Asturias

       On Tuesday morning after an awful night's sleep at the Barcelona airport (it never occurred to me that they do all their noisy maintenance and cleaning at night), I took a very short flight to the northern coast of Spain, to the small province of Asturias. Once again I enjoyed the surprises of traveling alone, since it really makes me more outgoing and open to talking to random strangers. I met a very nice man named Pepe on the flight, and at the end he even offered me a ride in his company car, but unfortunately I was headed in the opposite direction. I had planned to visit the tiny fishing town of Cudillero, according to my guidebook "the most precious fishing town in all of Spain," so I bid Pepe farewell with two kisses and then tried to figure out how I would get to this little village, since there is no direct bus from the airport. Without a bus, or any clue on how to reach the main road to try and hitch-hike, I was forced to splurge on a taxi, which would cost 25 euros, but since I was really excited to see Cudillero after all my Google Image searches, I decided to pay it. It turned out to be a great decision because the taxi driver and I immediately hit it off. He was so friendly and told me all about his five years living in New York City, and how his appointment to renew his visa was the day after 9/11 so he was forced to move back to Spain. When he dropped me off twenty minutes later in Cudillero, we told each other we would meet again one day in the U.S. Then he slashed the price five euros and told me to use the money to enjoy a delicious breakfast during my morning in Cudillero. It seems like this whole trip I just keep being awed time and time again by the great people I meet. 

        Cudillero lived up to all my expectations. Since I arrived early in the morning there was hardly anyone out, so I climbed the narrow staircases carved into the hillsides and enjoyed the feeling of having the whole sleepy village to myself. Lonely Planet really hit the mark on this one--I'd say Cudillero was the most precious town I've been to in my whole year in Spain, with its colored buildings dotting the hillside, twisting staircases leading to hobbit-sized doors and houses, and the magnificent Atlantic in the background. 

        Of course, no matter how cute the town was, I ran out of things to do after two hours so I caught a bus to Gijón, the largest city in Asturias (still only the size of Granada), where I planned to Couchsurf that night. I was greeted by my host Guiller in his piso and then went out on my own to explore the twon and beach for a few hours. I got lucky with perfect weather--it's very rare to have a dry and cloudless day in Northern Spain. 

      I came back to the piso and had a long talk in Spanish with Guiller. I can't explain how refreshing it is to speak and hear Spanish outside of Andalucia. I suppose it's good that I'm learning it in a place where even Spaniards say they need to live in the South for three years before they can fully understand a conversation in the Andalucian dialect, because this way when I travel outside of the region I feel like I was born speaking Spanish. I don't have to ask "¿Cómo?" every second or hope that my fake laughs will convince people that I'm understanding. 

        Guiller and I went to share a bottle of Asturias' famous cider after, but since I was so exhausted from barely sleeping in the airport, we turned in early (but not before he generously cooked me dinner!). The next day I was catching a very early morning bus to Sarria, Galicia (very north-west Spain), to start the Camino de Santiago. 

The hillside of Cudillero 

Lighthouse in Cudillero