The road to the Sacramental de San Justo – a Madrid cemetery that shares a wall with the city’s oldest, that of San Isidro – is arduous and winding. We don’t know if it was for those who rest in it, but it certainly is for those who have to climb the steep entrance slope, especially on a hot summer morning. Luckily Paloma Contreras knows them all and is waiting with her car at the bottom of the slope to save this section. Once through the gate that gives access to the first patio, the oldest in the complex – surrounded by niches because burials were avoided in the 19th century in favor of heights that are a step closer to paradise – the patio gives way Art Specialist Guides to undertakers and morticians The founder of the Entre piedras y cypresses blog falters and reveals some of the myriad mysteries that lie forever in this stately cemetery, dedicated in 1847. “In the 19th century it was important to have the three Ps: the mansion, the box in the theater and the pantheon in the cemetery,” he says of his origins. “But since people started shooting at the walls of cemeteries during the Civil War, death has returned to these rooms.”
Contreras begins the tour of the white tombstone of Sara Montiel, the actress and singer who rests with her diva name on the stone and no date of birth. Then appear the final resting places of Larra, Espronceda, Ramón Gómez de la Serna, Jerónima Llorente, the Álvarez Quintero brothers, Manuel Altolaguirre, Julio Camba… just to name a few of the many artists, politicians and famous people that lie between these Walls. . Dressed in black, with a skull and crossbones on her t-shirt, short blond hair, sunglasses and a fan in her hand, her brilliant stories hold no greater value to Contreras than those guarded by the tombstones with unknown names. To study and disseminate them, along with the artistic treasures that adorn these spaces, he dedicates his efforts, which he channels through his association Funerarte (which he runs with his partner Ainara Ariztoy). “These are the stories we like to tell most in our guidebooks,” he defends. Later, as he progresses through the presentation of geometric corridors, he will elaborate on some of these anecdotes which, even if they are thousands of kilometers apart, are mentally reminiscent of those told in a recently published book.
The tomb of Sara Montiel in the Sacramental de San Justo, with the Madrid skyline in the background. Claudio Alvarez
As a child, Scottish journalist and writer Peter Ross visited his grandparents in the city of Stirling in the center of the country. Above the old town, in the shadow of an imposing castle, is an idyllic cemetery where this boy spent hours. “It was in the late ’70s, early ’80s; I loved going to that place and just hanging out there,” Ross recalled over the phone. These walks with a friend between crosses and tombstones fueled his inner conversation. “Some people think there’s something morbid about spending time in a cemetery, but I found it fascinating, like a story,” he says. “Also, walking between the graves has definitely improved my vocabulary and seen archaic words and phrases like ‘remembrance’ and ‘let the children come to me’.”
From that childish enthusiasm grew an interest that led Ross to visit dozens of cemeteries across Britain and Ireland. Like Contreras, it has collected data on some of its most famous inhabitants (in this sense Cees Nooteboom wrote a book in which he dialogues with great writers through their tombs, “Tombs of Poets and Thinkers”, edited by Siruela), but above all wanted to pay tribute to those who didn’t find a place between the pages of history books. They are the protagonists of Captain Swing, an essay about which the funeral director says with a laugh: “I fell in love too much because it’s my life.” the author reflects on the response he received at this difficult moment. “I think it’s because it’s not just about death, it’s about life. And more specifically, love. I think people found solace in the book because instead of denying it, it addresses the big issues. And deep down, it’s like a vaccine that you vaccinate yourself with a little bit to fight the disease.
Journalist and writer Peter Ross, author of A Grave with a View. Captain Swing
Unnoticed until Contreras suddenly mentions it, a musical thread resounds in the Sacramental de San Justo. As he points out, there is no other cemetery in Madrid like this one with a soundtrack. Like Ross, she was drawn to cemeteries from an early age and has read his book with true devotion. He sees a variety of connections and also some differences between the British and Irish burial sites and the Spanish ones. One thing is clear: this morning in San Justo you hardly see a soul walking between the graves. A lonely woman visits her husband, who died six years ago, while a man worries about the fate of his parents’ bones, buried in an area currently being rehabilitated while the devastation of the civil war is still visible.
Incidentally, only classical music can be heard in San Justo, which accompanies the steps themselves. Visits like Contreras’ are not commonplace – they were only offered in Madrid not so long ago and occasionally in cities like Barcelona and A Coruña – nor is the presence of many of the characters marching through the book. de Ross: in addition to the diverse guides, workers, teachers, volunteers, and other funeral pilgrims who employ these spaces. “It was very important to me not to make a book about the most beautiful or well-known cemeteries in the UK, but one that treats these places as living spaces,” says the author. “I wanted to reflect the relationship between the present and the past, and between the people who lie in cemeteries and those who visit them. Because it’s a continuum: these people are us; One day we will be.
A Tomb with a View inevitably introduces the reader to the sociology and history of the United Kingdom and Ireland. From the ghosts of the IRA to legendary figures like Phoebe Hessel, an Englishwoman who fought in the army disguised as a man. With their differences as Catholic and Protestant countries. “I think in Ireland there’s a sense that the relationship with the deceased continues after death, whereas in the UK it’s more about going to the cemetery as a duty,” explains Ross. “It seems to me that in the UK there is a greater dislike of death, or a greater desire not to think about it, than in Ireland or other parts of Europe.” Indeed, the tradition of burial is gradually disappearing in these islands. As the journalist points out in his book, three quarters of today’s population opt for cremation, even though there are more than 14,000 cemeteries. For comparison, according to the National Funeral Association, there are 17,682 cemeteries in Spain and in 2021 less than 45% of the deceased were cremated.
As Mariana Enriquez wrote in her book Someone Walks Over Your Grab (Anagram): “There are more dead than alive, it’s a simple truth, and they all end up on the ground.” be unstoppable destiny. Like Ross and Contreras, the Argentine author feels a strong attraction to these places. Her 2021 book summarized 24 trips she’d made over the years to necropolises around the world – Spain, Mexico, Australia, Argentina… – having been fascinated by the La Plata cemetery in her youth . “It’s a cemetery with many Masonic tombs, shrines and sphinxes. “I often visited him with my then boyfriend,” he says via email. “Over the years I got used to making notes about the cemeteries I visited, but I decided these would be travel journals and a book when I attended the burial of the remains of a friend’s missing mother . This is the burial of bones identified by the Argentine forensic anthropology team that had lain in a mass grave for 30 years. Then I became aware of the personal and historical importance of cemeteries in countries that have suffered massacres.
A sculpture in the Sacramental of San Justo. Claudio Alvarez
With the enthusiastic gaze of the “flâneur”, that is, without anthropological or historical intentions, Enriquez uses his stays in places like New Orleans or the island of Martín García to lose himself among tombs. “If I tell a story about a cemetery, it’s because it has an outstanding story or feature, or because something happens to me in that place, a story,” he explains. The author does not believe that any special sensitivity or personality is required to enjoy the stories of the cemeteries. More of an “aesthetic bias”. “Of course there are people who are afraid of them, but I don’t understand why,” he notes.
a bright vision
In his visits, Contreras borders on everything related to the afterlife. Same as Ross in “A Tomb with a View”: They’re not interested in the supernatural or the uncanny, they’re interested in the luminous. That which breathes life. Which, of course, doesn’t mean they don’t encounter stories torn by pain: particularly those of babies secretly buried because they didn’t achieve baptism, which Ross collects in his book. Or that of the children who rest in niches in San Justo and whose names are engraved in diminutives and between exclamations – “Pepito!!”; “Palomita!!” – as was customary a hundred years ago.
With the increasing bureaucratization of death, modern cemetery sections are increasingly indistinguishable from one another. New pantheons or unique tombs like that of Agustín Mansó, one of those anonymous figures that Contreras is so fond of, are rarely built. “He was like a precursor to El Corte Inglés,” explains the guide. “Twenty years before Ramón Areces, he had an English clothing import shop called New England near Puerta del Sol. When that man died, a short time later, El Corte Inglés opened in the same area.”
Despite the changes, the cemeteries continue to be a mirror of the society they accompany: in San Justo you only have to look at the austere and identical tombs of some religious, all of whom died on similar dates, around March 2020, at the height of the Covid. “Until the 19th century, cemeteries told us we were going to die, the famous memento mori. For this reason, the decorations were skulls, shins, scythes…” Contreras sums up. “After that, everything changed and people started thinking, ‘I was here’ and ‘Remember me.'” And I like that idea: not to forget, because if you’re forgotten, you die a second time.”
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