Exploring a European cradle – say hello to ancient Cádiz

Some weeks ago, I finally—FINALLY!—made it to Cádiz. This is considered to be one of the oldest city in Europe, and for those who know their history, it is probably best known for being  the port Christopher Columbus set off from for his second and fourth journey. And it is as a port that Cádiz began its existence.

Let’s leap three thousand years back in time, to around 1 100 B.C. At the time, the Phoenicians controlled most of the trade throughout the Mediterranean—and beyond. It is believed they came upon Cádiz when exploring beyond Gibraltar, hoping to find new trade routes to the Tin Islands (presumed to correspond with Cornwall). The Phoenicians settled on a small island, a short distance from the mainland. They named this their new colony Gadir and set about establishing temples, burial grounds and the actual colony as such.

The Phoenicians chose the location because of the harbour, but also because of what the mainland could offer. The ancient inhabitants of this part of Spain were capable farmers and good miners, supplying the Phoenician colonists with food and trading goods.

Over time, the colony grew. It became wealthy, as indicated by what they buried with their dead. I must admit I was afflicted with a serious case of “me want!” when standing before the displays of exquisite jewellery at the Museum of Cádiz.

The true pièce de resistance of the museum, however, are the two gigantic Phoenician marble sarcophagus, dated approximately 5 centuries BC. The marble comes from Greece, one has a male figure, the other a young female – both of whom have their hair done in the Hellenic style. They were carved in Sidon, Lebanon, after which these huge and very heavy (they weigh two tonnes each) were transported to Cádiz. Evidently, someone was very serious about being buried in style…

The sarcophaguses were not found together. And, interestingly enough, when they opened the female sarcophagus, they discovered the remains inside were male…

One of my favourite items in the museum were the little statues of female figures with their right hand raised. “In blessing,” according to the information signs, which went on to explain these figures are believed to be depictions of Astarte, an ancient fertility goddess that, over time, sort of merged with other such goddesses, like Demeter and Persephone. To me, it looks as these ancient ladies are saying “hello!”.

The Phoenicians left colonies all over the place, and one such colony was Carthage. As the Phoenician trading empire waned, Carthage grew into its own, and after the first Punic War, Hamilcar Barca, Carthaginian general,  conquered Cádiz—and a sizeable chunk of southern Spain. Now, Hamilcar had a son who is much more famous, namely Hannibal (you know, the dude who crossed the Alps with his elephants) Hannibal spent a lot of time in Spain. It is said that prior to setting off on his attempt to conquer Rome, he prayed at the famous temple of Hercules, an ancient place of worship that the Phoenicians had once dedicated to their god, Melqart. This temple was to attract the greats throughout antiquity—even Julius Caesar stopped by to pray for success and future glory.

According to legend, Hannibal he had an Iberian wife called Imilce, daughter of a powerful Iberian chieftain. Legend also has it that Imilce gave Hannibal a son, Haspar, of whom we know nothing at all. Not that we know anything about Imilce either, but I’m thinking it would make a rather interesting story, to tell the tale of young Haspar.

Right: back to Cádiz, the supposed protagonist of this post. Those of us who know our history will know that Hannibal, despite his elephants and evident battlefield skills, did not defeat the Romans. Instead, Scipio Africanus was to bring the second Punic war to a close around 200 B.C. Hannibal ended up in exile, Cádiz ended up in Roman hands.

Cádiz—Gades to the Romans—flourished. An aqueduct brought fresh water from the mainland (sadly, nothing of that spectacular construction remains) and the exports of wheat, ore, salted fish and wine led to a very, very wealthy upper class—who mostly lived on their estates on the mainland. Archaeological finds indicate life was good in Gades, but after the Romans came the Visigoths, and they more or less destroyed the entire city. For a little while, some sort of order was restored by the Byzantines, but it was short-lived before the barbarians yet again took back control. The former famous city of Gades no longer saw trade from all parts of the world, no longer saw wealth in all forms paraded down its narrow streets. Instead, this became a quiet backwater, a town of fishermen and salted fish production.

In 711, the Moors swept in. They immediately recognised Cádiz strategic position, and soon enough, there was a walled town and a busy port. The Moor’s city was much, much smaller than Roman Gades, but Qadis was a vibrant, bustling place—and evidently wealthy enough to attract unwanted visitors in the form of Vikings who went on to pillage Sevilla and more or less destroy the entire city before the Moors got their act together and trounced the Norsemen, 400 of which were hanged.

Alfonso X “reconquered” Cádiz from the Moors in 1274. The mosque became a church, was upgraded to a cathedral but has since been replaced by a splendid new cathedral, built in the 18^th century when Cádiz was very much the centre of Spain’s transatlantic empire—you know, the one that sprang from those voyages Christopher Columbus undertook, two of which he set out on from Cádiz!

Today, Cádiz is a wonderful place to visit. We meandered our way through the old town, strolled through streets packed with restaurants and bars—bars that come alive with the sound of guitars and castanets come night when Flamenco dancers and singers take over.

But below today’s streets and buildings lie the traces of all the lives that came before, from that first Phoenician to set foot on a very small island to the young Julius Caesar who wept before the statue of Alexander the Great placed within sight of the temple of Hercules, bemoaning that he had achieved so little compared to his Macedon hero. There the footprint of a Moorish maiden, here the heavy imprint of a Viking boot, a Castilian iron-shod horse. History, peeps, lives and breathes in every alley, in every little plaza!