Valdepielagos y Sigüenza

After hiking in Tejera Negra we headed to our friend Patricia's village.

It is important to remember that it was only one generation ago that people still lived in small communities far from a big city. The parents of my friends all grew up in these villages, venturing to Madrid or Barcelona or Sevilla only a few times a year. Until, of course, the Spanish economy boomed, and these people poured into the cities seeking employment, settling down to begin a family closer to "civilization." It was during this exodus of the villages that our city, Alcala, grew important to commuters, morphed into an industrial center, and began accumulating its current population of 204,000. Homes in the villages have become vacation destinations, where people go on holiday weekends to escape the traffic and relax.

When we arrived at the empty house in Valdepielagos, it was barely cool outside. Inside the house was a different story. Built in the 1800s, made primarily of stone, tile, and concrete, and with little insulation, the house was freezing! There was a fireplace, though, and it was here we cooked our dinner. Our friends surprised Craig with a belated birthday cake, of sorts, and we explored the wine bodega, which was an unfinished basement with dirt walls, lots of spider webs, and makeshift wine racks lining the walls.

The next morning we dined on the terrace, enjoying our toast (with baobob preserves) and coffee in the sunshine. The terrace was topped by still-bare grape vines and surrounded by naked flower beds, as Spring had not yet descended on Spain. It was clear it would be a beautiful, peaceful place to relax in May or June.

We ventured over to the crumbling church and sinking graveyard in the village. At night it would surely be a sinister place, as it was quiet and overgrown, the dead beneath the ground long-forgotten as evidenced by their sunken tombs and broken grave markers. It was hard to be forlorn in the daylight though, especially with the view behind us of rolling hills with fields ready for Spring planting.

Next we travelled to a more touristic village called Sigüenza, which means Stork in English (though there were no storks to be seen!). We visited the cathedral and the ancient castle which, in recent years, has become one of the famous Parador Hotels. It is a beautiful city.

We had a lunch of patatas bravas, alitas de pollo, ensalada ruso (a mayo based salad that I despise), and chorizo, and then enjoyed a coffee in front of the city's main plaza and the cathedral. Peaceful.

By this time, Craig and I were exhausted. We had been speaking and listening only to Spanish for two days straight, which is hard on the brain. We had had little sleep and had spent a great majority of the time car-sick, as we no longer travel by automobile and are no longer accustomed to taking on curvy roads from the backseat. It was a wonderful weekend, but we were more than pleased when the cars pulled back into Alcala de Henares.