At three in the afternoon, a group of Nordic tourists crosses the Plaza España in Écija of their own free will, handed over by the Astigitanos, academics of the heat but captives of the label of living in “the frying pan of Andalusia”. The thermometer registers 37 degrees on a Thursday in April, the ideal month to visit Andalusia…
“Summer has come very early this year,” says Belén, the fourth generation of the churrerÃa in that square, where the Town Hall (under construction) is located. They serve from seven in the morning until one, or one thirty, depending on the day and the heat. Here is an unwritten rule of this city of 40,000 inhabitants whose vast area (978 square kilometers) is nine times that of Barcelona (101 km): the heat alters business hours, half an hour up, half an hour down.
Living with heat, muggy weather and extreme temperatures is an art and a school of life in Écija, a baroque city with an extraordinary heritage, eclipsed by the phrase of the “pan of Andalusia”, quite a show of modesty because it could well arrogate the title of “the frying pan of the European Unionâ€. In August 1995 they reached 46.5 degrees…
“The heat, naturally, explains many things about Écija,” comments Juan Méndez, 82, on a terrace in the shade, the author of a book on local heritage that includes details of the 11 towers, 22 belfries and more than 100 bells of Écija, “a richness beyond the clichés of banditry and temperaturesâ€. The urban planning, the configuration of the whitewashed houses and their patios, the food, the broken business hours or the deserted streets and squares at siesta time, inevitable, when lead falls from the sky.
And a joke about the embarrassment and what life and climate bring to Écija, located between Seville and Córdoba, with the “aggravating factor” of being in a valley, the Genil valley, which retains heat and lessens the effect of the cool night.
How does heat affect food?
–We drink a lot of gazpacho (Sevillian influence), a lot of salmorejo (Cordoba). And lots of Cruzcampo bottles!
MarÃa del Mar talks and laughs, in front of the Bersabé bookstore, another fourth-generation business in the center of Écija, lively in the morning – on Thursdays, a market – and deserted after 1:30 p.m., when a lucky curfew, except for tourists, whose faces conveyed suffering yesterday.
“We are getting to know Andalusia. We chose this month because they said that in summer the heat is very strong… We expected a maximum of 25 degrees. No, we haven’t changed our plansâ€, comments a Dutch couple in the sixties, sweaty and pale, in front of the Lasso de la Vega palace, a few meters from the Garcilaso palace, not far from the Benamejà palace…
The councilor responsible for Tourism and the Environment and PSOE candidate to retain the mayoralty, Sergio Gómez Ramos, expresses the rebound and weariness of Écija with that stereotype of “the frying pan of Andalusia”, created from the myth that they can be fried eggs on the pavement of its squares, an occurrence like any other. It is understandable: the myth eclipses the historical and patrimonial dimension of Écija, a “baroque cityâ€, according to the signs welcoming the driver. And it hurts the desire for tourists to stay overnight, although the competition from Seville and Córdoba seems insurmountable.
“We already know that we are not going to take off this label, but it tastes bad because Écija has two thousand years of history and a wealth that does not come to light,” says the councilor. Of course he annoys us because he is deeply unfair!”
With climate change and the rigors, we are all a bit Écija, to paraphrase a fashionable expression. A municipal official laughs these days when she sees or reads that other populations exceed, by very little but exceed, the temperatures of Écija. Or they come closer and know what it is to suffer rigors. “These days there are towns that are screwing us up,” she ironically, with a rich expression.
On the other hand, the heat has given and gives Écija notoriety, more than its olive groves and single-walled bell towers, a city that sounds familiar to all Spaniards, such as Calatayud, Lepe or Albacete, also victims of other sayings. “I think the important thing is to talk about one, even if it’s to criticize,” estimates the co-owner of the Bersabé bookstore, the one with the two bes.
In the Plaza de España there is a pharmacy, and in the pharmacy a friendly clerk named José Luis, who attends to the journalist in the absence of the owner, who will undoubtedly return in a little while.
–Is there any local medication, any drug that sells more on days of extreme temperatures?
-Yeah! The cool water!
