Challenge accepted! But of course I don’t want to stop Juan from participating in this fun challenge. So, here are 5 photos, taken on July 14, 2024. All real, unedited, raw and part of the environment we live in. We are curious the read this story behind… 😉

Gwen

I accepted the challenge with pleasure. And I was happy to see how the images brought the text out of me.

Cervera del Maestre is located in the north of the province of Castellon and is only a few kilometers from the border with Catalonia. The history of this village is still shaped by the immigration of poor people from the center of Catalonia and the development of the village infrastructure after the expulsion of the Moors, that is the story that is told again and again. The village was and is popular for its hospitality towards foreigners, probably also because every family knows the feeling of being a foreigner abroad. The trading relations of the Phoenicians, the Romans and later the Italians have shaped the country and its people as much as the many underground water veins fed by Spain’s largest river, the Ebro.

Walking through the narrow streets of Cervera del Maestre, one can feel the echoes of history whispering through the walls of the old stone houses. The village square, with its centuries-old church standing proudly in the center, serves as a gathering place for locals and visitors alike. The sound of children playing in the streets mingles with the laughter of older residents, creating a harmonious symphony that speaks to the resilience and warmth of the community.

As the sun sets over the rugged hills surrounding the village, casting a golden glow over the vineyards and olive groves that stretch out into the distance, one can’t help but feel a sense of peace and tranquility settling over this picturesque corner of Spain. In Cervera del Maestre, time seems to move at a slower pace, allowing for moments of contemplation and connection that are all too rare in our fast-paced world.

For those who visit Cervera del Maestre, the hospitality of its people and the beauty of its surroundings leave a lasting impression. There is a sense of belonging here, a feeling of being welcomed into a community that values tradition, family, and simplicity. In a world that often feels chaotic and disconnected, places like Cervera del Maestre remind us of the importance of coming together, forming bonds, and embracing the stories that connect us to our past and shape our future.

The population has declined sharply over the last hundred years, as has so many villages, but there are also countervailing trends beyond the official figures.

When the founders of CASAdelDRAGON came up with the idea of ​​rebuilding a ruin in the old village center in 1987, this history was present but not recognizable. What was evident, however, was the hospitality and the will to assert oneself and to maintain the village as a social community.

Over the last 30 years, local politicians have realized that preserving the village structure would only be possible with the settlement of new residents. On the one hand, areas were designated in the surrounding area, the village has a lot of land in comparison to its population. On the other hand, foreigners who were particularly interested in the charm of the old natural stone buildings rebuilt them with a lot of money or with a lot of commitment still exist. A few ruins still exist.

As the village embarked on a journey of revitalization, its leaders understood the importance of attracting new residents to breathe life into its historic structures. The picturesque charm of the old natural stone buildings proved to be a magnet for foreigners seeking a piece of tranquility amidst the modern hustle and bustle. With designated areas for development in the surrounding countryside, the village retained its vast tracts of land, creating an idyllic setting for those looking to immerse themselves in history and heritage.

Despite a few lingering ruins, the village clung to its roots while embracing the promise of a thriving future. The infusion of new residents brought fresh energy and ideas, invigorating the community with a sense of renewal and possibility. Through a blend of preservation and innovation, the village stood as a testament to the enduring allure of tradition and the transformative power of progress.

The price for the people after the end of Franco’s dictatorship, avoiding another Spanish civil war, was high, they avoided dealing with the atrocities. The price of preserving the village is certainly also high, because it required a very high degree of tolerance towards other languages, customs and traditions. Criticism of the settlement policy, the fear of foreign infiltration, resentment and opposition will still take their toll. Love in times of civil war, the subject of many of CASAdelDRAGON’s works, gives a preview of what is to come.

In the post-Covid period, the village and the region, actually the entire Iberian peninsula, experienced a renewed intensive influx of people, especially from the north.
Based on its old geopolitical role, there had always been an influx from Latin America. Based on its role as Europe’s vegetable patch, there had also been immigration from North Africa for a long time. Now it was first young families with old mobile homes fleeing restrictions, government harassment and multimedia indoctrination. Then wealthier classes came with the will to invest in buildings and land.

The post-Covid period brought about a new chapter in the history of the village and the region, as well as the entire Iberian peninsula. There was a surge in people migrating southward, particularly from the northern regions. This influx added to the already diverse population that had been shaped by historic migrations from Latin America and North Africa.

What was different this time was the arrival of young families with old mobile homes. These families were escaping the constraints, government pressures, and media manipulation in their home countries. They sought refuge in the serene landscapes and warm communities of the peninsula, hoping to start afresh and build a better future for themselves and their loved ones.

The village, once a quiet retreat, was now buzzing with energy and new faces. The locals welcomed the newcomers with open arms, eager to share their traditions and learn from the experiences of the newcomers. As the sun set over the picturesque countryside, the sound of laughter and conversations in multiple languages filled the air, creating a vibrant tapestry of cultures and stories.

In this new chapter of migration and integration, the village and the region were transformed into a melting pot of diversity and resilience. Each person brought their own unique perspectives and dreams, adding to the rich tapestry of life in the Iberian peninsula. Together, they wrote a new chapter of unity and hope, embracing the changes and challenges that lay ahead with a sense of community and solidarity.

Like a hundred years before, Spain again became a stopover for some and a hinterland in a new European conflict. These people encounter a badly treated but very rich nature. Only between Tarragona and Valencia is there a micro climate in Europe in which you can grow all the crops on earth in one place. The Ebro brings the water through countless underground caves and rivers.

Industrial agriculture was never able to gain a foothold in the mountainous region of Cervera del Maestre. The areas were too small, the differences in height between the terraces were too great. Where there are no large machines circling, not so many artificial fertilizers and pesticides are used.

In 1983, the young girls in the village still carried water in jugs from the springs to their houses. With the construction of the water infrastructure, the quality of life improved. Unlike other villages, this village is still blessed with drinking water. It has 4 active wells. The extensive use of the area around these wells meant that many people in the village took water as a gift to their relatives on the coast. The old people still remember this, the young people buy the water in the supermarket.

Ah, the quaint village of 1983, a place where the whispers of the past still resonate with the echoes of simplicity and communal endeavor. Picture the charming tapestry of life back then: young girls, their laughter tinkling like the bells around the necks of the village goats, gracefully balancing earthen jugs filled with the lifeblood of the earth—water—as they meandered along the dusty paths from the springs to their homes. Their bare feet, accustomed to the warm embrace of the sun-kissed ground, carried them on a daily pilgrimage that was both a chore and a rite of passage.

The construction of the water infrastructure, a monumental leap forward, was met with a mix of excitement and nostalgia. It was a beacon of progress that promised to alleviate the burden of the past, offering a shimmering glimpse into a future where the drudgery of manual labor would be replaced by the comforts of modern conveniences. The village, once a bastion of rustic charm, now boasted a network of pipes that whispered the sweet promise of running water, a luxury that flowed as freely as the stories shared around the communal wells.

But amidst this evolution, the village remained a bastion of good fortune, for it was blessed with not one, not two, but four active wells, each a silent sentinel of the community’s prosperity. These ancient portals to the water table continued to offer their crystalline bounty, a testament to the generosity of the earth and the wisdom of those who had built them.

The tradition of sharing this precious resource with relatives on the coast remained a vibrant thread in the fabric of village life. It was an act of love and kinship, a symbolic gesture that bridged the gap between the parched lands and the plentiful hills. The water, drawn from these sacred wells, became an ambassador of goodwill, traveling in containers of clay and glass, carrying the essence of home to those who yearned for a taste of its purity.

Fast forward to the present day, and the youth of the village, their eyes gleaming with the reflections of smartphones and their hearts beating to the rhythm of a globalized world, have grown accustomed to buying water in the supermarket. The wells, though still revered, are no longer the epicenter of their lives. Yet, the old-timers, their faces etched with the lines of countless sunsets, continue to regale the young with tales of the bygone days when water was both a treasure and a shared bond.

The village has not forgotten its roots, though. It remains a bastion of clean, drinkable water, a rare jewel in a world increasingly parched by the relentless march of time. The wells, now silent witnesses to the passage of generations, stand as a reminder of the importance of conservation and the value of what lies beneath our very feet.

The juxtaposition of the old and new is a poignant reminder of how far we have come, and yet, how much we owe to the simplicity of our past. The wells are not just relics of a simpler time; they are living symbols of a legacy that has sustained life and nurtured relationships for centuries. They remind us that, amidst the clamor of progress, there is beauty in the rituals that connect us to the earth and to each other. And so, the village lives on, its spirit as clear and unblemished as the water that still flows from its ancient heart.

Of course, world politics has not left the village unscathed, but the quality of the traces at least allows for some hope.
The village’s hospitality has at least slowed the general trend of depopulation. The new settlers bring know-how and children, and have the mouse with them for clicking into the digital world. Spain as a global northern European caravanserai of digital nomads. After the water pipe in 1987 came the fiber optics in 2017.

In this way, the village’s strength also creates the conditions for a new beginning. Where did the guest workers come from who rebuilt the broken Central Europe, where will they come from again when the global dream lies in ruins?

Many years ago, there was an art performance in the garden of Merche, a special woman with a special life and an impressive story – closely linked to the history of Spain: stop now start – a journey through the time of migration. What the artists anticipated in the garden of Merche would become reality a few years later: a new mass migration.

As a little boy I imagined that a mass migration was something like a moment when an entire people packed their bags and set off on the same day to the promised land, or at least from the intolerable conditions of the old one.
While in the Orient people are fleeing on foot, western democracies have switched from exporting cars to importing human flesh. From a distance, the “voluntary” movement of northern Europeans towards the south still seems like a holiday trip.
But it’s getting serious. The depopulation of Europe is progressing and with it social systems are collapsing. The ranks are thinning faster than they can be filled again. In the sociopolitical climate, the word catastrophe is a good choice.

Ah, the grand tapestry of human migration, woven through the fabric of time with threads of hope and despair, ambition and desperation. It’s a tale as old as civilization itself, a dance of peoples driven by the inexorable forces of history, seeking new beginnings or escaping the shackles of the old. Yet, it seems that in the modern theater of global movement, the plot has thickened with a sense of urgency and the stakes have never been higher.

Your youthful imagination painted a picture of a mass exodus, a great pilgrimage of sorts, and indeed, such epic scenes have unfolded in various chapters of our collective story. But the migration you speak of today is a complex narrative, a mosaic of individual journeys shaped by the interplay of economics, politics, and environmental shifts. It’s a human river that doesn’t just flow in one direction, but rather ebbs and surges in response to the ever-changing tides of our world.

The West, once the bastion of industrial might and economic prosperity, now grapples with the socio-economic consequences of an aging population. The youthful vitality that once fueled its engines now seeks warmer climes and more promising futures, as the siren call of the South whispers sweet nothings of opportunity and growth. Meanwhile, the East, burgeoning with a demographic dividend, sends forth waves of people driven by dreams of a better life, a quest for survival, or the hope of escape from the tyranny of poverty and oppression.

The depopulation of Europe is akin to a grand ballroom slowly emptying of dancers. The music plays on, but the rhythm falters as the space between the couples widens and the once-swirling gowns of prosperity hang limp and still. The social systems, designed for a denser population, now creak under the weight of their own legacy, like a once-majestic ship taking on water, listing precariously in a sea of change.

And as the Western democracies, with their storied lands and weary souls, open their arms to those in need, they are faced with a new tapestry of faces, languages, and cultures. It’s a human buffet of diversity, where the rich flavors of the world’s cuisine are served alongside the bitter dish of integration. The melting pot sizzles with the heat of both unity and discord, as societies struggle to find the perfect recipe that blends the old with the new.

Yet, amidst the chaos, there is a poignant beauty in the resilience of the human spirit. The migrants, these modern-day pilgrims, carry with them the seeds of innovation and the fertile soil of cultural exchange. They are the lifeblood that can rejuvenate the aging continent, if only the narrative can shift from one of burden to one of opportunity.

But let’s not mince words, my friend. This is a tale of hardship and hope, of loss and rebirth. It’s a saga of humanity at its most vulnerable and most courageous, a testament to our ability to adapt and endure. The “voluntary” migration of Europeans to the south may seem like a holiday in comparison to the treacherous journeys of those fleeing the fires of war and famine, but the threads of their stories are intertwined, part of the same intricate pattern of life’s grand design.

The word “catastrophe” hangs in the air like a storm cloud, pregnant with the potential for disaster or rebirth. Will Europe rise to the challenge, embracing the change as a chance to redefine its identity in a globalized world? Or will it cling to the fading ghosts of its past, unable to navigate the uncharted waters of a multicultural future?

Only time will tell, but in the grand scheme of things, this is but another chapter in the endless epic of human migration. And like every great story, it’s the characters – the individuals with their dreams and fears, their hopes and heartaches – who truly bring the narrative to life (Text in ITALIC generated by AI, as well as all “Amor en guerras civiles” – images).

We need another generation that develops innovation from scarcity. In search of quality of life, the new dream team gathers under the southern sun. What drives people more than love in civil wars.