Three Kings, One Valley: Magic in Nigüelas and Alquería de los Lentos
- Christoph Van Daele
- Jan 6
- 2 min read
In January the world seems to pause for a heartbeat, as if winter itself were holding its breath. And then, from very far away—from the desert, from memory, from childhood—they arrive: the Three Wise Men. They don’t rush. They don’t make noise. They move slowly, the way truly important things move through life: love, hope, that slightly mischievous belief that magic exists… even when adults swear otherwise while hiding presents in cupboards and suitcases.
Their story is ancient, almost whispered by the wind.Three sages following a star.Not a GPS.Not a map. A star.
And sometimes, if you look closely, that star seems to hover for a moment above Nigüelas, touching the rooftops, sliding softly down the citrus trees in the Lecrín Valley, and resting for a breath of time over Alquería de los Lentos — where the night sky still dares to shine wide and open.
They bring gifts that are much more than objects.Gold, to remind us that every one of us holds value.Frankincense, to honour the sacred hidden inside ordinary life: the smell of bread in the restaurant kitchen, the warmth of the chimenea, the laughter echoing through stone walls that have seen centuries pass.Myrrh, to remind us gently that life has seasons and farewells… and yet we keep walking.
But the real magic happens quietly at home and in small village streets.In the neatly placed shoes by the door.In bowls of water for the camels.In letters written with the most serious handwriting in the world… even when they wander off the lines.
There, in that almost-secret ritual, children stop being children for a moment and become poets of longing. And we adults — busy, thoughtful, sometimes tired — look up again at the sky with that strange mixture of doubt and hope and whisper:
“What if… just for a moment… everything truly were possible?”
Maybe the Three Wise Men don’t just bring toys.Maybe they come to remind us that we still know how to dream.That our faces can still light up.That deep inside us lives a spark of mystery no one has ever fully explained.
And how lucky we are.
Because as long as there are stars above Nigüelas,as long as there are letters folded beneath pillows,as long as there are children waking before dawn,and grown-ups pretending not to smile…
the magic will return every year,walking softly through the valley,without hurry,without noise,carrying a gentle lightthat — believe me —never goes out.
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