Villages, towns and cities

On 12 February 1826, one of the most deplorable kings that Spain has ever had, Fernando VII, and there have been some duffers, signed the order to make Pinoso a municipality separate from Monóvar. Pinoso became a Villa. From Villa comes Villazgo which is an event in Pinoso to remember and celebrate that independence each February.

Most Spaniards would consider that a villa has much less economic clout, a much smaller population and far fewer services than a city. Strangely the Spanish capital, Madrid, is historically, just like Pinoso, a villa.

The Spanish Constitution divides national territory into three divisions: municipality (e.g. Pinoso, or Yecla), province (e.g. Alicante, or Murcia), autonomous community (e.g. Valencian Community or Region of Murcia). All the other divisions, used by the autonomous communities and in everyday speech, have a certain degree of willy nilliness. So comarcas ( a grouping of locations), mancomunidades (a community or grouping of municipalities), villas (small towns with privileges) and aldeas (villages), aren't quite so easy to differentiate as my English definitions may suggest.

Just as in the United Kingdom, where some places look like towns but are cities (Wells, St Aspath), while some towns, that seem big enough to be cities (Northampton, Reading), are still towns there is some confusion about what is what in Spain. So, here's my unofficial guide.

Aldea: According to the official dictionary, the Diccionario de la Real Academia Española, is a centre of sparse population usually, without its own jurisdiction. Aldeas are not a legal entity. Ask a Spaniard what an aldea is and they'll probably say a rural village with very few houses and almost no people.

Pueblo: These are municipalities, with powers, but with a small population. According to the Spanish statistical office and based on a supranational definition, a pueblo has a population of fewer than 10,000 inhabitants with an economy based on things like agriculture, fishing, forestry and mining - the primary sector. To be a bit contrary a Spanish law from 2007 defines a pueblo as a place with fewer than 5,000 inhabitants located in a rural environment with a population density of fewer than 100 people per km².

Villa: Where this blog began. Why is Villazgo, one of Pinoso's biggest tourist draws, called Villazgo? Blame the Romans. A villa was a Roman centre of agricultural production. Originally a villa was a "manor house" with a few buildings and dwellings alongside. As the Empire crumbled, and rule from Rome weakened, some of these villas took on local powers; they developed a form of legal autonomy. Some might build a castle and maintain a small private army, there may be aldermen and mayors to govern and administer justice or maybe a distinguished board to distribute water rights.

Ciudad: In Spain, according to the Statistics Office, a ciudad has to have more than 10,000 inhabitants who are mainly dedicated to economic activities outside the primary sector – that is it's an urban area with a high population density and with economic (commerce, services and industry), political, religious, and a cultural life. With that definition we can understand those traffic signs that point us to the "Centro ciudad" - City Centre - even though we seem to be entering a big village or a small town.

Just to round things off pedanías are centres of population which depend, for governance, on a nearby municipality. Usually they are outlying villages to a town but sometimes they are identifiable centres of population in an urban area. Chinorlet is a pedanía of Monóvar, Raspay is a pedanía of Yecla and Culebrón, Paredón and Ubeda (and a whole lot more) are pedanías of Pinoso. 

The photo, by the way, is of the signature of Fernando VII to say that Pinoso is no longer a pedanía of Monóvar

Think Walden Pond

Maggie often comes home and tells me about a house that she's shown or a new house on the books of the estate agency she works for. At the best I'm vaguely interested. The other way around I often start a conversation with "I'm reading this book about ....," and Maggie is just as responsive. So, if I can't tell her I'll tell you. Don't think of it as a book review though, think more of it as a bastardisation of the book alongside my own ramblings.

The book in question was written by a woman called María Sánchez. This is the sort of Spanish name I approve of. It's like one of the names in a Learn Spanish text book. There are plenty of Spanish names that are easy to say like Fernández or García but there seem to be many more which don't exactly trip off the Anglo tongue: Úrsula Corberó, Sandra Sabatés, Lidia Torrent or Isabel Díaz Ayuso for instance. Maria's book title is dead obvious too, at least in Spanish - Tierra de mujeres. It's not quite so easy to translate effectively into English, the idea behind the words isn't quite the same. Land of Women, Women's Land, Soil of Women etc. don't capture the multiple meanings about the ownership, or the place and number of women wedded to the earth, to the soil, to the land. It happens the other way round too. T.S. Eliot's "At the still point of the turning world." can be translated into Spanish as the point that doesn't move or the point that is quiet and peaceful but there is no single word to give the same double meaning as in English.

Anyway, back at the page face. The book is largely about demanding recognition for the significant role that women have always played on the land, in the countryside, as shepherds, herders, planters, collectors, labourers and the like alongside their role as homeworkers. One of her key arguments is that the men get the praise for the horny handed sons of toil role whilst the women are only recognised as the sweepers of floors, the laundresses of overalls and the bakers of bread. There is no mention of Jill Archer or Annie Sugden but, as the author is a vet, James Herriot's Christmas cake baking heroines get a mention.

I've talked about rural Spain in the past. Partly because we have a friend who is politically active about rural issues and lives in a very rustic bit of Teruel and also because of where we live. Pinoso, is hardly urban, Culebrón less so. Here agriculture is important and everyday but where there is other work too and we are close to major centres of population. Part of Maria's argument is that we are all very quick to accept a view, forged by city dwellers, that lots of Spain is empty, a nice place to go for the weekend to relax, a place where we (Spaniards in this case) all came from but where none of us (Spaniards again) would like to stay too long. A place full of country bumpkins, good with their hands maybe, people who know all the gossip about their neighbours as well as being able to name birds, plants and trees the people who live in a place where doors can be left unlocked and where neighbours pop in all the time leaving trays of fruit, veg. and fresh baked pastries but who have been left behind by the modern world. Plenty tractor drivers and very few JavaScript developers.

She suggests that view needs a reappraisal. That rural Spain needs services more than it needs poetic praise and bucolic representation. Spain, lots of Spain, doesn't have much population but that doesn't mean it's empty. Just because it's not built up, or full of people, doesn't mean that it's abandoned. Sometimes the farming is extensive rather than intensive. There are places where the combines and the logging trucks roam, where the monster tractors equipped with tree shakers and catcher nets roar but equally there are places where herds of goats belch and fart overseen by a solitary figure and his or her dog and where families stop for a bucolic lunch with their backs against the olive trees that they have spent all morning beating with sticks to collect the crop. One fills supermarket shelves with cheap and accessible product and the other produces the high value local cheese and specialist olives of more "select" outlets. Both are alive and well, both have their place.

There was lots more too, it was a short book, fewer than 200 pages, but it was interesting given our situation. I suppose less so to someone enjoying the 3am traffic jams in Madrid. Well, according to one of the possible candidates for Mayor of Madrid that's one of the things that Madrileños enjoy.