A Weekend Lost in Cadiz

Cadiz

When my brother and I arrived in Cadiz on Saturday evening, the dark, drizzly night didn’t discourage us. My normally reliable guidebook cheerfully informed us that the streets of Cadiz were “crammed” with hostels. ‘Crammed’ is a good word, a positive word; it suggests abundance; a plethora of hostels, jostling for space on the narrow streets. Huh.

After a couple of hours of trudging round in the increasingly dismal weather, having rejected the only available room on the grounds that the sinister-looking owner had to leave us to go and listen to a barrage of complaints from the room next door, and having tested the bonds of sibling unity to the limit, we were sorely tempted to try and beg a bed on the cruise liner that was honking noisily in the harbour. However, beginning a pattern that would last the whole of our stay, Cadiz, like a mischievous child, seemed to realise that the joke had been taken too far, and kindly brought us out onto Calle San Francisco, where we found a lovely hostel of the same name, with a beautifully tiled entrance hall, friendly staff, and comfortable, reasonably-priced rooms (Hostel San Francisco, C/San Francisco, 20 euro per person per night). It was also very close to most of the tourist attractions of Cadiz.

The Museo de Cadiz (Plaza de Mina, 5, Tues 14:30 - 20:30, Wed-Sat 9:00 - 20:30, Sundays/holidays 9:00 - 14:30, 1.50 euro, free for E.U. citizens), located on the prettiest plaza in Cadiz, holds an impressive array of artifacts and artworks, ranging from Phoenician and Roman relics to 20th century Spanish painting. Along the way you will find impressive 5th century Phoenician sarcophagi, a Rubens, and, perhaps most intriguingly, in the ethnography section, a selection of foot-high puppets from the traditional marionette theatre of Cadiz known, after one of its most popular characters, as La Tí a Norica. These rather goulish puppets are still used today for the satirical, highly politically incorrect tí teres, or puppet shows, a tradition which peaked in the nineteenth century as an indirect way of criticising the flaws in gaditano society, and which was revived by the reformation of the theatre group in 1984.

Another assertion of my now slightly untrustworthy guidebook was that Cadiz was a “fish-crazy city”, a description it is harder to argue with - and indeed, why would you? On Saturday night, we feasted on the local version of paella, which was so stuffed full of mariscos and pescado that even after our bravest efforts, our plates remained three-quarters full. The restaurant itself (San Antonio, Plaza San Antonio) was excellent, though very quiet - although again, this was something of a theme. Where do people go in Cadiz? Throughout our many, many wanderings (mostly circular, it must be said), we just didn’t see very many people.

Cadiz makes nothing easy. When we were looking for a hostel, we passed hundreds of restaurants. When we wanted to eat, we saw only hostels. So of course, after dinner, it was no surprise that locating a bar for one last copa was not quite the simple task it might be elsewhere. But by now we were getting into the spirit of Cadiz’s ‘Mission Impossible’ games, and had even taken to addressing Cadiz (the naughty seven-year old) in stern tones whenever he proved difficult:

“Now, Cadiz, where are you hiding the bars?”

“Come on now, we know you’ve got them.”

“What’s that behind your back? Is it a bar, Cadiz? It is, isn’t it? Come on now, hand it over.”

After a firm talking-to, the goods were usually delivered. These included, the next day, the cathedral, which again really shouldn’t have been as hard to find as it seemed to be. Built over a period of 116 years, the cathedral displays a mix of styles, from its Baroque beginnings to later, Neoclassical features. The dome of guilded brick is the most eye-catching feature, strangely reminiscent of golden-domed mosques, and best viewed from the Torre de Poniente, the bell-tower, which has, in recent years, been opened to the public to give access to spectacular views across the city. In the crypt of the cathedral lies the composer Manuel de Falla (1876-1946), the Cadiz-born composer who wrote, among other things, a puppet opera (it seems the puppets are omnipresent in Cadiz) and a ballet called El Sombrero de Tres Picos, whose original set was designed by a certain Pablo Picasso…

If dead composers with famous friends aren’t enough to interest you, you could always opt for a stroll along La Playa de La Caleta (even though it was the end of November, we couldn’t resist a little paddle; the water was icy, and unfortunately the high-pitched shrieks echoing up the beach belonged not to me, but to my brother). Time for a slightly less credible name-drop: the beach was used as the set for several of the Cuban scenes at the beginning of the Bond film Die Another Day. And you wouldn’t catch Bond shrieking like a girl at a bit of cold water, either.