were an incredible number of people there

This balloon was where they had the olympic flame last year.
We were lucky with the weather-it was hot but not unbearable. Since then there has been a heatwave which would have made it very difficult to move about there.
Paris is lovely, unique, exciting, tiring, crowded. 

The Holy Grail

 The Holy Grail. In Jaca. 

The legend says that the cup used at the Last Supper was taken to Rome by St Peter and used there by him and later popes in the Eucharist. In 258, with the emperor Valerian's campaign of persecution, the pope told deacon Laurece to protect the cup. He had it taken to his native city of Huesca. It ended up in the monastery of San Juan de la Peña, where it stayed until 1399 when King Martin I took it to the Aljafería palace in Zaragoza, from whence King Alfonso the Magnanimous carried it off to Valencia. where it has been ever since, more or less.

I say more or less because it's certainly been out on visits: in 1959 they took it to San Juan de la Peña, with Franco and his wife taking part in the ceremonies.

https://youtu.be/TxBcxUKfhD0?feature=shared (this is a newsreel video of the visit)

Anyway, this relic, whether genuine or not, is undoubtedly very old, and venerated by many, and at the moment it's in Jaca cathedral, guarded by armed police. 

Yesterday, we had a big to-do with clergy, authorities and many, many people to welcome it. Several choirs were involved, and also some folk-dance groups, who danced their way up the aisle before it, as David danced before the ark (Biblical reference).

There were speeches, liturgies; I think it's the only Catholic ceremony I've seen which wasn't a mass. The cathedral was jam-packed. When the speeches and liturgies were over, the choirs sang- I was in the first group, appropriate songs, one for each group. Here are a few pictures.

With such a lot of people it was quite something to do a stick dance up the aisle!

 

The Orfeón Jacetano

So many people!

Quite an experience!

Irises in Candanchú

 Yesterday we went to candanchú in the morning. After weeks of hot weather both in Zaragoza (unbearable) and Jaca, it was only about 8 degrees in the mountains, with a biting wind. We decided not to stay, but I did have time to take a couple of photos of the irises in full and glorious bloom on the ski slopes.

                                             Koelreuteria paniculata

(Golden Rain Tree)

 (Jabonero de China)

 These lovely trees are in Jaca. When the flowers die, they produce little bunches of lanterns:

This is what happens when you exercise, especially when it's hot.

This Lane

 I studied this poem at school in the 1970s and think about it every time I see an old road with trees arching over it.

Stane Street

This Lane - Andrew Young

Years and years and man’s thoughtful foot,
Drip and guttering rains and mute
Shrinkage of snows, and shaggy-hoofed
Horse have sunk this lane tree-roofed
Now patched with blossoming elder,
Wayfaring-tree and guelder;
Lane that eases the sharp-scarped hill
Winding the slope with leisurely will.

Foot of Briton, formal Roman,
Saxon and Dane and Sussex yeoman
Have delved it deep as river-bed,
Till I walk wading to my head
In air so close and hot
And by the wind forgot,
It seems to me that in this place
The earth is breathing on my face.

Here I loiter a lost hour,
Listen to bird, look on a flower.
What will be left when I am gone?
A trodden root, a loosened stone
And by the blackthorn caught
Some gossamery thought
Of  thankfulness to those dead bones
That knit hills closer than loose stones.

---

Andrew Young (1885 - 1971) Scotland