Sin Título: Candeleda

I'm quite backlogged on blog posts, so even though it's already October I'm writing about the weekend of the 16th of August. (I changed the publish date because its my blog and I can do what I want)

I've touched upon the notion that Spaniards have a pueblo--usually a vacation home in a smaller village, possibly where their family grew up (not always).Alvaro has two villages, and I've had the misfortune of visiting both in winter. Imagine a popular summer destination town in the winter. It's cold. It's deserted. There's nothing to do. So I was quite pleased that, after two years of listening to Alvaro talk about his beloved pueblo Candeleda, I had the opportunity to see it flourishing over the summer.

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Candeleda is a small village on the border of Castilla y Leon and Castilla la Mancha, in the province of Avila and about two hours from Madrid.

"Natural Pools" where people go to swim. A fish bit my foot here.

To be honest, there isn't much to write about my weekend there. I had just returned from the summer camp, and I was going through a bit of a reverse culture shock. I had spent over a month essentially in isolation, surrounded by nature. When I returned to Madrid, I had trouble adjusting to the smells and the views again. A trip out to the countryside was a welcome break in my transition back to the big city. In addition, I had purchased a pair of hiking boots and I was eager to test them out for the first time.

My legs are still two different colors from summer camp :(

We went by motorcycle, which meant packing light and a long, uncomfortable two hour ride. Alvaro's aunt and uncle were very kind to lend us their newly-purchased house for the weekend. Although it still didn't have a fridge, it still had the modern comforts of home (shower, bathroom, etc), compared to his parent's house which is more rustic.

That weekend was hot. It was an oppressive, windless heat that didn't dissipate at night. Alvaro and I managed a seven-mile hike up to an old Roman bridge, and despite the crowds that had flocked to the village for the weekend, the trail was almost abandoned. We dipped in the river, and napped in the afternoon when it was too hot to do much else. At night, Alvaro's parents barbecued our dinner. On the way back, I somehow managed to get stung three times by a wasp--while still on the motorcycle.