Today we live in the fast lane and face neon flashing lights of billboard advertising whilst being pushed around by a hustle of multi-national tourists with their digital cameras and iPhones, while being silently watched by surveillance cameras. Information of every kind is available on all different types of mediums, from Twitter and news websites, to call centres in India. Huge co-op supermarkets and brand name retail outlets which offer a staggering amount of choices have taken over many of the smaller family businesses or boutique shops. Walking down the street, it is unlikely that you will bump into a familiar face, unless you live in a place that does not live with postmodernism as its frontline motif.
There is such a place that does still exist though, a place that has been untouched, for better or for worse, by the technologies, globalisation and advancements of postmodern life. Ubago is a tiny village situated in the Basque lands of Northern Spain, in the Navarra province, where Pamplona, famous for its ‘Running of the Bulls’, is the capital.
Ubago was built in 1463 and is home to a small total of just 145 houses. Some of the houses have been refurbished and others now stand in uninhabitable ruins, with tumbling bricks crushing the overgrown weeds and wild plants that have grown inside. Those that do remain standing are home to residents that look about as old as the houses themselves, and are made from either bricks or white-washed stone. Ubago looks out onto a huge, mountainous green valley with corn fields, pig farms and bales of hay patterning the hills.
Ubago is the epitome of what a small community should represent. All the residents here are Spanish and have either lived here their whole lives, or, as is the case with some of the younger people, visit yearly to their family’s homes to enjoy the heat of the summers. The villagers of course all know each other, if not are related to each other even, and say that they can’t imagine living anywhere else. In the past lots of the cousins from Ubago married each other as they didn’t have cars or even bicycles to travel from village to village, so a fair amount of interbreeding took place, which explains the amount of families related to one another in the village.
Sergio Gorostiza Araujo, 76, has lived in Ubago all of his life, and has never left the Navarra county. Sergio met his wife, Alicía, also 76, in the same village when they were teenagers, and has brought up their four children in Ubago. The couple used to help maintain the surrounding fields, and Alicia occasionally cleaned the other houses, either in Ubago or in the surrounding villages. Sergio talks about his life in Ubago.
“This little village that we have lived in our whole lives is a deep-seated part of me, it is part of who I am. It is who I am. I cannot imagine living anywhere else, I have seen on the television what life in the bigger cities is like and it looks like a parallel universe, one that I am not part of.”
And you know what? I love that I am not part of that. I was born here, my parents were born here, and my children were born here. Two of my children have stayed and have taken over the field maintenance that Alicía and I used to do. Without my family and this village, I am nothing.”
Time here is slowed down to a lazy pace, and old ladies and men chit chat in their deckchairs outside their front doors every afternoon, whilst watching the farmers spray chopped hay from their ploughs. Stepping into Ubago is like walking into a time machine; nothing round here has changed for centuries, except for the village now having its own village phone next to the church.
In the graveyard you will find generations of families from the village, all of whom lived here, or would spend their summers here. The flowers laid down here are always fresh from the village rose bushes, and the graves visited frequently by family members.
The views from the village are panoramic and peaceful. Other villages similar to Ubago are scattered across the valley with winding roads linking one to another, although you seldom see any cars travelling. Many of the natives from the area hike and cycle between villages, when necessary.
Another villager, Carí Torres, 68, talks about the feeling of intimacy within Ubago. “In this village there is definitely a mutual feeling of community. It goes further even than community – the other habitants here are my friends, my family of choice. We all help each other because it is such a small village. I never feel lonely because every afternoon we all go to somebody’s house and all the men and women play cards. We are always chatting in the street to see what’s going on – I love my daily gossip with the other ladies!”
Carí was widowed eight years ago when her husband died from bowel cancer, and the rest of her family live in Los Arcos, a neighbouring village nearby. Carí decided to stay here though, where she could visit her husband whenever she wanted in the village graveyard. “I feel that my husband’s spirit is still here in the village – he loved his life here and I don’t want to leave our past behind me by moving out.”
You won’t find multi-food supermarkets selling every product you could ever dream of wanting to eat; Ubago doesn’t have its own Tesco’s or Sainsbury’s, in fact, it doesn’t even have its own shop. What it does have though, is a bread van and a butcher, the latter of who comes every three days. Other vendors and traders also stop in every so often, so there is little need to leave the village.
The bread van visits the village every morning without fail (except for Sundays), at 9am, waking the community with ‘the bread van song’ as it is known in the village. And this is where the villagers start their day, as they all come yawning out of their houses, still in their pajamas, slippers and hairnets, and greet each other before choosing their bread and pastries for the day.
Jordí Sanchez, 33, drives the bread van from village to village every morning and says, “I have been doing this job for over a decade now and I know all the villagers very well. In the summer holidays my children come in the van with me and play with the other children here, as well as in the other villages. My father ran the business before me, and his father before me – it is very much a family business. I drive the van and sell the bread and pasties, while my wife stays at home and bakes for the next day.”
There is a small and nameless village bar that opens once every Saturday night, which is run by two of the locals, and sees the whole village come into the main square or ‘plaza’ to drink and socialise. Ubago has two squares, one is ancient, crumbling down and rarely visited, and the other is in the centre of the village. It is surrounded by low stone walls and in the middle can be found a serene fountain, with murky water flowing underneath where small tadpoles and algae lurk. In the summer, small children come with their buckets and scoop them out to take home and put in the bathtubs, much to the disgust of their parents.
Perhaps unsurprisingly, it is impossible to find an internet connection in this village, and when you walk around, mobile phone glued to the ear, people stare as though you have a creature from outer-space clamped to the side of your head. This truly is a spot where postmodernism hasn’t arrived in any way, shape or form.
Every summer in the second week of August is fiesta season for Ubago, and all of its surrounding villages. During this week the village locals come out and wear the traditional red and white clothes which symbolise you being part of the village. A small Spanish band usually plays on the stage and the old and young generations dance together in the main square, with lights twinkling around the edge. Inflatables and fairground rides also ensue. Long sweet dough sticks, known as ‘churros’ wrapped in newspaper and dipped in a thick chocolate sauce are sold in the stands, as are other Spanish tapas tibbits and trinkets. At around 11pm there is an air of expectation and anticipation in the air.
A firework explodes from the side of the square and the more elderly of the villagers hide behind their front doors and children scream and start running. Suddenly a huge bull made from bronze emerges and starts running around the square, chasing anyone it can see. Carrying the bull are two men who run very quickly indeed. Fireworks and sparks fly from the bull’s head as they sprint around the plaza. Of course, this would never be allowed in England, but here in this ancient village there are no health and safety regulations.
The fiesta season is something that everyone of all ages can look forward to, especially the twenty-something’s of the village. Like most of the villagers, Sandra Garcia de Acilu, 25, has lived in the village her whole life. Sandra says she can’t imagine living away from Ubago, but at the same time remains reserved about the village’s lack of variety and sources of entertainment.
“It does get a bit repetitive here sometimes, and it is hard to contact the outside world as we have no internet signal and mobile reception is very bad. I am lucky though, I have my work, my friends and family in Ubago and the local villages nearby to keep me occupied. I sometimes think about moving to a bigger town or city but I think I would just find it daunting having lived here for so long.
“We all anticipate the fiesta season though as it always brings a new spurt of life and noise into the village, even if it is just the other local villages visiting Ubago.”
Spokesperson from the Navarra tourist board, María Gómez Baquedano, says that although fiesta season in Pamplona is flooded with tourists every year, “the smaller towns and villages see barely any tourists. In fact the smaller villages of Navarra have probably never seen a tourist before, and I think it will remain this way for years to come.”
Ubago certainly never sees any tourists in its vicinity and is so small that it is not even included on some of the larger maps of the area. Night-times in the village are certainly different to those of larger cities.
The air is clean and fresh, and there is so little pollution that when the moon slides out during dusk, you can actually the whole of the night sky, which is littered with bright stars. The glowing lights from other villages also map out this hidden valley, should any weary traveller be trying to find a bed for the night. Glow worms wriggle in the dark along the village paths, to the gentle sound of grasshoppers burring in the night. Having had their afternoon siestas, the locals will stay out in the square till the early hours of the morning, before bidding each other farewell, until the bread man shows anyway.
Ubago has a very congenial and strong sense of community, a peace and quiet that can’t be bought, and a simple way of life with no busy distractions to stress the psyche. Due to a quite severe lack of any communication ties to the outside world, it is left totally to its own devices and is unaffected by any external influences. Everything that Ubago represents is also a representation of everything that postmodernism is not. The postmodern world has left this sleepy little village – and those surrounding it – behind and moved on to bigger, faster and noisier pursuits, such as Imax cinemas, surround-sound TV’s, a multi-faceted culture and open and ‘anything goes’ attitudes. Ubago could have benefitted from these perhaps, but seems to be ambling along very happily left untouched.
There is such a place that does still exist though, a place that has been untouched, for better or for worse, by the technologies, globalisation and advancements of postmodern life. Ubago is a tiny village situated in the Basque lands of Northern Spain, in the Navarra province, where Pamplona, famous for its ‘Running of the Bulls’, is the capital.
Ubago was built in 1463 and is home to a small total of just 145 houses. Some of the houses have been refurbished and others now stand in uninhabitable ruins, with tumbling bricks crushing the overgrown weeds and wild plants that have grown inside. Those that do remain standing are home to residents that look about as old as the houses themselves, and are made from either bricks or white-washed stone. Ubago looks out onto a huge, mountainous green valley with corn fields, pig farms and bales of hay patterning the hills.
Ubago is the epitome of what a small community should represent. All the residents here are Spanish and have either lived here their whole lives, or, as is the case with some of the younger people, visit yearly to their family’s homes to enjoy the heat of the summers. The villagers of course all know each other, if not are related to each other even, and say that they can’t imagine living anywhere else. In the past lots of the cousins from Ubago married each other as they didn’t have cars or even bicycles to travel from village to village, so a fair amount of interbreeding took place, which explains the amount of families related to one another in the village.
Sergio Gorostiza Araujo, 76, has lived in Ubago all of his life, and has never left the Navarra county. Sergio met his wife, Alicía, also 76, in the same village when they were teenagers, and has brought up their four children in Ubago. The couple used to help maintain the surrounding fields, and Alicia occasionally cleaned the other houses, either in Ubago or in the surrounding villages. Sergio talks about his life in Ubago.
“This little village that we have lived in our whole lives is a deep-seated part of me, it is part of who I am. It is who I am. I cannot imagine living anywhere else, I have seen on the television what life in the bigger cities is like and it looks like a parallel universe, one that I am not part of.”
And you know what? I love that I am not part of that. I was born here, my parents were born here, and my children were born here. Two of my children have stayed and have taken over the field maintenance that Alicía and I used to do. Without my family and this village, I am nothing.”
Time here is slowed down to a lazy pace, and old ladies and men chit chat in their deckchairs outside their front doors every afternoon, whilst watching the farmers spray chopped hay from their ploughs. Stepping into Ubago is like walking into a time machine; nothing round here has changed for centuries, except for the village now having its own village phone next to the church.
In the graveyard you will find generations of families from the village, all of whom lived here, or would spend their summers here. The flowers laid down here are always fresh from the village rose bushes, and the graves visited frequently by family members.
The views from the village are panoramic and peaceful. Other villages similar to Ubago are scattered across the valley with winding roads linking one to another, although you seldom see any cars travelling. Many of the natives from the area hike and cycle between villages, when necessary.
Another villager, Carí Torres, 68, talks about the feeling of intimacy within Ubago. “In this village there is definitely a mutual feeling of community. It goes further even than community – the other habitants here are my friends, my family of choice. We all help each other because it is such a small village. I never feel lonely because every afternoon we all go to somebody’s house and all the men and women play cards. We are always chatting in the street to see what’s going on – I love my daily gossip with the other ladies!”
Carí was widowed eight years ago when her husband died from bowel cancer, and the rest of her family live in Los Arcos, a neighbouring village nearby. Carí decided to stay here though, where she could visit her husband whenever she wanted in the village graveyard. “I feel that my husband’s spirit is still here in the village – he loved his life here and I don’t want to leave our past behind me by moving out.”
You won’t find multi-food supermarkets selling every product you could ever dream of wanting to eat; Ubago doesn’t have its own Tesco’s or Sainsbury’s, in fact, it doesn’t even have its own shop. What it does have though, is a bread van and a butcher, the latter of who comes every three days. Other vendors and traders also stop in every so often, so there is little need to leave the village.
The bread van visits the village every morning without fail (except for Sundays), at 9am, waking the community with ‘the bread van song’ as it is known in the village. And this is where the villagers start their day, as they all come yawning out of their houses, still in their pajamas, slippers and hairnets, and greet each other before choosing their bread and pastries for the day.
Jordí Sanchez, 33, drives the bread van from village to village every morning and says, “I have been doing this job for over a decade now and I know all the villagers very well. In the summer holidays my children come in the van with me and play with the other children here, as well as in the other villages. My father ran the business before me, and his father before me – it is very much a family business. I drive the van and sell the bread and pasties, while my wife stays at home and bakes for the next day.”
There is a small and nameless village bar that opens once every Saturday night, which is run by two of the locals, and sees the whole village come into the main square or ‘plaza’ to drink and socialise. Ubago has two squares, one is ancient, crumbling down and rarely visited, and the other is in the centre of the village. It is surrounded by low stone walls and in the middle can be found a serene fountain, with murky water flowing underneath where small tadpoles and algae lurk. In the summer, small children come with their buckets and scoop them out to take home and put in the bathtubs, much to the disgust of their parents.
Perhaps unsurprisingly, it is impossible to find an internet connection in this village, and when you walk around, mobile phone glued to the ear, people stare as though you have a creature from outer-space clamped to the side of your head. This truly is a spot where postmodernism hasn’t arrived in any way, shape or form.
Every summer in the second week of August is fiesta season for Ubago, and all of its surrounding villages. During this week the village locals come out and wear the traditional red and white clothes which symbolise you being part of the village. A small Spanish band usually plays on the stage and the old and young generations dance together in the main square, with lights twinkling around the edge. Inflatables and fairground rides also ensue. Long sweet dough sticks, known as ‘churros’ wrapped in newspaper and dipped in a thick chocolate sauce are sold in the stands, as are other Spanish tapas tibbits and trinkets. At around 11pm there is an air of expectation and anticipation in the air.
A firework explodes from the side of the square and the more elderly of the villagers hide behind their front doors and children scream and start running. Suddenly a huge bull made from bronze emerges and starts running around the square, chasing anyone it can see. Carrying the bull are two men who run very quickly indeed. Fireworks and sparks fly from the bull’s head as they sprint around the plaza. Of course, this would never be allowed in England, but here in this ancient village there are no health and safety regulations.
The fiesta season is something that everyone of all ages can look forward to, especially the twenty-something’s of the village. Like most of the villagers, Sandra Garcia de Acilu, 25, has lived in the village her whole life. Sandra says she can’t imagine living away from Ubago, but at the same time remains reserved about the village’s lack of variety and sources of entertainment.
“It does get a bit repetitive here sometimes, and it is hard to contact the outside world as we have no internet signal and mobile reception is very bad. I am lucky though, I have my work, my friends and family in Ubago and the local villages nearby to keep me occupied. I sometimes think about moving to a bigger town or city but I think I would just find it daunting having lived here for so long.
“We all anticipate the fiesta season though as it always brings a new spurt of life and noise into the village, even if it is just the other local villages visiting Ubago.”
Spokesperson from the Navarra tourist board, María Gómez Baquedano, says that although fiesta season in Pamplona is flooded with tourists every year, “the smaller towns and villages see barely any tourists. In fact the smaller villages of Navarra have probably never seen a tourist before, and I think it will remain this way for years to come.”
Ubago certainly never sees any tourists in its vicinity and is so small that it is not even included on some of the larger maps of the area. Night-times in the village are certainly different to those of larger cities.
The air is clean and fresh, and there is so little pollution that when the moon slides out during dusk, you can actually the whole of the night sky, which is littered with bright stars. The glowing lights from other villages also map out this hidden valley, should any weary traveller be trying to find a bed for the night. Glow worms wriggle in the dark along the village paths, to the gentle sound of grasshoppers burring in the night. Having had their afternoon siestas, the locals will stay out in the square till the early hours of the morning, before bidding each other farewell, until the bread man shows anyway.
Ubago has a very congenial and strong sense of community, a peace and quiet that can’t be bought, and a simple way of life with no busy distractions to stress the psyche. Due to a quite severe lack of any communication ties to the outside world, it is left totally to its own devices and is unaffected by any external influences. Everything that Ubago represents is also a representation of everything that postmodernism is not. The postmodern world has left this sleepy little village – and those surrounding it – behind and moved on to bigger, faster and noisier pursuits, such as Imax cinemas, surround-sound TV’s, a multi-faceted culture and open and ‘anything goes’ attitudes. Ubago could have benefitted from these perhaps, but seems to be ambling along very happily left untouched.

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