Let us briefly consider the idea of time, a thought that has so often ran rampant in my mind that it has now travelled to my powerless hands and is forcing its way out to be heard. At times, I feel hopeless against this unbeatable force that I am continuously struggling to delay, deter, to push off course in any way; but it is a ruthless power, this time—a force to be reckoned with. I can stand tall in my luckiest corner, wearing and believing in all things lucky, hold out my right arm, and shout my very best, "Halt!" But this river rolls and flows and no damn can stop it. I am constantly wading through a rushing river whose currents want to drag me below, devour me, and send what remains to an endless black sea. As I cannot call upon time and expect it to wait for me, I must learn to control it by any means possible just as the Egyptians studied the flood patterns of the Nile and how to best utilize its power to increase their quality of life. If I do not wish to permanently wager time as my lifelong enemy, I must utilize its full potential, and use it to my advantage. I can't dread time; I have to cherish it, celebrate it. This thought is what brought me to Asturias.
After school on Friday, I was considering the pleasant nature of a nice, relaxing weekend in Valladolid to catch up on the things that so often fall behind; of course, time is not considerate enough to slow itself briefly so that I may fit all into my day that I would hope. But as I stood aimlessly in my room, I fell into this deep thought that told me that the end of my dream in Spain is fast approaching without warning, and soon I would be back in California falling into a routine that I know oh so well. Again, another idea ripped its way out to the surface and demanded that I acknowledge it. My Spanish History teacher, Agustín, told me many times, "Si quieres visitar el sitio más bonito de España, para mí, es Asturias. Antes de salir, tienes que ir a "España Verde." [If you want to visit the most beautiful place in Spain, in my opinion, it is Asturias. Before leaving, you have to go to "Green Spain"]." The end is approaching. I could not stand there and rationalize to myself the fact that I had no bus ticket, no place to stay, and no idea of what to do in Asturias; I could handle these minor details at a later juncture. So I did what any sane person would do if he had three months to discover a land that takes a lifetime to understand, I loaded up Juan’s trusty backpack, told Carmen I would miss her and her cooking, gave Juan a big hug, and I boarded the next bus that would take me to the most beautiful place in all of Spain.
Although the sun had already sunk down for the evening by the time I arrived, nonetheless I was in Asturias. It didn't matter that it was nighttime, that I was exhausted from the week, or that I was alone and homeless; I was in Asturias. But if you think that luck would not so gallantly splash me in the face and revitalize my weariness, you have not been following my travels closely enough. Before leaving Valladolid, I sent a message to a certain Eva Rey, a last minute request to stay on her couch for the weekend in Oviedo, the capital of Asturias. After searching for other affordable lodgings at an Internet café for about an hour in Oviedo—as my travels would have it—Eva sent me a good news email. She left her contact information, and I called her using Skype on my computer. She answered in Spanish, so we spoke Spanish; she did not sound overly friendly, but nonetheless I had directions to her house, and my body would soon inhabit her couch for the weekend.
I suppose Skype occasionally enjoys the disturbing pleasure of altering someone’s voice to give it an unfriendly shroud when in fact, this someone is amazingly pleasant because from the moment that I met Eva that night until our final goodbye on Sunday night, she was nothing but good to me. We spent every waking hour together that weekend as if we had been friends for years; she was truly a blessing of a host; not even God hosts his children like Eva hosted me (With all due respect to other beliefs that may encounter these words as anywhere from mildly to highly offensive. O my sensitive loved ones!).
SATURDAY
As I arose Saturday morning to a warm streak of sun penetrating my welcoming eyelids, I gazed out of Eva’s living room window to see the utter quaintness that she calls a ‘neighborhood,’ and I felt my lips walk along to the corners of my cheeks. Eva woke up soon after and asked me if I wanted to take a drive with her to Gijón, a beach city along the Cantabrian Sea renowned for its fresh seafood. Eva worked Monday through Friday, and she happened to be completely free this weekend, so we could go anywhere that we were willing to dream of. Since Eva was born in Gijón, she felt it was necessary that we include it in our tour; I had no complaints.
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| My living space for the weekend, but I would not have minded if it were my living space for life |
Although she had studied some English in her childhood and lived in Ireland for some time, Eva and I exclusively spoke in Spanish the entire weekend. Of course I cherished the practice, and I suppose she, at thirty-four, cared more to progress my Spanish than to struggle with her English. So if I use any dialogue at all in this post, it has been translated to English.
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| View from Eva's window. Her 'neighborhood' |
On to Gijón!
We parked the car and walked immediately to the beach. Here is what to expect when deciding on whether or not to visit Gijón.
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| A beautiful church situated on the shores of the Cantabrian Sea in Gijón |
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| Beaches of Gijón |
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| Architecture that borders the beaches in Gijón |
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| Of course what would a Spanish beach be without a few crosses? |
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| Gijón |
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| Gijón |
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| More architecture that borders the shore |
After eating a fabulous, fresh, seafood-variety soup for lunch, Eva told me that the real beauty of the Cantabrian coast is not settled along the city, but instead we needed to travel deep through the bright green country to the vegetative, rocky cliffs that she referred to as her 'favorite, secret place.'
I have trouble explaining how fortunate I felt to be with Eva in Asturias. If I had stayed in a hostel or with anyone who didn't have a car, I could never have seen most of the things that made this weekend so momentous because there is no bus that goes beyond nowhere just to arrive at the non-existing bus stop at Eva's special place, a place far beyond the commotion of city streets and hurried pedestrians.
Here is a photographic account of the journey to the cliffs and the beauty and sublime that enthralled me, that temporarily conquered all of the feelings I have ever had for anything and applied it all to the amazement that lay before me.
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| Just outside of the city of Gijón |
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| Although every sign in Spain is in Spanish, notice how stop signs still say 'STOP'—interesting uh? |
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| A little further outside of the city |
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| Far from anything |
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| This view could be seen for miles in any direction. Still on the route to Eva's secret place. |
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| Parking at her secret place |
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| No picture will do justice to the energy that covered this area |
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| Thanks for the jacket Juan!!! |
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| Eva walking along the cliffs |
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| Because of the high winds constantly hitting the shore, the species of the grass that grows along the cliffs is incredibly thick and deeply rooted in the ground to defend against any wind that may blow. It was like laying on a cloud |
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| The sun beginning to set |
As the day was coming to a close, we reluctantly got back in the car and returned to Oviedo.
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| Goodnight Sun |
SUNDAY
As I woke up to a light snow sprinkling on the city, I figured a drive to the mountains was in order. When Eva awoke, she agreed with Plan A: Drive to the Mountains. This was another activity that I never could have done without a car because these mountains are not highly inhabited at all; there was only the occasional small village with maybe a dozen houses. Let's follow that drive to the mountains. Forgive me if the shots are not the greatest; I still don't understand how people can take such incredible pictures while in motion.
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| Las Caldas is the name of the area of mountains that we drove through |
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| I can't imagine what Spring would be like in Asturias. There are trees absolutely everywhere. |
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| A huge castle that we saw on our drive. Eva told me that a family still lives there |
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| This is like a huge storage shed that a family would used for storing meat. It is elevated for the snowy winters. I'm not really sure why it has a '7' posted on it. |
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| As we climbed in elevation, we bagan to see snow-covered mountains in the distance |
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| The first signs of smow on the ground |
Eva does not often drive to the mountains, and she had never driven in the direction that we went this time, so this was incredibly exciting for the both of us. We kept freaking out as we uncovered each new level of terrain.
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| A tiny bit of fresh November powder |
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| The snowy lot of the lucky bastards that call this mountain home. |
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| A little bit of wintery weather to accompany the cozy drive |
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| An old, abandoned house along the road |
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| This is when we were shouting with excitement. So much god damn winter on the ground!!! |
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| And then the road took us for a descent that changed the scenery. There were now castañas (chestnuts) all over the ground—I chowed down. |
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| Eva |
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| While driving down the other side of the mountain, we stopped to ask a mountain-man for directions, and this was his horse, who I secretly took a picture of. |
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| I think happy cows actually came from Asturias, and some of them were dragged against their will to California. Have you seen the cow farms along I-5? So not happy. |
All this exploring can really get the ol' hunger pits a-roarin'! As we continued to descend along the other side of the mountain, we came across a tiny village that had a restaurant that was open on a Sunday (very rare). This was obviously the place where the few locals who lived in this village could gather and socialize. All of Spain rants and raves about how great the food is in Asturias due to their close proximity to the Cantabrian Sea, which hosts a diverse marine life, and the fact that Asturias is known as "España Verde," so it grows a rich diversity of crops. This restaurant was our best chance to enjoy authentic, non-touristic, Asturian cuisine. Although it was not cheap, it was exactly the experience I was looking for: food that I could not have anywhere else in the world.
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| That's the restaurant on the right in blue. |
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| What a hip menu for such a remote, small restaurant! 'Sabores' means 'Flavors.' |
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| Here was the appetizer that we each got. It was a stack of grilled zucchini, tomato, onion, asparagus, and octapus! Before you knock it, you would have to try it; it was absolutely delicious. The octapus was so fresh; it was literally caught that weekend. There was nothing fishy about either. I really got excited about this dish; so excited that when my entree came, I was too focused to stop and take a picture. It was an amazingly delicate, white fish that only lives in the Cantabrian Sea. I was so pleased. This restaurant was truly a hidden jewel. |
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| tea after dinner |
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| View from the restaurant |
We returned from the mountains filled with delicious food and a sense of content that seemed to be the theme of the weekend. But Eva was exhausted; she had to take a siesta while I went out and toured Oviedo on a quiet Sunday afternoon.
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| This would be a great place to host Sausage Fest 2011 |
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| This image either gets you really excited or it really grosses you out—no in between. |
One theme I have failed to develop on about Asturias is something that is probably their most talked about characteristic. That is, their people, Los Asturianos; they are an uncommonly sincere and friendly bunch. So pleasant that I guarantee if you were to come to Asturias, you would naturally notice how incredible the people are without me ever having needed to tell you. They consider themselves a different type of Spaniard because of their long history of Celtic tradition, who occupied Asturias long before Spanish was ever spoken in Spain. In my opinion, the Asturianos outdo any southern hospitality or any pleasant spirits that come from the sunshine of California. Anyone can be friendly, but these people strike you with a certain depth of sincerity that not many can match. While walking around the city, I gazed at the Oviedo cathedral for a while and took a few pictures of its structure; but while I was doing so, a woman approached me simply to ask if I wanted her to take a picture of me in front of the cathedral. I was so shocked that I said, “Oh… uh… no, no. Gracias.” What the hell was I thinking? Of course I wanted a picture with the cathedral! She caught me way off guard.
As I searched the city to find a place that sold postcards, I decided that it would be best to ask someone at the tourist information center, but after asking the two gentlemen where I could find them, I had an incredible conversation with them for literally over an hour! Then they gave me seven different pamphlets on different aspects of Asturias (in Spanish and English, so fourteen in total) and two wall posters of Asturias. All because I asked them a question! We even exchanged emails. These types of people were so easy to come across in Asturias.
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| They even gave Jesus his own street. |
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| This place was closed for the day, but I just liked the name. |
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| A typical building in Oviedo. The streets were completely empty on a Sunday Afternoon. |
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| The tower to the cathedral |
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| The tower |
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| There are statues all over the city. They are all really great like this one here. |
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| These Japanese Maple trees in gorgeous planters lined one of the streets in Oviedo. I thought about my Grandma. |
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| You can always find women in fur coats in Spain. It makes you feel like you are living in a rap video, except these hoes don't shake their booties as much. |
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| Here's a statue of Woody Allen. He is crazy about Oviedo. I bet after asking where he could find some postcards, they built him this statue. |
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This is what Woody Allen had to say about Oviedo:
"Oviedo is a delicious, exotic, pretty, clean, pleasant, traquil, and pedestrian-friendly city. It is as if it did not pertain to this world, as if it did not exist. It is like a fairy tale." |
Shall we head to the park?
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| Who needs Eva when you have crazy-cool ducks to hang out with? |
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| Pond in the park |
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| Sidewalk in the Park |
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| Pretty nifty park |
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| More cool park stuff |
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| It is as if this tree is always falling. I think Oviedo always has someone around the clock shouting, "Timber!!!" |
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| Outdoor ping-pong tables? Oviedo, you're the coolest. |
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| Half-pipe? Oviedo, you're my best friend. |
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| Ya I climbed it. I felt like a badass (until I had to get down). Then I wanted a real badass to come and help me down. |
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| Their idea of a drinking fountain is fresh, ice-cold mountain water flowing all day out of a stone wall. |
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| Various Shades of Green Spain |
Of course, like saying goodbye to any other person whose house I couchsurfed at, it was incredibly hard to say goodbye to Eva. She was a kind soul. But if there is one thing that I'm sure of, I
will definitely return to Asturias.
