What to see? No, what tempo to choose instead?
Cadiz's Casco Antiguo can be explored from square to square. One of the most pleasant is the Plaza de Mina.
Cadiz, which flourished until the mid-19th century, was the hub of trade between Europe and the Americas, and a meeting place for European high society.
You can still feel it in the Plaza de Mina.
At the same time, the San Francisco convent ceded the land occupied by its vegetable garden and infirmary to the Cadiz town council, to be used as a place for gaditans. The result was a rectangular square with a bandstand and four short bays leading off from it.
The original kiosk, of which all that remains is the base with a large planted wrought-iron lamp post, has become the star around which trees and exotic flowerbeds are arranged.
Plaza de Mina showcases its riches and imposes its uniqueness.
Treasures from the New World and even further afield, such as its ficus " macrophylla from Australia, some of whose trunk veins look like large dog's paws from the ground.
Jacarandas " mimosifolia " or " flamboyant blues "from Brazil, used to add lavender blue to the red of cafe parasols.
Palms with stout trunks from the West Indies, lanky Australians... birds of paradise. Parrots above, pigeons below: a feast for the eyes.
At each cardinal point: a café, a gambling kiosk, a departure point for a street to the sea, the entrance to the Museo de Cádiz or another café. In between, wide benches with blue and white "azuleros" (tiles) for three or four people.
And surrounding the square, baroque buildings: former homes of wealthy merchants or birthplaces of illustrious men such as Manuel de Falla, a composer everyone knows without even knowing it:
➽ LISTEN
For each key moment of the day, a different atmosphere
The morning
It's time for pairs of dogs and owners to keep their distance. Not for fear of each other, but to feel the illusion of being alone, the place still quiet. Here in Cadiz, we don't take dogs out, "pasear el perro" in Spanish. Dogs don't bark, they stroll. Take your time.
Sounds: those of chattering parrots and those escaping from open windows to capture the fresh air. The often techno notes above the ice cream store. At home, no doubt. And the sound of a few vans with mute delivery men. That's all there is to it.
Plaza de Mina, the ideal playground for Fitz, our fox terrier.
Fitz, the hedonist. Fitz smells, smells. He always starts from the ground and works his way up as far as the inclination of his neck will allow. He gorges himself, satiating himself to the depths of his nostrils with the scents of trunks and every flower that sticks out. It's methodical, metronomic. Tempo sometimes hammered by the cane of the old man who always passes by at the same time, sits down, watches the pigeons and leaves again.
A few schoolchildren cross the street, their mothers carrying schoolbags beside them. The footsteps are hurried, the square still not. She wakes up.
At 2pm, the terraces fill up.
Coffee cups and "pan con tomate" bowls give way to lunchtime "platitos". We enter and exit the surrounding stores. We pass to the right and to the left of the central circle, the birds' playground at this hour. Up and down the aisles. Time to go home.
Store blinds creak and doors slam. The square welcomes tourists on benches, lost with their city map.
The Plaza de Mina plunges into siesta, watched over by lunch lovers. They linger until 4pm.
Mid-afternoon, school outings.
Nap time over, volume up.
An army of happy shouts, laughter, balloons, rollerblades and scooters is now being "ordered". Parents, parents' parents, parents' brothers and sisters, parents' friends take their places. On the benches, on the terraces.
Apartments are emptied of their occupants.
Children spring up. On flowerbeds, behind trees, standing on promontories, from candy stores, everywhere.
Living outside, feeling the air, splitting it, expressing. The wealth of southern countries.
We group together as in the days of Roman infantry tactics, we stand together, we share: we take out the snacks with one hand, we park the little brother's or sister's stroller with the other. Parents become parents to all the children in the square.
At this hour, the children are all brothers and sisters.
No one is left behind.
A child playing alone? There's no such thing.
A lone parent? No such thing.
A child crying? There's a whole place to console them.
8pm, they're still here. In an hour, they'll be gone.
And every day, it starts all over again.
Sometimes later, as the days stretch on.
And very late every Friday and Saturday.
Day-trippers tell me about it every time.
They're surprised by the atmosphere, with no mistrust, no envy, no fear or jealousy.
They've forgotten the meaning of squares.
So squares aren't just places for vindictiveness and angry gatherings?
La Plaza de Mina, or the joy of simply being and living together.
No speech, no program. Just.
