A day in Cuenca, Spain (hotel, hotel, reservations, Rome)
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This was about 25 years ago, when I was in my twenties. One of my first trips to Europe was to visit a friend staying in Rome. Afterwards, I decided to try and go off traveling on my own in search of adventure. I ended up visiting Barcelona and Madrid, but wanted to get off the beaten trail and "go deeper with my travels" whatever I thought that meant. I did a little reading and discovered a tiny Spanish hill town called Cuenca. As an inexperienced traveler, I got on a train to Cuenca and figured I would spend a night to check it out.
I arrived and the town was quite festive! Like many European towns, it was divided into an old town and a new town (where all the development took place). I was quite tired from a late night in Madrid, and wandered the streets for a hostel or hotel to get rid of my large backpack and then head out for a stroll or a drink. I'd get an early night's sleep and check out the old town the following morning.
I soon discovered it was Semana Santa or Holy Week, which was quite the popular time for Spanish locals to visit Cuenca. It quickly became apparent there were no accommodations available. In addition, I discovered that the last train of the evening was the one that brought me into town. A minor setback, I thought. I'd make it through the night. I still wasn't terribly tired, and the town looked like it would remain alive until late into the night. I would relax and read in a cafe or bar until the town shut down, and then wander for a few hours until the sun came up and I could reassess the situation.
As time went on, I got more and more tired and the backpack got heavier and heavier. From several days of travel and late nights, I had finally hit a wall. I needed sleep. But where? The town was still rather noisy, so I wandered into a park and found a somewhat well lit park bench. It seemed like a pretty safe spot. I could at least get a short nap to refresh myself. However, as I started to rest, the temperature started to plummet. It was now getting quite cold due to the elevation. I layered up with the remaining clothing in my backpack, but to no avail. As soon as I started to relax on the bench, my body temperature dropped so much I felt much too cold to sleep. The park bench would not work.
I wandered back into town, where late-night revelers were still packing the bars and clubs, but I was much too tired for any of that. Where could I sleep?
Then, in a random alley in a quieter part of town, I found it. One of those photo booths where you put a few coins in, go inside, and get a strip of four photographs printed. The booth had an immovable stool, a curtain across the door, and a bright light that appeared to be permanently active. I was able to sit on the bench, rest my head uncomfortably on the clear plastic wall in front of the camera and close the curtain. The curtain did not run completely to the floor, so passers-by (if there were any) would see my feet sticking out from beneath the curtain. I had a bright light shining in my face, but at least I was protected from the wind and cold, and I had serious doubts that anyone would want to use this particular photo booth at this time of the night. It would have to do.
I don't know how long I slept, but I remember being half awake and hearing a conversation in Spanish outside the booth. My high school Spanish ears could make out phrases such as "do you think he's OK?" and "should we wake him?" and similar worried questions. Apparently the gig was up. I exited the photo booth to discover a group of five twenty-something Spanish kids that had found me. I explained the situation in both English and broken Spanish. They had a good laugh and invited me to join them. Twenty minutes later, after rushing through a maze of back streets and alleys, we emerged in a late night rave party where a round of drinks was ordered. The six of us danced, sang, joked, and drank until the sun came up and we headed into the old town for the morning to watch the annual celebration of Holy Week. I realized now I had achieved my goal of "going deeper with my travels", and I even got a most excellent souvenir - a photo of me and my five new friends at my favorite photo booth.
Very good report of a trip to Spain ! You can continue with more comment of you impresións about of Spain ? Thank youi very much.
Unfortunately, the trip above was so long ago, and I was such an inexperienced traveler that I am not sure what more I can offer of value. But here are a few observations:
- I think I am in the minority in that I enjoyed Madrid more than Barcelona (of course, I know neither place very well, having only spent a week in each). Barcelona had a lot of tourism when I was there and seemed to cater to that, whereas Madrid seemed more like I was witnessing real life going on all around me. And I loved the architecture and plaza, and the Prado.
- Andalucia had a surprisingly distinct feel for being a part of Western Europe. Upon further reflection, this makes some sense since it is so geographically isolated being a (oddly shaped) peninsula and all. Not only are you geographically far from the main body of Europe but you seem to pick up quite a bit of cultural distance as well as you head south.
- I loved the people. Some of the friendliest anywhere (although I did meet a few bad apples). I remember going out one night to "tapatear" or go out for drinks and tapas before heading to the late night venues. I learned that the verb "tapatear" not only means to go out for tapas, but also means "to cover" which is where tapas supposedly go their name. In the old days, bartenders got in the habit of putting small plates atop beer glasses when they served them to keep the flies out. One day, a particular bar started placing a bit of a snack in the plate and the tapa was born. I was surprised at how different these tapas were than the American version found in tapas restaurants. It seemed that the locals (some of which invited me to tag along) stopped at many different bars, each for just a tiny glass of beer and one small snack, and to say hello and check in with the bartender. After visiting ten of these establishments, you really only had about three small glasses of beer and a single American sized tapa.
- The nylon stringed guitar is prominent and still alive. Often when I travel, it seems like the older traditional cultural aspects are being kept alive just for the benefits of the tourism industry, but in Spain the flamenquistos still have quite a bit of cultural relevance and the music seems alive and full of passion.
Its contribución Isis very interesting because Many foreign tourists do not apréciate the reality that Barcelona
Si a pleasure for the eyes due to its original archictecture and its gastrónomy
But Madrid hace a much more intense and profound pleasure for a cult tourist for the history and cultura of a
Empire that hard more centuries that the British and with with a crown of históric citéis only half an hour as Cuenca,Toledo,Aranjuez ,Ávila,Segovia,Salamanca etc etc and almost
4000 medieval Castlets.
The people of All of regiones of Spain and the great majority of the habitante of the 17spanish-speaking countries visit Madrid constantly
But only Cactan that enjoyment Quick the foreigners who share that deep and happy charm of life típicas of Madrid If is more of only a mínimum of time of 2 or 3 days.
I just returned from Spain a couple of weeks ago. I ventured into a lot of off-the-beaten paths, the experience was always very positive. I was very impressed by the genuine hospitality of the locals.
Unfortunately, the trip above was so long ago, and I was such an inexperienced traveler that I am not sure what more I can offer of value. But here are a few observations:
- I think I am in the minority in that I enjoyed Madrid more than Barcelona (of course, I know neither place very well, having only spent a week in each). Barcelona had a lot of tourism when I was there and seemed to cater to that, whereas Madrid seemed more like I was witnessing real life going on all around me. And I loved the architecture and plaza, and the Prado.
- Andalucia had a surprisingly distinct feel for being a part of Western Europe. Upon further reflection, this makes some sense since it is so geographically isolated being a (oddly shaped) peninsula and all. Not only are you geographically far from the main body of Europe but you seem to pick up quite a bit of cultural distance as well as you head south.
- I loved the people. Some of the friendliest anywhere (although I did meet a few bad apples). I remember going out one night to "tapatear" or go out for drinks and tapas before heading to the late night venues. I learned that the verb "tapatear" not only means to go out for tapas, but also means "to cover" which is where tapas supposedly go their name. In the old days, bartenders got in the habit of putting small plates atop beer glasses when they served them to keep the flies out. One day, a particular bar started placing a bit of a snack in the plate and the tapa was born. I was surprised at how different these tapas were than the American version found in tapas restaurants. It seemed that the locals (some of which invited me to tag along) stopped at many different bars, each for just a tiny glass of beer and one small snack, and to say hello and check in with the bartender. After visiting ten of these establishments, you really only had about three small glasses of beer and a single American sized tapa.
- The nylon stringed guitar is prominent and still alive. Often when I travel, it seems like the older traditional cultural aspects are being kept alive just for the benefits of the tourism industry, but in Spain the flamenquistos still have quite a bit of cultural relevance and the music seems alive and full of passion.
- I'd love to go back!
Beautiful
I also enjoyed Madrid more than Barcelona, but maybe it was because I was 20 years younger. Barcelona is prettier, but Madrid seemed more accessible and friendlier. It also had better music! And I think there is a cultural difference between the Castilians, who are a little more cowboy, and the Catalans, who are more core European and have some things in common with the French.
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