Jess Barrington Travels

“You are a very lucky girl”

Ten or so years ago, I won a painting by a Portuguese artist named Nagualero, that he was giving away in an online drawing. I felt very lucky to have won as there were many, many entrants. The painting’s title was, “Make Your Own Luck.” Phil and I take this sentiment to heart and try to make our own luck in life as much as possible.

I am very grateful to be able to enjoy a year of mid-career retirement to live in Spain. It is truly amazing and I am thankful everyday that things worked out for us to be able to live this dream. A few times since we’ve been here, I have had folks from back home tell me, “You are so lucky that you get to live in Spain.” While I know their intention was to express their happiness for me and us, my initial, internal reaction to this statement, was mild defensiveness. Why? Well, when I heard, “You’re so lucky,” I felt that it implied this is something that was given to us, like we won a scratch-off lotto ticket and the grand prize was a year in Spain.

Our move was something that took planning, hard work, and saving. We took funds from savings that would have gone toward our later life retirement and are using it now. Plus, we do not have children, so we do not have all of the expenses that go along with having kids. After my initial defensive thoughts, however, I thought about all the ways in which luck has indeed played a role in getting me here; I am educated, I have had good career opportunities and well paying jobs, I was born white and benefit from all of the privilege that it entails, and I have wonderful partner and love of my life who encourages me and cheers me on in accomplishing my goals.

To continue with making our own luck, Phil and I recently traveled to Italy. What started out as looking at cheap airfare to Romania, turned into buying tickets to Milan. We had been to Milan before and knew we did not want to spend much time there. We debated a bit about which way to travel from Milan and ultimately decided to visit Cinque Terre and Florence. After arriving in Milan around 10pm, we headed to our hotel near the train station, grabbed a quick bite; the first of many pizza margherita’s we would enjoy during our trip. The next morning, we headed to the train station and rode the three hour trip to La Spezia, a city just outside of Cinque Terre. La Spezia is conveniently located and much cheaper than staying in Cinque Terre. It also has its own happening vibe and we enjoyed our time there. In fact, we initially planned to drop our bags at our hotel in La Spezia and immediately head to Cinque Terre via the quick and easy train that runs throughout the day but we decided instead to explore La Spezia. We walked around the marina near the port and enjoyed leisurely drinks at a couple of spots near the water before heading to our dinner reservation.

Al Solita Posto was the name of the cute little place we had dinner. We chose a table outside and were the only diners. We passed several bustling patios on the walk there, so felt lucky to have the whole patio to ourselves. We wanted to try several dishes on the menu and opted to split them all as a favor to both our bank account and bellies. The chef was nice enough to plate our portions separately and the presentation was lovely. We ordered lamelle de anatra e carciofi friti (duck with fried artichokes), ravioli della nostra (a traditional ravioli in beef ragu), and pork belly with potatoes and rosemary. We did, however, each opt for a desert because, well, we like desert. I cannot remember the name of the deserts but were both really good. I’m just going to call them a pistachio ice cream yum and the other a chocolate something good.

After we ordered our food, Phil went inside to use the restroom and the waitress came outside to bring our wine. As she opened the bottle, she started asking about where we were from and what we were doing in Italy. I was feeling particularly chatty after Phil accidentally ordered us each a liter of freakin beer at the last place we stopped at in the marina, so I told her all about the pandemic being a wake up call and our process of moving from L. A. to Spain (you can read about what brought us to Spain here, if you haven’t already). After my needlessly long-winded answer to the sweet woman’s question, she replied very sincerely as she looked me in the eyes,”You are a very lucky girl” and the response that immediately popped into my head, which I did not say out-loud was “don’t I fucking know it, lady.” Instead, I simply said, “Yes, I am,” and she headed back inside. And that was that. I am lucky. I do know it. We’ve made our own luck and we’ve happened into luck but we are lucky. I am lucky.

The next day, we headed to the marina to get our tickets for the Cinque Terre boat taxi. Cinque Terre is a string of five, centuries old, seaside villages built into the cliff-side on the Italian riviera. Cinque Terre actually reminds me a lot of the Asturian village of Cudillero that I wrote about when my cousin, Hannah, visited. There are hiking trails between the villages and a train that runs through them all but we opted for the boat taxi and it was very cool to see each village from the water.

Our first stop was the village of Vernazza. We passed the crowds and restaurants of the main square and made our way up some of the narrow, climbing, stone staircases. We happened upon the coolest, family-run restaurant with breath-taking views near the top of a very narrow staircase. Years ago, I pinned the following photo to my Pinterest vision board (go ahead, roll your eyes):

At the time I pinned it, I had no idea where it was, just that it was a beautiful place and I thought, “I want to go there!” I am now almost certain the photo is of Cinque Terre. The restaurant Phil and I ate at recreated this vision for me almost exactly:

As I sat there with the man I love, looking town on the sea, the boats, and the village, I thought to myself, “I am a very lucky girl.”

Phil wrote about our trip to Italy here and here. We try not to write the same details or stories, so check out his blog for additional information and photos. Stay tuned for another post from me soon about our time in Florence.

Having drinks and climbing mountains; A Typical Asturian Weekend

I intended to post this on 9/22/21 but did not finish it in time before Phil and I left for a week’s trip to Italy, so the timeline mentioned is a week off. Posts coming soon about the Italy trip!

Recently, Phil and I attended a meetup group in the nearby town and capital of Asturias, Oviedo. The group was an intercambio (language exchange) group. When we arrived in Oviedo that evening, we were very surprised to find a LOT of people and happenings. It was, unbeknownst to us, the first day of Las Fiestas de San Mateo (The festival of Saint Matthew), a ten day festival. It was intense.

We met the group at a local bakery; Oscar, the facilitator, Teresa, Oscar’s friend who was visiting from Sevilla, Carlos, an abogado (attorney) from Oviedo, and Cris, Oscar’s co-worker with whom he teaches English at a local public school. As the exchange began, we spoke mostly in English but after about thirty minutes, transitioned into Spanish. We spoke a bit and listened a lot. It’s exciting to me that I am beginning to understand Spanish much more. We walked to another establishment and sat outside and shared a few bottles of sidra. After sharing the sidra, some stories, and a few laughs, the liveliness in the streets felt less intense and much more jubilant.

After Phil and I boarded our 12:30 a.m. bus back to Gijon, we decided we wanted to return the following Saturday to experience a bit more of the San Mateo festivities, specifically earlier in the day before everything evolved into a drunken street party (not that there’s anything wrong with that. Three cheers for drunken street parties!). So, this past Saturday, we did just that, arriving in Oviedo around 4:30 p.m. I had been jokingly been referring to the festivities as “San Mateo Days” to Phil as a nod to the small, Midwestern summer and fall festivals I grew up with. In fact, it felt very similar to a festival in the states; vendors selling handmade, artisanal wears,carnival rides, and food and drink vendors

One of the most popular days of the festival is the Day of the Americas. During the Day of the Americas, Asturians celebrate Indianos. Indiano is the name given to Spanish emigrants who left Asturias to seek their fortune in Latin America and who returned, years later, fortunes amassed and built large homes, often established charities and cultural institutions, subsidized the building of new schools, churches, town halls, etc.

As we sat out and enjoyed a mojito (a nod to Cuba) on one of the many bustling restaurant patios, we watched several bands and dancers parade through the street, decked out in Ecuadorian, Colombian, and Mexican colors and flags, respectively. It was muy divertido e interesante. After patio hopping a bit, we decided we needed some food and ducked into a cute little bar/restaurant that had a very hip vibe and low lighting. We ordered the nachos, in keeping with the Day of the Americas theme. They were interesting. Two separate, small dishes, one with ground chorizo covered in a white sauce (not cheese, not sour cream, not sure) and in the other refried beans with a greenish, sweet sauce drizzled over them. The beans were, well, sweet. I don’t know if it was just she sauce or both beans and sauce but they were sweet. I’ve had Korean sweet treats made with bean, so I know beans and sweet can go together but it was a bit strange in my nachos. We were hungry and I like chorizo, beans (sweetness be dammed), and tortilla chips, so we ate them all. In the future, however, I believe I will reserve my nacho consumption for Mexican restaurants (there are a couple in Gijon) and my home (because I make bomb-ass nachos).

When we woke up late the following morning, we decided to take the bus to Área recreativa de Monte Deva. Deva is a parish within the municipality of Gijon, a bit outside of the city. The area has several points of interest, including the recreation area and observatory. We decided to head toward the observatory. Now, admittedly, the fact that we were walking to an observatory should have clued us into the fact that we would be climbing up and it did, kind of. As I’ve mentioned before anytime we go anywhere in Asturias we wind up climbing (escalar, escalar), so it wasn’t surprising that the route to the observatory was at an incline. It was very surprising, however, when the incline continued to get steeper and seemed to never end. Up we went as we zigged and zagged ever more, ascending, hoping in vain that after each turn the road would level off. It had to level off at some point, right?

Sweating, panting, and several rest breaks (there were no benches on this route, so rests were taken leaning against a guard rail, fence or tree. At one point I just yogi squatted because I just couldn’t stand anymore) later, we finally reached the area de recreativa. Phil and I are both a little foggy as to exactly how long the climb up took but it was at least an hour and a half. Once at the top, we sat and caught our breath for a while. Phil refilled our water bottle at the natural water fountain, where there happened to be three horses, just chilling. There were several families in the area grilling at the large, charcoal grills provided and a few tents from folks who had camped there overnight.

We found a spot at an empty picnic table with a lovely view of the city and ate the bocadillos (sandwiches on baguettes) and apples we had packed for lunch. Phil suggested I check my phone to see how many [equivalent to] flights of steps we’d climbed reaching the top. I was shocked to see that my phone read seven flights. “Seven?!” I couldn’t believe it and then thought, “Wow, I must be really out of shape.”

We did not walk up to the actual observatory as we had a spectacular view of the city from the area de recreativa and (after a quick google review read by Phil), we decided it was really best suited for a night time star gaze as opposed to a daylight visit. Before we began our decent, I checked my phone again as service was spotty and could not believe we’d only climbed seven flights. Upon opening my phone, I saw this:

Seventy-two floors! Holy moly! It wasn’t until we started walking back down that we realized just how steep of an incline we’d climbed. Had I known when we started, I don’t think I would have walked up (especially after a night of mojitos) but it sure felt like an accomplishment after the fact. After heading back down the mountain, we decided to stop and grab a tinto de verano and croquetas at the restaurant near the bottom. It was a super cute spot where you ordered inside at the small bar and then waited in the large grassy area, covered in picnic tables for them to bring out your order. Before catching the bus back to Gijon we sat in the sunshine, contented smiles on our faces, respirando el aire fresco.

Get a little home in your heart

Lately I have been thinking about the idea of home and the different houses I’ve called home and what home really means to me. My first memory of home, is my childhood home, the first house I shared as a young child with my parents and brother. I remember in the winter, my mom would wake us up in the morning, and, in the living room she had our clothes laid out on the fireplace so we could stay nice and warm as we dressed for the day. I remember spending Christmas morning as a family, sitting on the floor in front of that same fireplace, my parents drinking coffee and my brother and I playing with our new toys and laughing. I remember my mom rocking me in her rocking chair in that house, whenever I was sick or upset. That was home.

It’s not the house we shared that I remember as home, though I try my best to do that too sometimes, being thirty-something years since I’ve seen it. It’s the feeling I remember. The feeling of home; love, warmth, safety, security, and contentment, all combined. I remember being in my late teens, having moved out of my parents home and trying to navigate that sometimes scary place between adolescence and adulthood, and longing for the feeling of being a child, in my mother’s arms, in the rocking chair. I was searching for my new home.

As a gerontologist, I have worked with many older adults with dementia over the years. Often, they will repetitively say, “I want to go home” or maybe even pack their belongings in the middle of the night and try to leave. When asked where they’re going, they will respond, “I’m going home.” They may do this even while residing in a home they have owned for fifty years. A home they raised kids in and lived with their spouse. When they say they want to go home, they mean that first memory of home. A memory they still hold (longest held memories are the very last to go) or, more accurately, a feeling they still hold. They may not know what is wrong but they know something is wrong and they want to go home, to feel home; safe, warm, loved, at ease.

A good friend can certainly feel like home. One of those friends that you can go for months or years without seeing and when you’re together again, it’s like no time has passed. You get together and instantly it’s like you’ve climbed into your favorite pair of jammies and are sipping hot cocoa.

Phil and I bought our first house together in St. Louis and made it a home. That was the first place I’d lived since my childhood that felt like home. I was with my love, we had a cozy little bungalow filled with our personal belongings, and our dog, and it was perfect. I would come home from a long day (or week if I was traveling) of work and sigh contentedly as I opened the door. Home.

After my brother died in 2009, I lost my feeling of home. For about a year and a half, I didn’t feel at home anywhere; not in my house, my own skin, or my head. Let me tell you, that is an empty feeling. Actually, it’s not even a feeling. It is the total lack of feeling. Good thing I have a really awesome husband who never gave up on getting his wife back. Also good thing I had enough sense to find a therapist (who encouraged me to try yoga) and a psychiatrist. I eventually became accustomed to my new normal and found home once again.

When Phil and I were preparing to move from St. Louis to California, I struggled with letting go of our house. My cozy little bungalow and all my cool stuff that I had to get rid of before the move. Eventually, it clicked that all of my stuff was just stuff and my house was just a thing. Phil was home. Phil and I together made the home. The only other thing in the house that mattered was our sweet dog, Jebus, and he was coming with, so I had everything I needed. I have never once missed that house since we left. It was a good house and I’m happy we had our time there but I don’t miss it. Ever.

We had a couple of months of limbo before moving to Gijon while we were waiting to hear back from the Spanish consulate about our visas. Our apartment sat, half packed, in disarray and we split our time between Long Beach and Palm Springs (where my father-in-law had an Airbnb he couldn’t rent at the time due to covid restrictions). I remember being in Palm Springs and as I went to grab something out my suitcase one night thinking, “I’m going to be living out of a suitcase for a really long time.” The thought didn’t scare me or make me sad. It was simply a matter of fact. A permanent address does not a home make.

Gijon feels like home now. We didn’t realize it until a few weeks ago, after my cousin Hannah visited and we returned from a few days away. As we drove into the city and neared the bus station, Phil said, “It’s good to be home,” and it was. Home. It doesn’t feel like home because our stuff is here, because our stuff is in fact, not here (well, our clothes and shoes are here).

Maybe home is never a place. For anyone. There’s no place like home because Dorothy knows everyone she loves is there, not because Kansas is such a bomb-ass place to live. People can relocate. You can find new people. You can make your home wherever, and with whomever you want. The saying should really be “Home is where your heartbeat is” or maybe “If you lived here, you’d be home by now,” “Oh yeah, jokes on you, I live nowhere near here and I feel right at home!”

Group tours: They can actually be pretty fun.

Phil and I have been on very few group tours, only three to be exact, including the one I’ll be telling you about here. The first was a free tour of St. Peter’s Basilica in 2004, that we happened upon, while in progress. The guide was so informative that we booked his evening walking tour later that night. It ended up being just us and an older couple from the UK that evening for an amazing two plus hour tour around the city.

The second time we took a group tour was at the Doge’s Palace, in Venice, in 2019. The guide was also great and we even visited a few rooms not open to the general public, one was the cell of the famous Casanova, which was super cool. We were part of a relatively large group and, moving through small corridors, by the end of the two hours, we were ready for it to conclude.

This past Tuesday we took our longest group tour yet, an almost 12 hour day, start to finish, to Lagos de Covadonga (Lakes of Covedonga) in the Picos de Europa national park, and then to the nearby town of Cangas de Onís. We booked this group tour through a travel agency (a what?). You heard me, travel agents and travel agencies are still alive and well in Spain, or at least in Asturias. There are many travel agency offices in Gijón that we walk by regularly. They post available group tours in their windows and they offer everything from an afternoon jaunt to local attractions to a two-week European tour. The day trips around Asturias were appealing to us because 1) We don’t have a car 2) necesitamos practicar español (we need to practice speaking Spanish) and hanging out with a bus load of Spaniards kind of ensures we’ll speak at least a little Spanish and 3) we want to explore more of Asturias and do fun stuff.

After looking at the flyers posted in windows of travel agencies many times, we finally decided to go in and book a trip. It was easy and the fact that we speak limited Spanish did not phase the travel agent at all. We told her the trip we wanted and the days we were available to go. The tours require a minimum number of people to join so the agency calls folks on the list the day before the trip if it’s a go. We got a call Monday evening stating they would pick us up the next morning at eight in Plaza del Carmen. We winced a bit at the pick up time (we haven’t had to be anywhere by 8 am in quite a while) and confirmed we were in.

We’ve seen a few different tour buses and vans around so weren’t sure what size of vehicle to expect. I was a little surprised to see a full sized bus pull up. We boarded with a few other couples and headed on to the next stop. The tour guide was personable (a must for the job, I suppose) and spoke decent English. He explained to us that he would be giving all information for the day in Spanish but if we had any questions, he would be happy to answer them in English. We pulled out of Plaza del Carmen and headed to the next stop. There were two more pick up spots in Gijon and one in Oviedo as well. By the time we were finally headed to Covodonga, the bus was full.

We rode through the rolling green hills of Asturias. I will never tire of looking at them. The tour guide provided information about Covadonga and the Picos de Europa as we neared the park. We understood a good bit of what he said, which felt good. Winding up the mountain, I was glad we didn’t drive. Buses and cars narrowly squeeze by each other on the road leading up. Luckily there was plenty of beautiful scenery to occupy my attention.

We passed a goat herd and SO MANY VACAS (cows). In fact, as we disembarked the bus, it smelled like Missouri. It was a challenge to avoid the giant cow pies that covered the ground, as far as the eye could see. The cows roamed free, paying no mind to of all of the tourists that surround them. Phil and I joked with the tour guide about all of the folks taking photos of the cows. With breathtaking views of the mountains and lakes, the first thing they did was walk up to the cows and start snapping away.

We passed lake Enol in the bus on our way up to lake Ercina. After we stopped, our tour guide suggested we climb the hill a bit (escalar, escalar) between the two lakes for some great views and photo ops. We took his advice, hop-scotching over cow pies as we climbed. We had about an hour and half of free time to check out the lakes as we pleased. The views between did not disappoint. There were a LOT of people there. August is the most popular month for Spaniards to vacation and why not get away to the beautiful green mountains, mild temperatures, and unlimited vaca sightings that Asturias has to offer?

After taking in the views, we descended the hill and grabbed a can of beer at the bustling cafe near the bus parking lot. We stood outside and drank our cold ones, observing all of the people and once again, simply soaked in the views and beauty of nature. We boarded the bus at 12:45 to make our 1:30 lunch reservation in Cangas de Onís.*

Lunch was not included in the price of the tour (some tours offer this) but for an extra €15, you could reserve a spot through the tour company at a local restaurant for the menu del dia. Fifteen euros is a bit more than we’d pay for a weekday menu del dia in Gijón but given that Cangas de Onís is a high traffic tourist area, it seemed reasonable. The food was good, nothing amazing but you can’t go wrong with fabada (Asturian bean stew with chunks of porky goodness) and albóndigas (Spanish meatballs) in tomato sauce, served with fries of course and vino tinto (red wine). For desert we had arroz con leche (rice pudding). The star of lunch wasn’t the food but our lunch companion, Peter. Peter, a security guard from Barcelona, was on a 12-day vacation in Asturias, staying in Gijón in a hotel near the bus station. He had already been to Oviedo, Cudillero, and Aviles. His father had been from Catalonia and his mother from Basque country. Peter is not a fan of Asturian sidra but loves vino tinto. I tell you all of this about Peter, not because I’m writing an unauthorized biography but because Peter did not speak any English. We were able to have a simple conversation with him, completely in Spanish! We understood most of it at least, enough to get the gist. What’s more, we were able to tell him information about us and he understood, sometimes after a few tries on our part and some simple pronunciation corrections from him but we did it. Poco a poco (little by little) we are getting better.

After lunch, the bus took us up the hill a bit where we had an hour to check out the sites. As we got off the bus, Phil asked the tour guide what we should see. He obliged, sending us toward the Church in the Holy Cave in the Mountain of Covadonga (AKA The Cave of Our Lady) then La Basilica de Covadonga. He said seeing both would only take about 30 minutes and then we’d have another 30 minutes to grab a coffee or a beer at the cafe or bar nearby. We took his advice and followed that itinerary exactly. The chapel in the cave was very cool but there were a lot of people in a small space, so we didn’t dawdle. Lining the cave leading to the small chapel were shelves of lit candles that people had left as prayers for others. As we excited the chapel we noticed four candle vending machines! Handy, I suppose for those who didn’t have a candle in their day-pack at the ready (but really, who doesn’t?).

We then headed to the basilica which was really something to behold with the stunning mountains behind it. After the basilica, we had time to grab a beer before heading back to the bus and down the road.

We were only on the road for about ten minutes or so before stopping again. Now we were in the town proper of Cangas de Onís. We had an hour and a half to wander around and were advised as to the highlights; the Roman Bridge (not actually Roman at all but built in the 12th century), the river beach along the Rio Sella, and the museum; Aula Del Reino de Asturias. We easily hit up all three. The museum was tiny but pretty cool, containing information all about the early history of the Kingdom of Asturias and the fighting off of the Moorish invasion.

We had just enough time to grab a quick caña (small glass of beer) before heading back to the bus. It didn’t take long before I was asleep, waking up shortly before we excited back at Plaza del Carmen at 7:30pm, ending another glorious day in Asturias.

*So, I’m still a bit confused about Covadonga and Cangas de Onís. Initially, I thought Cangas de Onís was a town within the municipality (like a county) of Covadonga but upon researching a bit, apparently it is the other way around (Cangas de Onís is the municipality). So, if I switch back and forth between the two, that is why.

Happy [belated] Assumption of Mary Day!

If you’re a good catholic, you probably know that August 15th is the Assumption of Mary (and a holy day of obligation). I was raised Catholic but am no longer practicing therefore, by definition I suppose, quite a bad Catholic. Either way, I was unaware that August 15th was Assumption Day and in fact, a Spanish national holiday. The holiday was observed on Monday, the 16th. Our language school was closed for the occasion so we had the whole day free. We decided to visit Mirador Parque de La Providencia. If you read my post about the nude beach, the Mirador de La Providencia is where we were heading when we decided to stop at the beach instead.

We knew the parque was quite a far walk so we decided to take the bus there and then walk back. The bus rode us to north east Gijon, up up the hills we went, past large homes, and a couple of hotels. We hopped off the bus in a residential area and made the short walk to a stone path that hugs the coastline (a continuation of the city’s paseo maratimo along San Lorenzo Beach).

The parque was about a 20-minute walk from the bus stop. It was supposed to be cloudy all day but the sun was shining brightly (I still have a rather unfortunate sunburn in my hairline as evidence). The view of the water from along the clifftop path was glorious; the water various shades of blue. We stopped at the hotel La Colina to enjoy a cold beverage on their patio before carrying on. The hotel is very charming and in an ideal location.

Photo of the hotel that I borrowed from expedia.com

The Mirador la Providencia is a monument in the center of the park. Unlike most of the statutes and monuments we’ve seen in Gijon, I felt that Mirador La Providencia more visually pleasing at a distance. It reminded me of the bow of a large ship. The park was quite inviting with its rolling green hills and more beautiful sea views including the isle of Tortuga that lay just a few feet offshore. We spread out a blanket and enjoyed a picnic lunch in the grass, overlooking the water, before carrying on.

The walk home was primarily down hill and seemed much easier and quicker than our previous walk to Playa Peñarrubia, which we passed on the way home. Why, when people say, “things are going downhill” does it imply things are bad? Walking downhill is waaaaay better than uphill. I’ll take downhill any day.

Bilbao and Santander

When my cousin Hannah visited a few weeks ago, we spent several days in Bilbao and a day and a half in Santander. I had intended to write about both but as you know, have not. Phil, however, did write about it on his blog so you can still check out our pictures and read all about it! Check it out!

https://waypastcool.org/2021/08/07/spain-travels-trip-1-bilbao/

https://waypastcool.org/2021/08/11/spain-travels-trip-1-5-santander/

So, we walked 20 kilometres the other day

That’s twelve and a half miles! I mean, we didn’t run a marathon or anything but that’s a whole lotta steppin’. After Spanish class we ate an early lunch and then set out for Parque Arqueologico-natural de la Campa Torres. We knew it would take us an hour and forty minutes to get there on foot. We had no commitments or plans for the day and could take our sweet time, plus there was a bus that stopped near La Campa Torres that we figured we could take home if needed.

The early walk took us through the neighborhoods of El Natahoyo and La Calzada in Gijon. We had walked to Playa de Arbeyal, which is near the Gijon port, in Natahoyo before so had seen a good bit of the barrio already but I had no idea what a bustling area it was near the neighborhood center. El Natahoyo has a working class family feel to it that I like. While not the most beautiful area but it has a good vibe to it.

Next was the La Calzada neighborhood of west Gijon. The farther we walked, the more the city disappeared. We were still in Gijon but houses (with yards!) replaced apartment buildings. We even saw a few horses and goats as on we went, climbing hills. I feel like everywhere we go in Northern Spain, we’re walking uphill. Escalar, escalar. I’m not complaining (yes you are) because it’s always worth it.

Phil assured me that somewhere near our destination was a restaurant that we could stop at for a rest. The signs we passed for the restaurant, Les Cabañes, and the promise of a cold beer and a seat kept the pep in my step. After waking for almost an hour and a half, we finally came upon Les Cabañes! They had a large, inviting patio (terraza) that was almost empty with the exception of one other table. We arrived at an odd time, a bit late for lunch and but much too early for dinner. Since we had eaten early lunch at home, now we were looking for a cold drink, a Radler to be specific. Radler’s are very popular in Asturias in the summertime, and why wouldn’t they be? Sixty percent beer, forty percent lemonade, they are delicious and refreshing and with only 2% ABV, you can easily have a couple during the day without feeling (too) tipsy. To accompany our radlers, the waiter brought a small charcuterie plate of chorizo, two types of jamon, and bread. I mentioned in my last post that bars, restaurants and cafes in Asurias often serve a small, gratis plate of food to snack on (pinchos are what they are called) and this particular plate of food was a real score. The chorizo was so good and really really spicy. Spicy food is not common in Spain as Spanish food is very flavorful but not spicy. Phil and I enjoy spicy food so the chorizo was an especially welcomed treat and it paired so nicely with the cold radler.

We decided to have one more cold one before we left and when the waiter returned, I told him how much I liked the chorizo, “Me gusta el chorizo. Es picante.” He responded with a smile and said, “Es picante, no?” and we nodded our heads. So when he returned with our second round of radlers, he also brought another plate with only the spicy chorizo and more bread. It felt rude not to eat it, so we polished off that plate as well.

After we left we told each other we must go back to Les Cabañes and eat a proper meal. They are known for having the “best lamb on a steak” in Asturias, so says their website and a few signs on the patio. I’m not sure if this means it’s an actual lamb leg steak, lamb cooked on a spit, or some other deliciousness I don’t even know about but when we eat there, I will certainly let you know.

When we left the house that afternoon, we decided not to bring our wallets, just a €20 note and my change purse were our funds for the day, as the museum was free and we had already eaten a full lunch. We wouldn’t need a credit card, right? Note to self: always bring the damn card! Although, if we’d had the card, we might still be at Les Cabañes, drinking beer and eating plate fulls of lamb and chorizo. After spending €7 (around $9) at Les Cabañes we carried on. I feel the need to point out that the cost of four beers, and two small charcuterie plates in Los Angeles would have cost at least $45. I don’t usually talk about prices in my posts because I don’t think it adds to the story but c’mon, that’s one heck of a deal!

La Campa Torres was a further 15 minutes away from Les Cabañes. It is located on a clifftop overlooking the sea, from which you can see the beautiful ocean, the city, the port, and the Repsol oil maritime terminal (see the globe below) which is oddly located right next to La Campa Torres. So, a real mixed bag, view-wise, depending on where you look but all in all, it was stunning.

La Campa Torres is the largest maritime fortified enclosure on the entire Asturian coast. It originated in the 5th or 6th century AD, was occupied by various tribes, and Romanized in the 1st century. The area was gradually abandoned with the founding of the Roman city of Gijon (and building of the Roman wall) in the Cimavilla area of modern-day Gijon.

We walked the grounds and the two small museums for a couple of hours before heading back. We walked to the bus stop we had passed near the entrance of La Campa Torres only to discover that the last bus during the week picks up at 3pm… and it was 6:45pm. Soooooooo, we started the long walk home, stopping in La Calzada and then in Natahoyo for a rest and a beer. The large plate of pinchos at Cafe Doza in Natahoyo were much needed for the last stretch of the walk home. Luckily we had just enough left from our €20 to buy bread at the panaderia (making it there with only seven minutes until close, phew!) for dinner that evening. Our trip to La Campa Torres, the walking, the views, the neighborhoods, and the food all added up to a pretty fantastic day!

Day Trip to Cudillero

I have had such an exciting couple of weeks! First, my cousin Hannah, who lives in Denver, made the trip out to visit us. After showing her the best of Gijon, we ventured out of town for a day trip from Gijon to Cudillero, a small, seaside village in Asturias that is known for fishing and tourism. It is also considered one of the most beautiful villages in Spain (according to it’s Wikipedia page) and while I haven’t been to nearly enough villages in Spain to make that call, it is really very lovely.

Cudillero has been on our list of must see places in Asturias and we figured Hannah’s visit was the perfect time to see it. We took the five minute walk over to the Gijon bus station and boarded the 9:30am bus to Cudillero. The hour and a half ride was broken up by a 30 minute stop in the city of Aviles, which is about midway. We had just enough time to walk to a cafe, have some coffee and delicious complimentary churros before hopping on the bus. It is very common in Asturias to be served a complimentary small croissant, cookie, or if you’re lucky, churros (!) with a coffee or juice order. With an alcoholic beverage or soda, you’ll likely receive potato chips, olives, nuts, perhaps a combo of all three or maybe even a small sandwich or other salty snack delight.

I had researched a bit about what to do in Cudillero before our trip, and that was, basically, walk to the bottom of the town and look up at how beautiful it is then walk to the top and look down at how beautiful it is, then eat seafood. We mixed the order (walking down, eating, walking up) and even added in an ocean wall walk.

There was no bus station, rather a covered stop, in Cudillero. Before the bus pulled away, we took our turn asking the bus driver (who we guessed by his mild annoyance, just answered the same question at least four times) when the return trips were and if we could purchase our ticket on the bus. He confirmed both and we breathed a little sigh of relief before descending the narrow, stone sidewalks that hugged the road, toward the sea. The views from the bottom of the town did not disappoint and we decided to grab a beer since we had a few hours before our 2:30 lunch reservation.

We sat and sipped our beer as we enjoyed the view and watched other day trippers walk by. We were not provided any salty delights and after two beers were feeling a bit jollier than expected for noon on a Thursday. We walked on down toward the marina and large seawall. We sat a spell near the water and watched a fisherman gut his fresh catch, throwing entrails toward the appreciative seagulls.

Our lunch reservations were at a Sidreria called Sidreria El Remo. What is a Sidreria? You might ask. Well, Sidra is Asturian hard cider. Unlike English or Irish hard cider, Asturian Sidra is not sweet but rather tart and a bit sour tasting. Full disclosure (which I am somewhat ashamed to admit); prior to Sidreria El Remo, Phil and I had only had sidra one other time since moving to Gijon. I’d read about sidra prior to our move and knew it was not sweet, that it should always be shared, and that it should always be poured (by someone who knows what they are doing) from the height of about a full arm’s reach to create a bit of natural aeration/carbonation. What I did not know, however, when we first tried it, is that what is poured should be drank in one go, immediately after hitting your glass. And well, my first impression of sidra was that it tasted like liquid blue cheese, and not in a good way. Phil and I knew we must try it again. If Asturians love the stuff, there must be a reason.

At Sidreria El Remo, we ordered sidra to accompany our delicious feast. Instead of pouring the sidra for customers themselves, some sidrerias have machines they set on the table that creates a similar carbonation effect as pouring from a great height does but frees up staff [presumably] and allows patrons to pour at their leisure as opposed to waiting for the camarero (waiter) to return. Below is a photo of the sidra pouring machine and a camarero pouring sidra. The camarero pictured is from La Galana in Gijon. The barrel-like pouring station serves as a splash guard for indoor pouring.

In true Jess fashion, I only snapped a couple of food photos because I was so excited to eat and try everything. We had the chorizos a la sidra (chorizo cooked in cider) which was smokey and delicious, the fritos de pixin (fried monkfish) which were huge chunks of meaty fried fish served with lemon, croquetas de jamon, and buchos, a typical dish of Cudillero. The Buchos is a Stew of hake (type of fish) tripe over low heat that is prepared with a ratatouille sauce with chopped onion, garlic and pepper and tomato sauce. Fish tripe stew doesn’t sound great to me but when in Cudillero…It was delicious and everything paired so nicely with the sidra! We even ordered a second bottle. We finished the meal with tarta de la abueula (grandma’s cake) and the pastel de tres chocolates (three chocolates cake). Both were delicious but the three chocolate cake was really something.

After lunch we climbed many winding steps toward the top of the town. Each turn revealed a little window, door, small flower garden, or other magical cuteness tucked away in the maze of winding stone stairs. After taking photos from the top, we slowly made our way toward the bus stop, stopping at a couple of cafes for something to drink along the way. Just as a light drizzle began, the return bus showed up and took us back to Gijon, and we enjoyed the lovely bus ride home alongside the green, Asturian hills.

Heading out the backdoor of Sidreria El Remo

Sometimes You’ve Got to Walk and Smell the Roses

Walking. We do it a lot and, with no car, it is our primary mode of transportation. It’s a good thing as it allows us to explore the nooks and crannies of the city we would not necessarily see in a car or on a bus route. It also allows us to eat bread, cake, and wine almost daily without having to buy new pants. Buying new pants would really eat into my bread, cake, and wine budget.

From many points in the city, one can view a tall clock tower in the distance but we did not know what it was until recently. As part of the city of Gijon’s summer activities (I will write another post with more information on these later), Phil read about a concert being held there, at the Universidad Laboral de Gijon. The complex, originally built as a learning center for orphans, now hosts several cultural institutions (the wikipedia page is worth a read and has great photos). The Universidad is an hour walk from our place and the concert was at 10pm on a Thursday soooooooo, we decided skip that one. We still wanted to make a visit though and when we asked our Profesora about it, she highly recommended we see it. She told us from the top of the clock tower, one can view all of Gijon. The botanical gardens are also right next door, so a real twofer as far as checking out cool stuff.

We decided to make the trek to check out the Universidad Laboral de Gijon and the Jardin Botanico Atlantico de Gijon. We packed a lunch and off we went. The weather was perfect (almost no humidity!) with sunshine and a gentle breeze. The walk felt like it took no time at all. We arrived on the backside of the campus and could not find a way through to the court yard or clock tower. We were about to turn back and walk around the building when we saw a lower level door wide open, so walked on through. It had a very “college campus in the summer” feel, kind of abandoned with no one around but still opened. We saw a sign that read “salida al patio” (exit to the patio) and walked up the stairs toward the door. We exited on the extremely impressive courtyard of the Universidad. It is huge and architecturally stunning. The clock tower and church were both closed (our profesora later told us we could call to make an appointment for a private tour) so we enjoyed our time just walking around the campus and having a picnic lunch in a little nook off the courtyard. We saw at most ten other people the entire time we were there.

My feet were a little tired after our walkabout but the Jardin Botanico was so close, it seemed silly not to go, and it did not disappoint. We walked around the grounds for almost two hours and saw about half of the 25 hectacre grounds (61 acres). We will definitely be going back because it was SO cool! It was populated with fruit trees, flowers from all over the world, poisonous plants in a labyrinth, huge, beautiful trees (including the biggest eucalyptus I have ever seen), dahlias which are super cool because their leaves are almost black which makes the color pop even more, and a ton of other cool plants and nature stuff. Although we passed other people here and there, for the most part, we felt alone, which was also very nice.

After a couple of hours, we were both pretty pooped so we decided to head home. There’s a bus stop right outside of the gardens and we thought it would be a great opportunity to try the city’s bus service and give our feet a rest. We waited about ten minutes before the number 18 rolled in. There were only two other folks on the bus and a short ride later, we got off at a stop near our place. We walked right on past our apartment and directly to the heladeria (ice-cream shop). I had a double scoop; one pistachio and one chocolate and Phil chose strawberry and hazelnut chocolate, both on sugar cones. We sat and ate our ice cream on a bench overlooking the water, which was a perfect way to end a perfect day.

The Introvert Joins Meetup: A tale of Strength and Triumph

A few weeks ago, Phil and I were sitting outside of a cafe, drinking beer, and enjoying the sunshine when he started looking through the local Meetup groups in Gijon. Most groups are still meeting virtually but he found an outdoor yoga class that was meeting in the park. At that point, I hadn’t been to an in-person yoga class in over a year. I was excited to hear about it but a little intimidated at the idea of going to a class in Spanish. I decided even if I don’t know Spanish all that well (yet), I do know yoga, plus it would be a great opportunity to practice my Spanish and listen to others speak.

I attended yoga class the following Monday. It turned out I was the only student who showed up that evening. It also turned out that the instructor, Adelaida, speaks English. Since it was just the two of us, she lead the class in English, which although it did not help me practice my Spanish, I greatly appreciated it. Phil met me at the park after class and I introduced him to Adelaida. She gave us some information about the qigong class she also leads in the park on Wednesdays and told us she sometimes offers weekend excursions near Gijon.

The following Wednesday, Phil and I attended the qigong class together and really enjoyed it. Adelaida also told us about another Meetup group of folks who get together to speak English (typically native Spanish speakers who gather to practice/learn/retain English). She indicated it might be a good opportunity for us to meet folks we could practice Spanish with. The group was meeting in-person for the first time since Covid that Friday night.

Phil and I were both excited for the opportunity to meet more people. Going to socialize with a group of people we don’t know has not historically been my idea of a good time, however: 1. When in Rome 2. After almost no in-person socialization for over a year, my introvert energy tank is all filled up 3. I’m a big believer that you have to get out of your comfort zone to make the magic happen. I don’t always follow this and often it requires an internal pep talk with myself (or an external pep talk from Phil) but I do believe it.

Uncharacteristically (according to Adelaida), almost everyone who showed up for the Friday night Meetup was new to the group. Everyone who attended was also fluent or a native English speaker. We did not get any Spanish practice in but we did have a good time.

Making friends as an adult is hard. All of my close friends are people I’ve either known from childhood or met in college with the exception of a handful of women I befriended at different jobs during my professional career. You could tell everyone at the Meetup was a little nervous but we were all trying, dammit. We put ourselves out there to try to connect with our fellow humans. It was nice. We’re going again this Friday.

At the Meetup group on Friday, Adelaida told us she was leading an excursion to the Austrian village of Villamayor for a hike on Sunday. She even offered to drive us! We were so excited for the opportunity. We have been wanting to explore the Austrian countryside but not having a car makes it a little more challenging. So, Sunday morning, we packed a lunch and off we went!

We arrived at Villamayor around 11:30am and walked a couple of kilometers to the area de recreativo. There was a lush, green (everything is lush green) grassy picnic area with tables, near a running stream. There was even a small refreshment stand selling sidre (local, hard cider) and sandwiches. We passed through the recreation area and down a small path leading to a waterfall and then onto the hiking trail, leading up the mountain. Phil and I walk A LOT but we have not been on a proper hike in quite a while and let me tell you, it was not easy. It was, totally worth it through. Along the way we saw a goat herder with his herd, a few horses, a couple of dogs, and some cows. Oh, the cows.

We stopped along the way to meditate in a small, grassy clearing. During the meditation we concentrated on being one with nature. Being surrounded by the fresh air, trees, grass, and singing birds, it was easy to feel grounded and connected to everything.

We continued on up the mountain after the mediation. Adelaida had told us when we started that we could turn around any time and go back. I was a sweaty, huffing, puffing mess for most of the hike up. I pushed through because it was so beautiful, every turn more so than the last. Finally, however, after crossing over a fence and reaching a field with a few cows, I told her and Phil I was pooped and ready to go back. We were preparing to do so when we ran into some other hikers who informed us that the peak vista was only about 600 meters more on up. I did not care at all and was keen to turn around but after some come on-ing, I conceded and was ready to go for it. We started up the hill and immediately ran into another group of cows, laying directly in our path. Those other hikers I had mentioned had obviously walked right on through the bunch of them. Some of the cows had horns and while I was feeling totally one with nature, I was not down to walk through the cows. I let Phil and Adelaida know I would happily wait for them on the other side of the fence if they wanted to venture on but I was done. Lucky for me, they were both fine with heading back. Everything we had seen that day was so beautiful, we certainly did not feel robbed by not seeing the final vista.

The way down was even better. Not only for the not going uphill anymore part but we also noticed a few things we hadn’t on the trek up. Phil even found a cave that Adelaida had read was on the trail (the summer overgrowth concealed it a bit).

We arrived back to the area de recreativo after the 7.5 mile hike and sat at the picnic benches and ate the lunches we’d packed. Then we finished our time in Villamayor with some more meditation. Listening to the flowing water of the stream and feeling the wind blow, you can’t help but be reminded to go with the flow. I am someone who can easily lean into feeling tight, tense, and anxious. When you are in nature, just breathing and listening, you’re reminded of how insignificant your worries are. We are a small blip in the grand scheme of this glorious, 13.8 billion year old universe. I’m not going to waste that blip on feeling anything but incredibly lucky to have bleeped (well, now you’re just being silly, Jess). So, put yourself out there. Do the thing you’re scared of and don’t be afraid to look foolish. These are all bits of my previously mentioned internal pep talks but if you do something you’re afraid to do, that you just don’t think is in you, I promise, you won’t be disappointed. There’s no better feeling than surprising yourself.