Part 3: A Two-Bar Town

Whilst in reality Aljucén actually boasts three bars, the fact is that one of them is about a mile outside the town limits, next door to the petrol station, and so for the purposes of today’s piece, does not concern us.

The two remaining bars are about 35 metres apart, and are, starting from the top of the town, Kiosko El Parque and, Bar Sergio (which is known by all and sundry as “El Bar de Mariví”). The two bars are quite different in character. However, they do not differ very much from the point of view of the clientele. Most people who do go to bars at all, frequent both bars with equanimity: they have the sense to realise that in a community as small as this one, it would be foolish to alienate either of the two proprietors by never attending their particular bar.

Kiosko el parque is definitely the more sophisticated of the two, boasting as it does, both a coffee machine and draught beer. The proprietor, Vicente, is also canny enough to keep a certain number of glasses in the deep freeze during the really hot weather, a frosted glass full of foaming beer being one of the best-known antidotes to heatstroke. The aperitivos – the local name for free tapas – are limited during the week to peanuts and olives. At the weekend though, chorizo, sardines and panceta make an appearance. Vicente can, at first, appear somewhat taciturn, even grumpy, but the truth is that he has a generous heart, even if, at times he can lack a little finesse. Aljucén is on the southern part of La Ruta de Santiago. For much of the way the pilgrim route coincides with the old roman trading road, La Ruta de La Vía de La Plata, which runs from Sevilla to Gijón. The genuine pilgrims turn left somewhere around León before wending their righteous way to Santiago de Compostela. As Vicente’s bar is the first one they come to, tired and hungry pilgrims naturally tend to flop down to refuel at Kiosko El Parque. Vicente is quite prepared to deviate from the normal peanuts and olives for a hungry pilgrim; in fact he makes a mean chorizo sandwich. On one occasion, however, a long distance traveller was bold enough to ask for soup and salad, only to be told that Vicente did not do “Things like that”.

El Bar Sergio is quite a different kettle of fish. There the proprietor, Mariví can get quite upset if people refuse the aperitivos that come with each and every drink. In her defence though, it must be said that she really does cook very well and the majority of her tapas are delicious. A small bottle of beer (there is no draught) costs 90 cents and a small glass of wine costs 30 cents. How she makes a go of it is beyond me. Both bars have air conditioning and anybody foolhardy enough to linger in the doorway as they make their entry or exit, will be met with furious (and to us British, counter-intuitive) cries of: “Close the door”. The regulars don’t want all that precious cold air to escape. Mariví is also the custodian of the stamp that all serious pilgrims have put into their pilgrim’s passport, to certify that they have indeed traipsed every last inch of their route, and which qualifies them for a night’s free accommodation in a monastery in Santiago.

From our house, it takes us about thirty seconds to walk to Mariví´s bar and about ninety seconds to walk to Vicente´s bar, which means that when we do a pub crawl around the village, at least we get some exercise.

Articles in the series:

Introduction to Pete's Tale

Part 1: Village Life

Part 2: Bichos

Part 3: A Two-Bar Town

Part 4: Fruit and Veg

Part 5: Summer

Part 6: Politics

Part 7: Noise

Part 8: Our natural park

Part 9: New Year's Eve

Part 10: Timetables

Part 11: The Land Where the Pig is King

Part 12: How Not to Buy a House

Part 13: That First Winter

Part 14: The Extremeño Spring

Part 15: To be a Pilgrim

Part 16: A Change is Coming

Part 17: Wine Talk

Part 18: Free For All

Part 19: How Do You Spell Asparagus?

Part 20: Designer Peas