The man with the truncated cone kitchen

Victor smelled of enclosure and charred wood. It was as if his medieval house had transferred its essence to him and both were part of a distant universe. Victor wore a flannel shirt buttoned to the top and a pom-pom sweater over it that looked like it had seen many winters to keep out the cold. As. On holidays, and sometimes on other days, he would stand in front of the half-open door and stalk strangers. “Come to the museum,” he said, seemingly reluctantly. “We ask how much?” “Less than what it’s worth.” “Are you Galician?” “No.”

He is from Soria. More specifically, from Karatanyazor. From here he has seen the world change while his people stopped in time. More than a thousand years ago, the Arabs named this enclave Qalat an-Nusur (Eagle’s Nest) because it stands almost a thousand meters above sea level on a rock that dominates the land of the burg. In fact, it is little more than a sloping street flanked by stone, adobe and wooden buildings from another universe. Some of the buildings have succumbed to the passage of centuries, their facades have twisted and almost collapsed. But others (most of them) have managed to retain an ancient and strong air, supported by indestructible wooden columns. Above is the square, and at the very top of the rock are the ruins of a 15th-century castle. At its foot is a medieval cemetery from the 10th century.

As happens in all places steeped in history, Calatañazor plans to host events that lie somewhere between history and mythology. The most famous battle here is the one that gives the town its name. Some still believe that the Moorish Almanzor suffered a terrible defeat at the hands of the Castilian army in 1002, forcing him to flee. Most historians say that this is a legend, although at the time it encouraged the Christian troops by questioning the invulnerability of their Muslim enemies.

But Victor didn’t say any of that, because he demanded a euro and a half to enter his house. “Four euros for the three of us,” we proposed. “It’s small.” “But it has no taxes …”. «I’ve already paid enough taxes. Come on, go ahead.

In the first room on the other side of the door, dusty implements are piled on the uneven floor and hung on the rough walls. There are grain threshers, wringers for washing clothes when the river is frozen, tools used to grow marijuana (“They don’t have them now, they’re banned because they got drugs or I don’t know what”)… Before showing each object, Victor asks: “Do you know what this does?” After giving an explanation, he asks for evaluation: “What do you think? Do you like it?

But the highlight of the visit, the definition of this humble yet proud building, was a little further away.

One of the most striking features of the Calatañasor skyline is the conical chimney that juts out from the orange roof. It points to the sky like a missile. Curiously, this shape extends downwards through the interior of the building. In other words, “it’s a truncated cone kitchen,” the owner informs us when we enter the room next to the fossil tools. There is a fireplace in the center of the room, the embers are still hot, and there is a mysterious atmosphere. There are no windows, only the overhead light that enters from the top of the chimney.

The light that spilled in from above highlighted the irregularities of the curved and blackened walls. “Here, people sat around the fire and ate food from the pot. There were no dishes. Then, everyone washed the dishes and put them here,” Victor elaborated, pointing to a small wooden structure fixed to the wall, which contained a few used irregular spoons, fitted into narrow holes. There was also a rickety cupboard, some benches and some clay pots.

“Did you like it?” “A lot. What’s the most important thing about Calatañasor. There’s a yellow note stuck in the corner prohibiting taking photos. “Why?” we asked. “Because you never know who will come into the house and if the photos will be published anywhere…” This Victor knows it all.