Arcos is an ancient hill town, the most westerly in a string of 'pueblos blancos' (white towns) and lies between the Sierra de Cádiz to the east, and the sherry growing flatlands of Jerez de la Frontera to the west. The view of the old town when I emerge from the bus literally makes me gasp. The town perches on a ridge high above the Río Guadalete. It takes me ten minutes or so to walk up from the bus station to the old town. This comprises a spiders web of narrow streets, lined with both Moorish and Renaissance buildings.
The town was known as Arco Briga to the Romans, then Arcos as the Moorish town of Arkos within the Cordoban caliphate. It was seized by Christian forces under Alfonso El Sabio in 1264. Relative peace reigned for three centuries allowing most of the town's beautiful churches to be built. In the nineteenth century Arcos suffered what is today known as a 'double whammy'. There was an outbreak of yellow fever which decimated the population as well as the Napoleonic invasions which caused terrible and widespread damage to the town, including the castle and many churches. Today, the economy of Arcos is centred on tourism but it does not seem to have signifcant fame. When I chatted with the pensionistas there was evidence that people were struggling in the economic crisis, and that once again, as in my youth, a European North-South divide is emerging. I feel gloomy.
In the centre of the casco antiguo (old town) is the Plaza del Cabildo. On one side is the castle which is privately owned (by a British woman I was told) and on another the beautiful old parador
On another side is the large fifteenth century Gothic- Mudéjar church of Santa María de la Asunción , once again, built over an earlier mosque.
One side of the plaza is left open, offering spectacular views to the river valley.
I sneak into the parador and somehow feel bad for ordering a beer and sandwich and resting in luxury for half an hour. Well, I am a pensionista, I suppose.
