Jess Barrington Travels

Perlora: The Asturian Beachfront Ghost Town

A few days ago, Phil and I decided to take a train to the coastal town of Candás and walk the 11 miles/18 kilometres back to Gijon. We’ve visited Candás before a couple of times (Phil wrote about it here) and discovered the last time that there is a scenic beachfront path one can take all the way to the village of Xivares, 5k/3miles to the east. On our previous visit, we hopped on a returning train in Xivares but we knew there was a path to continue walking along the coast all the way back to Gijon.

When we have visited Campa Torres in Gijon (I wrote about one visit here), we noticed the picturesque little beach towns dotting the coast to the west. Last time we were there I said, “I want to go there” and pointed westward. Well, Candás, Xivares, and Perlora are all “there”. We figured if we kept on walking along the coast from “there”,we would eventually reach Campa Torres or at least the restaurant near there that we like, Les Cabañes*.

We packed a couple of bocadillos (sandwiches on baguette) and walked toward the train station around noon. Due to a malfunction with the ticket machine, we missed the first train, so we had time to enjoy a beer at a nearby cafe that also provided a generous spread of gratis pinchos (score!) to wait for the next one. We boarded our train a little after 1pm and were off to Candás.

As we disembarked the train at Candás it was misting lightly. We grabbed a coffee at a small cafe on the way down to the water front and by the time we were finished, the sky was blue and sun shining. We walked the now familiar path along the harbor toward one of two large RV parks that overlook the coast. A couple of kilometres later, we climbed the small hill that curves off the main road toward Perlora. A sprawling parking lot and guard’s post are the first remnants of the town that greet you. The guard’s post is still manned and we waved to the guard inside as we walked by, through the parking lot and down the street toward the water.

Our first time in Perlora we had no idea what it was or had been and it was so strange to see so many boarded up homes over looking the beautiful Asturian coast. Coming from Southern California, I could not believe such a huge piece of land overlooking the ocean was sitting empty, abandoned.

While the houses are abandoned, the streets are still being maintained. We saw town trash cans that were obviously being tended to regularly and fresh paint on the streets. Someone trims the grass to a reasonable height. We also saw people enjoying the beach front path and overlooks as well as public picnic areas and grills. There are two gorgeous public beaches in Perlora. So what the heck is Perlora and why doesn’t anyone live there?

Well, Perlora Holiday Village was developed in the 1950’s during the height of the Franco dictatorship as a high quality vacation complex for workers all over the country. It offered public company workers who might not otherwise be able to afford a summer vacation, the opportunity to enjoy a luxury get away for a very low cost. According to an article I found on livingasturias.com, “The basic idea was to allow employees of various companies who could not afford a summer vacation, to enjoy them thanks to the help of their companies. Perlora arises from the need to encourage the worker through the “access and enjoyment of all the goods of culture, joy, health and sport”, but also intended to maintain social peace.”

Perlora was a booming vacation spot through the 1980’s, relying on state funds to operate. In the 1990’s, Perlora was handed over to the Autonomous Community of Asturias (from the federal government). As the coal industry started to decline in Spain in the 1990’s, the region was effected economically and eventually closed the city in 2006 as they could no longer afford to maintain it as a holiday complex.

Perlora had 270 chalets on over 20 hectacres, could accommodate 1,500 vacationers, and employed around 200 workers. There was a church, soccer fields, mini golf course, tennis courts (still in very good shape), restaurants, and various shops in addition to access to the beautiful beaches. Now though, the future of Perlora is unknown. I found little information about the current situations and plans. From what I gleaned, some sort of private/public arrangement is trying to be worked out but remains in a state of flux.

On this day in Perlora, we sat on a bench and watched the large waves crashing against the rocks and beach as we split one of the bocadillos we brought. Leaving Perlora behind, we walked on toward Xivares, along the coastal path we went.

While last time we caught the train in Xivares, this time, we weren’t exactly sure how we should continue on as the path we had taken ended at the edge of town. Phil, our great navigator, lead us through the streets of Xivares and as we stopped to catch our breath at a scenic overlook, we noticed a small path leading down toward the water. “It looks like we can go that way”, he said, so on we went, dodging mud as best we could.

Up and down we walked along the sometimes paved, sometimes dirt (or mud as it were) roads and paths, bidding a buenas tardes to a few horses we passed, having their afternoon snack on a hill. We saw some road signs along the way indicating access prohibited to the finca (property), though we weren’t driving so on we walked. At one point, we saw two large dogs up ahead. They saw us too and proceeded to bark and approach. They didn’t appear to be aggressive but Phil grabbed the small umbrella from the side of our backpack and held it in his hand just in case and told the dogs to go on, in an firm voice. As we got closer we could tell the dogs were a couple of old guys, wagging their tails. It is very unusual to see dogs without owners nearby so we were still cautious but proceeded on our way as the dogs followed leisurely behind us and eventually turned around.

We could sense we were nearing Campa Torres and I kept expecting to come upon the main road any moment. From Campa Torres one can see Aboño thermal power plant, the last coal powered thermal power plan in Spain. It is nestled in the Valley, next to the sea. Like many industrial scenes in Asturias, it seems strange to see a smoke spewing, coal fired complex in juxtaposition to the rolling green hills and blue of the Cantabrian Sea. The road we encountered and were to take was not the main road but one that lead us directly through the power plant.

As we descended the hill into an area that felt like surly we should not be in, we put our face masks back on due to the smell. We walked past train cars making their way down the line, full to the brim of coal. We saw another huge pile of coal with a machine that looked like a mini Ferris wheel shoveling it. Trucks full of coal drove past us. I kept imagining a guy in a golf cart wearing a hard hat driving up to us asking what the heck we were doing there and to get the hell out but no on seemed to care and on we went.

Eventually our path split and I knew the one leading straight up the mountain was ours. Escalar escalar. The path zig-zagged a bit but continued up. We stopped to catch our breath and Phil, consulting his phone, announced that Les Cabañes was at the top of the hill, only a few minutes away. The promise of a seat, some snacks, and a cold beer put some pep in my step as we climbed on. Dogs on either side of the road, behind fences barked as we passed. Barking dogs are the soundtrack to pretty much any walk we take in a residential area. Up ahead of us, another large, loose dog barked down at us. Phil, again, in a firm voice told him to go on, and he did. As we climbed the last leg toward the Les Cabañes parking lot, I remembered the second bocadillo in the backpack I was wearing and the loose dog we just past and I tell you, I’ve never climbed so quickly.

We arrived at Les Cabañes just before sunset and ordered two beers which came with a large plate of pinchos. The sunset was breath taking, in hues of pinks and purples. The power plant even appeared beautiful, awash in the bright colors.

We finished our beers and walked another 45 minutes (all downhill thank goodness) and caught the bus home from the Natahoyo neighborhood. Another wonderful Asturian adventure in the books.

*When I wrote about Campa Torres, I talked about our first trip to Les Cabañes and mentioned they are known for their Lamb on a steak or cordero a la estaca. I also mentioned that we would go back for a proper meal and I would tell you all about it. We did for for a proper meal just before Christmas. The lamb and the rest of the food was delicious and the service excellent. Photos from our feast below.

Cena de Nochebuena

We were invited to spend Nochebuena (Christmas Eve) with our friend Diana and her family. We were excited to be able to experience a real Spanish Christmas with a real Spanish family. In Spain, Christmas Eve is a bigger celebration that Christmas Day (I wrote about the Spanish holiday season here).

Diana’s mother, Margarita, hosted dinner at her home. We knew Margarita was a good cook from what Diana has told us and from our personal experience sampling some of her homemade fruit preserves, sauces, and soups. This made us even more excited for the nochebuena feast. Dinner in Spain is not usually eaten until at least 9pm. Typically dinner is a smaller than the midday meal, although nochebuena is a notable exception.

We arrived at Margarita’s home at 8:30pm. Diana, her daughter, Diana, and sister, Reyes, were already there helping with preparation and readying the dining table. We sat in the salon (living room) and visited for a bit and soon the delicious looking food started coming out; plates of cured meat, bread, paté, wine, a delicious spinach salad with goat cheese and pomegranate, a layered dish of avocado and salmon and of course, the pièce de résistance, ensaladilla rusa.

Ensaladilla rusa (or Russian salad) is a very popular dish in Spain. It was first described to us by our profesora, Marta. After she listed off a few ingredients, were were like, “oh, it’s potato salad.” Then we had ensaladilla rusa. While it certainly is reminiscent of American potato salad, it is much better, en mi opinión. We have had it most often as tapas and occasionally as a side dish. We have never had it anywhere close to as good as Margarita’s nochebuena ensaladilla rusa though.

Why is it called ensaladilla rusa, you might ask (we did). Usually we just get a shrug or an “I don’t know.” To be fair, when we asked Diana she said, “why do American’s call patatas fritas french fries?” Touché. I did some googling and found this history (and recipe!) of the salad itself but it is still unclear as to when it became popular in Spain. We also, until the writing of this very post, have been calling it ensalada rusa. Ensalada is the Spanish name for salad. In reading it, I understand the pronunciation difference but I suppose our ears aren’t finally tuned enough to pick up the difference when we’ve been offered ensaladilla rusa (in quick, native Spanish). Both ensalada and ensaladilla translate to salad so I texted Diana to ask her the difference. She said they only use ensaladilla for the russian salad. Fair enough.

Anyway, in describing ensaladilla rusa, I don’t think it would necessarily be appealing to the typical American. “Well, it’s like potato salad only with peas and tuna” but let me tell you, it is delicious. I’ve thought about how good Margarita’s was several times since we’ve have it. Her’s was layered and even included fresh shrimp on top. She sliced it like a cake and we each received a hefty wedge.

After devouring the first slice, she offered me another. I was already getting full but it was so good and it seemed rude to decline (she spent two hours making it!), so I asked for a little more “un poco”. Reyes looked at me and said, “My mom doesn’t know the meaning of a little when it comes to food” and indeed, another generous slice was placed on my plate. With Phil’s help, I finished the second slice. To my and my full belly’s surprise, Margarita had disappeared into the kitchen and was making yet another course (not pictured, sorry!) of gulas/angulas sauteed in olive oil and garlic with shrimp. Angulas are baby eels and gulas is a seafood product that is very common in Spain made of fish paste to resemble angulas (both look like spaghetti). It is kind of like buying crab meat verses imitation crab meat in the U.S. I am not familiar enough with gulas or angulas to taste the difference and only know that whatever Margarita served was delicious.

Next, out came the coffee and desert platters; chocolate, polvorón, turrón, and other tasty delights. I was SO full that I only managed to eat a couple of pieces of turrón and split a polvorón with Phil.

After desert we popped a bottle of champagne and toasted. Margarita also served us a orujo that had been infused with blueberries for six months. Orujo is a Galician pomance brandy, a liquor distilled from the pomance or remnants of a grape pressing (for wine). It was very good, though you could tell the liquor had quite a high alcohol content (100 proof as it turns out!) but the blueberries mellowed it out. She also served us infused cherries as well.

We had such a wonderful night, eating, drinking, and laughing. Diana and her family are not only warm and welcoming but also have a good sense of humor. They are our kind of people. In fact, we had such a good time, we didn’t leave until 1 am! Young Diana had been watching the Santa tracker online, so we figured it was best to go home and go to bed so he wouldn’t skip our place, as we’ve been very good this year 🙃

Christmas in Spain

I have been looking forward to experiencing the holiday season in Spain since we arrived. At one point Phil asked if I wanted to travel somewhere for Christmas. I did not. There is something very interesting to me about experiencing Christmas traditions in another country, particularly in one as Catholic as Spain. In a country where the Assumption of Mary is a national holiday, I figure they really go all out for Christmas…and they do.

My anticipation has been building since the Christmas streetlights were hung at the end of October. I was hoping they would light them at the first of November. In a country that loves Christmas and doesn’t have Thanksgiving, I thought maybe we would get two solid months of Christmasing! That was not the case. The lights hung, dark, in the streets for a little over a month. I am not someone who usually enjoys Christmas coming early but this year, I could hardly wait. On December 3rd, they were finally illuminated! Phil and I and our friend Utkarsh watched the lighting of one of the many Christmas trees around town, near the paseo maritimo.

Gijón puts out a booklet guide for the holidays of the various seasonal happenings in the city. Included are; an ice skating rink and a big hill (that looks a bit like a water slide) covered in man-made snow, both erected just for the season! They also have little Christmas markets with artisanal goods, Christmas music concerts, and a bus tour of the city lights, to name a few.

Ice skating, snow sledding, and carnival rides

The unofficial beginning of Christmas in Spain is December 22nd with the drawing of the National Sorteo de Navidad (Christmas lottery). As in the U.S., one can play the lottery in Spain at any time of year but the Christmas lottery is special. Folks who do not play the lottery regularly will often buy a chance at the Christmas lottery, for themselves or as a gift for someone. You can even buy a partial chance at winning. One ticket is 20€ but you can purchase 1/4 of a ticket if you’d prefer. Unlike the regularly lottery, you can buy a chance at the Christmas lottery almost anywhere: cafe, bar, restaurants, bread and fruit shops, even clothing stores. In fact, we saw signs indicating various business sold the Christmas lottery way before the Christmas lights were hung in the streets.

The official beginning to the holiday celebrations is December 24th, called Nochebuena. According to locals we’ve talked with, Nochebuena is actually a bigger celebration than Dia de Navidad (Christmas Day). Nochebuena is the night that family gathers together for a copious dinner full of meats, wines, and foods not regularly eaten during the rest of the year, with an assortment of deserts as well.

Perhaps the most well known sweet in Spain during Christmas time is turrón. Turrón is a nougat confection, typically made of honey, sugar, and egg white, with toasted almonds or other nuts, and usually shaped into a rectangular tablet. The two traditional types of turrón are turrón blando (soft) and turrón duro (hard). Turrón blando has a consistency similar to fudge and the flavor similar (in my opinion) to a Bit-O-Honey candy in the U.S. Turrón duro is hard and with a flavor and consistency similar to that of peanut brittle, or almond brittle, as the case may be. In addition to these traditional types of turrón, there are many other types incorporating chocolate, cream, and other kinds of nuts. I tried one that was very similar to a walnut maple fudge. In fact, there are so many brands and types of turrón, the grocery store near our apartment rearranged their liquor department to accommodate two large, full tables of of the sweet stuff.

Another very popular, seasonal sweet treat is polvorón . Polvorónes are very crumbly Spanish shortbread made of flour, sugar, lard, milk, and almonds.They are my favorite Christmas tradition so far. Polvo is the Spanish word for dust so polvorón seems a very appropriate name for the crumbly delights. They taste very much like powdered donuts. In fact, I sent some to my parents and my mom texted me to thank me and to tell me she thought polvorón taste like powdered donuts. They also come in different flavors such as chocolate and lemon. Just plain almond is my favorite.

On Christmas Day many children open gifts from Papá Noel. Santa Claus, or Papá Noel, has not always been a Christmas tradition in Spain but has become more popular over the years. Traditionally, presents are instead delivered to children on the 6th of January by the Tres Reyes Magos, or the Three Wise Men. Nowadays, many children receive Christmas presents on both Christmas Day and 6th January, which is the Feast of the Epiphany or Three Kings Day. I think the tradition of the Tres Reyes Magos bringing gifts to children actually makes much more sense in keeping with the Christian Christmas story; the Three Wise Men visiting the newly born baby Jesus, bearing gifts. Outside of many windows we’ve seen small ladders, depicting the three wise men climbing into the house to bring gifts.

On December 28th, Spain celebrates el dia de los Santos Inocentes. This has become a day similar to April Fool’s Day in the U.S. as people play jokes or pranks on each other. There is a tradition of putting paper cut-outs on others’ backs. Also common on that day for newspapers and TV stations to print or broadcast “news” stories based in humor rather than fact; our teacher compared it to Orson Wells’ alien invasion broadcast many, many years ago.

On Nochevieja (New Years Eve) friends gather to celebrate the end of the year. There is a Spanish tradition, “las 12 uvas de la suerte” (the 12 grapes of luck), during which people gather in the plaza mayor (town square) or in their homes and in the last 12 seconds before the clock strikes midnight, one eats a grape for each second of the countdown, followed by drinking cava (Spanish sparkling wine). Each grape represents a month of the year and for every grape you manage to eat, it’s said you will have a month of good luck. It sounds like a major choking hazard to me but I suppose luck is on your side.

After midnight, people dance and drink and celebrate El Año Nuevo until dawn. On the way home, it is customary to stop and buy chocolate con churros para llavar (to go) and take them home and eat them in bed.

On January 5th, cities and towns have big parades and street celebrations featuring los Tres Ryes Magos. Excited children wave to the wise men as they await their gift deliveries. January 6th, Three Kings Day, is the last official day of the holiday season in Spain.

Many folks have asked what Phil and I will be doing for the holidays this year. Well, we are lucky enough to have been asked to join our friend Diana and her family at the home of her mother for Nochebuena. We feel honored to have been asked and we are excited to experience a true Spanish Christmas. Diana and her daughter, Diana, joined us for a Thanksgiving meal we had at our apartment this year. We enjoyed sharing a bit of our traditions with them. Diana even brought a turrón cake which as amazing; soft and fluffy like a mousse crossed with cheesecake and a cookie crust.

For New Years Even, we will be traveling to Mallorca, the largest of the Baleaeleric Islands located 200km off the Spanish mainland. I feel pretty confident in my ability to eat 12 grapes but much less so in my ability to stay up dancing until dawn. I am all about eating churros con chocolate in bed, regardless of date or occasion.

I hope you all have a safe and happy holiday season!

Milk and Potatoes

It has certainly been raining a lot here in Asturias, so we booked a cave tour, thinking that would be a fun way to get out while still staying in. Back in August, I wrote about a group tour to we took to Covadonga. It was an enjoyable little adventure so we’ve kept an eye out for other local day trips offered by the tour company. A trip to Cueva del Soplao and Santillana in the autonomous community of Cantabria fit the bill perfectly.

The bus picked us up at 8:10 a.m. Given it is winter and very much off-season for any tourists, we were surprised when a full sized bus that could hold around 50 people rolled in to pick us up. We were assigned seats 45 and 46 in the back of the bus and this meant we would have a full bus after making a few more stops.

Our previous tour included many older adults but this one was exclusively older folks. Primarily couples with a few single gals, Phil and I were the youngest in the group by a good 20 years. As opposed to being summer tourists from the south of Spain looking to beat the heat, these folks seemed to be Astuians looking for something fun to do on a dreary December day.

Once everyone was aboard, we set out for the Saplao region in Cantabria (Asturias’s neighboring autonomous community to the east). After about an hour, we stopped at a cafe/souvenir shop so the group could grab a bite or coffee. There was already another bus in the parking lot and it looked to be a very busy establishment. Phil and I are big fans of the “when they zig, you zag” philosophy so we headed to the truck stop next door, that had an attached cafe of its own. At the nearly empty cafe, I pointed to the large loaf cake on the counter and asked “bizchocho?” She smiled and said, “Si, bizchocho,” seemingly surprised that I knew the name. “Para mi,” I responded. I became familiar with bizchocho on our trip to Galicia. I mean, breakfast cake? Heck yeah, breakfast cake. We shared that along with a tasty bocadillo (sandwich on baguette) of smokey pork loin and cheese.

About 45 minutes after our breakfast stop the bus started climbing high into the Sierra de Arnero mountains and shortly thereafter we arrived at Cueva del Soplao (Cave of the Blown). The cave was discovered by miners 1908. “El Soplao” (the blown) is a mining term that refers to the blowing air that is felt when perforating a tunnel from another one with less oxygen.

Our group was so big we had to break into two groups for our cave tour. Phil and I were in group two so we had about 25 minutes to kill before we saw the cave. We walked around the small gift shop and picked out a few post cards. As we neared the checkout counter, an amethyst crystal pendant caught my eye. It was quite reasonably priced so I thought, why not. I pointed out which crystal I wanted to the woman behind the counter and she in turn explained that I could get the pendant solo or with a necklace. She then she showed me my various options of necklace: silver chain, black cord, or silver slide. As we were talking, I could feel the woman in line next to me becoming impatient and she let out an audible sigh. This type of impatient annoyance, while extremely common in the U.S. is rarely seen in Spain, at least not in Asturias.

Here, if there’s a line/queue, you get in it and calmly wait until it is your turn. A line by definition means you are going to have to wait. If you can’t wait, don’t get in line. I wasn’t entirely sure if the woman’s annoyance was with me or with the sales attendant but I ignored it as I selected the silver chain. The sales attendant then nicely wrapped the necklace in a box. As she was doing so, I heard the woman next to me whisper something under her breath. She was standing on my left (I have a hearing deficit in my left ear) but I defiantly made out “…la leche”. It took me a second and then I realized she said, “me cago en la leche” which literally translates to “I shit in the milk”. This refers to mother’s milk and a longer form would be “me cago en la leche que mamaste (I shit in the milk that you suckled).” From my understanding, me cago en la leche can be used as a curse when being frustrated kind of like saying “dammit!” or “shit!”when you stub your toe or miss the bus, or it can be used as an insult.

After the under the breath curse, I turned and looked the woman in the eye. I caught her, looking at me in a disgusted manner to which surprise was quickly added when she realized I understood what she said. I feel like it was my first experience of someone having a “you damn foreigner” sentiment toward me (or at least my knowledge of such). I turned back toward the sales woman, paid, and Phil and I went outside to look around for a few minutes before our turn in the cave.

The fog accompanied the rain and although we could tell the vistas must be beautiful, high in the mountains, we were unable to enjoy them. We did snap a few picks of the monuments outside before heading back in to join the tour.

The tour began with a short ride on an old mining train down into the cave. Neither our guide nor the cave tour guide spoke English. We caught most of what the tour guide explained and enjoyed the breathtaking mineral formations in the cave, the largest and most diverse I’ve ever seen.

We were guided through several grand rooms within the cave, each more astonishing than the last. Sala de La Gorda and Sala de Los Fantasmas were a couple of the largest and most impressive.

After the tour, everyone hurried through the rain to get on the bus and we rode about a half hour until stopping for lunch. The restaurant had been waiting for us (lunch was included in the cost of the trip) with three very long tables pushed together in an L shape. The food was quite mediocre; we were served potato soup, that was 90% potatoes, then a second course of sliced beef and pureed potatoes; and cheesecake for dessert. As I said to Phil, “What it lacked in variety, it made up for in potatoes.”

The company, however, was good and the wine was decent. We sat near two couples and one single woman. We struck up a conversation, explaining where we were from and that we were learning Spanish, traveling around Asturias and Spain at large, and living in Gijón for a year. One of the women told us our Spanish was very good. We smiled and rolled our eyes a bit and thanked her. She responded with, “Well I don’t know any English and we’re talking, aren’t we?” While the conversation was basic, it was a true conversation. On our previous tour back in August, we were able to ask and answer questions back and forth with our lunch companion, Peter, but this time it felt like much more of a dialogue. Poco a poco.

After lunch we had 45 minutes or so of free time. Normally, we would have walked around the town and explored a bit. Phil looked online and saw literally nothing of interest in the town, no small museum, no church, nothing. That fact coupled with the rain lead us to sit at the restaurant and continue our visit with our compañeros.

After a rain soaked walk back to the bus, we were off again to the town of Santillana del Mar. I think everyone on the bus felt the same way we did; let’s skip this town and head home. It was rainy and cold and we were full of potatoes. But on we went.

The bus rolled to a stop on the edge of town. Where on previous stops, there was a rush to exit, this time, it felt like everyone was fighting to be the last one one. The guide informed us we had two hours(!) before we left. Slowly, everyone disembarked and walked down the cobblestone sidewalks into the center of town. I commented to Phil that it seemed unwise to drop a bunch of old people off and make them walk in the rain, down wet, uneven streets, over slippery leaves. They all made their way without difficulty or complaint. Old folks in Spain are a special kind of old folk.

The town itself was quite lovely with the aforementioned cobblestone streets and medieval charm. It is definitely worth a revisit should we find ourselves in Cantabria again. The town had a Parador Hotel (luxury Spanish hotel chain in historic buildings-I mention them here) located in the historic city center so Phil and I made our way there to order a coffee as has become custom for us. We dried off and warmed up a bit and greatly enjoyed the sitting area with large, cushioned chairs. We decided we could probably take a nap there without anyone bothering us but decided instead to walk across the street to a museum, Casas del Águila y la Parra (the houses of the eagle and the vine). The building itself is a magnificent example of civil architecture from the 16th and 17th century. Currently housed there is a photography exhibit highlighting the use of masks and natural elements in costume in cultural festivals around Europe (Spain, Italy, Germany, and Croatia).

We were surprised that we were the last ones to board the bus (we were five minutes early, dammit!). Phil and I both fell asleep on the way home, an impressive feat given the loud, Spanish folk music playing, and woke up just outside of Gijón. We bid a loud “Hasta Luego!” to our friends from lunch as we exited at our stop. Another Austrian adventure in the books.

Hanging with Some Possums on a Rainy Saturday Night

Phil and I have been surprisingly busy the past few weeks with hikes, Meetups, Thanksgiving celebrations, and day trips. Our most recent outing was to Avilés, which is a half-hour bus ride west of Gijón, to see live music! We saw a couple of outdoor concerts this summer during Gijón’s summer activities and while these were fun they didn’t quite scratch my itch for live music, as everyone was seated and at least two meters apart. I like to be able to dance at a concert should I be moved to do so.

The concert in Avilés was a for real concert, in the dark with everyone standing, and they sold beer! Everyone still had to wear masks in the venue except when sipping their aforementioned beers but other than that, it felt normal. It was excellent. Some Meetup friends of ours had mentioned that there had been several recent concerts in Avilés and sent me a link for the venue and the band, Theo Lawrence and the Possums. Theo Lawrence, a young French-Canadian musician, now based out of Bordeaux, France with his band, The Possums, has a sound that blends blues and country, often sounding very much like old-school country of the 50’s and 60’s.

We arrived just a bit early and stopped in the small bar across the street from the venue, Factoria Sound, which is inside of the Avilés cultural center. As we were going in, Theo Lawrence and some band mates were exiting the bar and we ran into some of our Meetup friends inside! It was a great start to the night.

We headed across the street to the concert at 9pm and snagged a spot near the front left of the stage and settled in. The band played a couple of slow, crooning, ballads which I liked but mostly the music was upbeat which I liked even more. I shook my hips and just got right on down to the music. It was so fun! He even played a couple of George Jones covers.

After the show, a group of us ended up talking with the drummer and their driver/maracas player for a bit. They were very nice guys and seemed so genuinely stoked to be touring and playing and just doing what they love. We also got a chance to talk with Theo and the rest of the band before leaving. We were surprised to discover he lived in Bordeaux as we assumed he was from the U.S. given his English singing and speaking accent. He informed us that he was French-Canadian and half-French but had settled in Bordeaux.

We ended the night at a rock & roll bar with our friends before heading back to Gijón. The night was such a blast. I am really looking forward to seeing more shows!

A Weekend in Madrid (in photos)

Phil wrote about our weekend in Madrid here. We had such a great time! Madrid is a fantastic city with world class museums and unlimited options of delicious food. Below are just a few photos. I can’t wait to go back!

Cute little place where we had an amazing vegetarian lunch

Galicia the Beautiful Part 3: Santiago de Compostela

The final stop on our Galician road trip (read parts one and two here) was Santiago de Compostela, the capital of Galicia, and the most visited city in the region. We arrived at our hotel, located right in the center of old town, near the famed Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela, with just a few minutes to spare before our lunch reservation. We freshened up a bit and were off again.

I had enjoyed the pulpo we had in Lugo so much that when I saw it on the menu at Restaurante Curtiña, I had to have it. We started with a platter of grilled veggies and a plate of pork shoulder with a fundido of Arzúa Ulloa cheese. When our pulpo arrived this time however, instead of being served in sliced chunks as we’d had before, we were served half of a grilled octopus…whole (er, half, as the case may be). If you read my blog regularly, you know I love to try new foods and I consider myself fairly adventurous with most things food related. Though I have to tell you, seeing that octopus was a bit unsettling.

The fact that looking at a whole damn octopus, all floppy arms and suckers, was unsettling made me think about why it was unsettling. Something that always surprises our Spanish friends when we tell them is the fact that in U. S. supermarkets, meat is rarely or never displayed in a way that resembles an animal, “with no faces” we say. People don’t want to look in the eyes or see the protruding tongue of the animal that will become their dinner. Is it because it just plain grosses us out to see dead things or because if we had to look in the eyes or see the hoof of the dead animal we were about to eat, we maybe wouldn’t want to eat as many dead animals? I don’t know. Food for thought (see what I did there).

I took a second look at the octopus and thought to myself, “Ok, let’s do this,” then hacked off a couple of tentacles and gave one to Phil and one to myself and we dug in. It had a similar delicious taste as we’d had before but this time it had been grilled over an open flame and had a bit of a steak-y flavor to it.

After lunch we walked over to the Cathedral. It was early evening by this time and it was closed but nevertheless remarkable. The outside is magnificent. In the square outside of the cathedral, we saw other tourists starring at the cathedral as well, some pilgrims (the name given to those who walk the Camino de Santiago) with their walking sticks and backpacks, relaxing after finally reaching their destination.

After the Cathedral, we walked on and wound up in front of Monasterio de San Martin Pinario. The grand front doors were closed but Phil spied an entrance on the side to the museum. We went in and upstairs found a small art gallery exhibiting primarily contemporary and camino-related paintings and sculptures.

We went back downstairs and entered into the church. Holy moly. The alter was HUGE even by European catholic church standards. Typically, there is some sort of barrier prohibiting the public from entering the area behind the alter or rooms beside it. This church had no such barrier. The tiered choir seats behind the alter were just as impressive as the front had been.

After exiting the alter to the room on its right, we discovered yet another grand, impressive room with domed ceiling filled with sculptures and huge paintings. Up another flight of stairs we went exploring; a room full of taxidermy animals, a room filled with priests’ vestments, golden chalices, incense and candle holders, and large crosses, and another room filled with various bottles that looked like an old laboratory. We ended up near the top of of the church’s domed ceiling, in an area that was backup choir seating. Old, wooden, lattice separated the area from the church and altar below. It was really cool being able to wander around the little hidden areas of the church. I always want to do that in old churches and the areas are either locked or section off which only adds to my curiosity.

After wandering around the church for quite a while, we decided to head out for a couple of drinks. Still quite full from lunch, we figured we would perhaps get some raciones later in the evening. Well, we did not need to order any raciones as we were consistently served very generous, delicious, gratis tapas/pinchos with our drinks.

The next morning, after breakfast and a quick walk to look at the cathedral once more, we grabbed our bags, walked to the parking garage, and set out, homeward bound.

Phil wrote about our Galician road trip here. Check it out for more photos and a different perspective.

Galicia the Beautiful, Part 2: Ribeira Sacra

After leaving the city of Lugo, we headed to Ribeira Sacra. An area known for it’s wild beauty, breath taking vistas, and vineyards planted on the steep slopes of the valleys and canyons of the rivers Sil and Miño.

Our drive into the mountains was equal parts beautiful and terrifying, with narrow roads, blind curves, and huge drop-offs with small, or often, no guard rails. I was glad to be driving the manual transmission as we climbed and descended though I was not as glad to be driving the manual transmission when I had to parallel park between two cars on the side of a damn mountain or navigate an impossibly tight turn that was a real three-point situation, again, on the side of a damn mountain! Our good friend, Diana, who lives in Gijón, told me after we returned that she intentionally did not tell me about the mountain driving because she did not want to make me nervous. Good looking out, cause I am certainly glad she didn’t; I had to do it either way and best not to worry too much ahead of time.

We could not check into our accommodations until 4:30pm so decided to check out one of the many monasteries in the area, Santo Estevo. Like the Convento de San Macos we visited in León, the Monastery of Santo Estevo has been converted into a luxury hotel by the Parador Hotel chain. Parador is a state run, luxury Spanish hotel chain that was established in 1928 as a means to promote tourism in the country. All of their hotels are located in adapted castles, palaces, fortresses, convents, monasteries and other historic buildings.

After walking around the monastery and grabbing a coffee in the hotel bar, we were back on the road, weaving and climbing through the breathtaking mountains. I pulled over at one of the periodic gravel pull-offs to take in a particularly gorgeous view and Phil noticed a sign for Mirador de Vilouxe pointing down a steep incline across the road. We still had time time to kill before our hotel opened so we figured, why not take a look. And what a look it was.

We parked our car as indicated ,near a small chapel and proceeded on foot through the town, following arrows and feet that had been spray painted on the ground, leading the way to the lookout point. Holy Moly. The views of the river Sil were truly awesome. We were up so high that being even near-ish (like eight feet back) to the edge of the cliff made me a little nervous. Ok, very nervous. It was totally worth the mild initial anxiety to stand, hand-in-hand with Phil and breath in the fresh air and take in the spectacular, wild, nature around us.

Our alojamiento rural (rural accomodations) near the town of Parada de Sil, Hotel Olar de Rabacallos, was down many winding roads, near the edge of the Sil river. It was carved perfectly into the hill in a truly stunning setting. We had a serene view of the river from our room and could see the many terraced vineyards all over the steep river banks. The hotel proprietor who greeted us was warm and welcoming. She showed us a well worn map of the area and pointed out different attractions that might interest us. We took a photo and thanked her, inquired about breakfast the next morning, and headed up to our room to relax for a bit before meeting up with a friend from our intercambio (language exchange) meetup group for dinner in Ourense, an hour’s drive west.

The next morning, we enjoyed a delicious breakfast of coffee, juice, toast from really, really good homemade bread, butter, jam, ham and cheese, and bizcocho (dense, yellow sponge cake). We enjoyed an extra cup of coffee outside, overlooking the Sil, respira el aire. We took a quick walk down to the water’s edge before packing up to hit the road toward our final stop of Santiago de Compostela. Even with the scary mountain driving, I would definitely go back to Ribeira Sacra. Kayaking the river Sil in spring or summer would be a dream.

As we climbed up the mountain from the river’s edge, we just kept on climbing. Up, up higher than we’d ever been with views so beautiful I couldn’t look away other than to pray and stare at the winding road, of course. As we rounded a big corner, we passed a small look out area and pulled over onto the gravel. From there, we saw one of the most surreal things I’ve ever seen with both feet planted on the ground. We stood together, looking down on the clouds.

We made one more monastery stop before leaving the area. The Monastary San Pedro de Rocas, the oldest monastic complex in Galicia, built in the 6th century. It was a very happening spot late on a Sunday morning. They had a cute, little museum (with bathrooms!) that talked about the monks’ wine making. The large, outdoor structures (stone steps and magnificent archways) were more impressive than the building itself.

Just as the monastery was becoming overly crowded, we hopped back in the car, Santiago de Compostela bound.

Stay tuned for more about Santiago de Compostela!

Galicia the Beautiful, Part 1: Lugo

For my birthday this year, we decided to take a road trip through Galicia, Asturias’s neighboring autonomous community to the west. I did not know a lot about Galicia before we left other than 1) it rains a lot there (even more than in Asturias), 2) the Camino de Santiago pilgrimage route ends there, and 3) it has great seafood, pulpo (octopus) in particular. My hair colorist was just telling me that he hates seafood but loves pulpo, “Me encanta pulpo,” he said. With the largest coastline in Spain, bordered both by the Atlantic Ocean and the Cantabrian Sea, Galicia has plenty of access to fresh seafood and every Spaniard we’ve talked with about Galicia has said how wonderful the food is there. If that weren’t enough, they also make great wine. I love Galicia.

We rented a car for the trip for the first time since being in Spain, and were excited at having the ability to go to places the bus or train cannot easily reach. We actually did a practice run with the car two days prior and took a lovely day trip to Cantabria (Phil wrote about it here). Phil never learned to drive a manual and I had never driven a six-speed before so after finally figuring out how to get into reverse, we were off and running with no problem.

We left Gijón at 5:30 and enjoyed beautiful views from the road until the sun went down. Out of a bus window, one can catch glimpses of the countryside but being in the drivers seat, I was able to fully enjoy the glorious rolling green hills and views of the Cantabrian Sea, eyes wide and mouth agape (all while driving safely and responsibly, I should add). As we neared the city of Lugo, we climbed a bit in elevation, as noted by the road signs, but could not see the mountains in the dark.

We arrived at our hotel, the Hotel Balneario de Lugo – Termas Romanas, a little before 8pm. The hotel sits atop the old Roman baths of Lugo and on the banks of the Río Miño. They have a small museum dedicated to the termas romanas under the hotel and a spa offering a variety of services incorporating the healing waters of the ancient hot springs. In fact, they had a promotion that included an overnight stay, breakfast, and an hour and a half thermal circuit incorporating four spa services. Bathing in the same thermal waters as the Romans did is pretty darn cool, and if they have healing powers, what a bonus!

Photo I borrowed from the hotel’s website

Something I had not thought of when booking the hotel was the fact that natural hot springs smell like sulfur aaaaaand the hotel sits atop of the natural hot springs and well, the hotel smelled like sulfur. Oh well, no problem. I went to high school in a town in mid-Missouri that had sulfur smelling water and believe you me, there were no healing properties to it.

The hotel felt like one of those places that used to be very swanky but is no longer in it’s prime, clean and in good shape, just a bit dated. The reception staff were very nice and helped us make our spa appointment for the next day. They would bring us chanclas (flip flops) and robes in the morning; we just needed to put on our bathing suits and flip flop our way on down to the reception desk. Bathing suit? Damn! I forgot my bathing suit. Luckily there was a Carrefour (basically Spain’s Walmart) less than five minutes away. We could run there in the morning and grab a suit. Phew.

As we exited the elevator to our room, motion sensor lights came on to reveal a large sitting area with ten 70+-year-olds relaxing on the chairs and couches. It was a little startling and we offered a quick “Hola” before heading down the hallway to our room. Had those folks just been sitting quietly in the dark before we arrived? As we rounded the corner towards our room, I noticed how wide the hallways were. That, in addition to all of the sitting areas, and the way in which our room was decorated made me say to Phil, “I think we’re staying in an assisted living facility.” We both chuckled a bit but having worked in assisted living facilities and nursing homes, I know a geriatric residential setting when I see one. What the heck was going on here?

From our room, we took in the beautiful view of the Roman bridge over the Miño river, and set out to find food. Given that we were in a mountainous region, we did not escape climbing (escalar, escalar) our way into town. Phil did a quick search of nearby restaurants and found a well rated burger place. I was tired and a burger sounded great. I decided my Galician seafood feast could wait for another day.

It was significantly colder in Lugo than in Gijon and when we arrived at the restaurant; it was in the low forties. We had, however, just made a long walk and steep climb, so were keen to sit outside. We had coats on and the tables were situated under a large awning, so the periodic misting rain was no problem. The La Urbana Burger Bar had very friendly and quick service which is not necessarily the norm for Spain. It was nice to be a bit catered to after our drive and climb. The waiter even offered unsolicited recommendations which were much appreciated. Phil had the Italian burger with salami, mozzarella arugula, marinara, and balsamic and I the Urbana Piamonte which had tomato jam, crispy onions, smoked bacon, and gorgonzola. We each had a beer to wash it down and it was perfection. We were quite full and decided against desert until the waiter recommended the blueberry cheesecake with Oreo crust. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, so we ordered one to share. It came in a cute little jar and was heavenly.

We took a slightly different route back to the hotel after dinner and passed the city center and Roman wall so, of course, had to check it out. Lugo’s city center is entirely enclosed by two kilometres of Roman wall which is still intact. In fact, one can walk around the entire city center on top of the wall. It is very cool and a real must see if you’re in Galicia, en mi opinion.

As we returned to the hotel, we could see a large group of older adults in the cafe/bar area enjoying refreshments, singing and dancing with a few folks who appeared to be younger, employees of the “hotel.” “This is definitely an assisted living facility!”, I screeched to Phil.

The next morning, I pulled up the hotel’s website as I thought I’d seen something about a senior discount when booking and I needed to know what was up with all of the old people. Upon further review, I discovered they offer two week packages to “pensioners” which includes daily spa treatments under the supervision of the spa doctor. It all made sense. I wasn’t crazy. There were a lot of old people staying there and it is kind of like a residential living center.

After my internet sleuthing, we had breakfast in the cafe. We were lucky to score a table as it was relatively full. We were the youngest people there by at least 30 years. They offered a number of choices and we each had toast with butter and jam, fresh pears, orange juice, and coffee. As we left, Phil pointed out that one of the tables close to us also had a plate of sliced ham and cheese and said we should get that the follow morning.

After breakfast, we were off to buy a bathing suit. Unfortunately, there were no bathing suits to be found so a black sports bra and black pair of polyblend undies would have to suffice. Close enough.

We were back at the reception desk in our robes and chanclas at 11am sharp. The young woman working handed me a slip of paper and advised us to go downstairs and give it to the woman in the spa. I did and shortly thereafter, another woman lead us down a stone hallway with tiny rooms. We disrobed and de-masked in one room and were taken to another. This one had a shower in it. It looked like a semi-circular, cylindrical metal cage. One stepped into it and hundreds of tiny jets of water tickled and massaged the body. It went roughly from the armpits to the knees. I took my turn in the shower as the woman led Phil into the room across the hall. After about ten minutes, we switched rooms. In my new room, the woman sat with a large hose and proceeded to spray me down, like a prisoner or a zoo animal. As soon as the warm water hit my joints and she strategically used the water to massage the body, those thoughts melted away. It felt amazing.

Next we were off to the large thermal pool. There were individual metal railings on the pool’s edge that one could hold on to and face forward or backward as underwater jets messaged the body. Eyes closed, turning forward and back as felt good, we relaxed in the healing waters, straight up Cocoon-ing with the older folks.

After exiting the pool, the young attendant handed me a small packet wrapped in plastic. I asked her to repeat what she’d said as I didn’t understand. I still wasn’t exactly sure but I thought she indicated I could go into the locker room and put my wet “suit” in it. I motioned to my suit and then the bag and she replied “exactamente.” I went into the locker room, showered, then opened the little packet to get what I assumed was a small bag. It was not. It was a pair of paper underwear. Confused, I put them on and assumed the last treatment must be some sort of message. I put my robe on over them and stepped out of the locker room as I heard Phil call my name. At the door of the men’s locker room he asked, “did you put that thing on that they gave you? I thought she was giving me an extra mask.” I responded that I did and he disappeared back into the locker room. He emerged directly and we were ushered to a dark room with soothing music. They had what looked like fancy lawn chairs covered in sheets. The woman indicated we should take our robes off and sit down under the top sheet. We did and she left the room for a few minutes then returned with orange juice and this glorious mentholated lotion that she rubbed our legs down with. Another woman came in and put a heavy, weighted (it reminded me of the lead apron they put over you for ex-rays), warm-something-wonderful on our backs. We sat in silence and were completely and totally relaxed. It was fantastic.

After our spa treatment, it was time to eat! In search of pulpo we went. We were glad to find a restaurant called A Lareira. After a half hour walk and all of the spa-ing, I was really hungry. I proceeded to order the pulpo, fried calamare, and corquettes. The waitress stopped me, mid-order and indicated I was ordering too much food and that if I was still hungry after what she brought, we could always order more. I appreciated that and sat back and waited for the delights to come. She returned with a bottle of white wine, bread, un montón (heap) of pulpo, boiled potatoes, pimientos de Padrón, and a plate of croquettes.

The pulpo did not disappoint. It has a very meaty texture like lobster and the flavor, to me, was a bit like delicious, salty pork. It was dusted with a spicy paprika. The croquettes were amazing and unlike any others we’ve had. Some were filled with a squid ink béchamel, the other with traditional jamon and béchamel, and the third with something that tasted like lobster bisque. It was all excellent.

After lunch, we were off to see the Roman wall in the light of day. It is incredible that it is essentially all intact and you can take a stroll on it.

The next morning we grabbed breakfast in the hotel cafe again before viewing the small Roman baths museum in the hotel, and hitting the road. The waitress started listing our various breakfast options. I again ordered juice, coffee, fruit, and toast with butter and jam. Phil said, “I thought we were going to get ham and cheese?” to which I responded, “I liked my toast and jam yesterday.” He then told the waitress that he wanted the same thing I ordered AND ham and cheese. She then asked us if we also wanted her to bring bizcocho as well. We said yes even though we had no idea what it was because well, we like food. We figured it sounded like biscuit and biscotti and we like both of those things so why not. She returned with a plate of yellow cake that was delightful and tasted like a cross between sponge cake and pound cake. She then brought us everything else we ordered, including a large plate of ham and cheese. I realized that when the waitress was listing off breakfast items, she was telling us everything they had. We didn’t have to choose. We could have it all. I could have toast and jam AND ham and cheese. I wasn’t taking more than my share. I wasn’t asking for extra. It was all included and all I had to do was ask for it.

Often we impose limits on ourselves based on false perceptions or assumptions. We don’t ask for or seek out all we really want because we like what we have just fine. We can’t see beyond our current circumstances or limitations because we don’t look. We do not even know to look. I’m glad that Phil reminds me to look. Load up on the good stuff. There’s a long road yet to travel. All you have to do is ask for it.

Part 2 coming soon! Below is a photo dump from our day trip El Capricho de Gaudí in Cantabria and pit stop in Ribadesella that Phil wrote about. Enjoy!

A Royal Weekend in León: Part 2

We returned to León from Astorga on Friday afternoon and headed back to our hotel to freshen up a bit. On the way, Phil grabbed us an empanada with something amazing inside (a mix of sausage, cabrales cheese, and a sweet tomato sauce) and a slice of layered cake with custard and toasted meringue. Not too shabby for a quick travel lunch. Since we weren’t able to tour the Palacio de Gaudi and I wanted a Gaudi fix, we made our way to Casa Botines, another Gaudi designed building.

I really like Gaudi’s style. When we were in Barcelona in 2008, we visited Park Güell and saw the outside of the famed Sagrada Familia. His style is often referred to as Catalan modernism with neo-gothic and art nouveau influences. I refer to it as fairy-tale trippy. Either way, it’s super cool.

Casa Botines was designed and built for a fabrics company with the owner’s residence and company offices on the first floor and rental property (tenements and medical and business offices) on the upper floors. Ironically, the coolest thing about our visit to Casa Botines wasn’t the architecture, it was a Salvador Dalí exhibit tucked away in a relatively small room on the third floor. In the late 1950’s, the Italian government commissioned Dalí to illustrate Dante’s Divine Comedy in celebration of the Italian author’s 700th birthday. The commission eventually came to nothing due to international uproar at the fact that a Spanish, not an Italian, artist was chosen for the job. Dalí wanted to finish the project anyway, and between 1959 and 1963, completed one hundred and one water colors illustrating particular scenes from the Divine Comedy. Approximately thirty of these, signed prints are a part Casa Botines’ permanent collection, and, as you can see below, are extraordinary.

After Casa Botines it was time to eat. We hit up a few tapas bars and munched on a couple of raciones. The biggest score of the night was a small plate of croquettes that tasted like jalapeno poppers and a dish called morcilla de León. Morcilla de León that looks a bit like and has the consistency of Texas chili con carne (without beans). The flavor is a bit smokier with just a hint of sweetness. It was hearty and warming and delightful. We happily spooned it into our mouths with the chunks of bread provided.

I enjoyed it so much, I googled it to see what was in it as I was confounded as to what exactly I was tasting. Mocilla de León (sometimes referred to as Spanish black pudding) is blood sausage that traditionally contains only pig’s blood and onions (what!?!), though often breadcrumbs, rice, fat, and/or other spices are added for texture and flavor. It is cooked in a bit of water for a period of about ten minutes and served in a clay pot as raciones or tapas. So my favorite Leonese delight is onions and pig’s blood with a little water? Well, it’s delicious so yes, I guess it is. I guess it is.

The next day we slept in, left our bags at the front desk of the hotel, since our train home to Gijón didn’t depart until late in the evening. Our first stop after leaving the hotel was the Santa María de Regla de León Cathedral, or Cathedral de León for short. We had been advised it was a must see even though they do charge an entrance fee, something we are usually not inclined to do at churches. We both really like stained glass and the Cathedral promised some of the most beautiful in Europe, so we paid the fee. It was well worth it.

The cathedral is one of the greatest works of Gothic architecture in the world with vaults and arches as far as the eye could see. The stained glass was everything we’d been promised and the midday sun illuminated the colors brilliantly.

After visiting the cathedral, we decided to have a tapas lunch. It was Saturday so old town was really bustling. The first place we stopped at gave us slices of pizza, not exactly a Leonese delicacy (I mean, pig’s blood and onions is pretty tough to beat) but it was pizza so by definition, pretty good. After this we wandered a bit to try to find a quieter place slightly off the main drag. We were successful and enjoyed some cured meats and cheeses. Still not satiated, we were off again to find something more substantial. We found ourselves on the street directly behind the Cathedral. It was nice and quiet. We didn’t pass anyone else and enjoyed a peaceful walk beside an old, stone Roman wall. On our walk, we happened upon a restaurant selling specialty hot dogs. Phil and I aren’t people who eat a lot of hot dogs typically but given the right situation, say, a baseball game or outside of a concert off a makeshift grill at 2am, we are all about hot dogs. Phil asked me which one we should get (we shared one and it was a good thing we did because it was HUGE). I responded, “the one with macaroni & cheese and bacon, duh.” And so, we had a giant hot-dog with macaroni & cheese and bacon and a plate of fries for lunch. “Que muy Americano” I told the young fellow working the counter. He explained to us that though he had never been to the US, he imagines when he does, the food will be much like what they serve. He’s not wrong.

After lunch, we walked over to check out the Convento de San Macos. A former convent and jail that is now a five-star hotel, with the exception of the attached church and small museum. The church and gratis museum did not take long to tour and we decided to go into the hotel and look around. We first stopped in the hotel bar for a coffee before moving on to the upper floors and lovely indoor courtyard. Phil wrote in more detail about it here.

After San Marcos, we walked to the MUSAC (Museo de Arte Contemporaneo de Castilla y León). They had a wonderful exhibition by the Polish artist Goshka Macuga. Phil also writes about our trip to the MUSAC so I won’t go into detail other than to say it was a very enjoyable visit and I highly recommend a trip should you find yourself in León.

After the MUSAC, we slowly made our way back to the hotel to pick up our bags but not before having one more tapas snack for the road. We were given a small plate of bollo embarazada (pregnant bun) filled with chorizo and we ordered a raciones plate of Morcilla de León…when in León.

As we boarded our train, I settled in for a comfy ride home to Gijón, feeling warm and happy, beyond pleased with our fall weekend trip to León.