It’s been over two weeks since I returned home from my eight months of wandering, or my peregrination as my dad calls it. I’m sitting on the front porch of my grandparents’ farm on a cool, breezy Iowa day, looking across hundreds of acres of corn and scattered trees. I haven’t posted anything for a while because I’ve had a busy return, but also because I still haven’t decided what those eight months meant to me. But even though I haven’t fully digested it all, the trip was just the thing for me this year. And the last two weeks in Spain with my family and Fed was a great way to share some enjoyable moments with them and ease out of the mentality of continuous travel.
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After meeting Fed in Madrid we had a day or so to explore on our own. We stopped by the big Saturday flea market in La Latina, wandered through Plaza Mayor and Plaza del Sol, and had lunch at the Thai restaurant my friend Hilary took me to. Fed also had a friend from high school who lives there so we met him and a couple of his friends for dinner at a Cuban restaurant and joined the Saturday night masses for a beer out in a plaza before heading to a couple clubs and capping off the night with churros and chocolate at the famed San Gines. We didn’t last until dawn but we made a valiant effort, walking back at about 4:30am.
The next day we met my parents and Laura at the airport and helped Dad navigate our rented Audi wagon through the impossible streets of central Madrid, finally parking underground near the hotel. We found a nice cafe nearby with some safe and familiar Italian food for their first meal after a long night and day of flying. Then we were off on a walk to the churro place to meet the Smiths, my parents’ friends from college. The main reason for their trip was to attend their daughter’s wedding. Hilary met Ricardo at college back home and they were finally getting married in Spain, where he grew up. I’ve known Hilary on and off most of my life and I stayed with Hilary and Ricardo earlier on my trip so I was excited for the wedding. So my parents wanted to see their friends before we darted off the next morning for north Spain. It was a nice spot to chat and afterwards we took a short walk to see the royal palace at night.
The following morning we packed the car (no easy feat with five people and lots of luggage) and struck off for La Posada del Valle, a small guesthouse on an organic farm in Asturias. I’d stumbled across it on a vegetarian website and everyone seemed really excited about the idea. It was probably the best place we stayed the whole two weeks, with amazing views, great weather, and easily the best food. The rooms were large and cozy (and certainly had more material comforts than I’ve had most of the time) and there was no shortage of things to see – walking around the farm or on trails through the surrounding hills. The first thing I did was take a walk along the farm trail through the orchard and down to the creek, where there was an old church hidden amongst the trees. And it was my birthday so I was really looking forward to the meal. Every day they offered a choice of a vegetarian or meat dish, so Laura and I of course reserved a vegetarian plate and my parents and Fed opted for the meat. I picked out a red wine and the seat with choicest view out the window. The first course each night was a buffet table crammed with salads, beans, and bread; the entree that night was stuffed bell peppers and zucchini; and for dessert I picked the creme brulee. I don’t remember what anyone else got, it was my birthday after all, sorry.
We took a leisurely pace for the next couple days there in the hills of Asturias. First there was a drive to the beach where we all managed to got our pants wet wading in the surf. Then the next day Laura, Fed, and I went on a hike from the farm down and out into the valley to the nearby town. Along the way we got a little lost, but had some great views, fed a couple donkeys, and gave a dog some water. When we got to town we bought food to take back to the farm for lunch and met Mom and Dad at the park for a cold beer out in the shade. When we got back we spread our lunch fixing out on the table on the bedroom balcony overlooking the farm. We ended up drinking wine every night (!) with our meals and coffee and tea afterwards on the back veranda, but I think the breakfasts were my particular favorite.
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We were off to the wedding, the main excuse we all had for enjoying ourselves in Spain. It was about a three or four hour drive south toward Burgos and just a ways west from there to our hotel in Carrion. The hotel was a restored monastery and was a convenient place to stay since the reception was there afterwards. After arriving we zipped east through the wheat fields to the small town of Melgar, where the wedding party was camped out. We met the Smiths and followed them to the even smaller town nearby where Ricardo’s parents were from. It’s a beautiful, deserted little spot, with only nine permanent residents remaining. Most of the buildings and homes are empty and collapsing, so it’s a striking picture of rural Spain. One of the relatives still lives there and hosted a big tapas meal for all the visiting Americans and Spaniards. Then there was a tour of the town and an old wine cellar. It was a lot of Spanish being spoken all at once (particularly after staying at the farm in Asturias where the owners were British), so it was a lot to digest for my parents and Laura. But I was able to help translate some and Fed served as a go-to translator for just about everyone there (making him rather popular). Mom and Dad got to try some authentic Spanish tortilla (essentially an omelet), empanada, and other dishes, there was wine, cake, and lots of halting, broken English and Spanish spoken. Once things wound down we migrated back to the rented house in Melgar where there was a pool table. Dad, Laura, Fed, and I teamed up for a game. I hadn’t played since Guinea so that was fun, though a little frustrating since Laura and Fed kept beating Dad and me. Any frustration was smoothed over though with a delicious, homemade coffee liquor they had on hand!
The wedding was the following afternoon and they’d chosen a wonderfully rustic church far from town and surrounded only by trees and open fields. It had once been the principal church in its own village, but the inhabitants and buildings have long since disappeared. We got there surprisingly early (for our family) and had loads of time to take photos and pose on see-saws with each other. Once more people started arriving we were able to admire all the fashionably dressed Spanish attendees as they walked up. Inside the ceremony was crammed into the lofty, but tight quarters of the old church, the darkness, the gilded altar, and imposing stone columns lending a sense of importance to the occasion. Hilary and Ricardo alternated speaking roles as Hilary did her best at the Spanish and Ricardo the English, then much of the wedding was conducted in Spanish with the English printed in the programs (after all, the Americans were the distinct minority). When everyone piled back outside there were flower pedals and toilet paper to shower the bride and groom, toilet paper apparently being a solemn component of any proper Spanish wedding.
There was a brief lull as everyone drove back to the monastery. Appetizers were served in the portico courtyard along with drinks before filing into the dining hall for the kind of meal one could only expect in Spain: heavy on the food, wine, and raucous singing. Laura and I both had separate vegetarian dishes that Hilary had requested for us so that was greatly appreciated, and compared very favorably to the meat dishes (at least from the looks of it). There were lots of boastful challenges from some of the younger Spaniard tables wondering why the Americans weren’t making much noise (surprisingly our repertoire of Spanish football taunts to respond with was sparse) but the whole affair was good fun.
The dancing took place down the hall and was a little slow at first but quickly became rather raucous, raucous being the natural state of equilibrium at any Spanish event. Our crew lingered on the edges, sipping on the remainder of our dessert liquors. Laura, Fed, and I decided to get some air and took a walk into town for a beer at a bar, sitting out in the evening sun. We got back to the monastery in time for a little more mingling before the day happily exhausted itself.
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Once the wedding was over we had another week to enjoy Spain. There were three nights in San Sebastian and three more in Madrid. San Sebastian in one of the furthest points northeast in Spain and is in the heart of Basque country, a region all its own culturally, and would be a country all its own if some had their way. ETA is the terrorist-affiliated group that has been active there for decades, though they of course lack the support of the majority of residents. And oddly enough our visit coincided both with an annual two week cultural festival as well as ETA’s 50th anniversary. So we were surprised by the crowds until we realized the festival was taking place. Our rented rooms were in the very center of the old part of town so we parked in a ramp long enough to unload then drove the car out to a residential street to sit there for the next few days and took the bus back. Then we found a good pizza place I knew of for an easy dinner. Part of the festival included an international fireworks competition, and that first night we weren’t up for heading back outside but we managed to see the top half of the display peaking over the roof from the courtyard balcony of our rooms. The next night we caught it after our Chinese dinner across the river and our last night we finally walked right up near the beach for the full show.
Since we were so close to France I suggested we hop on the Basque regional train and get off at the last stop just across the border in Hendaye. I had been there the last time I visited and thought it would be a good place for lunch and then Mom, Dad, and Laura could say that they visited France as well as Spain, if only for a couple hours. So we walked to the train station and zipped over to France, no passports required. Unfortunately the festival was taking place all over the Basque region, which extends into that part of France, so things were quite crowded and no one would seat us at any of the restaurants in the village center. Still it was a nice walk through town and we headed back toward the train station where there were plenty of bars that served food and we had a nice meal outdoors on the sidewalk.
That evening Laura, Fed, and I walked around to soak up all the excitement. We sat for a while on the levee overlooking the Atlantic and watched the waves. Then we cruised around the back side of the large hill just off the edge of the water and walked along the carnival that was set up there. We didn’t plan to jump in but the bumper cars were too tempting, and it was the first time Fed or I had “driven” in months. So that was fun. Then as it started raining we headed back through the festival revelers toward our rooms.
The next day Fed and I took a quick side trip via bus to Bilbao. I had missed my chance to visit last time I was in that part of Spain and was anxious to visit the Guggenheim Museum, designed by Frank Gehry. I’m not necessarily a fan but the building is monumental and one of the more well known contemporary structures in the world. The art exhibited inside was well worth the visit, too. The building is credited with stirring a revival in the formerly declining, industrial city. As we walked around afterward we got lunch in the old town by the cathedral and headed back to the bus station for the ride back to San Sebastian. While we were gone I think Dad took the chance to walk up the big hill that overlooks the city and Mom and Laura did some shopping.
The rest of the time we just enjoyed the atmosphere. Every night the streets were packed with parades and bands and people wandering around. A couple times after midnight we’d wake up to a drum corps playing on the street below or a band of people singing “Yellow Submarine” in the early morning after the bars. During the day there were even some large patrols of Basque police dressed in full riot gear to stave off any violence or overt support of ETA; they tore down lost of posters and banners that called for the release of ETA prisoners. But everything was calm and enjoyable while we were there, and we were really quite fortunate to see all the excitement even though we hadn’t planned it that way.
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Finally we were back on the road one last time for a short stay in Madrid before the flights out. Mom had arranged an apartment rental right off the fashionable Gran Via in the heart of Madrid so we had some nice digs, complete with a living room and kitchen. Everyone got a reminder of how hot the weather is in the rest of Spain is compared with the north coast, but the apartments had air conditioning and there’s plenty of cold drinks to be had. We had some great final meals too: one at an Indian place right by the apartment, another meal we brought back from an amazing vegetarian buffet, and easily the best meal was cooked at the apartment by Fed, which was fettuccini with goat cheese and asparagus.
For Mom and Dad’s benefit we went through the botanical gardens, which were extensive but looked a little water deprived. And another day we set aside for exploring the Prado, one of the worlds best collections of paintings. I usually prefer contemporary art but it was more absorbing than I anticipated and we were glad for the visit. And that evening Laura, Fed, and I had a night out and went to a couple casual bars and walked around in the Chueca district.
When it came time to leave we hailed a cab early in the morning for Mom, Laura, and Dad and shipped them off to the airport for their flight home. Fed and I had a little more time that day and walked by the royal palace and the cathedral, went for lunch at a great sushi bar, stopped in a couple shops, and got loads of groceries to take back that are impossible to find in Guinea. For our last night out we went back to Chueca to a gourmet burger place and then a mojito nearby. We headed back to finish packing before he caught the last metro train to the airport for his early flight. That left me to collect our deposit on the apartment in the morning and catch my own plane to Dublin.
Dublin was just a two night stopover on my way home. It wasn’t direct but I couldn’t find anything at a decent price from Spain to Iowa. So instead I flew Madrid to Dublin to Boston to Chicago to Cedar Rapids and Dad and Laura drove me home from there. But since I was in Ireland again it was a nice, relaxing transition from Spain to the States. I stayed in the same hostel I’d been to twice before and the guy that checked me in actually recognized me as a regular. So it was nice to be somewhere familiar.
I was well past any eagerness to museum-hop or anything so I mostly walked around town and had some last good beers and food, including a great Indian buffet and a dinner at a vegetarian restaurant I’d liked before. I spent Sunday afternoon lounging in a grassy park, closing my eyes on and off while a brass band played. Since I was making a two night detour I was glad to be back in Ireland.
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I don’t have any final words, what I wanted to say I’ve said. I didn’t write about everything but I enjoyed describing what I could and was always happy to hear from people who took interest in my accounts. It’s the close of this particular trip, but I still didn’t make it to Morocco or Turkey, and then there’s South America, Australia, and… well there’s other destinations on the horizon. In the meantime I may still use this venue to post things on occasion, whether it’s about places, food, or anything else. Viajo por viajar.
Posted in Dublin, Ireland, Madrid, Melgar, San Sebastian, Spain, Stateside
I’d done the Liebeskind designed art museum and a couple of the hot spots on my first trip so this time was more relaxing, spending time with Laura and her friends, cooking a little, going out a couple times for some nice meals. I also found this amazing used bookstore, Kilgore’s I think. It’s small but they’re very particular about what they stock so everything on the shelves looks really interesting or is a popular title. Bought a couple things at Buffalo Exchange, lounged in Cheeseman Park, biked and ran around town, checked out the Stapleton neighborhood (a New Urban-ish place that came up in my architecture classes), went to a haunted house, toured a small contemporary design museum, and drove her friend Betsy’s truck for dinner in Idaho Springs and a short hike in the hills nearby. Laura and I also met up with my college friend Clint and his partner Deryk for dinner at Watercourse, and got to have drinks with Liz, Niner, Betsy, and some other friends of Laura’s, and went bowling with her co-workers (I got a personal best, 147 I think!). Oh, and I best not forget Sullivan, her rabbit!
And now Grandpa is back home with Grandma at the farm and things are more or less as they were. So I went home for a few days before getting ready to leave for Denver. I spent the time exhuming my old resume and trying to breathe new life into it, as well as beginning to pore over and reorganize my project portfolio, all to begin preparing for a yet unplanned trip back to Portland.
