I used to have a “go big or go home” sort of attitude towards traveling. If I needed to be back at work on Monday, I came home at 4am on Monday morning and went straight to work in my travel clothes. I always tried to maximize my time away, but as I have gotten older and more prone to burnout, I find that I just can’t do that anymore, nor do I have the desire to. I have become a bit of a homebody and relish in that feeling when you drop your bags right inside your front door and flop down on your own mattress, breathing in the scent of your own clean bedding.
For this reason, I have recently become an avid fan of the quick weekend trip. It’s a money saver, and science has actually found that several short vacations a year bring you greater happiness than one long trip due to your quick adaptation to the positives of being on vacation.
I have been traveling quite a bit lately, never too far, but enough that I have found myself with an exhaustion-induced cold. And so I write this nursing a sinus infection between cups of Echinacea tea and a humidifier on full-blast. In the past month, I have been to Córdoba, Salamanca, and Santander, in the south, center, and north of Spain, respectively.
Córdoba
Córdoba was an interesting trip for me, because the last time I was in Andalucía, or the southern region of Spain, I was in Sevilla and found out that my dad had passed away. This experience, understandably, has tainted my feeling about the region. I thought that this might be gone, but I felt anxious and melancholy most of the weekend. It didn’t help that I went alone and was left to the ruthlessness of my inner monologue.
Intellectually, I know that no one country or region’s culture is inherently rude. There is only cultural difference that comes off as rude. However, I am always taken aback by how unfriendly, to my Midwestern sentimentalities, Andalucíans seem. If I even stuttered for a second in my Spanish while in Córdoba, Spaniards were quick to laugh in my face or scoff behind my back. I try to ignore it and remind myself that there is cultural context for why an English speaker might be received in this way, but sometimes it’s hard to separate what you know and what you feel.
Córdoba was a nice trip because for once I didn’t have more things on my itinerary than I could possibly do. I found that I actually had more free time than was expected, and I wandered throughout the day taking in lavishly long coffee breaks with my book. Of course, I saw all the major sites like the Alcázar de los Reyes Cristianos, the Mezquita, the Puente Romano. Truthfully, there aren’t that many must-see sights in Córdoba, so by the time I’d run through them on Friday, I knew I was going to have to find a way to fill my time.
I signed up for a free tour and met a Dutch guy who I spent most of Saturday wandering around with, and it reminded why I love traveling alone. You meet more people, because lonely people are attracted to other lonely people. You can spot it in a group of people, at a restaurant, and apparently on a bridge. When I was taking a selfie on the Puente Romano (Roman Bridge), a man said to his friend right in front of me, “Que bonita, pero tan sola.” Basically this translates to “Such a pretty girl, but so alone.” I was simultaneously flattered and offended.
Sunday, my dad’s birthday, I went to church in the Mezquita. I only go to church on his birthday and the anniversary of his death, mostly for my mom. But I also thought it would be a unique experience to go to Catholic mass in a building that was originally a mosque. Despite any perceived rudeness, I think this is what keeps me coming back to Andalucía. There are layers on layers of history. You can have a mosque, converted into a Catholic church, next to a Jewish synagogue. In this way Andalucía, and Córdoba, do remind me of America a little. It truly is mixed bag of cultural and linguistic influences.
The selfie I was taking when I was called “so alone”
Salamanca
My trip to Salamanca wasn’t exactly a vacation. I was there for the Fulbright Mid-Year Conference, and if I’m being honest, I hated it. I sat out of most of the activities that involved drinking, because I took my anxiety meds (which you can’t mix with alcohol) every day during the conference. Maybe that’s oversharing, but whatever.
The conference was difficult for me to sit through, because it was essentially people talking about all the things they’d done, their challenges and triumphs. It just reminded me of everything I’d missed by coming to the program late. All the research and project presentations were inspiring and I was interested in every single one, but I couldn’t help but feel that I had been robbed of the potential of this experience. I also felt out of place among the tight-knit groups of friends that already existed that I felt like an annoyance trying to break into.
I know that I need to let go of something that I cannot go back and change and make the most of the time that I had left, but I am still sad. I can’t honestly write this blog and say that I am not sad.
Salamanca itself was a beautiful city, home of the oldest and most renown university in Spain. Like Sevilla was ruined for me by my father’s death, I feel like I didn’t get the full Salamanca experience. It is somewhere I will definitely have to go back to.
Salamanca’s Plaza Mayor
Santander
The following weekend I hadn’t planned on going anywhere, but when I was invited to Santander, a small town on the Northern coast of Spain in Cantabria, I felt that I couldn’t turn it down. It felt like my chance to finally go on a trip where I didn’t feel at least a little lonely. Plus I did want to see Santander.
Unfortunately, in typically Jackie fashion, I came down with a brutal cold early in the week. Travel and sickness have this positive correlation for me. The more I travel, the more I get sick, and the sicker I get. I still travel just as much, I just have learned how to care for myself better.
Santander is a couple hours drive north of Logroño, and we arrived on Thursday night. It was bitterly cold, and much to our dismay the heat in the AirBnB wasn’t working. But we were not going to be deterred from having a good time. We ordered pizza in, hunkered down under a mountain of blankets, and streamed feel good movies off a laptop. It felt like a metaphor for the millennial lifestyle—there’s a lot that’s shitty for us, but hell if we won’t enjoy ourselves.
Like Córdoba, there weren’t a ton of must-see landmarks. We woke up late on Friday morning and made like the Spanish. We had breakfast and coffee at a cute café and didn’t rush to the next place. We lingered for a couple hours just talking and drinking coffee, and it was just really nice. These are the things that I think the U.S. could learn from Spain. It would be nice to just slow down every once in a while.
The best part of Santander, though, was the Magdalena Peninsula, which is kind of like a big city part but with these expansive views of the bay. It was a stormy day, which made for a beautiful atmosphere. Looking over the cliffs of the peninsula, the greyish-blue water churned and crashed against the shiny black rocks. I could have sat there for hours watching the storm come in.
The rest of the weekend was spent playing cards, which I maintain is highly underrated as a form of entertainment. Never have the hours went by as quickly as when we were huddled up in a café drinking warm drinks and playing Spades. It just proves that you don’t need to spend a lot to have fun.
Even though Santander isn’t going to be on National Geographic’s top travel lists anytime soon, it was actually my favorite trip, because I was among friends. Don’t’ get me wrong, traveling alone can be empowering and relaxing, but I personally find that I am most comfortable and have the most fun when I am with friends. I like both ways of travel, but if I had to choose one I’d choose travel with friends. After all, whose favorite card game is Solitaire?
