En Espana

Getting onto the night train from Paris to Valladolid, Spain was a bit of a shock. Not one of the train attendants spoke English! Welcome to our new world. Our sleeping compartments were gender segregated, so I struggled to communicate with a very patient older woman from Burgos, Spain and used up all the Spanish I could muster in the first 10 minutes. Not bad....

We arrived with the dawn in Valladolid and spent a scorcher of a day exploring the city and learning about the rhythms of Spanish life...at least in the cities. No one seems to stir before 9 am and it is unheard of to have lunch before 1:00 pm. Our attempt to have kebabs at 12:45 was met with scorn and hesitation but we waited patiently and watched the locals come in for their midday beer, sherry or beer mixed with club soda. They smoke like chimneys, these Spaniards....as if no one has told them that it's bad for their health. Apparently, there is a law which prohibits smoking in dining establishments and other public buildings, but cafe, bar and restaurant owners seem to flout it by posting a sign which says that smoking is permitted. I suppose they'd have no customers at all if they followed the letter of the law - though this is all conjecture at this point. We'll have to find out the truth some time.

We wilted in the heat and attempted to take a siesta in the park, but again, we were out of synch with the locals and I was rousted by a guy who wanted who knows what. Siestas are for 1:30 or 2:00 to 4:00 pm and almost no one is on the streets at that time. Shops are closed and even visitor centers strictly observe this "time out". At 4:00 pm, people return to the street, to work, to wherever and many work until about 8 pm.

Photos from Valladolid, including a sand castle bulding competition in the Plaza Mayor. The city has some great old buildings - some dating back from Roman times mixed with Romanesque, Gothic and Spanish colonial architecture (at least that's what they call the style in South America)






We weren't around to see this awakening in Valladolid, because we caught the bus north into the mountains to the tourist town of Cangas de Onis, the heart of the Picos de Europa mountains. The ride was dull at first, riding on the high plateau of central Spain but as we neared the mountains, the scenery became more fantastic. Our travel was made even more enjoyable by a very nice lady who attempted to tell us about the area and learn about us. The driver was also kind. He tried to turn on the English subtitles of the DVDs he was showing at the front of the bus. I wish he hadn't turned on the film as it was only a distraction from the great scenery out the windshield.

We learned on that bus that Spaniards love to talk. They talk on their cellphones, to each other and sometimes even to us though we can't keep up with their rapid fire delivery. They aren't at first glance the friendliest people, but on many occasions, they have been unfailingly helpful, polite and interested in why we are in Asturias, a province of northern Spain that receives few foreign visitors.

We hung out in the main plaza of Cangas waiting for our first volunteering host and watching the strolling couples and families enjoying the cool evening air and having a bite to eat at the sidrerias (cider houses) at 11:30 at night.