The Short Path of the Archbishop

Anyone crossing the old stone bridge over the Matarraña and then passing through the medieval city gate feels transported back a few centuries. Behind it opens the town hall square, the heart of medieval Valderrobres. It is neither particularly large nor strikingly ornate, yet it radiates a certain dignity. The stately stone houses and the magnificent town hall convey a hint of prosperity and self-confidence without being ostentatious. Everything seems to have its place; everything fits harmoniously into the historical cityscape.

Valderrobres was once much more than a pretty village by the Matarraña. It was an economic and social center of the region. Farmers brought their produce to market, merchants offered their goods, craftsmen pursued their trades. Here, news was exchanged, disputes were settled, and decisions were made that affected the lives of people in the surrounding villages.

Above this small world loomed the castle of the Archbishops of Zaragoza. While below, the bustling life continued, the spiritual lords who also wielded secular power resided above. And to make their lives a bit easier, there was even a direct passage from the castle to the neighboring church. After all, one treated oneself to a little something—even as servants of God. Or perhaps it was especially important for God's servants at that time to have as short a path as possible to the sacred four walls... for diligently confessing their sins.

Today was a day of rest for us. Unavoidably. The rain was drumming continuously on the roof of our camper van. Though we could notice during our brief walks with Emmi and Pipo that it rains differently here than at home. It’s more of a fine country rain, leaving only a thin film of water on the jacket. Why it drums so on the roof remains a mystery to me. Perhaps the question will be clarified tomorrow. We are heading to Morella—and the rain is coming with us...