Luesia is one of those ancient medieval towns, whose long-standing History, provides, when you begin the adventure of exploring its narrow streets, a timeless experience that, at times, even borders on the dreamlike.
As one of the essential cities of that charismatic region of Aragon, the Five Villages, bordering the lands and people of Navarre that the cleric Aymeric Picaud disliked so much. He wrote what can be considered, comparatively speaking, the "Michelin Guide" of the time—that is, that unavoidable itinerary that, centuries later, pilgrims on their way to Compostela still faithfully undertake—entering Luesia is like opening the door wide to many relevant episodes in history.
Located on the edge of the Sierra de Santo Domingo and refreshed by the unchanging flow of the Arba de Luesia River, a gloomy tributary of the Arba River, which, in turn, is one of the main sources of vitality for the all-powerful and emblematic Ebro River, apart from the jagged walls of what was once one of the most important fortresses in the area, what stands out, seen from a distance, are the formidable apse or chevet of the Romanesque Church of The Salvator and that other one, a few meters away and more humble in its conception, which currently houses a Museum of Sacred Art: the former, under whose patronage the metaphorical Oscar Wilde of the Apostolate is remembered, as was, in my view, the misunderstood Saint Stephen.
Since we've already had the opportunity to take a close look at the imposing sacred mass of the Church of The Salvator, whose façade alone merits a treatise on symbolism and the tracing of those enigmatic and anonymous "stone druids," such as the Master of San Juan de la Peña, whose trail we will find again later in Ejea de los Caballeros, we will, on this occasion, head towards the Jewish Quarter, which also borders on Jail Street, a reminder that Justice, although sometimes blind and unbalanced, was also present in times when enemies were not always found beyond the walls.
Even in daylight, the Jewish Quarter of Luesia, like that of so many other Spanish cities with pedigree, and even European ones like the emblematic Prague, is a stage, whose backstage, those lights and shadows that led Chaplin to create one of the great classics in the history of cinema, the film 'Limelight', imposes, to the point that the adventurous traveler cannot help but wonder what it would have been like, in those dark medieval times, to enter it with the last gasps of a sun, which, also following its pilgrim route towards sunset, paints the surrounding fields in blood red.
The Romanesque and Gothic doorways, just by looking at them, make you feel, in a way, like a judge and a part of those times when builders still continued to worship the axioms of Vitruvius, remembering, after all, how much they owed to Roman architecture, treating stone with assembly techniques capable of defying the passage of time, which, as Salvatore Adamo rightly pointed out in one of his famous songs, never stops its march.
Hanging between light and shadow, like the history of this country itself, these silent alleys still recall the anguished glances, the suspicions, the cries of prisoners carried on their shoulders by the patrols, the fearful contemplation in the face of the encirclement of enemy armies and even the passage, to the rhythm of drums and miserere, of the Autos de Fé that were the protagonists of many of the dark episodes, which are barely remembered today, but which, in their time, marked a before and after, which perhaps, after all, are worth not forgetting.
Like many other great cities that have survived the passage of time with a certain nobility, Luesia was not only left by the Romans, but, on the contrary, as is the case with imperial Toledo, the most relevant cultures of the period also contributed their part.
Luesia also experienced the terrible raids or expeditions of the Arab leader Almanzor, and possibly also saw those same expeditionary forces pass through its territory on their way to the Caliphate of Córdoba with the bells of the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela carried by captured Christians.
Also remembered is the passage through this ancient city of one of the most emblematic kings of the Crown of Aragon; precisely the one whose will in favor of the Military Orders and especially the Order of the Temple aroused indignation among the rebellious nobles: Alfonso I the Battler.
But perhaps what most attracts the traveler's attention, what most induces them to let themselves be carried away by the pleasant rivers of reverie—which, after all, is also another of the invaluable sisters of creativity—is to imagine those high-pitched voices, practitioners of Kabbalah, possibly also in these parts, trying to imitate the famous Rabbi Loew of Prague, breathing life into that supernatural creature, born from the mud, like the children of Adam, who goes by the name of Golem.
In short: Luesia and its Jewish Quarter are an essential hors d'oeuvre for anyone, motivated by the romanticism that always exists in any self-respecting adventure, who wishes to delve, even briefly, into those dark pools of History, from whose mud we originate.
NOTICE: Both the text and the accompanying photographs are my exclusive intellectual property and are therefore subject to my copyright.
