I mentioned the Plaza del Pilar in Saturday’s post. This
Pilar has nothing to do with the popular female name Pilar, which comes from La
Virgen del Pilar, and refers to a pillar of stone on the banks of the Ebro on
which Our Lady allegedly appeared in the 1st C to encourage St James
the Great when he was having a bit of trouble converting the Spanish. That
pillar still stands, and was incorporated into the magnificent mediaeval
basilica that was built on the site, and which lies at a funny angle because of
it.
Anyhow, the Pilar in the town here is not a pillar, it’s a
different word meaning ‘spring’. The original village came into being because
of that spring, and it grew because it was on the royal road from Toledo to
Cordoba. People would rest at the spring, eat, buy things, stay overnight, and
it became a sort of 10th C Watford Gap.
In the 12thC, after some unpleasantness with the Arabs
caused the fortified settlement nearby to be abandoned, the King founded a
walled town on this site, more or less guaranteeing its existence, growth and
protection. But old names of the place, and still existing names of streets and
neighbourhoods, reveal a lot about the intricate relationship between the town
and its springs and wells.
One of the earliest names of the village on this spot was
Pozuelo de Don Gil, (Don Gil’s Well). D. Gil Turro was the semi-legendary
founder. Later it was known as Pozuelo Seco (Dry Well), which is partly why the
major settlement in the area moved to a hilltop by the river about 8 miles
away. There is a street Pozo Dulce (Sweet Well), at the bottom of which there
was once a well of drinkable water. Here it’s common to distinguish between
sweet and bitter wells, which is reasonable enough.
There’s another street called Pozo Concejo (Council Well)
where the corporation dug a public well to provide for an increasing population
at some point. It’s long gone, as has the original spring and the other wells
in the town itself, but the names live on, and we remember a little of our history
therby.
2 comments:
and we remember a little of our history therby
... although in a very dry way.
Very dry indeed. As I've written before, our response to rain is gratitude. We no longer depend on wells, at least in the city, but water matters here.
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