FORTANETE

LOCAL TOURIST OFFICE (not aviable)




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  I had been driving from Teruel, along the main highway, to Cantavieja. It was a Sunday and for a weekend not much traffic about. The sun was shining and the car was behaving itself with no more noticeable noises than usual for an old lady like,
'Betsy III'. It was own internal rumblings that drew my attention to the fact that it was nearly lunchtime.
New Hotel/Restaurant 'El Rincon'
   Then up ahead appeared a sign advising me to reduce speed as I was approaching the village of Fontanete. "Umm!" I thought, "With a name like Fontanete there should be somewhere for lunch." I cannot say that the village was particularly different from main other places that lay along the main road but, even so, I turned of into the centre of the place having spotted a sign indicating a restaurant 'El Rincon'.
Then parking the car I went along and passing through a narrow doorway was confronted by a steep stairway. A little confused I set about climbing the rickety stairs. At the top I found what was the dining room. No other customers were present so electing a table by the window so that I could observe the narrow street below I sat down and waited.
    Since Kathy, my wife, had died I had taken to always carrying a book everywhere which was an excellent travelling companion but certainly not a substitute for a wife and daughter. Anyway I made myself comfortable and became engrossed in whatever the story was about. I do not suppose I had reached the end of the first page when my attention was drawn to the street by the sound of excited chatter mixed with laughter and children’s voices. I sat there watching, with a tinge of envy, at this large happy family who were obviously enjoying their Sunday outing. There were, I calculated, around a dozen or fifteen of them all gathered about an elderly lady dressed in the traditional black attire of a widow. Taller than average with silver hair swept back into a bun she led the colourful cavalcade walking briskly along with the family on all sides. It was obvious she was a well thought of Granny as both adults and children seemed to be jostling to attract her attention. Eventually they passed from my view but not for long. The next thing I heard was the sound of voices followed by footsteps coming up the narrow stairs. Then the door burst open and in they all came. Grandma was in the lead and immediately nodded to me. “Buenos Dias, Caballero,” she called out. I came to my feet and with a slight bow, returned the greeting and sat down. She was followed by the family and every one of the adults greeted me with ‘Buenos dias,” or ‘Que aproveche’ (Good appetite). Next Granny took control and directed all to their places at the prepared table. As is normal in Spain, adults were instructed to sit at one end and children at the other. I continued reading my book, trying not to stare at the party, when suddenly she called across to me.

“Señor, where are your wife and family?”

After many years living in Spain I had become accustomed to this direct questioning which would be frowned on in English society. However here it was just a healthy curiosity and so I was not unduly surprised. Naturally all the adults and a few of the children turned their heads in my direction.

“Thank you for asking Señora,” I replied, “but I am a widower and have no family with me.”

“Dios mio!” she said as though some minor disaster had suddenly taken place. “No family and all on your own. A stranger in our country, alone and on a Sunday lunchtime as well. That is terrible. We certainly cannot have that.”

Dutifully mumblings of agreement from the others present and all heads now turned expectantly in her direction to see just how Granny was going to resolve this one.

“Indeed no,” she announced firmly. “You must join us over here.”

Then before I could protest she turned to one of the adults near by and said, “José, arrange an extra place to be set please. Not too far away from me. He must have someone to talk to.”

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Lamb stew
And what would have been a good lunch turned out to be a great one. I still remember the main course. It was a fantastic lamb stew, famous in that area.
I have never had one like it before or since. As for the whole family, they were just wonderful. A healthy conversation ensued with many questions on the part of the children and some of the adults. Some of the younger children were amazed and asked me if I spoke English and where had I learned it. So that was my introduction to Fontanete another small village with a big heart.




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Central Square of Fortanete




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