What Home Has Come to Mean
In the span of just a few months, I went from teaching 7th graders in northern Thailand to watching Christmas Vacation at a historic movie theater in small town Indiana (and winning the "long distance award", by the way) to planting a vegetable garden in rural Spain. Don't get me wrong; it's tiring, but I really thrive in this lifestyle. I am constantly being challenged and always learning. Recently, the unromantic bureaucracy of an international romance became clear, and I returned to Asturias, Spain, my partner Mario's home.
Upon my return, the universe thrust me into a situation of radical familiarity: a land I already knew, a language I already spoke, people I had already met. And yet I had never felt more lost. I did not feel capable of staying still, living in a routine I'd lived through once before. I feared I was repeating a chapter of life I had already lived and that I was stagnating. As I gradually adjusted, I realized that I was not repeating those things; I was delving deeper into them. I was planting roots—literally and metaphorically—and watching hard work come to fruition. I've come to know this little corner of the world nearly as well as I know myself, and that is an honor. In this post, you'll find some of the places that have healed my restless heart in the place I currently call home.
Ruta del Azabache
This 7 mile hike starts in the fisherman's village of Tazones and continues along the coast and across farmlands to an abandoned azabache mine in the woods. Azabache translates to jet, a shiny, black, semi-precious stone. Native Americans used it for ceremonial objects and inlaid weapons. The Victorians used it as mourning jewelry. Crystal enthusiasts believe it absorbs negative energies and wards off the evil eye. In northern Spain, we believe that it protects the wearer, and you'll often see rings, earrings, and bracelets containing azabache. It is most commonly carved into the shape of a small black fist called a cigüa. The cigüa must be gifted, not bought for oneself. It is worn as jewelry and shields from harm. When it breaks, it means that it has protected you from something extremely serious, potentially evil. When that happens, you must bury the broken pieces to prevent the bad luck from following you.
As with most superstitions, it's power is strengthened by anecdotal evidence. The first cigüa I owned lasted a little over a year. I wore it surfing, skiing, and hiking and yet it broke while I was making the bed the day before my accident. (I suppose it could have been much worse.) The next one I got was a birthday present I received in December. By February, it shattered. The next day, I got a job here in Asturias. I have a friend who bought big matching ones for himself and his girlfriend, meant for keychains. He left them on the kitchen table, went about his day, and when he returned, they had both broken, seemingly without cause. Later that day, he learned that she had been cheating on him. Bullet dodged.
Nowadays, you won't find but small shards of azabache in the abandoned mine, just enough to get some dirt under your fingernails digging around. (Picture below) We returned to Tazones for delicious seafood rice and pastel de rayo, a dip made from stingray meat. Paired with a glass of white wine, it was a perfect Asturian day!
Ruta del Cares
This is one of the most popular trails for tourists because it's relatively accessible, mostly flat, and offers incredible views of the mountains that you can't usually see from the parking lot. It starts in Poncebos and continues through the gorge to the town of Caín. You actually cross into the next province, León, on this trail. When my parents came to visit, we took them here.
Sondra would like everyone to know that she walked 14 miles!
Camino de Covadonga
If you've been around since the beginning, you've seen me walk both the Camino Francés and the Camino Primitivo, 2 paths through Spain to Santiago de Compostela. Now, join me on a different pilgrimage—this time on a 3-day trek to Covadonga, a culturally and spiritually important place for the Asturian people.
Day 1
We locked the front door and started walking from our house around 8 A.M. (Dating a Spaniard means you always leave at least 30 minutes late!) We walked around 18 miles through rural roads and farmlands before stopping for the evening in the town of Sietes, which means Sevens in English. In 2009, this village of just 40 inhabitants was chosen by Microsoft to present Windows 7 for the first time. (Windows 7 in Sevens—get it?) Prior to 2009, the town didn't even have reliable internet, and the majority of the village's population consisted of senior citizens. And yet, the outside world got a peek into this remote mountain hamlet, and the town still commemorates it with a large sign in front of the city hall.
For some reason—perhaps the constant up-and-down of the rolling hills—my body hurt more that day than it had on either trek I'd done before. Every muscle was screaming; I could barely lift my arms up to wash my hair!
Day 2
Despite the soreness, the second day was my favorite of the Camino. Now that we were out of the suburbs and truly in Casa Dios, a Spanish expression meaning the middle of nowhere or the house of god, we were able to avoid concrete altogether. That day, we walked about 15 miles through remote trails and charming villages, enjoying mountain views essentially the whole time.
We finished the day in Llames de Parres and spent the night in a llagar-turned-B&B. A llagar is the place where Asturian hard cider is manufactured. The town's population is less than 200 people, and I have a sneaking suspicion that they are all related. The hotel had no website, not even a listing on Booking.com. I stumbled across it on Google Maps and upon calling, she told us she was with the cows in the field and didn't know if she had room. She would look and call us when she got home. A few hours later, we received a call. She was booked up that weekend, but her cousin might have room. The next day, the cousin called. She was booked up as well, but her mother-in-law might have room. When we finally made contact with the mother-in-law, she offered us her last available room over the phone. I figured a confirmation email was out of the question, but an address could be reasonable. Wrong! The mother-in-law instructed us to head to "the bar" in town and ask for Margarita. Bring cash.
After 15 miles and even more aches and pains, I was thrilled to discover that there was only one bar to choose from and that Margarita was indeed a real person with a real room. I was even more thrilled when that room included the biggest jacuzzi bathtub I've ever seen in my life.
Day 3
Our last day was 15 flat miles between Llames de Parres and our final destination: Covadonga. Covadonga is a historically and spiritually important place for the Asturian people. I've spoken about the Asturian reverence for the mountains before, the love and respect for the Asturian landscape that represents a significant piece of their culture. If nature is their religion, Covadonga is their church. And there is, in fact, a literal church. The Basilica of Covadonga, the pink limestone structure pictured below, is an important symbol of Asturias. I'm not religious, but the surrounding scenery is so picturesque, it's almost enough to make you feel something spiritual.
Perhaps a more important site is the Sanctuary of Covadonga, a small cave just above the basilica. The legend goes that the Virgin Mary appeared the King Pelayo and his troops in this cave. They were in battle with the Moors for control of Spain and preparing for an ambush. Mary allegedly blessed and protected the troops, who won the battle and set in motion the reconquest of what is now the united country of Spain. Nowadays, Mary, Our Lady of Covadonga, is honored by a chapel in that very cave. It is customary for those entering the mountains to light a candle and implore her for protection in the mountains.
Directly beneath the cave, there is a waterfall that lands in the river running through the village. Here you can find the Fuente de Siete Caños, or the Fountain of Seven Faucets, shown in the fourth photo below. This legend says that if you drink from all seven spigots without coming up for air, you will be married within the next year.
That night, we stayed at the adjacent hotel just steps away from the basilica. Since the next day was Easter Sunday, we heard the congregation singing through their Easter Vigil as we fell asleep.
Gijon's Atlantic Botanical Garden
Gijón's botanical garden includes beautiful flora from both near and far, and even a Plant Factory, which showcases plants traditionally used for medicine, food, fabrics, and religious ceremony worldwide. The tower in the background is La Laboral, the largest and tallest stone building in Spain. It was constructed in the mid-1900s as an orphanage for miner's children, but transitioned into a vocational university. It fell into disrepair when the dictator died and shifts in culture and education left it abandoned. In 2007, it was revitalized into a university and cultural center for the city.
Honorable Mention: End-of-Year Trip to the Islands
Before I left Thailand, I took a solo trip to Koh Pha Ngan, Koh Tao, and Koh Samui before returning to the U.S. These beaches are truly unmatched in their beauty. The highlight was a snorkeling trip to see coral reefs, turtles, and other marine life.
My time in Thailand was some of the highest highs and lowest lows of my life. Every loss and failure was exacerbated by the fact that I was already a fish out of water. Every win felt that much more triumphant. I could speak ad nauseum about why Thailand is so incredible, from the landscapes to the people to the food to the culture. Suffice to say, it stretched me and challenged me in all the ways I needed. I miss it every day, and I will always be grateful for my time there. It was home, just as much as America, just as much as Spain. As they say in Thailand, "same, same, but different." How lucky am I to have so many different homes.
Pictured below: my farewell voyage, soaking in my final moments and eating as much pad krapow as I could.
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